Chapter 9
“Good morning, Molly. Two for breakfast?” Evelyn was all friendly business.
“Thank you, Evelyn. This is my friend Bart McKinnon.”
“Nice to meet you, Bart. I remember you from prior visits.”
“Yes, I like the rib-eye.”
She seated them at the best table available in the middle of the room.
Molly said to Bart, “It won’t be five minutes before Betsy from the store just happens to drop by. I guarantee it. Evelyn and Betsy are thick as thieves.”
They studied the menu, Molly kicking Bart under the table when Betsy walked in to talk with Evelyn. “Okay, success. Job done. We’re no longer gossip. It’s out in the open. No secrets. Thank you for coming.”
Bart nodded, but didn’t say much during breakfast. He wasn’t the easy going, light-hearted guy she’d spent the evening with. He seemed uncomfortable, constantly surveying the room, on edge.
Finally, she asked, “You okay?”
“Fine. Not my thing being in a crowded room.”
She thought about that. He was a loner. Lived in the wild. Kept to himself. Was recovering from PTSD. Didn’t like being in a crowd. She appreciated his doing this as a favor, but wasn’t sure what to make of it.
She was seeing a different person than the mountain man staying at her cabin.
Molly steered the open air Jeep around the twisty turns of Summer Lake Road. Shadow and Bear were sitting in the back, noses in the air, the warm, late morning breeze felt good.
Bart’s reaction to the crowded dining room was on her mind.
“If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about your military disability?
I mean, I understand you have PTSD from your service.
But, honestly, you seem pretty normal to me.
I can’t see or feel a disability.” She paused, looking over at him.
She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her question, but they were going to talk with his therapist, and she wanted more context.
She added, “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. ”
He didn’t answer right away. Molly looked over at him several times. He’d heard her. She assumed he was processing his response.
“It’s both complicated and simple.” He paused.
“The simple part is that the Army feels guilty about what this war has done to its best soldiers. There are many more instances than just Roddy killing a man in a bar fight. A lot of good soldiers came home from Afghanistan and got involved in violence. The army’s post war reentry program didn’t work.
We didn’t properly reenter, and instead became liabilities.
So the simple answer is that the disabilities represent guilt money.
The army is paying us off to keep us quiet and out of the way. ”
“Okay, I get that. You mentioned that before. What’s the complicated part?”
“The basis for my disability is that I’m not employable due to the PTSD.
That’s the army deciding I can’t be trusted in routine nonmilitary employment.
The concern is that I could go off like Roddy at any time.
If so, I end up in prison and the military suffers bad press and pays damages in a lawsuit.
So it’s better to keep us out of the employment world, at least for a while. ”
“You seem pretty together to me.”
“This is eight years later. I’m a lot better than when I returned.
But, as you could see, I was not comfortable in that crowded room of people.
I was watching the door and constantly scanning the room for trouble.
Who knows how many people in that room were wearing bombs under their coats?
I was imagining what I’d do if an ambush came out of the kitchen.
I understand that wasn’t going to happen, but I’m trained to think like that.
I was on high alert, prepared to protect you from any contingency that could arise. ”
That caught Molly off guard and silenced her for a minute.
She’d sensed that at breakfast, but his explanation pulled it together.
He was still seriously damaged. The army might be right.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for society. His therapist was fine with him staying in the wild.
Molly didn’t know what to say as she steered the Jeep around a few more bends in the road.
Finally, she said, “Thank you for telling me that. I understand better.” She paused. “But you’ve been in that dining room before.”
“Yes, I come at odd hours, like late afternoon or before closing when it’s not busy. Gloria wants me to periodically go to public places, and I have to report in to her on that. That’s part of what I’m doing today.”
Molly listened as he continued. “When I was in the diner before, I sat in a quiet corner where I could see the entire room, and it felt safe being alone. I don’t worry about myself. Sitting with you in crowded room is unsettling. I’m trained to protect the people I’m with.”
“I see.” Molly wasn’t sure where to take the conversation, then remembered they hadn’t finished the original discussion about the disability. “Are there other complications to the disability?”
They were at the intersection of Summer Lake Road and the main highway into Omak. She waited for an opening and gunned her powerful V-8 Jeep out onto the two-lane road. Shadow barked her approval of the faster speed. She liked the wind in her face.
“Well, this is kind of weird, but the other guys are convinced it’s a factor.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a line of work we’re well trained for that offers excellent pay.”
“What’s that?”
“Being a mercenary.”
“A paid soldier?”
“Yes, a paid soldier for a private company that contracts with a third world country or a revolutionary army trying to overthrow a government.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s a well-known company that does that.”
“Blackwater is the most famous, but there are hundreds of companies like that. They hire guys like me and pay very well. We’re dispatched to some country in Africa and get paid to kill people. Sharp shooters are in high demand. Exceptional pay.”
“I hope you’re not considering that.”
“I’m not, but a lot of the guys are convinced that the generous disability is designed to discourage us from taking those private jobs.
The Army doesn’t want its former heroes hiring out as professional killers.
And, in some of those situations, mercenary forces are fighting against US or UN forces.
Bad policy for the US, fighting its own elite soldiers. ”
“Yikes.”
“And some of my buddies are now private security for underworld organizations. Pay is good. Work is not hard. They’re living good lives but occasionally have to do some dirty work.”
“The more you talk about it, the more I like you living in the wild.”
“Basically, the US has decided it’s better to give a generous disability to keep us from doing what they’ve trained us to do. My guess is I’m right where the army wants me to be. Living off the grid, causing no harm, and posing no risk to anyone.”
“Generous disability?”
“Mine is $60,000 a year, and disability checks are tax free. It’s not income.”
“Okay, then. That’s pretty good. Getting tax-free money to not work.”
“I’ve never spent a dime of it.”
“What’s it doing?”
“For eight years, it’s been electronically depositing into an investment account indexed to the stock market.”
“You’re not broke.”
“It’s my nest egg.”
“What are you living on?”
“I have another source of income.”
“Your private internet business.”
“Something like that.”
Molly pulled the Jeep in front of the federal building in Omak and parked.
They walked with the dogs to a nearby park with shade.
Having arrived early, they sat on a park bench and let Bear and Shadow run around before tying them to a tree on long lines, setting out a water bowl, and giving them some love.
“Shadow going to be okay?”
“She knows I won’t leave her for long and that occasionally being tied to a tree is part of a dog’s life. At least she gets to hang with her hunky boyfriend.”
They walked into the small federal building. Bart led the way down a marble hall, opening a wood door that said, “US Army Recruiting.”
“Hi Bart.”
“Hi Amy, how are you?”
“Living the dream here in Omak. You?”
“Same. This is my friend Molly McGuire.”
“Everyone around here knows Molly Omak. Hi, Molly. How’s Jo?”
“In her last season, I’m afraid.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“You still riding?”
“Oh, when I get a chance. Pretty busy with five kids.”
“Five kids? Jesus, how’d that happen?”
“Don’t worry, we finally figured it out, and it’s been taken care of.”
They laughed. To Bart, “I’ve got you all set up in the conference room. I’ll open the call, then verify to Gloria that you’re here.”
“Thanks, Amy. I’ve invited Molly to join me.”
“Okay, then.” Amy looked back and forth, finally giving Molly an approving wink when Bart looked away. Amy stepped away to the conference room.
“Why does Amy have to verify you’re here?”
“I could be on a Zoom screen anywhere. Gloria wants me to come to the city, walk the streets, enter buildings, and interact with people. She wants verification that I’m mixing with society for at least one or two days a month. That’s part of what these sessions are about.”
“Good morning, Bart.”
“Hi Gloria. I’ve invited a new friend, Molly McGuire, to sit in for a while. I want you to know that I’m making friends.”
They were set up in a small conference room looking at a big computer screen. Molly and Bart were sitting tight against the other so they’d both fit on the screen.
“Hello, Molly, pleased to meet you.”
“Hi Gloria, likewise.”
“And how did you and Bart become friends?”
“We both have German Shepherds. They got together in the woods and the rest is history. My Shadow is expecting in a month.”
“Well, isn’t that romantic.”
Gloria was not what Molly was expecting. She was an attractive, modern, young woman in her early thirties. Molly had imagined an aging dowdy bureaucrat.
“None of my business, but what kind of friends are you?”
“The kind that sleep together and have lots of sex.”