BackTrek (2 page)

“I think this is the last box, Trace.” Jack
said as he propped the box against the wall beside the front door.
He carefully balanced it as he attempted to open the door.

“If I run across anything else, I’ll put it
aside for you, Jack.” She said, her gaze averted down to keep from
looking at him eye to eye. The golden strands of her hair framed
her face.

“I guess this is it, isn’t it?”

“No, Jack. Like I told you the other night.
It’s been over for years.” She looked towards him, but not at him.
Her gaze lingered on the floor between their feet.

“Trace, I-” He began.

“Don’t, Jack! Just don’t! We discussed
everything there was to say the other night, and you know how I
feel. I will always love you, Jack, but my love is not enough.” She
said as the tears began to well up in her eyes.

“You know I love you, Trace, you know I-”
Fire grew in her pale blues eyes, as the tears began to flow, and
she looked him dead in his eyes. As much as he had wanted her to
look at him, he wished now that she would turn her fierce gaze
away.

“Damn it, Jack! Can’t you see! Can’t you get
it through your damn thick head! You don’t know how to love
anymore. Not me...not the kids...not anything. Not even your job,
no matter how hard you throw yourself into it. You’re not the same
anymore, Jack. You’re not the same man that I married. The man I
fell in love with. The man that loved me. That man died when you
quit the Army!”

“You know damn well that I didn’t quit the
Army, Trace! I was forced out!” He fired back angrily. She dropped
her gaze again, and tried to calm herself so that she could reason
with him.

“You have to let the past go, and learn to
live again, Jack. To love again.” She said as she tried to control
her emotions. Slowly she brought her hand to her cheek and wiped
away the tears.

“The past is what I am, Tracey. It has made
me what I am.” Jack explained.

“You see! You see what I mean! You’ve got to
let it go. It doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t make you less of a
man...or less of a father.” She said, as the tears began to flow
down her cheeks again.

“Trace, I don’t want to go.” Jack said as a
tear rolled down his cheek. Tracey walked over to the door and
opened it for him.

“Go, Jack. Just go.” As she looked down at
her feet, her body shook as she sobbed. Jack’s brother, Mike , was
outside at the car. He looked up from tying the trunk lid down over
piles of other boxes, and waved as he saw Tracey at the door.

“Trace-” Jack began.

“Goodbye, Jack.” She turned and walked back
into the house, and left him to stand there alone with the door
open. He took a moment to gather himself, and heard the bedroom
door upstairs slam shut. It was time to leave. Even after ten years
of marriage, it was finally over. He stepped outside, inserted his
key and locked the deadbolt, and heard the shrill beep of the alarm
pad as it automatically armed itself.

“System, active.” A female voice said from
inside. “Perimeter, armed.”

As he bent down and scooped up the box, he
couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a chance for him to
make things right with the only woman that he had ever loved. As he
turned towards the driveway, his eyes scanned over the flower
garden that he and Tracey had worked so hard on last spring. The
tears flowed harder. He knew she was right. He guessed that she had
always been right. When he was forced to quit the Army, a part of
him had died. The part of him that had always allowed him to open
up to others, to trust, and even to love.

As an M.P. he had felt as though he were on
top of the world. He thought that he was capable of solving any
crime. That he would always find the required answers, and that he
could stop any injustice. But when that injustice had been against
him, he had been completely powerless. From the day that he had
first joined the Army, he had wanted to be an M.P., and had
stressed that to his superiors. They guided him through the proper
training, and he had enjoyed every minute of it. He could never
forget the look on Tracey’s face when he told her that he was
finally going to graduate as an M.P., and it was that same day that
he asked her to marry him. Life had been so good then.

When Tracey had first told him that she was
pregnant with Bella, Jack had already been on cloud nine. That day
he had collared his first real criminal. As the years went on, and
Brandon was born, everything seemed to come together. His marriage
blossomed. He excelled at his job and moved up into the Criminal
Investigation Division. And he loved being a father. But then
things suddenly fell apart. He had been working a case that
involved a suspicious death, and felt sure that foul play was
involved. From his viewpoint, an apparent homicide had occurred on
base right under his own nose. Normally a homicide on a government
installation would fall under federal jurisdiction, but usually the
FBI would leave it to the CID. He had little evidence, and
virtually no leads, but he felt sure that he could crack the case,
when suddenly charges were brought against him by a supposed friend
for illegal drug use. Though he had never taken any drug more
potent than aspirin in his life, they searched his quarters without
hesitation, and much to his and Tracey’s surprise, they found a
stash of cocaine. A half a kilo, no less. He was quickly given a
choice, face a court martial or resign. A court martial could have
led to years in prison. He had no option, but to resign. To go. And
again, ten years later, here he was, he thought. Going again.

He walked to the rear of his car, and set the
box down inside the back seat. He shoved at the boxes and slammed
the door. Mike sat in the passenger seat quietly. Their
relationship had always been a close one, and each had always been
there for the other. When Mike’s wife had left him last year, Jack
had been there to console him and to be his friend, but usually it
was Mike who had all the answers. Two years older, but often
decades wiser was how Jack regarded his brother.

Jack took one last lingering look at the
house that he had called home for the last few years, and then
quietly opened the car door and got in. As he stuck the key in the
ignition, and listened to the motor come to life, he looked up to
their bedroom window. He hoped to see his wife, but watched the
drawn drapes stand motionless instead. A minute or two passed
before he finally accepted the reality, and dropped the car into
reverse. He backed down the driveway. It was time to go. After the
second stop sign had passed in dead silence, Mike finally began to
speak.

“You okay?” Jack thought about the question
for a moment before he responded.

“No. I don’t think I will be until we get
this straightened out, Mike. You know how much I love her.”

“I know buddy, but for now this is best. Like
I told you the other day, she thinks that this is the only answer,
and either she is right or as time passes she’ll realize that she’s
not. Either way, I see a day in the future where life will be good,
and everybody will be happy. All you have to do between now and
then is survive.”

“It sounds easy enough, but it sure hurts
now.” Jack said.

“Time heals all wounds, Jack. You should know
that by now.”

“Time heals most wounds, Mike. That’s what
this is all about. Something that happened a long time ago.”

“If you could let it go, it would heal.
That’s all she wants.”

“I know, but since that happened, with Ted
turning against me, and being forced out...Mike you’re the only
person I can trust.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,
brother, but she’s your wife.”

“I didn’t say it made any sense, I’m just
telling you how I feel.”

“Well maybe a few days, or even a week or two
will changes things. In the meantime, we’ll get your apartment set
up, and I’ll teach enough about cooking so that you can
survive.”

“Trace already tried. A cook, I am not.” Jack
answered.

“What? You burn water?” Mike asked.

“No. I don’t burn it, but I can make it taste
bad.” He said, as a grin came to his lips. Mike’s eyes brightened
when he saw the smile creep across his brother’s face. Jack would
be okay, he thought. Not happy, for a while a least, but he was
strong and he would make it.

It was a relatively short drive to the
neighborhood that his precinct was located in, and Jack turned into
an apartment building only three blocks from the station. This
particular apartment complex had been Tracey’s idea. She knew that
he would want to be close to work. That she had suggested it was of
some comfort, no matter how small. He drove into the underground
parking area, and eventually located his parking space. Slowly he
pulled to a stop, put the car in park, and slumped over the wheel.
He did not want to do this, but he had no option. Mike nudged him
silently and flipped his thumb towards the rear of the car. Jack
nodded and got out slowly. He stretched as he headed towards the
trunk. As they lugged the boxes from the car to the elevator, he
wondered about small things. How would he be able to sleep tonight,
without her next to him? What would it be like, to not be able to
kiss the kids goodnight? What would he do about dinner? Suddenly
thousands of simple things began to overwhelm him, because without
Tracey, he didn’t know if he could carry on.

Luckily the apartment came furnished. He knew
that there was no way that he could have gone out and actually
picked out furniture. Though it was plain, it seemed so foreign to
him. One by one, he began to unpack his boxes. Near the bottom of
the first box, he came across a picture of the whole family. He
knew that he hadn’t put it in the box, though if he had seen it, he
would have. It was Tracey that had put it there. As he held it, and
stared at it, he began to cry. Tears dripped onto the glass of the
frame. Mike passed through the living room, and saw him. He
hesitated, and started towards him, but stopped instead, and left
him alone with his grief. He knew that this was a part of the
healing process, and here, his interference could not help.

“Enter.” Atwater said, as he responded to the
knock at his door.

“Sir.” Ted said, as he poked his head through
the partially opened door.

“What Truman?”

“Have you got a moment?” Ted stepped into the
doorway, as Atwater put down the file in his hand.

“Go.” Atwater replied. Ted opened the door
fully and entered the General’s office. He turned back and motioned
behind him. A reluctant Doctor Morgan sheepishly entered behind
him, followed by his assistant, Phillips.

“Sir, it appears as though we have made some
significant progress.” Ted began.

“Oh yeah? On what part?” Atwater asked
sarcastically.

“It’s the profile, sir.” Phillips spoke up.
Ted nodded.

“Yes. The profile.” Morgan chimed in
quietly.

“What about it?”

“Well…we seemed to have isolated the issue
with the most recent-” Morgan began.

“We believe we’ve found the problem, sir.”
Ted said. “Phillips?”

“Yes, sir.” Phillips said, as he stepped
towards the desk. “The last profile was actually correct, sir.”

“Correct? Are you all fucking crazy? Didn’t
you see what happened to my man?”

“I know, sir. We are all painfully aware of
what happened to Jones.” Ted responded.

“Then what the fuck are you talking
about?”

“The problem was the evals themselves,
sir.”

“What do you mean?” Atwater asked. Ted
responded.

“The psychological profile developed by
Doctor Morgan, and confirmed by Phillips here, is based on the
standard weighting criteria of the Army PSYOPs deep profile exam.”
Ted explained.

“Yes.” Continued Morgan. “The PSYOP deep
profile examination also requires that a portion of the examination
be conducted while the patient is under hypnosis, as well as a
section that is completed while the patient is under
interrogation.” He cleared his throat. “So you see, that is the
problem.”

“I don’t see anything. What the hell has that
got to do with Jones? Or the others?”

“Well, sir.” Phillips spoke up. “With the
others, we had not yet determined that the profile was a
requirement to successfully-”

“And Jones? You had your fucking profile
then! What happened?” Atwater asked, the agitation in his voice
obvious. Ted continued.

“Sir, the profile on Private Jones was a
perfect fit with my own examination by PSYOPs. The problem lies
with his profile itself. The profile that we compared to my
baseline profile was not conducted by PSYOPs.”

“Then who did his profile?”

“NYU, sir.” Phillips interjected. Doctor
Morgan spoke up.

“Yes. It seems as though the profile we were
given for comparison came from an examination given to him just
prior to his enlistment. Being a civilian profile, the weighting of
the results could not be accurately compared with the profile we
have developed based on the PYSOPs examinations. Had we known, we
would have had him re-examined, I assure you.” Morgan
explained.

“You mean to tell me that Jones is going to
be a fucking zombie for the rest of his life because you
buffoons…assumed?”

“Sir. We made a mistake. But at least now we
know what that mistake was, and can ensure it will not happen
again.” Ted countered. Atwater glared at him. Morgan opened his
mouth to speak, but Ted laid his hand on his shoulder. Morgan
closed his mouth. “That will be all.” Ted said to them, and
escorted them out the office. He shut the door and turned back to
Atwater.

“So does this mean we have the answer on the
profile, or are we just ready to ruin some other poor saps life?”
Atwater asked him.