Iron Mike (2 page)

Fort Knox, KY.

Kasoniak

Thirty-four years.

It was a hell of a long time, thirty-four years. Dick Kasoniak drew the electric razor over his face, studying his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel old enough to have spent thirty-four years in the goddamned Army. The face looking back at him had its share of wrinkles, true enough, and there was a bit more salt – okay, a hell of a lot more salt – than pepper left in his hair. But still … what, in the name of all that was holy, would he do with his days, once he retired? There was only so much time he could spend on the golf course or trading war stories in the Officers’ Club. Hell, he was already sick and tired of that from his first two months of terminal leave – how was he going to fill the days now?

“I miss you, Carolyn,” he murmured quietly, as he did every morning. His own face looked back at him expectantly, but, as usual, he received no reply. Undaunted, Col. Kasoniak continued his morning ritual, expertly shaving his face and trimming his nose hairs while chatting with his dead wife. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know. We were supposed to do this together, you and me, and we were supposed to travel the country in that tin can you wanted.” Kasoniak smiled wistfully. “Now, what do I do?”

He stretched his jaw, allowing the razor to buzz away the stubble. He had been on leave for two months but had not missed a single day of shaving. “Sloppy” wasn’t in his nature.

“I suppose,” he mused, wincing as the trimming scissors caught a nose hair, “I could get some kind of job to pass the time. What do you think, Carolyn? Would you like fries with that? Welcome to Wal-Mart, may I help you find anything?” Kasoniak smiled, imagining Carolyn’s indulgent head shake. He’d already had several offers for teaching positions. So far, he wasn't that bored.

Kasoniak put the shaving gear away and wiped the sink, washing the stubble down the drain. He straightened his polo shirt unnecessarily and stepped into the hallway, his eyes taking in the personal possessions packed into neatly-labeled cardboard boxes. Kari promised to come help him pack up the important things, but she hadn’t shown. Not that he’d actually expected her to, but he had hoped. Much of her childhood was being put into storage, as well as his life with Carolyn; you’d think the girl would have shown some interest, at least in her doll collection, if nothing else. Dick Kasoniak collected dolls from each duty station he’d ever been assigned, and every time he brought one back, Kari squealed with delight, proudly adding a new doll from a new part of the world her daddy helped make safe.

He shook his head as he moved out of the master bathroom and headed toward his closet. Kari was a child then, and she was a woman now. Twenty-one – no, twenty-two years old. Jesus. How the hell had that happened? He frowned, his thoughts darkening as he recalled Kari’s “boyfriend” – the slick-talking, disrespectful little punk who thought Kasoniak actually believed his bullshit about being an intern at University of Louisville Medical. Col. Kasoniak had his sources, and they had run a full background check on Kari’s drug-dealing, parasitic bedmate. Markers were called in, and the threat was being eliminated. The young man would be out of his daughter's life before the holidays were over.

Kasoniak sighed, looking at the neatly dry-cleaned Class As hanging in his closet. He hated the new dress blues – what the hell was wrong with the old Class As, anyway? “She misses you, too, Carolyn,” he said softly, as he fingered the aiguillettes and ribbons to ensure they were on tight and straight. “I think she’s even more lost without you than I am, my dear.”

His morning shaving ritual complete and the retirement ceremony still a day away, Dick Kasoniak wandered back into the living room of the home he had shared with his wife and daughter for more than six years. That was a record – Kari had managed almost two years in the same high school.

He sat in his comfortable recliner, pulled out his reading glasses, and picked up the Tom Clancy book he was reading for the third time.

Portsmouth, Virginia

Hershey

Hershey followed his human as she moved about her house doing the puzzling things she did almost every day. She put the clothes that were just getting a decent scent to them into the loud machine that would fill with water and sneezy soap. She washed the food off the dishes, ignoring Hershey’s hopefully wagging tail, and she took out the trash container, firmly tying the bag shut on all of those interesting smells as well. And then, finally, she fed Hershey his breakfast!

Hershey ate quickly. Not because he was hungry – he hadn’t been hungry in months, and never once since he had come to live with his human, Clare – and not because he was afraid she would take it away too soon, like one of his other humans did. He ate quickly because – well, because he was a dog, and that’s what dogs did.

He was certain it was a hard and fast rule of dogdom. Hershey had watched a lot of dogs eat in his time, and he knew they all ate fast, unless they were persnickety little yippy-faced dogs or ill. He had seen several sick dogs, often in the pens right next to him. He ignored the sick dogs, unless they came too close to him, and then a low growl and a showing of teeth was all that was needed to send them huddling back into their corner until one of the humans took them away. Hershey wasn’t a big dog, and he wasn’t mean. Other dogs just knew he meant it when he told them to go away.

Hershey had been in a lot of cages and a lot of trucks. Before his human adopted him, he never liked riding in the trucks – the humans always kept him in pens, and he couldn’t see outside so the motion made his stomach sick. He had only been in his most recent cage for a few weeks before his human started letting him out during the day. He followed Clare around the pens, watching avidly as she cleaned the floors, fed the dogs, and gave them fresh water in their bowls. He liked following her, especially because he was the only one she allowed to do so. The other dogs stayed in their cages or in the yard. He loved it best when she took him into the office and made the clicking sounds with her fingers while she sat at her desk. Hershey got to sit under the desk, and she would often stop what she was doing to pet him, or sometimes give him one of the treats she kept in a desk drawer. Those were the best times!

He smiled a doggy smile as he licked the bottom of his food bowl, just in case he missed anything. He’d been terrified that first afternoon when Clare had told him to get into the truck. He liked this human, and he was convinced she was going to take him to another cage, someplace far away, and the humans there were not likely to be so kind. Still … Hershey was a good dog, so he jumped into her truck, resigned to his fate.

She had not put him into a truck pen, but instead let him sit up in the front seat, next to her! Even more astounding, she put his window down halfway, so he could stick his head out! He had stuck it out as far as it would go, his shoulders straining against the window, while he sniffed all the glorious smells of the city.

It was wonderful! He smelled meat cooking, gas exhaust, newly-cut grass, and autumn leaves. They drove for a short while, and then she put the leash on his collar and took him from the truck into a yard that had her scent everywhere. He marked the yard as his territory several times, and then she took him inside a home. Hershey sniffed everywhere, but he knew what a home was – he remembered living in a home as a puppy, with his first human, a young boy. He loved that boy. He would have died for the boy, but the boy’s parents made loud, angry noises all the time. The boy’s mother took Hershey to his first cage, and he had lived in a cage ever since. He wasn’t a puppy anymore – he was two years old, the humans said.

After that day, Hershey and his human went to work almost every day. That was what they called the place with the cages – “work.” Hershey never had to go into a cage anymore – he just followed his human around, watching her clean and feed and water the dogs, and click her fingers on the desk. Then, when dark came, and he was tired from all the hard work they had done that day, they went home. His territory was so clearly scented now no other dog dared to mark it, unless it was to leave a friendly ‘hello.’ Hershey finally found a place. He loved his human very much. If there were anything he would wish for, it was that she would find a boy and bring it home to him as a playmate. Other than that, his life was perfect.

January 2.

Mike

Mike pressed the control key so the microphone would pick up his voice and spoke into the headset. “Yeah, I looted it from a pick-up group, man. I was the only heals in the group, and when this idiot mage tried to need on it, the raid leader took it right out from under her. I have to get it enchanted now, though, and I don’t have any cosmic sparkledust.”

Mike listened, nodding into the headset, and then frowned as he heard Jenn banging on his door. “Mom says come downstairs, right now!” she shouted, her footsteps already thumping down the steps. Mike’s frown deepened in annoyance, and he depressed the control button again, while at the same time typing “AFK” into guild chat.

“Yeah, that’ll be awesome. Just COD me the dust, okay? Hey, I’ll be right back, my mom’s yelling for me.”

He took off the headset and pushed his chair back, taking the stairs three at a time. When he got downstairs, Jennifer was already pulling out his red U of L jacket and digging in the closet for her puffy blue UK coat. Mike looked at his mother, an eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“Mike, I need you to take Jennifer to Sammy’s to get her hair done,” Mom instructed. “Tia called. She’s had a cancellation, so she can work Jenn in today.”

Mike frowned. “That’s not gonna work,” he said urgently. “We have a raid in twenty minutes, and I’m the only healer the guild has. Mom, I promised!”

Karen Sanderlin turned away, unconcerned. “Then you’re going to have to un-promise, Mike. Getting her hair done was one of your sister’s Christmas presents, and Tia has the opening now. Get moving.”

“Mom!” Mike flared, knowing it was probably a futile effort but not willing to give up without a fight. “That isn’t fair! I told you I’d take her, but you said the appointment was on the fourth.”

“Well, Tia moved it up, creepazoid,” Jennifer said smugly. “So, come on, let’s go. Chop, chop!” She left the coats on the edge of the sofa and moved over to sit on the bottom stair behind Mike and Mom, wanting a better view of the fight she knew was coming.

“Shut up, Jenn,” Mike snapped heatedly. “Mom, can’t you just ask Tia to keep the appointment for Thursday? Please? The guys have been planning this raid for days.”

His mother shook her head, her mouth set in that firm line he knew too well. “Mike, do as I ask, please,” she said, her voice unyielding. “I have things I need to take care of today.”

Mike glared, glancing into the living room at the television. “What, a
Judge Judy
marathon?” he asked sarcastically.

“Ryan Michael, don’t you dare!” his mother exclaimed, genuine anger reaching her eyes. “And for that disrespect, young man, your computer privileges are suspended until you go back to school!”

“Jesus Christ!” Mike snapped, his voice rising in his own anger, as he ran his hand through his shoulder-length black hair. “That is so bogus, Mom, and you know it!”

His mother studied him for a moment, saying nothing. Mike quickly wiped the anger off his face, going for the mature, reasonable expression that generally got better results from both parents. His mother seemed to be considering, and he waited hopefully.

Karen Sanderlin dropped to the floor. Her body crumpled, falling into a graceless heap at the bottom of the staircase. Mike stared at her for a moment, wondering what kind of new parenting technique this was … and several seconds later, he heard the sonic booms, and the sound of Jennifer screaming.

It took another second for reality to hit, and he raced to his mother’s side, turning her gently onto her back. “Call 911!” he shouted at Jennifer. “Now! And call Dad at work – go, go!” Mike bent over his mother, already sensing an awful stillness in her. Carefully, he tipped her head back, tears running freely down his face as he pressed his mouth to hers and breathed twice, feeling a flare of hope as her chest rose and fell with each breath. He placed his hands as he had learned in CPR class and began the chest compressions, knowing he had to move fast and not be as gentle as his instincts urged.

Jennifer hadn’t moved. She already knew, even as Mike desperately continued the chest compressions, stopping periodically to breathe for his mother. When he wasn’t puffing breath into her lungs, he was sobbing quietly, telling her over and over he would be happy to take Jenn to the hairstylist, if mom would please just wake up. The minutes stretched into eternity.
Judge Judy
was replaced by a message from the emergency broadcast system, and it was not a drill.