Part 4 (2/2)
Frame after frame pa.s.sed by as they marched aft. After some snaking through very tight pa.s.sageways they arrived at what the escorting petty officer dubbed as the green door.
The young man picked up the phone and waited a few seconds. It rang audibly through the handset; an answer came after three rings.
”Sir, I have them both at the green door and-”
The yelling from the obnoxiously loud handset blasted across the pa.s.sageway.
”Yes, sir. He insists that they both-yes, sir.”
After replacing the handset the scorned petty officer said, ”A SCIF escort will be here shortly, sir. Sorry to leave you here in the pa.s.sageway but I'll need to be on watch in two hours and I haven't slept in twenty-four.”
”No problem, hit the rack and have a good watch,” Kil said, mostly to send the young man off on a positive note.
”Aye, aye, sir. Thanks.”
Just as the man left their field of view, Saien asked, ”What's aye, aye mean?”
”It means . . .”
The green door flew open and out of it sprang an older man wearing thick birth-control gla.s.ses, tennis shoes, and a blue set of coveralls with navy commander rank on his collar. His nametape said Monday.
I hate Mondays, Kil thought.
The man approached Kil nearly toe to toe and seemed to scan him with his ma.s.sive convex lenses.
”What's this I hear about you insisting your foreign national friend come with you into my SCIF for mission briefing?”
”Sir, Admiral Goettleman allowed me one partner from the USS George Was.h.i.+ngton for this mission. I chose Saien and if I'm going to potentially trust my life to him, I d.a.m.n sure want him to know the score. Besides, I'm going to tell him what you tell me anyway, so what's the difference?”
Monday chewed on that for a second. ”I figured you'd say that. I was ordered by Captain La.r.s.en to read you and your man into what we are up against. Knowing what you are about to be exposed to, I wanted to see if I could somehow persuade you to come here alone. It just goes against my grain having him inside the SCIF. I'm sure you understand.”
”Saien, would you mind stepping around the corner for a minute?”
”Sure, Kil. Don't be long, I have a ma.s.sage appointment.”
Kil laughed and then proceeded to use his best diplomatic candor to express his point to Monday. ”Yeah, I understand, but you gotta understand, too. I've vetted him. True, he's a foreigner, but he's come through for me, and he's the only one on this s.h.i.+p I trust at this point.”
”Okay, Commander. We're square. I just want you to understand the sensitivity and the severity of what you are about to hear after we go through that door. The four operators you arrived with are also waiting inside and about to be briefed. It's never pleasant to reveal information of this nature.”
Skeptically, Kil blurted, ”How G.o.dd.a.m.n crazy can it be? The dead started walking last winter and now they try to eat anything that moves.”
Monday replied rhetorically, ”How far down the rabbit hole can you fit?”
Saien returned to the hallway and stood alongside Kil.
Monday continued his sermon. ”This s.h.i.+t is heavy. This is far beyond flying around in your little spy plane during the war, listening to enemy phone s.e.x and making up SIGINT reports. Before I go on, I gotta ask you both one final question.”
Both Kil and Saien said almost simultaneously, ”What?”
Licking his lips, eyes squinting behind his Hubble gla.s.ses, Monday began, ”Once we go through that door and I tell you two what I'm about to tell you, I can't un-tell you. Is that clear? We don't have Men in Black mind erasers. It will affect you for the rest of your lives.”
”I'm ready,” said Kil.
”Me too,” muttered Saien, although not sounding as cavalier.
”Okay, gentlemen. Follow me.”
Monday turned to the green door leading into the SCIF and reached his hand into the cipher lock housing that covered the keys. Five b.u.t.ton clicks resonated. After a brief pause the sound of magnetic locks releasing cued Monday to push the green door into another world of possibility. All three men walked through and from there things became more and more curious.
8.
”Was that you?”
”Me what?
”Did you throw something?”
”No, what's wrong with you?”
”Never mind, probably flies.”
”Not this far out, not this time of year.”
A chorus of giggles resonated from the pa.s.sageway outside the s.h.i.+p's combat control center.
”Those f.u.c.king kids. I want to throw them over the side. You wanna scare them straight or should I?” said one of the men sitting at his radar operator chair.
”It's my turn, let me do it,” his colleague replied, grinning. Reaching into a cardboard box near his radar terminal, the sailor removed a gruesome Halloween mask, resembling the face of a corpse. He placed it over his head, adjusting the fit so that he could see through the mask's small eye openings.
”Watch this!”
He stepped over to the open door and jumped through the threshold, roaring like a banshee. The small group of children screamed for their lives and began to scatter . . . all but one.
A swift front kick from the child to the radar operator's groin brought the man cras.h.i.+ng to the floor. The other radar operator broke out in hysterical laughter that was cut short as the child advanced, moving with a visible intent to kick the man's head in with all his small might. Just in time, an older woman with curly red hair entered the s.p.a.ce, drawn by the screams and the commotion.
”What is going on in here, Danny?” the woman asked with authority.
”Granny Dean, I thought he was a . . .”
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