෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
Don’t Call it a Comeback
෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴
The bird's-eye view of the manor was that of thousands of acres of old growth forest, precious few roads passing through or even near it, and a pale green pool of manicured grounds hidden away inside it all. The road leading toward the manor wound along, following the terrain. The pavement was quite well maintained, easily mistaken for a municipal road in a well-to-do area.
A young woman in pale blue scrubs adorned by multicolored smiling cat faces got out of her parked car and shook out her long auburn-streaked chestnut hair. The day was sunny and warm, the staff parking only a short walk from the main building, so she left her jacket in the car and walked across the meticulously groomed grounds. She made her way along a winding path that led toward the enormous building that sat in the center of the landscaped area surrounded by the dense woods.
Along the way, she slowed her pace and took in the beautiful summer view. Smiling to herself, she reflected on the good fortune that had found her such a great new job.
Once inside, her new coworkers greeted her with friendly smiles.
“Well, if it isn’t the new blood! Quite a change from California, eh? I hope you found the place ok,” a woman that reminded her of her mother called out.
The young woman looked at herself self consciously. “Is it that obvious?”
An older matronly looking woman came in just in time to hear the exchange. “Don’t let her muddle you up. She saw your automotive plates of licensure. As for knowing you’re new, we’re expecting you.” She paused, “Oh, and you’re wearing scrubs, which pretty much no one does here.” The older woman spoke in an unusual accent and cadence. Her overall bearing seemed just a little off. She sounded somehow overly formal, but also uncultured in a way that Ashley just couldn’t put her finger on.
Ashley plucked at her scrubs self consciously. “Oh. I didn’t know, they listed the position as a skilled nursing job.”
The woman that had met her and guessed at her being new held up her hands in a calming gesture. “It is. Sorry, we’re getting carried away having fun with you. It is a skilled nursing job. It’s just not typical in any way. Let’s start over.”
She pointed to herself. “I’m Barbara, and that’s Mary.” she indicated the older woman.
“That would make you Ashley, and we’re glad to meet you.” She finished.
Ashley took a steadying breath. “So this is—I mean, hi Barbara, hi Mary. Yes, I’m Ashley. It’s good to meet you. This is a skilled nursing position though, right?”
Both of them nodded. Mary spoke up. “It is pretty unusual, and I think it’ll be best to ease into the more unusual aspects of the job.”
She looked Ashley up and down. “However, just looking at you, I’m gonna hazard some guesses. You came up in an orphanage, and—”
“My name’s Ashley, not little orphan Annie.” Ashley interrupted her.
Mary looked at Barbara with a question in her eyes.
Barbara shook her head. “They don’t call ‘em that anymore. Not for a long time. Orphans are now wards of the state, usually in foster care unless they find adoptive parents for them. Also, I doubt it’s considered even remotely polite to just bring it up like that.” She looked embarrassed at the situation.
Mary shrugged and continued. “Thou—You were a ward of the state. Enlisted in the military, I won’t wager on which branch as it don’t matter. I’ll bet that you haven't had your nursing chit–certificate very long. Probably did your tour of duty, got your walking papers and decided to try out nursing. You got into nursing school to secure your future, or maybe you got sick of being enlisted and were planning to re-up as an officer once you got your RN. What do you think, Barbara?”
Barbara studied Ashley, “I’m guessing you got through school with good grades, did your rotation, then a great job offer drops on your head right out of the blue sky. The pay and benefits are downright excellent, like working for a big company, but the employer is one you’d never heard of. The offer came with a relocation check, and you’ve come most of the way across the country for a big opportunity. And, unless I miss my guess, right now you’re kind of freaking out just a little.” She eyed the young woman. “Are we close?”
Ashley sighed. “Yeah. Way too close. Is cold reading a required skill here?”
The other two women smiled. “Well, we might have had a look at your profile once you took the offer.”
Ashley smiled uncertainly, “So, level with me? Have I made a big mistake?”
They burst into amused laughter. Barbara got herself under control first and replied.
“Oh, goodness no! You’ve lucked into the opportunity of a lifetime!”
Ashley looked at her skeptically.
“I don’t expect you to accept it all at face value, but unless you change your mind, or mess it up for yourself, you’ve truly landed the best job you’ll ever have.” Barbara finished.
Mary sat down at the desk. “The daylight isn’t on our side, so Barbara will take you for a tour of the grounds, and I’ll get your room setup. Once you’re back, we can give you a tour of the manor.”
Barbara led the way toward an attached vehicle bay. “Feel free to ask any questions that come to mind.”
They got into the all-terrain vehicle and Barbara began the low-speed drive around the outskirts of the vast lawn.
“Is this part of the—am I still being interviewed?” Ashley finally asked.
“That’s a brilliant question!” Barbara blurted out. “I mean it. I wondered the same thing when I first came here. I can tell you for sure that if you’re here, you’ve passed their tests, and background checks, and all the hurdles you didn’t even know about. They don’t invite you here until you’re a perfect candidate.” She glanced over at Ashley, “You accepted the job offer, right?”
Ashley nodded, looking at the treeline nearby. “Yeah, this place is amazing. I think I’m just a little overwhelmed. I didn’t plan on taking a private sector job at all. But the offer was—”
“Yeah, it’s hard to beat. Impossible really.” Barbara agreed.
They spent another hour touring the grounds. Ashley had lots of questions about the job, which were met with chuckling answers from Barbara. Eventually Ashley’s temper wore through her calm facade.
“What is so funny about all this? I just want to know what kind of job I’m signing up for!” She blurted out with a scowl. She didn’t allow herself to slam it, but she shut the ATV door a little harder than was necessary.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—you’re asking all the wrong questions, and that is totally normal. I just laugh because I asked a lot of the same questions back when I started here. It was a different time, and the specific questions were different, but just like you, I was asking the wrong questions.” Barbara replied breezily as they headed for the house.
Mary came out to meet them. She took in Barbara’s grin and Ashley’s pursed lips in a glance. “I take it you’ve just said the ‘asking the wrong questions’ thing to her?”
Ashley looked at the both of them. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
She turned and began walking back to her car.
The two older women shared a look, then called out to her as they followed.
She stopped at her car and looked at them, gripping the door handle. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m going to be a good fit here.”
They smiled. “Actually, I was worrying you’d just go along with it all too long. You’re going to fit in great, if you want to.” Mary said.
Barbara jumped in, “Before you make a final decision, how about you let us show you the inside, and I can answer some of those important questions you haven’t asked.”
Two hours of mind blowing revelations later, Ashley was following them around in a daze.
“We should come up with a way to do this more gently.” Barbara remarked.
Mary shrugged. “We’ve tried lots of ways over the years. I still think just telling them everything is the best way. Besides, I think they’re accepting it more easily now that some of it makes the news, so it’s not just a storm of crazy with no supporting evidence beyond what we can show here.”
Ashley stopped short. “Why!?” she asked, her tone sharp.
The other two women stopped and turned back to her, half smiles on their faces. “Why what?”
“Why all of this? You’ve just pulled the curtain back and showed me things I still don’t really understand, and the things I do understand might be more crazy!” She hugged herself and paced in the expansive hallway. “I—I could have accepted that you’re some kind of rogue humanitarian effort. But—”
Mary laughed, “That is so true! That's perfect. I need to get some new stationary made. Literally, we are a rogue humanitarian effort.” She looked from Barbara to Ashley, “I hope my use of ‘we’ is right.”
“How can I say no? You’ve done a better job of giving me an offer I can’t refuse than The Godfather ever did!” the young woman stated in a flat tone.
“We really should have taken this more slowly.” Barbara insisted to Mary.
The older woman shrugged. “It’s done. At this point, I propose we introduce her to the boss and whatever happens, happens.”
Ashley froze. “What do you mean by that?” her posture suddenly reminiscent of a frightened animal, about to bolt.
Barbara stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder to try and calm things down, “Let’s go meet the boss. He’s the founder of our organization, the biggest philanthropist you’ve never heard of, and, actually it's better if you just meet him.”
Ashley looked dubious about the whole thing, but followed them up to the top floor of the manor. As they neared the boss’s door she stopped again. “Hey wait. You told me this company was formed in the 1600s! I can’t be meeting the founder if the company is that old.”
Mary smiled, the smile of someone with a secret. “Did you not understand what we’ve been telling you? That might be the least impossible thing we’ve shown you today! As for incorporating then, well legally speaking, that’s true. I’ll just leave it at that. No need to dwell on it, let’s just introduce you to our boss, founder, and primary patient, and see what you think.”
Barbara chimed in, “Fair warning, he’s had a rough time of it the last week or so. He doesn’t get sick much, but when he does, it's bad. He was in a bad way for several days. We try not to get him worked up about that kind of thing, since he’s doing everything he can to stay healthy.”
“What should I expect? Alzheimers? Dementia?” Ashley decided to humor them with the idea of a super ancient patient.
“Nothing like that.” Barbara assured her.
Mary cut in, “On the other hand, it does seem like he’s more liable to get lost in the history of warfare. He likes to talk about that even more than he used to.”
They knocked and pushed the ornately decorated heavy door open on silent hinges.
Inside the palatial suite, they found a lean, muscular, old man dressed only in running shorts jogging on a treadmill facing a window. His bare feet slapped the belt softly enough that the quiet motor was louder than the footfalls. It wasn’t until Ashley looked away from the old man that she noticed just how odd the room was.
One end of the rather large room was all sleek lines and ultra modern design and technology. She recognized that there was a computer workstation, although she couldn't see the actual computer, or monitor. In fact, there wasn’t anything that should have told her it was a computer workstation, but somehow, clearly it was.
Next to the computer workstation, there was a workbench festooned with strange alien looking devices accompanied by more common tools. She had the distinct feeling that one of the devices was looking at her. Next to the workbench was a large neoclassical sculpture of a naked warrior bearing a shield and a spear against an unseen enemy.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The sound of the treadmill changing speeds brought her attention back to the old man. He stepped off the equipment and pulled various adhesive pads and sensors off his body. He dropped the detached sensors into a nearby bin. An array of screens providing biometric feedback went dark one by one as he pulled them off.
She found the sight of him towelling off oddly compelling. The long scar across his upper chest and shoulder initially caught her eye, but then the hands pulling the white towel over his aged but incredibly fit body held her gaze so thoroughly that it wasn't until Barbara nudged her with a knowing smile that she caught herself staring.
With her reverie broken, she remembered to breathe and tore herself away from staring. She instantly questioned why she had just watched so closely—leered, she admitted to herself—at an old man. Surely the old man drying the glistening sweat off his long, lean muscles with his large, powerful hands and—she stopped short and just reminded herself that he was old enough to be her father, if not grandfather. When she tried to understand why she couldn't seem to look away, none of the flimsy rationalizations she came up with were even close to the truth.
The old man dropped the towel into the same bin, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his running shorts. The shorts slid down an inch, accompanied by a trio of exhalations and soft gasps of anticipation.
He looked away from the bin and finally turned toward them enough to realize he wasn’t alone. “Oh, pardon me, ladies. Didn’t mean to be indecorous.” Something looked a bit off about his face, but he was just far enough away that she couldn’t tell what.
He opened a door that blended right into the ornate wood wall trim. Ashley glimpsed a bedroom inside. As he left the room, all three of the women unselfconsciously let out a breath as one. Suddenly aware of how unprofessional the last few moments might have looked, Ashley looked around the room, desperate to find something to have been looking at.
The other side of the room provided plenty to see. At first she thought she was looking at some sort of museum. Then she narrowed it down to more of an exhibit with a particular specialty. Eventually she gave up and decided that the old man was just some kind of eclectic collector of antiquity.
The exhibit, if that's what it was, specialized in weapons of war from the ancient world. She wasn’t a history buff, but recognized weapons from all over the ancient world. As she looked, it seemed almost like the history of javelins and other long weapons. She spotted the odd club, sword and war hammer amidst the dense display of ancient weapons, but spears dominated the exhibit. In the corner there was a separate display. It held a shattered shield, a broken axe, and a partially crushed helmet that appeared somehow wrong even despite being so damaged. The damaged gear was well over twice the size of any other weapon and armor pieces in the exhibit.
“That is a lot of spears.” she whispered to herself.
Barbara was standing just close enough to hear her. “Yeah, but don’t bring that up unless you’re ready to sit down and hear him go on for the rest of the day about how spears are humanity's first real weapon for both hunting and defense, and later war, and how every other weapon throughout history is just trying to be a better spear.” She glanced over at the closed door. “If you want a history of wars and warfare in the last two thousand odd years, by all means, bring it up, but you’ll be there all day, so make sure you’re caught up on your duties first.” she shrugged, “Assuming you decide to stay.”
The door reopened, the old man emerging in a toga and a pair of sneakers. From this angle, she could see that he had a black eye patch covering one eye, and a wicked scar slashed across his face. This scar, along with the one across his chest, was thin, pale, almost white, and had the look of old wounds.
The two older women shared a look. “—ly not a good day.” Ashley heard one of them remark.
The old man ignored the women and made his way to the easy chair that sat in the middle of the room facing the door and the ladies standing just inside it. When he sat down, it was as if the life drained from him. In an instant, his overall bearing and movement changed from that of a healthy and supremely fit young man, to an old decrepit man spinning out his last days before leaving life behind.
He closed his eye for a long time, then opened it slowly, with what appeared to be some difficulty. “So ladies, what can I do for you today?” he croaked out, his voice thin and weak.
“How are you feeling today, Mr. Hildolfer?” Mary asked.
The ancient-looking man waved dismissively with what appeared to be a significant effort. “I’m dying with my work undone, just in time to see how close I am. How do you think I’m feeling?”
He looked away from Mary and focussed his gaze on Ashley. “You. You’re the new one. Tell me who you are.”
"My na—"
"Didn't ask your name. Tell me who you are." He cut her off without a care for her introduction.
She gulped. “What would you like to know, sir? I graduated near the top of—”
“Didn’t ask for your résumé,” the old man’s interruption snapped out like a whip. “I asked you who you are.” He looked at her with a challenge in his eye, his gaze skewering the young woman in place.
She shifted uneasily, shifting from one foot to the other. She licked her lips, looking around the room for help as she floundered for words.
His gaze drifted off her, looking past the women at the various weapons of history. “Nothing to say?” He sounded vaguely disappointed.
Barbara and Mary sat down on a bench near an arrangement of Roman pila. All three of them looked at the young lady who had suddenly found herself in the hot seat.
“I passed the NCLEX in the 98th per—” she started.
“I don’t want your CV, and I Didn't. Ask. For. Your. Résumé.” He grated out, his tone weak and tired, even as he spit out each word with an angry emphasis.
“I don’t know what you want! What are you asking me? What kind of answer do you want?” She replied, her hands shaking with frustration.
The old man got to his feet. The movement looked odd, as though he were falling into the chair, but in reverse. He took a breath and seemed to inflate, abruptly looking younger, more energetic. Somehow, seeing it happen made it clear how truly transient a state it was.
“Tell me about the mission last year that gave you that scar on your knee, and the other one across your abdomen. Tell me about October Rain.”
She flinched as though struck. “What—What are you talking about?”
“Not exactly a poker face about it. Ladies, give us the room, please.” he glanced at Barbara and Mary.
They nodded and hurried out.
He looked at Ashley, waited a few seconds, and then sagged back into the chair. The abrupt shift back to a frail old man was more than a little disturbing to watch.
When he realized she wasn’t about to speak first, he continued on. “I’ll tell you what I know about it. Humanitarian aid mission in the last year of your tour. Something went wrong. Someone made a bad call and sent your mission right into anti air batteries. They shot your ride down over contested territory. Things heated up in the region, and the rescue didn’t come for a few days. They found the burned up Chinook wreckage, and some bodies. Two weeks later, you stroll up to a forward fire base dragging the back end of a pickup truck like a trailer, full of the survivors and a random pregnant woman. That would be odd enough, except you’ve managed to do it while dodging active enemy searches and crossed a lot of miles of hostile territory. How about you fill in the gaps for me?”
She nodded, her teeth clenched. Swallowing hard in a suddenly too-dry mouth, she thought back to the events he was talking about. “We were attacked. The anti air was a problem, but not what got us. One of the local factions got a hold of an old Russian Hind. Door gunners hit it as hard as they could. One side only landed a few hits, but the door I was sitting near, he put the whole ammo belt into that chopper. It didn’t seem to matter much, but after it hit the rear engine with its front gun pod, it took off. Pilots set us down as gently as they could.” She took a long shaky breath, closed her eyes for a second, then seemed to rally. “Which wasn’t all that gently. I knew the locals’d be all over us soon. I got lucky. Most everyone else was injured, some worse than others. Sitting by the door, I’d seen this little sheltered area that looked like it might have water, not too far from where we went down. I got everyone out of the chopper, then used the stretcher to drag people who couldn’t walk to the sheltered area.” She stopped and looked around the room, as though unsure what to say next.
He tilted his head to the side, studying her. Abruptly, he pointed at a nearby couch. “Have a seat. Tell me about the kid.”
She sat, looking no less nervous. “How do you know abou—”
“I have my ways.”
“Then you already know what I’d tell you,” she retorted.
“Sensitive topic. We’ll come back to that sometime. You said you got lucky. That most everyone was injured. How did you come out of that without a scratch?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t. That's where the scar on my belly came from. I was just lucky it didn’t disembowel me.”
He nodded as though that cleared something up. “I don’t want to drag you through this whole thing, so I’ll skip to the questions I have that really matter. A lot of the crew and aid workers never got off the helicopter. How did you pick who you got out first?”
She looked off to the left. “I didn’t really pick, there was only so much tim—”
“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me. It’s unnecessary, and it annoys me,” he growled.
“I got the people I was sure would survive off first, then came back for the next most likely, and about halfway through that group the bird blew up. I couldn’t save them all. I sliced open my leg on the third trip back and had to stop and bandage myself up. That time cost people their lives. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?” an impotent rage shone through in her words.
“You stopped to bandage yourself. Why?”
She shrugged, anger clouding her features. “I couldn’t afford the loss of blood, and I needed all my strength.”
He nodded sagely. “Did you at any point think you could get everyone off the `copter in time?”
She shook her head. “No.” she whispered.
“So you knew you were choosing who would live and die,” his statement brooked no argument.
She nodded, her eyes tight.
“So how did you choose who would live and die? That’s what it boils down to, am I right? You were choosing who stayed there to die, and those who you whisked away to have a chance to live.”
She blinked away hot tears. “How dare you! You don’t know! You weren’t there. You have no idea what it’s like to make decisions like that!”
He shook his head. The simple movement seemed to visibly drain him. He let out a series of harsh, cackling laughs that culminated in a choking cough. “I wish that were true. But you’re right, I wasn’t there. I’m not judging you. I just want to know what drove your decision making.”
“It was just triage. I picked the ones I was sure I could save. I had to leave the others for last.”
He nodded. “Yes, choosing who lives and who’ll be slain is a terrible burden. Anything you’d like to add about the journey across contested territory pulling a makeshift trailer?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t just me pulling. Everyone who could walk took a turn. We moved at night, and stayed off the roads”
“You’ll do. Take a day to get settled, meet some of the others. You’ll start classes and training the day after tomorrow.” He yawned, then leaned his head back and seemed to drop off to sleep.
Ashley wandered out of his suite in a daze.
Downstairs, she found Mary and Barbara waiting for her. “Training? Classes?” she asked them. “For that matter, he said I should meet the others?”
“We’ll ease you into that. For now, it seems like he likes you. That’s critical. Go back up and keep him company till dinner. We like to have someone there at all times.”
Ashley went back up and found him still dozing in the chair. She shrugged, and started wandering around the room, looking at the oddities it contained.
The sculpture resting on its large block base drew her attention, but she resisted examining it in favor of seeing the rest of the room. The old man didn’t stir when she picked up and handled some of the ancient weapons. She noticed that for being ancient weapons, they seemed to be in quite usable condition. The only exceptions were the broken weapons and armor that seemed to be made for someone very large.
He kept snoring as she looked over and then tried out the treadmill. Even opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the balcony didn’t disturb him. Finally she looked at the workbench, and confirmed that it was either covered technology she didn’t understand, or it was all junk. She suspected the latter.
When she finally stopped in front of the artwork, she took a moment to appreciate the great time and effort that had clearly gone into this piece. Each muscle sculpted in painstaking, minute detail, the rawhide ties holding his sandals carved so perfectly she half expected to be able to untie them. The long hair spilling over his shoulder was done in such perfect detail that she half expected if it would be soft to the touch. Even the way the fingers gripped the spear as it thrust forward and upward was a study in artistic perfection.
Most fascinating was the face. The warrior’s expression was carved in exquisite detail. His face managed to capture and evoke a host of emotions in her, as well as clearly displaying what this ancient warrior seemed to be thinking. The warrior’s face looked familiar somehow, his high cheekbones and full sensual lips curled into an expression of effort and a warlike passion bordering on rage. Without giving it much thought, she reached out to run her fingers along the sculpted cheekbones and chin.
The sculpture turned and looked at her. She shrieked and jumped back. In the blink of an eye, it stepped off the base and advanced on her, shield and spear in hand. She turned and ran for the door. She reached the door and fumbled at the ornate knob.
“Leaving so soon?” The old man spoke up.
She spun, half expecting the statue to thrust its spear at her. It was on the base, in the same pose it had been in before. She blinked slowly, and looked again. It was still standing there, in the dynamic pose of a warrior about to spear a taller enemy or dangerous animal.
“Cat got your tongue? Slippy didn’t mean any harm. He’s just protective of me. Well, that and he doesn’t like other people touching him when I’m not there.”
She looked at the old man. He was clearly awake now. “What?!” she exclaimed, looking back at the statue.
He struggled out of the chair, then took another breath that seemed to inflate his withered body and simultaneously roll back the years. “I know, it's a lot. Have a seat on the couch. Let me get to know you. I should have done that earlier, but my damned energy isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes I just need a nap and there’s nothing for it.”
He took her hand and led her to the couch. Numbly, she sat down and stole another glance at the statue. It was exactly as she’d first seen it.
“I’ll go first. You’re not losing your mind, yes you really saw that, it really happened, but don’t give it too much weight in your head, it’s just a thing that happened. Sorry he scared you.”
She muttered something he couldn't make out.
“You’ll have to speak up, young lady. I’m an old man at the end of a long line, running out of tomorrows. My best hearing days are long behind me.”
She perched there on the couch silently, unsure what to say or do. Finally, he shrugged. He pointed his hand at the big tv and suddenly the remote was in his hand. She was sure it had been on the table. The screen came to life and displayed the various world news recaps. He pressed a button and the large image subdivided into several smaller ones, showing news from sources across the globe.
They sat there and watched the news together for a while. She kept glancing at the statue, but eventually relaxed and just watched the rotation of news reports from around the world.
“Not much good news on the News anymore, is there.” He idly remarked.
“No sir, Mr. —Hildolfer.” her tone sounded unsure.
He snorted.
“Sorry, am I saying it wrong?”
“No no, you’re fine. Just thinking about the transient nature of names. Time takes everything and everyone eventually. I’m an old man. I’ve had a lot of names, a lot of lives. More than you’d ever believe.”
She made a noncommittal reply, thinking that this wasn’t anything unusual for a geriatric patient.
Later, she snorted derisively at one of the news reports.
He turned toward her, his one eye peering at her with an arched brow. “You disagree?”
She made a ‘hmmf’ sound. “The official story is usually pretty far from the truth, but that one is worse than usual.”
His craggy face broke into a wide smile. “Oh, I do think we’re going to get along. They probably told you, but watching the news is something of a passion, or at least a hobby of mine. I especially like watching for big events.”
She met his gaze and nodded. “What kind of big event news do you watch for?”
He frowned slightly. “Mostly I look for two sorts of stories. Stuff you might call news of the weird.” He trailed off and kept watching the unfolding news story.
Finally, she grew tired of waiting. “And the other thing?”
“Other what?”
“The other type of story you look for?” She pressed.
“Oh yes, that. I'm also looking out for some specific terrorist activity.”