Chapter 2

Fort Leavenworth, KS – 2010

11:07 PM, Friday, April 9th. It had been an unseasonably warm week in Kansas. Daytime temperatures had reached the upper 70's with the overnight lows never dropping below the lower 60's. For 17-year-old Lois Lane, it was a quick start to Spring.

Spring had always been Lois's favorite time of the year. To her, Spring represented rebirth. It was more than just warmer temperatures; it was life renewed. Everywhere she looked there were signs of rebirth. The sprigs of bright green that appearing in barren trees that once looked dead, people emerging from houses and playing with their kids and dogs in parks, joggers and cyclists crowding sidewalks and roads, and the fresh scent of life in the air were all signs of the renewal that Spring ushered in each year.

This year though would be different for Lois. This year, she would turn eighteen and officially become an adult. The feeling of excitement and exuberance at the thought of the freedom that eighteen carried with it moved something inside her like the starting bell at Churchill Downs. But rather than race out of the starting gate, she crept out of her bedroom window instead.

Her father, Lieutenant Colonel Sam Lane, deputy commandant of the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, had arrived home two hours earlier, exhausted after a grueling three-day trip to US Army Europe headquarters in Heidelberg, Germany. LTC Lane was due for promotion to full Colonel in June with orders to Frankfurt, Germany to serve as the US Army 5th Corps Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, and the incoming Corps Commander, a three-star general, asked to meet with him ahead of his arrival in July.

So, when Sam got home, he had just enough energy to unpack his bag, shower, and gobble down dinner before he literally passed out from exhaustion in his bedroom, located on the first floor of their two-story military housing.

During the entire week of late Spring-like weather, Lois was stuck going to school and shuttling her younger sister, Lucy, around to afterschool activities. Lucy was nearly 15 years old and despised it when Lois would tell others she was babysitting her little sister. Lois ensured others knew that when she could not join their festivities, it because she was "babysitting her little sister", emphasizing 'babysitting' to both impress others with her annoyance and to humiliate Lucy.

The resentment by both sisters over the difficult arrangement had frayed their relationship.

Lois had filled the maternal role in the family ever since their mom passed away six years earlier. It was a role she filled but for which she rarely received praise from her father. To him, Lois serving as Ella Lane's replacement was as expected as a Sergeant taking charge of a squad when the squad leader was incapacitated or killed. "You need to step up, Lo," he told her following the graveside service for Ella. "I'm counting on you to help keep this family intact."

Sam often scowled or outright criticized the way she performed 'her duties'. That prompted Lois to add Sam Lane to the resentment list, just one step ahead of Lucy. She did not hate her life because it had color, but Lois resented never being able to have a real teen life. She resented being held to an impossible standard and her father's inability to acknowledge her sacrifice for their family.

Lois could not wait until Lucy turned eighteen. Once that happened, Lois was determined to leave the house and never look back.

Watching Lucy while the weather was so spectacular had been nothing short of torture for Lois. So now, with her father home and Lucy presumably asleep in her room, there was nothing that was going to lock her down tonight. She was four months and ten days away from her 18th birthday and it was time for her to start warming up for adulthood. She did not think her father would wake up if she snuck down the stairs, but she was not going to take any chances. Slipping in and out through her bedroom window undetected was a routine she had mastered over the last few months.

She wriggled into a pair of jeans that she had laid out on her bed, pulled her nightie off, grabbed a bra and put it on while surveying her closet. She took out a black leather jacket, regarded it for a minute and then hung it back up and stepped to her bureau. It was warm and it would be even warmer where she was headed so she fished out a white tank top and a dark blue lightweight sweater that emphasized her chest. She glanced at herself in the mirror. "Yep," she muttered.

A small black leather clutch with a thin leather shoulder strap that belonged to Ella now held Lois's car keys, hairbrush, perfume, and a lipstick. Rifling through the bottom drawer of the bureau, she retrieved a small envelope buried in the back. From it, Lois retrieved a fake ID and shoved it into her tiny wallet that also went into her purse. She strung it diagonally over her head and under her left arm. With a pair of boots in hand, Lois crept out her window onto the roof of the sunroom that her father used as an office. There was a large oak limb growing near the edge of the roof that the previous occupants had hung a tire swing to, affording Lois the perfect escape and access route to avoid having to use the front or back doors.

It was a short shimmy down the rope to the ground and Lois pick up the boots she had tossed and walked to her 2005 Ford Focus 4-door that Sam had picked up at the post 'lemon lot' where deploying soldiers sold their vehicles to avoid storing them during a 1 to 3-year overseas deployment. It was hardly a lemon and had less the 27,000 miles when Sam bought it for Lois in 2009.

Sam surprised her with the car on her 16th birthday, telling her that he loved her and handing her the keys saying, "Happy birthday, Lo. I hope you like it." Lois was overwhelmed at her father's gesture. Tears formed in her eyes, and she hugged Sam's neck.

"Thank you, Dad," she said, nearly overcome by her father's generous gift because it felt like a moment of his acknowledgement for all that she had sacrificed for the family.

"You're welcome, Pumpkin," he replied, hugging his daughter. "I figured you'll need reliable transportation to pick up groceries from the Commissary or to take Lucy to school and in case of emergencies if I'm unavailable. It's not brand new but I've had it checked over by one of the best mechanics I know, and he says it's in tip-top condition."

Sam did not place any significance on the perceptible sag when Lois heard him, but when she let go of his neck, he noticed that she did have new tears in her eyes.

The Focus fired up and purred quietly as she crept out of the driveway without lights on and at idle speed until she was fully in the street. The lights came on and she quietly accelerated away from the Lane quarters. A few minutes later, Lois drove out the main gate and headed to a bar called Scooters in Platte City, Missouri, that was open until 3 AM and featured karaoke and dancing.

Scooters was not that far from the fort and there were plenty of bars closer but most people from Fort Leavenworth never bothered coming across the Missouri River to drink. She felt less likely to be seen across the river plus the bar was just fun and they never examined her fake ID card very closely.

She strolled into Scooters like she was a regular customer, yelled, "Hey" and waved to no one in particular. The bar was dimly lit but she could see about twenty-five or so people in the bar. The music was not extraordinarily loud, but the people were. She smiled and mouthed a 'Hi', in the general direction of a group at two tables pulled together before nudging up to the bar.

"Got an ID?" the bartender asked her.

She frowned as though the question was unnecessary and rummaged through her purse and pulled out the bogus ID. "Bad hair day," she quipped when she handed the fake military dependent ID to him that showed her to be 21 years old.

He checked the birth date, glanced at her, turned it over to check the back, and then handed it back to Lois. "Ya gotta driver's license?" he asked.

"Shhh," she said with a sly smile and leaned forward across the bar. "Revoked for six months," she rocked her head back and forth and rolled her eyes. "Second DUI and the frickin' judge took it from me…right there in the courtroom," she said knowingly and did a slight shrug.

"Whaddya have?" he asked.

"Bud," she replied, "in the bottle."

"You want to start a tab?" he asked.

Lois turned around and surveyed the bar. She turned back to the bartender. "Nope. Won't need one." She slid a five-dollar bill to him, took the bottle and walked to a table near the small vacant dance floor.

Three young men with short buzz cuts were sitting in a booth with two girls directly to Lois's left. The girls were not military and were presumably from Platte City or nearby. Judging by the number of bottles and glasses on the table, they had been there a while.

One of the girls scooted out of the booth and pulled one of the young men out and led him to the small vinyl tile dance floor that looked like wood parquet. Red, blue, and green spotlight illuminated the floor in a cheesy, 1970's disco way. They began dancing to a Lady A song as Lois watched and sipped her beer.

From the corner of her eye, Lois watched the two remaining guys in the booth. She could not hear what they were saying to one another, but she did not have to. Both were grinning and the one was pushing the other out of the booth away from him and his girl. She glanced further back toward the door as if she was looking for someone else, and then turned back, looked at her watch as if she was checking the time, and then went back to work on her beer. A moment later, the guy being pushed out of the booth stood behind her.

"Excuse me, Miss," a voice said. Lois pivoted in her chair and looked at him. "Are you with someone…or…waiting for someone?"

She did a quick evaluation of the young man. Military, without a doubt. Taller than he looked in the booth. Dark hair, nice features, and a pleasing Southern drawl. Friendly smile. Smelled good. Looked about twenty years old. "Well, I'm not at the moment," she began. "I have a couple girlfriends that were supposed to be here already but either they're running late or not coming," she said.

"May I buy ya a beer?" he asked.

"Sure," Lois replied and smiled. "I'm nearly done with this one. Why don't you take a seat and let me finish this one first."

The young man quickly pulled a chair out and moved it to Lois's right and sat while she took a pull on the bottle of beer. "I'm Matt Gallagher," he said and offered his hand.

She swallowed, took his hand, and gave him a firm handshake. "I'm Erica Parker," she replied, reciting the name on the ID card that was in her wallet. "Nice to meet you."

Ninety minutes and six beers later, Lois was two-stepping with Matt on the dance floor to Toby Keith's song, 'I Should Have Been a Cowboy'. That song faded and a slow Alan Jackson song came on next. One of the other guys came up and said loudly that they had to go. Matt begrudgingly separated from Lois, but she pulled him back. She looked over Matt's shoulder to the other soldier. "I'll get him back to post," she announced, and he smiled and nodded. He slapped Matt on the back and went back to the others. She looked at her dance partner and smiled. "I'm not through with you yet, killer."

The ammunition supply point, or ASP for short, had been long vacated and all that remained was grass-covered storage garages that were difficult to detect from the air above but were quite obvious at ground level. The small symmetrical hills with concrete walls and heavy doors on the front were obvious and hard to miss. But most people who visited Fort Leavenworth never saw them since they were located in a remote area of the installation adjacent to small arms ranges and training areas where maneuvers and tactics were trained.

Security was no longer provided at the ASP since the ammunition had been removed and relocated to other storage areas. Fencing around the facility remained but there were no guards and gates were no longer chained and locked.

It was 2:15 AM and behind one of the ammo bunkers was where Lois had driven with young Sergeant Gallagher. The car was parked with the engine off. After about a half hour, even with the windows partially lowered, they fogged in the cool night air and the interior of the car had gotten heated.

Matt Gallagher was intoxicated and sweating. He unbuttoned his damp shirt and left it that way. Lois was sweaty as well. She pulled her sweater off and threw it in the backseat. "Don't get the wrong idea, Romeo. This is as far as it goes and it's only going this far because it's hot as hell in this car."

They had been talking and laughing for about an hour when the sergeant leaned in for a kiss and Lois kissed him back. He was a good kisser, she thought, and was enjoying the moment. Not long afterwards, the young sergeant started exploring the soft curves below her shoulders. She jerked back and pushed him away. "At ease, Mister. You need to find something else to do with those hands." She stared at him sternly and grabbed the offending hand, awkwardly twisting and firmly pressing her thumb into the top of it the way a Marine gunnery sergeant had once shown her. "It's been a fun night but don't make me end it by breaking your nose, got it?" The sergeant's grin faded when he realized Lois was serious and his wrist and hand were starting to ache.

"Oww! Yes…okay," the young sergeant replied, wincing. Lois held the pressure for another beat then let his hand go. He shook the pain out and looked at his watch. The time was 2:28 AM and he yawned. "You know, maybe I should be getting back to the barracks," he said. "I got PT in about three hours." He downed the last of the beer left in the bottle resting between his knees and flung it out the window, the bottle thudding onto the grassy slope of the ammo bunker and rolling back toward the car, clinking against others he had deposited there.

"Really?" Lois exclaimed, half disappointed and half annoyed at his quick reversal. She huffed and then wriggled back into her seat, fastened her seat belt, and cranked the engine. The dashboard lit up and Lois took a napkin from the door pocket and wiped the inside of the windshield while Matt began to button his shirt.

She put the car in gear and with lights out, crept slowly out from behind the bunker, hearing a crunching sound from the back of the car and before they got around to the side of the bunker, her right rear tire was hissing air. "Oh shit!" She glowered at him. "You threw those bottles straight out? Did you not think they would roll back toward the car?" Exasperated, she put the car in park and got out to look. The right rear was hissing and would be flat before she could travel one hundred feet. The problem was the gate to the road was about 500 feet away.

Matt got out and surveyed. "Damn," he said unsteadily, "I'm sorry, Erica. I will pay for a new tire for you." He held on to the rear quarter panel to steady himself.

"Forget it. Just get back in the car, Einstein," Lois barked. "I've got to try to get us out of this grass so we can jack the car up." She pulled away slowly, riding on the tire that had completely flattened about halfway to the gate and was rolling on the rim.

The surfaces in the old ASP were grass, so as not to be easily definable from the air. The ASP had been used to store excess and broken government furniture and mostly those in the front of the ASP were the ones used. The route Lois traveled was relatively unworn and the right rear tire was leaving noticeable tracks from the rim biting into the softer ground.

"I'm really sorry," Matt said slowly, the beer beginning to take hold. "I didn't…"

Lois snapped the radio off. "No, no! Don't talk. Just sit there quietly. I need to concentrate," Lois said. She continued to creep but was forced to use her headlights to navigate her way out. She was just about to make the gate when a military police sedan swung in through the ASP gate and pulled directly in front of Lois's car. Even if the patrol had not blocked the gate, Lois was going nowhere with her rear tire completely flat. The MP driver turned on his blue lights.

"Turn off the ignition and your headlights," the other MP ordered over the loudspeaker.

"Shit!" Lois muttered. She complied and then looked at Matt. "Straighten up and keep quiet…and roll down your window, it smells like beer in here!"

The MP sedan headlights were on high beam, blinding Lois and her passenger. She did not actually see either MP until they stood beside the car doors, flashlights pointed into laps, the backseat, and floorboards. "Good evening, officer," Lois said cordially.

"Ma'am," the MP at her door replied in a friendly tone. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh well, I got turned around," Lois began. "I have this flat tire and wanted to get out of the road to fix it," she lied, smiling pleasantly.

"Uh huh," the MP said. "May I see your driver's license, registration and ID card, please?" The MP on the other side of the car asked for Sergeant Gallagher's ID as well. He glanced at it and slid it over the roof to the MP next to Lois.

Lois dug around her glove box and found the registration. She fished her wallet out of the console and surrendered her driver's license and ID card. "Well," he began, "Miss Lane, the reason we stopped you is we needed to see what you're doing so far out here near these storage areas. Do you live on post?"

"Yes," Lois replied. "I live up in the Iron Triangle housing area. And it's Ms. Lane."

Matt's head snapped to look in her direction. "Who is Miss Lane?"

"Would you please step outside of the car, Ms. Lane," the MP asked and stepped back from the door.

"For what? Am I under arrest for something?"

"No," he replied, "I would just like to have a word with you at the back of the car."

Lois exited and walked back to the rear of the car where the MP was standing. The headlights were illuminating the man now and she saw that his name was Bellinger and his rank was Staff Sergeant. "See," Lois began, "flat tire," pointing at the right rear tire.

"Save that story for the colonel, Ms. Lane. What are you doing out at…" he looked at his watch, "oh, 2:32 AM at the ASP?"

"Well Sergeant Bellinger," she began, "I'm trying to get home and as I have explained and pointed out to you, I have a flat tire. You seem to be oblivious to my dilemma and instead, you're implying that I've broken some law or regulation by being out here. This area is not posted off-limits so I'm not sure what the problem is or why you have apparently rushed to judgment that a crime has been committed when what I really need is a little help."

The Staff Sergeant stared at Lois and a smile formed on his face at her reasonably sound attempt to flip the conversation. It was not going to work but he was amused at her attempt. He looked at the back window, still fogged from body heat inside the vehicle, and frowned. "Is there something wrong with the airflow in your car, Ms. Lane?" he said, nodding at the rear window.

Lois looked and was dismayed because she knew that he knew exactly what she was doing there. But she was not going to give him the satisfaction of letting on. She turned back and shrugged. "Daddy buys a car from the Lemon Lot rather than a new car lot. This is what I get. What can I say?"

He made his point and let it go. "Right. What's his story?" Bellinger asked.

"He needed a ride back to the barracks," Lois replied. "I think he's had too much to drink," she added.

"And you," the Staff Sergeant asked.

"Me?" Lois replied, feigning surprise. "I'm not even eighteen, yet. How am I going to get alcohol?" He cocked his head, unconvinced. She rolled her eyes. "No, I haven't had 'too much to drink'," she added.

Bellinger looked at his partner. "Get him out of the car," he ordered, "and have him stand in front of the patrol car."

The other MP gave Sergeant Gallagher instructions and the sergeant swung open the door and got to his feet, wobbling a little. He was led to the gap between the MP sedan and Lois's car, and he leaned up against the MP vehicle.

"Oh, c'mon, Sarge," Lois complained. "The guy's done nothing wrong. He doesn't need to be…"

The Staff Sergeant cut her off. "That's a matter of opinion, Ms. Lane. You're a minor. He's an adult…intoxicated. You're underage and have been drinking…don't deny it, I can smell it on your breath. I can take you to the station and we can run a breathalyzer test if you want. If I am wrong, I'll apologize and bring you right back here."

He paused and Lois said nothing. "Also, you've been parked here for more than an hour, as evidenced by the fogged-up windows. And," he continued, "your car's tire tracks show you did not just turn in here to get off the street to fix a tire. They track all the way to the back of the ASP behind Bunker 16."

Lois wanted to reply to his observations, but she just could not think of what she could say that might help. "Do you think if I follow those tracks back to Bunker 16, I might find whatever it was that flattened your tire?" No reply. "Maybe even something with your lipstick on it?" he asked.

Lois stared at him. "Get the keys to your car, Ms. Lane," the sergeant ordered. "I can't allow you to drive home this morning."

Shit, I'm grounded until I'm 45, Lois thought and trudged to her open car door, pulled the keys from the ignition and took them back to Staff Sergeant Bellinger.

He took the keys from Lois and opened the trunk. He pulled back the carpet and exposed the spare tire. "What are you doing," Lois asked. "This is an illegal search!"

He stifled a laugh. "You said you needed help; this is me helping you. So it would see that it is you that has rushed to judgment," he replied with a sardonic smile.

He changed the tire quickly, put the jack and flat tire in the trunk, and closed it. He went to the MP sedan, ordered PFC Monroe to put the woozy sergeant in the back of the sedan and then flipped him the keys to Lois's vehicle. He murmured something and turned to Lois. "PFC Monroe will drive your vehicle home with your permission."

Lois hesitated. "And if I don't give permission?"

"Not a problem. We'll get a wrecker out here and have it towed to the parking lot at the MP station or just lock it up here and your dad can bring you back to get it once the sun comes up. Your choice."

"Well, I'm sure PFC Monroe will just love the smooth ride and responsive handling of my car," Lois replied sarcastically. "Can you at least cut the lights when you turn into the driveway?" she asked as the PFC moved to get into her car. "And don't change the station on the radio!"

She walked to get into the backseat of the MP sedan where Gallagher had dozed off. "No," Bellinger barked. "You sit up front with me."

They drove off, heading to the Lane residence with Bellinger leading and Monroe following in Lois's car. While driving, Bellinger told Lois to open the glove compartment and retrieve some Handi Wipes. She did and handed them to the staff sergeant. "They're for you. Wipe your makeup off," he said. "When you're done, give me a couple of them."

Lois did as he instructed, she was at his mercy at this point and had little choice. "Now," he continued, "that plastic bag on the floor; pick it up, please, so you don't step all over my food."

Lois retrieved the white plastic bag with the words, AAFES on it, which is an acronym for the Army Air Force Exchange System, commonly called the PX on Army posts and BX on Air Force bases. It had snacks in it: two boxes of Cracker Jack, an open package of Diamond Wasabi and Soy Almonds, a 16-ounce bottle of lime-flavored PowerAide, and a bag of Cheez-Its. She looked at Bellinger. "Wow, you eat like a 10-year-old," she quipped.

"Midnight shift. Mess halls are closed." Bellinger looked at her. "Do you eat any of that stuff?"

"Are you kidding? I eat all of it," she replied, to which he chuckled. "If you had some maple doughnuts in here, it would complete my food pyramid." She paused and turned to him. "Why are you doing this?" Lois asked warily. He stayed silent for a moment and thoughts of being blackmailed went through her head.

"I know your dad," he replied, finally. "I know he can be real hard-ass. I know a little about your family's situation so I can't imagine living with him is a day at the beach."

Skeptical, Lois pressed. "You're hit that one out of the park, slugger, but what does that have to do with tonight's situation?"

He took a long breath and let it out. "Because your dad was the president of the promotion board that selected me for staff sergeant. I know he's a hard-ass but I also owe him one." He glanced at Lois who was watching him intently. "When I was up for promotion, I had a blemish on my record after a little problem downtown. There was a senior noncommissioned officer who wanted to block my promotion because of that. Your dad overruled him. I'm a staff sergeant today because he of what he did."

Neither one said anything for a moment. Then the sergeant glanced over at Lois. "If I took you in, the duty officer would have to include your name in the MP blotter as part of the entry. The MP blotter goes to the Commanding General every morning. There would be repercussions for your dad, and this is me doing what's right in return."

Lois mumbled a soft-spoken, "Thank you, then."

"You're welcome," the sergeant replied. "Anyway, as I said, I know your dad's a hard-ass. Getting you home safe and keeping peace in the kingdom here is my job. The kingdom includes your home," he concluded.

PFC Monroe eased the car into the driveway with Bellinger parked on the street. Lois got out and raced over to her car, retrieved sweater out of the back seat and quickly pulled it over her head. The PFC headed to the front door with Lois following her. Staff Sergeant Bellinger activated his flashers, checked on Gallagher who was asleep in the backseat, and then exited the sedan to join them at the front door.

Lois's key had never worked consistently in the front door lock. Sometimes it opened right up and other times she had to fiddle with the knob before the key worked properly. Of all nights, tonight it was not cooperating. She fiddled with the doorknob, but it did not disengage the lock and then she could not free the key from the lock.

The color drained from her face as she looked at PFC Monroe and rang the doorbell. She waited, and then rang it again. Thudding footsteps were heard approaching the door and the sound of the deadbolt turning. Sam turned on the porch light and opened the door. He stared at the PFC with the MP brassard on his left shoulder and then back at Lois. He groaned. "Oh, for God's sake, Lo, what the hell have you done this time?" he growled, glaring at Lois.

Bellinger reached the front porch just as Sam opened the front door and intervened before Lois or Monroe could say a word. "Good evening, Sir," he began, "I'm Sergeant Bellinger and this is PFC Monroe." The junior soldier backed away. "You daughter didn't do a thing. We came across her trying to change her tire just a few blocks past the mini mall. She was having trouble with the lug nuts on the flat and we stopped to give her a hand." He paused. "The spare looked like it needed some air too, so just to be safe, we followed her home to make sure she made it okay," he concluded.

He grunted and looked back at Lois. "What the hell are you doing out at this time of the morning?"

"I just went out for…" Lois began, but Bellinger cut her off.

"You forgot these, Ms. Lane," he said, handing her the AAFES bag full of snacks.

She smiled and nodded, "…something to snack on," she said without missing a beat. "We don't have a thing in the house except popcorn, and I got the munchies. I didn't want to wake you up making popcorn." She shrugged and frowned. "I think I must have run over a bottle or something on the way out and got a flat tire. Anyway, they helped me change it, and then this stupid key got stuck in the damn lock again."

Sam grumbled, wriggled the key until it came loose, and opened the door wider to let Lois in. She walked past, turned back, and said, "Thank you, guys," making a grimaced face at Bellinger behind Sam's back before continuing inside.

Sam regarded the staff sergeant for a moment. "Yes, thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate you helping her. Very professional of you."

The MPs bid the colonel goodnight and began to leave but Sam said, "Wait, I know you," he said. "Have you worked for me at some point, Sergeant?"

"No, Sir. I believe it's because you were president on my promotion board about a year ago."

"Oh yeah," Sam replied, "that's right. Bellinger." He started to say something but decided against it. "Well thank you Sergeant Bellinger and you too, Private Monroe. You gentlemen have a good evening," he concluded and closed the door.

Monroe followed Bellinger to the sedan. "That was a close one for her," he said. "Do you know her?"

"Nope," he replied. "But I know her father and I heard a little about their situation. His wife died a few years back and it's just him and his daughters. He's a real fucking hard-ass and I can imagine it's not easy for her living under his roof. I thought she could use a break tonight."

"I get it," Monroe said, as he slid in behind the wheel. "Peace in the kingdom, right Sarge?"