Chapter Two
Signs of Life
Two beers later Salem curled up against the door of the truck wrapped in Rios' jacket, and quickly fell into a sound asleep. Tyson looked over at the smaller man and smiled. He'd come a long way since first arriving in Somalia. It was only a start though, Rios knew. He'd had enough leadership training and lessons in how to read men, to know that Salem was a very wounded young man. Part of him wanted to ignore the fact, and not have to deal with Salem's painful past. Rios wasn't a callous man, but in the brutal game of war they all played at men died, and the Ranger knew that getting too close would bring nothing but pain. He shook his head, downed the last of his beer, and shoved the empty into the trash bag.
"Too late for that though you skinny little fucker. I'm into your ass so damned deep I can't see the light of day, and that fucker Tyannikov has sold me down the river by telling you it's the way men like us should be. Shit Salem, what the fuck am I gonna do with you for the rest of our natural lives boy?"
The boy was an enigma. On the one hand he was brutal, a natural killer seemingly with complete disregard for the enemy. Come at him, and he will tear you to pieces with a smile on his boyish face, and then sit to dinner as though it was the most natural thing in the world to gut a man from groin to chin. Conversely, he was sensitive to a fault about certain things. He hated when men judged him by his size. He dreaded when Top chose teams for fear that he'd be over looked or worse chosen last. He had hellish nightmares, most not pertaining to his military actions, but instead concerning his childhood. He was insecure beyond the norm for a man of his skill and courage. Rios could name dozens of occasions when the boy had spun out of control over the merest slight, and that loss of control, caused by his persistent insecurity only added to the confusion the team often felt about him.
He looked over at the sleeping man and sighed. Dragging him to Gabe's had been bad enough, and now he was forcing him to meet his parents. As far as the team could tell Salem had no real sense of family. He'd allowed that his mother abandoned him and his father when he was but days old, and that his father was a useless criminal, and that the state had him bounced from foster home to orphanage, and back home again all of his life. That degree of insecurity couldn't bode well for a child, especially a child with the inherent traits that Elliot seemed to possess. It was no wonder the man feared rejection to the degree that he did. How would he react to a loving family? How would he react to the love that Rios knew his parents would so readily and freely offer him? It would be a different sort of care and compassion than what Gabe and Dorrie provided. You can, he knew, drag a horse to water, but getting it to drink was an entirely different operation.
Rios hadn't needed to try. The boy just latched onto him like a drowning rat clinging to a bit of flotsam. If anything, he'd done his damnedest to drive him away, but the harder he tried the tighter Elliot had clung to him. Rios turned the radio up a bit and tucked the jacket farther up over Salem's shoulder. The man coughed lightly, moaned, and shrugged off Rios' touch before settling right back down.
Tyannikov, now the huge Russian scared him. Tyannikov scared him to death. Tyannikov hadn't needed to try either. Rios growled low in throat as the memory of the night Tyannikov broke Elliot's arm flashed through his memory. Not even the pain of that, and the brutal pounding he'd taken from the Russian and his team had been enough to warn Salem off. If anything it bound the unlikely pair that much tighter. Salem craved respect and belonging, and the damned Russian was more than willing to provide both. Rios' problem was that Elliot was as gullible as they came when it came round to picking his friends. It was all or nothing for the man, and he feared that where he only offered so much of his heart Tyannikov, in turn, seemed more than willing to offer and provide Elliot with all he craved. That being the case, Rios swore to never allow that situation to come to its fruition. Rios sighed once again and looked over at his sleeping partner. There was no real way to predict the future so instead he would simply have to deal with any fallout as it hit. Experience had taught the big man that it was ultimately futile to project. The plot would play out no matter his preparations. The key was being adaptable and able enough to manage whatever transpired, and come out of that tunnel alive.
Salem awoke, and without moving he stared out of the truck window at the passing landscape. It seemed industrial, crowded and dirty. He'd been dragged from the swamps and rural areas of southern Louisiana, to Fort Benning, and then via a short tour in some hell hole in Asia straight to Sarajevo. None of those places, or Somalia had the scale of what he was now witnessing. Those countries, or the parts that he'd seen, had been crowded, but this, this was a mess. This was a landscape of human occupation not just sprawling outward, but upwards as well. For the first time in his life Salem felt glad that he'd spent his childhood in a swamp on the ass end of hell in Louisiana, and not in a place like this.
He yawned, stretched and threw Rios' jacket into the backseat of the truck. He didn't want to disappoint Tyson but he had the feeling that New York City and Brooklynn were not going to be on his list of places to re-visit.
"That sign said Brooklynn. You see it?"
"Yup. Welcome back. About a half an hour out now."
"Sun's comin' up. Fuck it's a mess out there."
"Yea, but once you learn your way around it's a piece a cake though."
"Lotta people."
"Yea a lot of people, but you're not here to meet all of them Elliot just my family."
"Fuck me twice Tyse I doubt you can find them in this mess. You drink your soda? I'm thirsty as fuck. Too long cooped up in the truck with the A.C."
"Here, but it's RC."
"Don't care."
"See look over there. That's Manhattan. We'll go downtown maybe the day after tomorrow. We'll walk across the Brooklynn Bridge and see the sites. Head to Little Italy and grab a pie then…"
"Walk? You want to walk to, walk in that mess. I'd rather low crawl through three feet of mud and Concertina Wire. Fuck the lot a that, Tyse. It's crazy over there. It's like, like I don't have the words bro. No wonder you're such a fucking prick. You had to deal with this insane shit growing up, fuck. Gimme Alligators, Water Moccasins and Meth cookers any day over this shit."
Rios laughed and grasped Elliot's shoulder in his huge hand.
"You'll be with me Salem. It'll be fine. Fuck think of it like this. Sure it's huge. Sure there'll be thousands of people, but you and me only have to manage what's in our sight line. Right? Only what's right in our scopes."
"Right, in our scopes. You call yourself a good son, and you let your mom languish in this hell hole. Fuck Tyse, really dude, save the poor woman. God, RC sucks Water Buffalo boogers."
Rios busted up into laughter. Salem did that to him. Every now and again the man would drop a line from out of lord knew where, and it would crack Rios' façade to pieces. It was times like that when Rios said a quick prayer that he'd never lose the smaller man.
"Water Buffalo boogers! Christ Elliot, where in the fuck do you come up with this shit?"
"Bro, the worst, the absolute worst. Me and Tyannikov," he paused and held up his hands in submission, "I know, I know Tyannikov, but just hear me out, ok Tyse. Me and my Old Bear we're on guard duty one night at the boat launch, and this fucking Water Buffalo comes to the river to drink. He drinks maybe four fucking thousand gallons of water, stands back up, shakes his Water Buffalo head and snorts and all this Water Buffalo snot flies out and into the water. Bro, it was sick. It was so bad I swear I fucking had to swallow my own vomit or hose down Sily's, well Tyannikov's feet."
Rios clicked on the right turn signal to get into the lane he needed to exit and looked over at Salem, who had apparently forgotten about just how cluttered New York City was. Before he could respond Salem continued the story.
"So, I'm like 'Old Bear, that's like what, meat enough until this shit op is over?' And he's like 'Barsukh rifle shot will be heard for miles.'"
"Just like that?"
"Sure, 'Barsukh, rifle shot…' fuck you. So I just grin, and pull out my hand dandy silencer. And he's like 'Where'd you get that from?' So I smile, and screw it on. We decide where the big bastard's heart is, and I take the shot. Big booger snorting fucker drops like a rock. Where the fuck did you think all a that jerky, and smoked meat was coming from, Tyse. Wasn't Army rations, Bro. It was the grand poobah of snort slinging Water Buffalos. We field stripped that fucker, fed the rest to the crocs, and smoked it in camp. Funny thing is no one ever asked where it came from. We almost there? I gotta piss."
Twenty minutes later Salem stood outside of the elevator, duffle bag slung over his right shoulder, shuffling his sneakered feet, and staring down at the two inch by two inch black and white tiled floor beneath him. It was old, battered and dingy. The white now more of a sad sallow yellow, and the black faded nearly to gray. It made him feel anxious, but he couldn't figure out exactly why. Along the grimy walls, where people couldn't tread, the tile was far cleaner nearly maintaining its original color. He groaned for the third time as Rios cursed under his breath, and smashed the call button for the fifth time with his fat right index finger.
"Guess it's broken again. It happens. Let's go, we'll take the stairs."
"Eight floors, seriously?"
"My mom can do it so clamp it Kermit, and just follow me."
"My mom can fucking do it. Fucking clamp it Kermit, why don't you fucking clamp it you fat fuck. Only thing I'm fucking concerned about clamping right now is my fucking bladder. Clamp it Kermit, clamp this you fucking…"
Rios stopped short as he turned on the third landing, and Salem taking the worn steps two at a time slammed into him, backed down a step, and stared up at the bigger man from two risers down.
"Look Salem, these are my folks." Rios began tersely, poking Elliot's heaving chest with his left index finger in meter with his admonition, "I need you to watch the language, and try for once in your miserable, manner-less, rule-less life, try and have just a little couth. Copy me?"
Salem glared up at him his hazel eyes blazing furiously. What the hell, he thought, what the fucking hell? He pushed his bladder discomfort aside, and after taking a quick look back down toward the lobby, and gauging the possibility of escaping Rios, he snapped back around, and faced the big man.
"You don't fucking trust me! You don't fucking trust me to act right with your folks. You sorry fat mother fucker. You drag me all the way here, and now, now this. You know what Rios fuck you. I'm out a here. I'll see you back in Djibouti. Fuck all a this shit. Have some couth. Why, why Rios, Tyse, why for once in your tact-less, overbearing life why can't you just trust me? Have I ever let you down Rios? Have I? Have I ever done anything to even remotely hurt you, you sorry piece a shit. But you, it's always you with your fucking heavy fucking hand. See you when you get back. Give your parents my regards and my apology. Fuck me twice, I am so fucking tired of you stepping on my shit. See that fucking floor, Rios? I feel like that, Rios. All stained, and worn out, and old. I don't fucking want to be a tile in the middle of the shit anymore Rios. I want to be, just for once, one of the ones along the fucking wall where people can't walk all over me. Fuck you. I…"
"Enough, Salem!" Rios commanded.
Salem shut up. He looked up at Rios tears brimming in his eyes. He only wanted the man to have some faith in him, not just sometimes, but all of the time. He sniffled and swiped his shirt sleeve across his face. Leave? He had to be crazy. That would mean finding a cab, finding an airport, buying a ticket back to Georgia, and figuring out how to grab a hop out of country and home to Somalia. He'd be lucky to get as far as the cab, and he knew that Rios knew it. Rios had to know he was nervous. He knew too that when he was on edge he rambled so why the heavy hand to make it that much worse? Elliot sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and raised his hands in surrender.
"Look Tyse," he began quietly his voice now calm and measured, "I know ok, I know how to be polite. I know that you know I do. You told me as much down at Gabe's. Look, I get it. I know you and your old man are not a hundred percent. So I know you're nervous too, so just, just don't play this heavy handed shit with me like you do. Please, just let me be me now and again and I won't let you down. I promise."
It was Rios' turn to be stunned. Elliot could read a man, but Rios hadn't expected him to read him so readily. He was absolutely correct. Visiting his father always ratcheted up his anxiety in a way not even the heat of a fire fight could. It was part guilt and part anger, but the feelings, even after years of reconciliation, remained so tangled up that the big man had difficulty weeding through them.
"Now please, I really do have to piss like a racehorse Tyse."
Tyson turned, and continued up the dim stairwell content that the altercation had blown itself out without Salem leaving. He was an extraordinarily competent man, but Rios shuddered at the idea of the younger man running off alone, hitting bars until he was drunk, and then trying to find a place to stay. Worse yet, Rios thought, trying to get a flight back south. At the heavy fire door to the eighth floor he paused took a deep calming breath, and pushed through it with Elliot in tow.
"They're in 816, left and down on the corner, come on."
Salem nodded, reached out, and squeezed Tyson's thick shoulder.
"I got your six in this man, no worries ok."
"Roger that, and if we survive this maybe we can go look yours up one day."
"Not a fucking chance in hell, Rios. So don't even get that idea in your fat skull. I'd rather take a bullet in the gut or drink Water Buffalo snot or better yet both."
"Ok, Ellie, ok. Let's just roll then."
Rios rang the newish looking doorbell attached to the stained beige wall to the right of the black marred door. A crackly female voice chirped out of the little speaker.
"Who is it?"
"Me, mom." Rios answered the little box leaning down and forward to get closer which looked ridiculous and made Elliot snicker.
"Can it, Salem!"
"Oh thank god." The little box squawked out, as the door clicked in two places. Then, "What did you say?"
Rios ignored the question, glared over at Elliot, then reached out, and turned the knob as the rattle of his mother unhooking chains on the other side filled the air.
"Just a minute honey. One more chain." Her voice warned through the thick partition. "Ok, go ahead."
Rios turned the gray aluminum knob, and pushed the door open. His mother immediately dragged him into a fierce embrace, and to Salem's dismay smothered the somewhat unwilling man with kisses. Fearing that his own fate would be similar, he stepped back into the middle of the hallway to give the pair some space.
Rios finally wormed free, and held his mother at arm's length.
"And you, you get in here. Oh Tyson shame on you! He's not so small. Come here, come here Elliot, and let me see you. Tyson, take the man's bag, have some manners. Elliot come on now the air conditioning is escaping."
Elliot shuffled in, and allowed Tyson to take his duffle noting that Rios hesitated. Rios doing anything for him was a sore spot between them, and he felt awkward.
"Yea, Tyse have some manners, and take this heavy thing. I told you I wanted to pack light, geesh. Ma'am."
"Call me Mimi, and here let me see you." She ordered giving Elliot the idea that she is where Rios inherited his bossiness from. "My you are a handsome one." She continued grasping him by his bi-ceps and holding him at arm's length. "Now let me hug you home, and we'll get into the kitchen for breakfast. Tyson mentioned that you have a penitent for Blueberry bagels, and his dad will be back any moment with fresh ones from the deli."
Then, it was Salem's turn to suffer her hugs and kisses as Rios stood back trying his best not to smile; he'd already earned enough of the younger man's ire for the morning. Finally he opted to rescue him.
"Mom, mom easy on the boy. He needs the facilities, and if you squeeze him to hard well…"
"Oh dear, right down the hall on the end, Elliot, you can't miss it. Tyson set your stuff in the corner over there while I lock up. Then we'll go to the kitchen I made coffee."
Salem wandered back to the small eat in kitchen noting that photographs lined the hallway walls nearly blanketing them. Some were of the city; most were of Tyson and a girl Elliot took to be his sister. They ranged chronologically from toddler age through to adult hood for the girl, but Salem's keen eye, even with just a quick perusal, noticed the distinct absence of photos for Rios after the age of fifteen until they re-appeared after Tyse was in the Army. He'd known that Tyson had all but run away, but the absence of photographs truly put the situation into a harsh perspective. Tyson's father clearly loved his children if he took so much time to record their lives in such careful photographs. The missing years for Tyson mirrored the missing bits of the man's heart. Elliot shuddered, and hurried along. He was certain there were no photos of him from childhood, with the exception, possibly, of the two years he'd spent in the security and relative happiness of the singular good foster home he'd ever been assigned to. He recalled posing with the family's two children on several occasions.
When he made it back to the kitchen he took a seat across from Rios at the oak dining table, took his hat off, and slid his chair in. Mimi set a cup of coffee in front of him, and patted his shoulder.
"Tyson said that you like it black, so black it is. You can wear the hat it's perfectly ok."
Relieved, Elliot put the battered cap back on his head backwards, and sipped from his cup.
"No way! Look Tyse my name's on my cup! Look and a picture too. That's me on my little wall. I remember when you took it. How? Wow my own cup. Thanks, for the cup and my hat and the coffee's great too Mimi."
"Tyson said you're really partial to wearing it so feel free to. He told us about the mugs you had made for Christmas, so I just felt it would be a nice touch. Now, you have one too. Drink up, you must be exhausted from the drive, and Gus will be here any minute."
"Gus?" Elliot asked looking worriedly across at Tyson.
"With the bagels, remember?" Mimi offered a bit bewildered.
"Gus. Why you fat…"
"Salem." Rios growled in warning.
"Gus, you call your dad Gus. You had me practicing saying his name for a thousand million miles, and now you're telling me I can call him Gus?"
"Five hundred miles. You didn't start until North Carolina"
"Tyson you didn't!"
"I did."
Rios replied grinning, "He was getting pretty good at it too, mom. He was all stressed that he'd mess it up so he was an extra good study."
"See; see how he treats me Mimi. See the stuff I have to live with on a daily basis. Seriously, Gus?"
"Did I hear someone calling my name?"
Salem nearly leapt from his chair at the sound of the man's deep voice. It was un-cannily similar to Tyson's. He looked across at the bigger man his mouth agape.
"Bagels for all. Blueberry for the newest Rios family member, and plain for the rest of us. Hello son, you're looking fit."
Tyson stood, and crossed to the counter where his father was depositing the boxes of bagels. Salem stood after Mimi stood for lack of knowing quite what else to do. Tyson and Gus shook hands, and then the elder Rios turned to Salem.
"So, I finally get to meet the little skinny ass bitch who's been giving my son so much grief. I'm Gus, nice to meet you, Elliot."
Salem grasped the man's hand, and shook it as Gus dragged him into a firm embrace. The un-expected hug surprised him, and he resisted slightly. Rios' greeting included only a handshake. Elliot's gut hitched. Would Tyson feel jealous of him now? Gus released him and took a step back.
"He'll grow Tyson, still has some maturing to do. You know how it works, we men don't really fill out until we hit our late twenty's. Doubt he'll get any taller, but he can damn sure put on some nice muscle mass. You consider getting him some supplements or anything? I could ship them for you."
"No, dad and he's a little light right now. We did just get back from six weeks in the bush, and he's not a big eater to boot."
"Hmm, well while you're here you'll eat, Elliot. So just get used to the idea."
Elliot smiled and shrugged, feeling self-conscious of the attention. Gus was looking at him like a man purchasing slaves. He was afraid that at any moment he might pry open his mouth to check his teeth. He could smell his Blueberry bagels cooking, and said a silent prayer that they'd hurry up. Gus walked around behind him, grasped his left, then his right Trapezius muscles before popping back in front of him. Then, he furrowed his brow, and pressed his right index finger against his pursed lips, and cocked his bald head to the left.
"You have a bad right shoulder?"
Elliot squinted back at the taller man. Tyson had lied about that part too. Gus was easily six foot two, and well-muscled for a man of his age. A far cry from his own five foot nine and a quarter.
"Ah, well, yea guess so, I do. Sort a knocked it out back a year ago or so in Sarajevo. Pains me a bit. Popped out twice more since then too. Tyse can pop it back in for me though so's no big deal really. Tyse, is your dad a doctor? You didn't tell me he was a doctor." He hissed in a whisper over and around Gus' left shoulder as if Gus, standing only inches away, wouldn't hear him.
"No not a doctor, Elliot. Physical therapist, slash trainer and coach for the high school track, football and wrestling teams. Before you go I'll give you some exercises to help strengthen up the muscles around your shoulder to help keep it from popping out anymore. Won't be a complete fix, but it will help. Tyson, why didn't you tell me the boy had a wonky shoulder? I could have sent you the exercises."
"Well dad because the boy never mentioned he had a wonky shoulder."
Gus looked from Tyson and back at Elliot, now uncomfortably caught in his lie.
"Guess it wasn't you who popped it back, Tyse. Must have been Giddy maybe. You know me always getting things mixed up."
"No, I know you Salem, and you do not get things mixed up. You're a consummate liar. What gives?"
"Look Tyse remember when…"
"Bagels for everyone," Mimi interrupted carrying a tray to the table, and motioning for the trio to be seated, "Dig in."
Once they all sat back down again, Gus pressed Elliot for the remainder of his shoulder story.
"Dad, maybe it's not such a great idea to tell stories. Elliot's not keen on re-telling stuff."
"Well, then I guess Elliot's got a lot to learn then. First about eating, and second about sharing stories. Continue Elliot, I'm intrigued as to how you confused who pops your shoulder in for you."
"Yes sir, well ah Gus sir. Well, we were doing recon in this little village. Not much more than a cluster of huts and bombed out two and three story buildings. Wow Mimi, I really like this spinning thing in the middle of the table." Salem added reaching out and spinning the Lazy Susan while studying its contents, "Damned convenient device. Anyway," he continued, still spinning the Lazy Susan gradually faster and faster. "Rios, well Tyse and me are going door to door checking for weapons and insurgents, and so far it was all pretty smooth going. Top he calls for him to scout up ahead and I get left back."
"Stop playing with the Lazy Susan Salem. It's not a damned toy. Mom I warned you. I told you to put it away until we left, or he'd never let the damned thing alone. Stop it Salem!"
Salem took his hand away, and sat back in his chair. He took a bite of bagel a sip of coffee and went on.
"Anyway, well right about then the shit, sorry excuse me, Mimi. Well, all hell, damn it Tyse can I just use little curse words? You did."
"No, finish the story Elliot."
"But you said damn, and your dad called me a little skinny ass bitch. That's two curse words toward a house guest even. Come on give a little skinny ass bitch a break."
"Salem do not make me…"
Gus and Mimi were both laughing aloud at the pair's strange banter, and Elliot relaxed slightly hoping it had taken away some of Gus' focus on his little lie.
"Fine, you fat fu… well let's just say that things got real hot real fast…No, here's the skinny Gus. I just, I just wanted you to know, or think that Tyse takes good care of me. You know does a good job of it. Seems, from what little I've heard so far, he's told you guys a lot about me, so I figure he's told you we didn't exactly get off on a good foot. I just wanted you to know that's all behind us now. We're tight. He just, well he sold me out that's all. But we're grown men and I'll forgive him maybe someday. Like when h- e-double tooth picks freezes over. Giddy never popped it back in either. I took a fall during that op, and hit hard on the lower floor on a small wall. It popped out, and I smacked it back in the way I did it in Sarajevo. That's all, sorry. And Gus you will have to excuse me sir, because I don't talk shop ever. Done's done, and the only reason to go back through the pain of it again is to fix any mistakes we might have made. Sorry sir. These bagels are the best I've ever had Mimi, thanks."
The group sat silently staring at Elliot who had set his bagel down, and now sat head bowed with his hands in his lap as if waiting to hear his punishment for lying. He lied a lot, and was rarely caught at it. He even lied when he didn't need to. Lying was a simple game he liked to play, and he enjoyed the risk of being caught. It didn't surprise him that Rios had called him on the story, but he wished the older man had not.
Gus was confused by the entire scenario. He coached boys, teen boys, and he was more than familiar with how to manage them despite often feeling as though he grossly miss-managed his own son. Elliot was a puzzle though. From what Tyson had told them the younger man had come from an extraordinarily dysfunctional family situation. Gus could tell he was holding back in an effort to be polite, and not offend or embarrass Tyson. What the learned coach read, despite Salem's seemly submissive body language, was that the man was seething. He was angry and confused about being looked over as if he'd been up for auction, and that he didn't like being told how things would be. The coach knew he was at risk of losing Elliot's trust and friendship, just the way he'd lost Tyson's, if he didn't curb his demanding tactics. Elliot was not a man easily broken, and Gus knew that the harder he tried, the harder Elliot would fight back. It was, Gus could see, a mode of behavior deeply ingrained in the young man's psyche. He'd miss-judged how sensitive Elliot was, and he'd over stepped his bounds.
"No apology needed Elliot. I was a bit forthright looking at you like a football scout or something worse. I'm very relieved that Tyson can take care of you, and I can rest well at night knowing that he's in your capable hands as well. Now, that being said, forget about the stories. I can get those from Tyson, but you will eat while you are here. I won't have you going back to that hell hole under-weight. Do you understand?"
Elliot looked up and smiled weakly across the small table at the man, "Yes sir. I'll eat. That's a fair bargain. Thanks. Do you guys have any milk? I love chocolate milk with my bagels, and Tyse makes it just right. And Gus, you think you might get the fat one over there to lay off a bit about the cursing. If not it's gonna be long miserable week for me and my beleaguered verbiage."