Ironic really, Buzz mused as he leafed through the waiting papers; the higher you climb up the career ladder, the less hands-on your work becomes. Sure, there were the inspections now and then, but most of the field work on a normal day was left to the sergeants.
A knock at the door stilled his wandering mind as he granted entry to his unseen visitor. A blond, well built solider walked into the office and gave a greeting salute.
“At ease,” Buzz replied, “What is it, Private?”
“Sir,” the man acknowledged, “Chief wants to see you, Sir.”
Buzz’s mood dropped through the floor at this news. His heart skipped a good few beats as he gave a sullen nod and rose from his chair, preparing himself for the worst.
The soldier frowned at his change in demeanour, wondering whether to pick him up on his manner or keep quiet. Licking his lips uncomfortably, he opted to sweep their titles aside as he spoke.
“Permission to speak freely, Sir,” he began.
Buzz quickly buried his misgivings as he granted what was asked of him.
“Everything alright?”
Buzz’s brow twitched in bemusement, taken aback at his concern. His suppressed feelings fought for freedom, and were showing signs of victory as Buzz briefly eyed the carpet.
“Yeah,” he dismissed, “It’s fine. Thanks for asking though.”
The soldier crossed his arms as he fixed him with a knowing stare.
“I’m not blind, Sir,” he remarked, causing Buzz to sharply return his gaze. “Something’s wrong, it’s in your eyes…”
Buzz gave a disheartened sigh as he awkwardly rubbed at the nape of his neck. Had this been any other time he would have been quick to reprimand the man on staying out of his affairs, but today was different. The weekend just gone had been a troubling one, and Johnny had given him enough food for thought to keep him chewing for days, maybe even weeks. Work could only keep him occupied for so long, and now he was faced once more with something he was still not used to; someone who truly cared about him. His ex-wife and son he'd thought he could deal with. Someone he’d only seen around once in a while was a different story, and he was caught off-guard.
“It’s personal stuff,” Buzz told him warily, “Can’t say any more than that.”
“Understood, Sir,” came the reply, but the blond man looked as though he had more to say.
“What is it?” Buzz tested.
“You are permitted friends in the army,” he hinted, a little smile playing upon his lips as he swept away the last of the formalities. “That is, if you want one…”
Buzz’s eyebrows twitched in surprise, slowly approaching the young man as he pondered how best to react.
“Is that an offer?” he checked slowly.
“Sure,” the man confirmed, his smile growing a little wider, “You don’t get that often, do you?”
Buzz allowed himself a sad smile as he studied his features a little. “It’s that obvious, huh?” he relented.
“‘Fraid so,” came the almost playful reply.
Buzz slowly nodded in acknowledgement, finding himself warming to the younger soldier.
“Thanks,” he told him, but still guarded as he continued. “I’ll think about it.”
“Stephan Mitchell,” he introduced, offering a hand.
Smiling, Buzz accepted and returned with his own name, before excusing himself to the summons Stephan had been sent to deliver.
Buzz tugged awkwardly at his blazer as the voice within granted him access. He gave the faintest of smiles as he entered, along with a dutiful salute before the chief invited him to take a seat.
The chief studied Buzz intently as the general sat opposite him, before sitting back in his seat, ready to begin their meeting. He could have chosen anywhere to base himself since becoming Chief of Army Staff, but after hearing another Grunt had been appointed as General, he decided to remain at Nevada. Someone with a family history as messy as the man sitting before him needed monitoring, he reminded himself.
It was Buzz who broke the silence as he felt an explanation was in order.
“Sorry I’m late, Sir,” Buzz apologised, “Got caught up in a little talk with Private Mitchell.”
“Ah,” the chief nodded, “Yes, there was a reason I chose him to get you.”
Buzz frowned at this remark.
“There was?”
“Very perceptive young man,” the chief mused, “Seems to pick up on troubled minds very easily. He’s been asking about you a few times, like he can sense something’s up with you.”
“Really?” Buzz queried, genuinely surprised.
He began to contemplate their last conversation, comparing notes before he could stop himself as he smiled sadly.
“Lyla and Ripp are a bit like that…”
“Ah yes, Ripp,” the chief hinted as he steered the meeting back on track, testing Buzz’s reaction as he did so.
Buzz glanced at his superior, his heart sinking as his gaze lowered.
“You know what this is about, I presume.”
Buzz merely nodded in reply, bracing himself for whatever was to follow.
“Very well, I’ll get to the point,” the chief acknowledged, “The hospital reported the whole sorry affair; how the boy had suffered extensive bruising and how he’d fallen awkwardly onto his right arm, fracturing his wrist. The latter you probably didn’t mean to happen…”
Buzz shook his head slowly to confirm the last statement.
“I also gather you struck your oldest.”
“That was an accident,” Buzz quickly stated.
The chief frowned at this but let him speak, watching as he seemed to slip into a reverie. It got stranger when the general’s left hand travelled absent-mindedly to his breastbone.
“I felt a grip on my arm, but when I turned it wasn’t Tank I saw… Well, it might have been, but he was holding a knife. There was blood on the blade, probably mine, and I was bleeding…”
The chief crossed his arms as he listened with interest. Sensing an opportunity to speak, he was quick to do so.
“Sounds like you need help, and soon,” he observed, coming to a decision as Buzz drifted back to earth. “I’m going to put you on a course of therapy,” he stated, “And in the meantime you’ll be staying here, away from your children and anyone else you may be a threat to.”
Buzz smiled wryly at the last statement, instantly thinking back to his scuffles with the Curious brothers, the scientist uncles Johnny had mentioned the day before. There was one concern playing on his mind, however.
“Will I be discharged?” he tested hesitantly.
“Suspended from duty,” the chief replied, “If you were anything like your father I’d have discharged you without a second thought, but I can see it’s more complicated than that.”
Buzz cocked his head at his last statement, truly puzzled.
“Anything like…?” Buzz echoed, “I put one of my sons in hospital, and you’re telling me I’m not like him??”
“Well, let’s see,” came the dry reply, “You don’t drink, you assaulted your sons only once, and you sure as hell didn’t kill anyone.”
Buzz stared at the chief aghast, stunned beyond words as he struggled to come to grips with this revelation.
“You don’t remember?” the man checked, “It was you who called the police.”
“Me?” Buzz repeated, scratching the base of his head as he fumbled blindly in the darkness of his mind, desperately trying to piece together the puzzle.
“Oh dear,” the chief remarked gravely, “You really are in trouble.”
Buzz swallowed a lump in his throat, reciting thoughts drifting through his mind before about the incident with the sixteen year old boy.
“Something in Tank’s eyes that reminded me about a knife,” he uttered, “Why…?”
“I think,” the chief offered, “The number one priority will be helping you find that out.”
On the way out of the classroom, Ripp became distracted as Dustin signalled discreetly to him. The blond youth gestured subtly with his right hand, tapping a pocket in his jeans, and Ripp nodded gently in reply. Unbeknown to him however, the two boys were being watched.
“‘Old on a minute,” Tank challenged, not disguising the disapproval in his voice.
“Outside,” Ripp ordered, pulling him toward the door.
“So it was him who got you on the cancer sticks?!” Tank snarled.
“I said don’t lecture me about it,” Ripp harshly reminded him.
Tank threw up his hands in exasperation, unable to hold his tongue any longer.
“Don’t lecture…!?” he started, “You expect me to sit back an’ watch my kid brother puffin’ his lungs away?!”
“Keep it down!” Ripp hissed urgently.
“Oh yeah, sure,” Tank replied bitterly, “’Cause you ain’t even old enough to buy ‘em, that’s right.”
“Cut it out, Tank!” Ripp bit in a hushed tone, “I already told you, I couldn’t cope anymore…”
“Was this before or after your sexual escapades?” Tank challenged, remembering all too well how he’d already tried to handle his situation at home.
“After,” Ripp replied, “Quite a while after.”
“After those antibiotics you were takin’?”
“Yeah,” came the evasive answer as Ripp shuffled on his feet. His eyes began to sting with the onset of tears at the reminder of all he’d endured and, despite not wishing to disclose any further details, he resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to drop yet another bombshell on his already burdened brother.
“To stop your ass itchin’,” Tank pondered, “What was that anyways, some kinda bug?”
“Yes,” came the abrupt reply as Ripp walked off, leaving Tank to chew on a combination of answers given and past knowledge. He began to connect the dots, but didn’t like the picture they were forming.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Tank called out as he chased after him.
Ripp hastily wiped away a stray tear before looking back at him.
“Not now, huh?” Ripp hinted, gesturing over Tank’s shoulder. The older boy turned to find Dustin watching them.
“Bad timing?” the blond youth checked.
“No, it’s cool,” Ripp told him, “I need one now more than ever.”
“So when did you start?” Tank asked as Dustin lit his cigarette.
“A while ago,” came the vague reply, “Like your brother, I needed a coping mechanism.”
Tank raised a disapproving eyebrow at the apparent weakness displayed by the pair of them.
“And fuckin’ up your lungs helps you cope?”
“Cool it Tank,” Ripp chastised, “You were only too happy to mess up your knuckles on that piece of canvas.”
“The punchbag ain’t addictive.”
“Pfff!” Ripp spat, “Could’ve fooled me! I had to drag you off it, remember?”
“That’s by the by,” Tank defended, “I ain’t gonna risk lung cancer by it.”
“Whatever,” came the dismissive reply.
“Look buddy,” Dustin chipped in, “I appreciate your concern, but when your life gets fucked up enough you might understand us better.”
“It already is, thanks,” Tank told him, “Whoever said the ‘golden boy’ comes up smellin’ of roses was lyin’. That father of ours made a fuckin’ prisoner of me for years.”
Dustin raised an eyebrow as he glanced between the brothers, his blue eyes resting on Ripp’s blemished features.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” he guessed, indicating the plaster cast.
Ripp studied the toilet bowl as he inhaled another lungful of tobacco smoke, flicking some ash into the pan as he let the smoke trickle from his nostrils.
“Jerk,” Dustin growled, “Fuckers take their family for granted, treat ‘em like shit… an’ then you got guys like my dad, great guys who never get a chance to watch their kids grow up.”
Tank’s brow twitched in puzzlement, before looking to his brother for an explanation.
“His dad died when he was little,” Ripp clarified, “Left his mom with two kids and one on the way.”
“Wow,” Tank breathed, before addressing the blond youth, “I’m sorry.”
Dustin gave a little nod as he drew from his cigarette, to signify that his words had been heard, but remained quiet. Tank was left with more brain food to chew on than when he’d confronted Ripp about his smoking habit.
Buzz tossed the last of the heavy luggage to the floor, gazing about the empty house with a heavy heart. His eyes rested on the spot where Ripp had fallen, and for a moment a familiar image returned to haunt his vision; of the boy crumpled to the ground, a crimson waterfall flowing from his fallen body and forming a pool that spread across the wooden floor. The general’s eyes screwed shut in an attempt to banish the picture from his mind, and expelled a little sigh of relief on finding it had worked. Patting the case that contained his diary, he went on to conduct one last search through the house for any remnants of the family that had gradually abandoned him. A hunch pulled him to Tank’s room, where he rummaged briefly through the boy’s drawers and gathered up more scraps of paper from within, storing them inside a magazine he’d also found there. Something about science, he noted with a smile. So much for being an army boy, he mused once again, his heart plainly wasn’t in it.
A finger trailed along the banister as he descended the stairs, clutching the magazine along with photos that he had collected along the way, and stored them into a lighter case before taking a last look around the building he’d once called home.
“Everything ready, Sir?”
Buzz glanced at the waiting solider, before giving a slow nod. Sighing to himself he reluctantly left, taking a moment to rescue the mail he noticed waiting for him in the mailbox. Storing the envelope into a pocket without so much as studying the postage mark, he was distracted by the sight of the proverbial yellow vehicle as it drove past his house.
He watched in solemn resignation as the school bus carried his offspring away, before again being brought back to reality by the waiting soldier.
“Sir?”
“Yes, sorry,” he muttered, the despair evident in his face as he boarded the khaki vehicle. As they set off he watched helplessly as the Arizona sands swept by, mingling seamlessly with those of their neighbouring state. How long he would spend in the military base at Nevada was a question he tried hard not to dwell on.
