29 July 2005 – Canal Street, Shirley, Massachusetts

“So where are they sending you again?” Sean Brophy asked.

“Fort Bragg for my SOCM refresher – that’ll take two weeks – then to Fort Polk in Louisiana for another two. I guess I impressed the colonel with my tracking system. The Army’s gonna adopt it and I’m going to train the trainers.” Jeff shrugged. “All I did was write a few spreadsheet macros and layout some databases to interface with those spreadsheets. I used software we already had on the computers. It was nothing special.”

“Evidently that’s an erroneous view of your creation. Why are they sending you to Louisiana and not someplace like the Pentagon for this train the trainer class?”

“A bunch of special operations units are gonna be at Polk to do some joint field training during the second half of August. I’ll be training up their medics at the same time along with medics from other non-SOF units, but this is just a practice run to see if others pick it up easily. I’m glad it’s not at the five-sided foxhole, too. The bright lights glinting off all that brass would hurt my eyes.”

“‘Five-sided foxhole?’”

“You’ve never heard me call the Pentagon that?”

“I have but I guess it never sank in until now. Are you taking a charter down?”

“Sort of. I’ll be on a military cargo flight out of Pease. They’re sparing every expense.”

“So you have to drive to Portsmouth first?”

“I’m hitching a ride there in an Army Black Hawk. The special operations aviation guys at Moore just got some new pilots and they’re starting their daytime area familiarization this weekend. Another flight for me as cargo.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming over to look at the plans for our new buildings when you’ve got so much on your plate.”

“I wanted to make sure you’ve got the design of my new office right before construction starts.”

Jeff made a show of looking over the plans spread out over the conference table. He clucked in disappointment, placed a piece of tracing paper over some offices, and started drawing changes.

“What are you doing?”

“They put in an extra wall in my office. Here, see? If you take this one out it opens things up nicely. It’ll also allow for a private bathroom which fits my status here. I’m seeing Travertine on the floor, a two-person shower, gold fixtures...”

“You’ll be seeing a tent and a port-o-potty if you don’t watch your mouth, you smart aleck.”

“Dude, I’m active-duty military! Tents and port-o-potties don’t faze me!” Sean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, is the new garage big enough for the ambulances we’ll start with while allowing for future growth?”

“That’s why there’s so much space behind the garage in the plans at the moment. If we grow like I’m hoping we will we can expand in that direction. We’ll also look for satellite bases in other towns if they become necessary.”

“I’m glad Brophy bought all this land when we opened DMD, then. What about our neighbors?”

“The trees around the property, and where we are in relation to those neighbors, will shield them from much of the noise. The town paid to upgrade and widen both Phoenix Street and Shaker Road when the Army opened Donovan. We’ll subsidize some of the maintenance to those two roads because of all the vehicular traffic we’ll introduce to the area.”

“How’s Shawna doing in her new role?”

“That girl still amazes me. She got that division halfway started all on her own without any input from Dad or me. By the way, did she tell you she’s glad she hired your friend last month? They make a pretty good team, those two.”

“She told me. Mish still laughs at the fact she works for an ambulance company that doesn’t operate a single ambulance.”

“They’re coming.”

“Yeah, I know. I hope Shawna won’t be too disappointed because Mish is looking forward to working the road as a civilian EMT, not being cooped up in the office.”

“Little does Mish know what she’s in for. Oh the places she will go.”

“I tried to tell her but, honestly, it’s not like she’ll wind up in Afghanistan again. I doubt anywhere will be as rough as that place was. The folks in AIT at Fort Sam wanted to hear my EMS war stories, so I told them. I guess I didn’t highlight the shitty parts of EMS enough, though, if she’s looking forward to it.”

“Well, not everyone gets to have a partner like me.”

“Thank God.”

“You can be replaced, you know?”

Jeff flipped him off. “So when are the ambulances being delivered again?”

“Next week. We’ll get them lettered, stocked, and have the radios installed during the two weeks after that. I’m guessing the state will sign off on them by mid-September and we can get started.”

“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to getting started myself.”

“You’ll have a good team waiting for you here when you do.”

“Is Joe working out as acting ops manager?”

“No worries there, either, other than the occasional back spasm.”

Another back injury forced Joe Ernst off the road for good in April. Brophy wasn’t in the habit of abandoning good employees and Joe was the top internal candidate for DMD’s ops manager vacancy. They even bought him a computer desk which could be raised to standing height, or lowered so he could sit behind it, depending on Joe’s needs.

“Good deal. Any word from Haussmann?”

“His attorney is making some noise,” Sean shrugged. “He’s claiming breach of contract.”

“But you didn’t fire him.”

“Nope, we sure didn’t. He’s still listed as an active employee so legally he hasn’t been terminated. Sure, we’ve restricted his access to the building to normal business hours, and then only to the front door, but he still has access. He won’t be officially terminated unless we can secure a ruling in our favor. We stopped his direct deposit after one month of him not showing up for work under the job abandonment section of the employee handbook. We’re putting that money into an escrow account until his status is finalized.”

“How long’s that gonna take?”

“We’ll probably be grandparents by the time the civil process runs its course.”

“Naturally,” Jeff responded, shaking his head. “I should have known you and your dad wouldn’t screw me over, Sean. Sorry.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to cut out. I want to spend some time with Keiko and the kids before I leave tomorrow.”

At least these seats are more comfortable than the old nylon webbing seats in the -130s, Jeff thought to himself two weeks later as he settled into a fold-down seat of another C-17.

Twenty-seven such seats lined each wall of the cargo area. Numerous wrapped pallets occupied the space in that area. This flight would take him from Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina to Polk Army Air Field in northwest Louisiana. He pulled out his cell phone before the folks from the Air Force told everyone to turn them off.

“Hey, Barry. Did you get those forms I faxed you an hour ago?”

“Sure did, sir. The AAFEMS database has already been updated to show your certification is valid until June 30, 2009. You’ll have your new card next week.”

“Barry Silverman, you are the best.”

“Ain’t I though? And, as an extra bonus, your ‘Certified Paramedic – Tactical’ wallet card will be in the mail in two weeks. The Paramedic Specialty Certification Board finally agrees with our vision for military medics who are also SOCM ATPs.”

“I’m gonna owe you a case of beer if you keep this up! Thanks, man.”

“Take it out of what I owe you. Do you know how much AAFEMS’ bottom line has improved since you started your little crusade for your fellow military medics? Hell, just the revenue coming in for the OCP camouflage versions of our certification patches has the CEO tickled pink! More money means we can do more training.”

“Well, I’m glad everything’s worked out. Hey, they’re starting to tell people to power down their phones. I’ll touch base with you when I get back from Louisiana.”

“Sounds good. Take care, Jeff.”

“Are you still in 3d Batt?” the soldier beside him asked while gesturing at the combat patch on Jeff’s right shoulder.

“No, I’m with 10th Special Forces now. You?”

“3d Group. You heading down to Polk for this computer software dog and pony show?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad. Work smarter, not harder, right?”

The other soldier harrumphed. “I’ll reserve judgement until see what this bean counter has to say.”

“‘Bean counter?’”

“Whoever came up with this has to be some accountant from a windowless, basement Pentagon office. Probably hasn’t held a rifle since Basic, if they’ve ever held one at all. I’d rather be out in the field training with my team than sitting in some classroom.”

“When are you doing your classroom training?” Jeff asked, avoiding the comments about the bean counter.

“Supposed to be at the end of next week. I’m guessing the whole thing will be a waste of time. I can see myself fighting to stay awake.”

“Well, good luck,” he commented before putting his iPod’s headphones on.

“When are you taking yours?” the other man asked.

“Oh, pretty much right away.”

“So, as you can see, while I originally developed this to track skills and training needed by my Group’s 18-Deltas, these macros and databases can be used to track all sorts of things across a range of needs. Any further questions? No? Then I thank you for your attention.”

Jeff packed up his laptop while the group of medics filed out of the classroom. The ease with which his ‘students’ grasped the concept, utility, and flexibility of his little creation surprised him. He was ahead of schedule three days into his presentations.

“Excuse me, Sergeant?”

Jeff looked up to see a soldier wearing a 3d Ranger Battalion unit patch on his left shoulder.

“Yes? May I help you, Specialist?”

“When were you with 3d Battalion, Sergeant?”

“Technically until this March when I was RFS’ed. Functionally? Until last October when I was wounded. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity at first, but now I think I’m your replacement. Were you with 2d Platoon, Bravo Company?”

“Yes, I was. You’re 2d Platoon, Bravo Company?”

“Since last November, yes.”

Jeff smiled broadly. “Which barracks are you in?”

Rick Mendoza looked up when his platoon medic appeared in his doorway.

“Hey, Fozzy. How was the class?”

“Total waste of time,” answered Specialist Eric Braun.

“What? How come?”

“Guy was a big-time poser. Didn’t know shit from shineola.”

“Who was this loser, then?”

Another head poked around the door frame.

“I was the best damn squad leader you ever served under, that’s who.”

“Holy shit! Bones!”

Rick sprang from his chair and bounded over to Jeff. The laughter and back-slapping drew the attention of Sal Pellegrino and others Jeff served with. They came over to join the reunion.

“You’re still in?” Sal asked. “Even with your prosthetics?”

“‘Prosthetics?’” Jeff cocked his head. “What ‘prosthetics?’”

“Your legs got blown off. Didn’t they?” Rick and Sal looked at each other.

“Um, no. That was the captain of the Special Forces team I was with, guys. My right leg got crushed by a building collapse after he was wounded. It was just broken, not blown off. You guys have been playing ‘Operator, Operator’ haven’t you?”

“I guess so,” Sal admitted.

“Did everyone else make it out of there okay?”

“Congratulations, Bones,” Rick said, smiling ruefully, “you were the last member of 2d Platoon to be severly wounded and sent home during our deployment.”

Jeff grunted. “Not the lottery I wanted to win, guys.”

“I can imagine,” Rick agreed.

“Where’s everyone else? Josh and Enos?”

“Josh got out, Enos transferred to the 502d Infantry in Berlin. A lot of the guys transferred to other units, too. So, wait, you’re the guy who dreamed up this new computer thing?”

“Once a geek, always a geek, Rick. My position in 10th Group is a make-work kinda one. I took over some of the low-level, day-to-day admin stuff for the medics there, but it’s paying dividends. I mean where else can I work and be sent to beautiful Fort Polk? All expenses paid, too!”

“You got hit in the head when you were wounded, didn’t you?” Sal chuckled. “I think you’re crazier than when we were over there!”

“We were already nuttier than a bunch of squirrels when we got sent over there, Sal.”

His friends laughed. “Yeah, good point,” Rick answered. “You’ve been home a while. Any word on DJ or the rest of the guys?”

“After I got RFS’ed I went down to Walter Reed to visit DJ. We wound up flying out to Colorado together to bury a friend of his. He’s doing okay. They finished shaping his stump two months ago and he’s about done with rehab, at least at Walter Reed. He’s expecting to be discharged in about a week.”

“Any issues with his girl?” Sal asked.

“His old one? No, he hasn’t heard from her since before his last mission with us in Kandahar. He’s looking forward to getting back to Penny when he goes home.”

“Penny?”

“Someone he knew from high school. She was a year behind him and had a major crush on him then. I hope it works out for them. She’s a really nice girl.”

“What about the others? Any word on them?” Sal asked. “We went on leave after we got back to Benning. Weren’t able to get ahold of them before leaving there or coming here.”

“Ruben’s shoulder blade healed fine but, like me, he had issues with the muscles around the area of the break. That slowed down his rehab and he got RFS’ed, too. He’s out at Lewis in the 2d Stryker Brigade. Trace got medically retired. The bleeding around his heart caused some damage and he can’t run any more. Ivan’s doing okay, and he’s probably the most positive of the three who were seriously wounded. He says he’ll be rock climbing with his prosthetic arms in no time. Stan got out and moved back home. He’s had no issues with the ankle other than it getting stiff if it snows where he is.”

“I doubt Destin, Florida sees much annual snowfall, if that’s where he went back to,” Emilio Reyes, now a corporal, commented.

“So how much longer are you here for?” Rick asked.

“I’m supposed to be here through next Friday, but the classes are going so well we’re going to accelerate the schedule. I’m not sure when I’ll actually leave. How about you guys? When are you heading back to Benning?”

“At the end of the week. We’re heading back out into the field in the morning. You think you’ll be around Friday night after we get back here, before we leave the next morning? Trading lies and stomping brain cells will take more than just this one night.”

Jeff sat at the front row of tables as his last scheduled class filed into the classroom. He reviewed his notes though he knew the presentation by heart after giving it so often. The fact that it was only Tuesday made him shake his head.

“Hey, how you doing?” Staff Sergeant Eckart, the soldier who questioned him on the flight from Pope, asked. “I thought you said you were taking this class first thing after you got here?” he asked while taking the chair next to Jeff.

“I did.”

“Then what are you doing back here?”

“I want to see how others are understanding the material,” Jeff replied. “I might get a research paper out of this.”

Jeff didn’t mean to be disingenuous but part of him wanted to have a little fun with the sergeant. Eckart raised an eyebrow. Jeff shrugged. He rose from his seat after everyone scheduled to take the class arrived.

“Where are you going?” Eckart asked.

Jeff held up a finger and walked to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Staff Sergeant Jeff Knox, 10th Special Forces. I’ll be presenting a simple way to track existing skills for your medics, as well as the medical supplies and additional skills they need, using a method I developed at my CO’s request using software already on Army computers.”

Jeff spent a half-hour presenting, and another fifteen minutes answering questions before having the medics set up the databases themselves as a learning exercise. The skeptics in the room including SSG Eckart saw the utility of the program immediately, as well as the ease with which one could set it up and maintain it. Jeff wrapped up his final class in less than ninety minutes.

“Any last questions? No? A step-by-step guide will be posted to Army Knowledge Online by the end of September. TRADOC needs to review it before it’s uploaded. With that, I thank you all for your attention.”

Many of the medics came up to thank him for the class and to ask questions. Eckart waited at the back of the group.

“Sorry for what I said on the plane,” he offered. “You’re clearly not some bean counter who’s spent his time in the rear with the gear.”

“No worries. There are plenty of good, non-operational people in the military, Sergeant,” Jeff pointed out. “Don’t forget that the pointy end of the spear is pretty useless without the handle it’s mounted on.”

“Yeah, I should keep that in mind, shouldn’t I? I guess I’ve gotten too caught up in swaggering around forcing people to look at my long tab.”

“‘Sic transit gloria mundi,’” Jeff reminded him. “‘Thus passes the glory of the world.’”

“‘This too shall pass?’”

“Exactly.”

“I learned more than one thing this week. Thank you for the reminder.”

“‘And knowing is half the battle,’” he chuckled before holding out his hand. “Take care, Sarge.”

“Dave. Dave Eckart. You as well.”

“I hear you’re finished teaching those training classes already, Knox,” CSM Edwards said an hour later. “Three whole days early, too.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised how fast everyone picked up the process, Sar’Major. I tried to make the presentation as non-technical as I could, but wasn’t really sure how successful I would be.”

“Well, nice work. Stand by for the colonel. He wants to talk to you.”

“Roger.”

“Knox?” asked Colonel Brubaker.

“Yes, sir. Good afternoon, sir.”

“I’m hearing some very good things about your classes and that system you developed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You know you were supposed to be there until Saturday, right? And your wife was supposed to start her school year today?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Well, we had a serious rain storm here last night. Devens Regional experienced a pretty significant leak in its roof and a number of the classrooms were heavily damaged. They won’t be starting school for at least another week. You’ve got leave time to burn before your ETS date in October. Have you or your wife ever been to New Orleans?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Then call her and see if she’d like to join you down there. She can fly into Louis Armstrong and you can spend the weekend together, if that works for you. You can report back next Wednesday.”

“Between our parents, sir, I think we can make it work. I’ll see if I can catch a ride over to the airport in Alexandria, rent a car at the airport there, and meet her in NOLA or some variation of that scenario.”

“Get it done then, Sergeant. I’ll have leave orders sent to Polk’s garrison headquarters within the hour. Sergeant Newtown in the office here will contact you once they’ve been faxed.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you again, sir.”

“You’ve earned it, Sergeant. Overnight me a box of beignets or something. Brubaker out.”

Jeff heard the colonel hang up. He dialed his wife’s phone.

“Hello, my husband,” she purred.

“My Keiko-chan, I understand the school experienced a mishap last evening?”

“Yes, several classrooms were damaged when a leak in the roof allowed a large volume of water to enter the building. My room was not one of them, thankfully, though some on my hall were. Maintenance believes they will have the roof repaired this week. The clean up will take somewhat longer. We will not start school until that clean up is complete. How did you learn of the school’s difficulties?”

“I just spoke to Colonel Brubaker and he told me. He also told me that, since I’ve finished teaching the training classes here, I should tell you to fly down here for the weekend.”

“What was that, Jeffrey?”

“You fly down here and we spend the weekend, or a little bit longer, in New Orleans. The colonel’s faxing amended orders for me. I haven’t given you a proper anniversary celebration over the past few years with me being in the Army.”

“Every day I get to spend with you is a proper celebration, Jeffrey. You are correct in that we have not yet taken a trip to coincide with our anniversary, however. This will suffice for this year. You go collect your leave orders and I will call the air charter company.”

“I’d better figure out how I’m actually getting to New Orleans, too. Call me back in two hours?”

Jeff jumped in his assigned car and drove to the garrison office. Orders safely in-hand, he asked the soldier helping him about getting to the closest civilian airport to Fort Polk, which was in Alexandria, Louisiana.

“My uncle’s a pilot, Sergeant, and we were going to fly to New Orleans tomorrow,” said Private Shipley. “There’s room for you, or will be as soon as I ask him. He’s a combat vet himself – Navy PBRs in Vietnam. He’s flying down from Tennessee and picking me up at Alexandria. You can ride over there with me.”

“I’d really appreciate that Private Shipley. I’ll give you my cell phone number. Call me either way?”

“You got it, Sarge. It won’t be a problem, but I’ll call you.”

Keiko called him back as he packed up his things.

“The charter company does not have anything available until Thursday morning, Jeffrey. They would also prefer to fly into the other airport in New Orleans, Lakefront, rather than the main commercial one there.”

“Fine with me, ‘cause that won’t be too far from the hotel I’ve booked us into. It’s along the Mississippi, and the suite has a gorgeous north-facing view of the French Quarter and Lake Pontchartrain. No one else had rooms available over the weekend.”

“A suite Jeffrey?”

“Hey, nothing’s too good for my girl! Anyway, it’s not like we’ll be looking at the view all that much.”

“And why is that, Jeffrey?” He heard the smile in her voice.

“Because we’ll be too... busy ... to look.”

“I believe I like the way you think, husband. My parents are looking forward to having the children sleep over. They will likely bring them out to visit with your parents over the weekend. Kara and her family will be there as well.”

“Well, I’m sorry we’ll miss Kara, Stu, and the kids, but I’m looking forward to spending time with you while we explore someplace new.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Owens,” Jeff said while carrying his ALICE pack to the small plane.

“My pleasure, Jeff, and the name’s Darryl. I was going to stop and pick up my nephew anyway. Your paying for the avgas is much appreciated.”

“Darryl, you’re helping this spontaneous weekend getaway with my wife happen. It seemed only proper I should at least pay for the gas.”

“You say she’s also flying into Lakefront?”

“Yessir, a direct charter tomorrow from an airport near our home. We’ll have a long weekend together in New Orleans before we have to fly home Tuesday.”

“Well let’s kick the tires, light the fires, and get you down there.”

An hour later the Hilton’s courtesy shuttle pulled away from Lakefront Airport’s terminal and began the drive to the riverside hotel. Though Jeff loaded and unloaded his bag himself, the van’s driver still received a good tip because Jeff didn’t have to negotiate the New Orleans traffic himself.

The desk clerk looked just shy of appalled when Jeff carried the large olive drab pack through the lobby. Checking in was rapid and painless. The bellboy led Jeff to his suite. Again the lack of any physical exertion on the hotel employee’s part didn’t affect the man’s tip.

A bright and airy suite greeted Jeff when the door opened. Sunlight shining through the windows highlighted clean, modern lines and furnishings. The room faced north and offered the great view he told his wife about. Jeff unpacked the few civilian clothes he brought with him to Fort Polk, but left his uniforms in the pack in the closet. He stretched out on the king-sized bed before calling Keiko to confirm her flight information. With nothing else pressing he closed his eyes for a nap.

Jeff swung Keiko around happily when she stepped off the plane Thursday mid-morning. Any extended time apart had become painful as he neared the end of his second enlistment.

“I have missed you, husband. A month seems interminably long now that you are based at home.”

“No argument there, Keiko-chan. It’s close to ten months that I’ve been back. We should move our reunion off the tarmac, though, lest they call the airport’s crash-rescue truck to cool it off.”

Jeff turned to the charter pilots walking down the airplane’s steps.

“Thanks, Gary. Doug.”

“Our pleasure, Mr. Knox,” Gary Billings replied while shaking Jeff’s hand. “We’ll see you folks Tuesday morning. Mrs. Knox, always a pleasure.”

This time Jeff let the van’s driver handle the loading of the luggage – a small bag for each of them – while Jeff helped Keiko into a seat. They each put an arm around the other during the ride to the hotel.

“What is the plan, Jeffrey?”

“I plan not to plan, Keiko. We don’t have anything we need to do here until Tuesday morning. Let’s get to the hotel, get you unpacked, and figure out lunch. No pressure. We’ll take it as it comes this weekend.”

They ate lunch at a trendy yet quiet bistro in the French Quarter less than ten minutes from the hotel. They lingered there, watching people dash in and out on their lunch hour. Their waitress was terrific, suggesting items from the menu for them to try. She chose their entire meal for them. Jeff and Keiko promised to return Monday. They returned to the Hilton after strolling the Quarter for the afternoon. They selected another small, quiet place for dinner and left the area before the night life started.

Keiko opened her eyes slowly. Jeff lay spooned up behind her, asleep, while she looked around the strange bedroom. Thick drapes blocked most of the morning’s sunlight. The hum of the air conditioner masked any sound that may have made it through them. Her husband mumbled in his sleep and she pulled herself deeper into his embrace. She smiled at her good fortune once again.

“How long have you been awake?” Jeff mumbled.

“Only a few minutes, my husband.”

“You know there’s absolutely nothing that needs to get done today? That’s a pretty strange feeling.”

“And, as much as I miss our children, no one’s making noise downstairs...” Keiko rolled over to face Jeff “ ... no one who might walk in on us...”

Jeff smiled. “Now I like the way you think.”

Four hours later Keiko and Jeff again strolled through the French Quarter. This time they looked for a different place for a late brunch. Jeff looked over at Keiko and winked. She blushed and smiled back.

“We have not had that kind of morning for some time, Jeffrey.”

“It’s been too long, that’s for sure. We need to make that a regular occurrence again.”

“The children may still be too young for that become a regular occurrence just yet.”

“We can work on it.” Jeff chuckled to himself. Keiko raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they can ‘catch’ us when they are teenagers. You know, to give ‘em a reason to need therapy later in life.”

“That is cruel, Jeffrey,” she chided her husband as they entered a restaurant. She looked over her shoulder at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But that is also good idea.”

They explored another part of the Quarter that afternoon before choosing a different restaurant for dinner. Unlike the previous night, Keiko and Jeff stayed for the nightlife. They allowed themselves a good buzz in the bar. Many years of seeing the effects of drinking combined with poor decisions helped Jeff stop before he was too drunk. Keiko went past where he stopped and started giggling. The bartender called a cab for them when Jeff asked him to.

Back at their hotel Jeff helped an unsteady Keiko get undressed and washed up for bed. She teased him while he tried to do the same. She pulled him to bed when he turned off the bathroom lights. Keiko was more sexually aggressive than Jeff had ever seen. Then again, he’d never seen her drink as much as she did that night. Keiko rolled over and fell asleep at 0230 leaving a thoroughly exhausted Jeff gasping for breath behind her.

Jeff groaned when he opened his eyes the next day. Well, he tried to open his eyes. The crust on his eyelids felt thicker than normal. He rubbed at his eyes to break it up before he could open them. Sunlight filtering in around the drapes was bright enough to hurt his eyes. He adjusted to the light after he blinked a few times.

I slept until almost two? For a soldier to sleep that late was unheard of. ‘Burning daylight’ they called it.

Jeff carefully swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Thankfully the room stopped moving when he did. A glance behind him showed Keiko still dead to the world. He hoped she wouldn’t be in too much pain when she finally woke. He grabbed his cell phone, walked to the suite’s living room, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

A barrage of voicemail-waiting alerts hit Jeff as soon as the phone powered on. He darted into the half-bath to keep the noise from waking Keiko. Jeff noticed the concern in his family’s voices increase as he worked through the messages. He heard the words ‘hurricane’ and ‘evacuation’ in almost every one.

Jeff turned on the television. He saw storm coverage on several national channels, and more detailed reports on all the local channels. The hurricane his family warned of skipped across the lower tip of Florida before making its way into the Gulf of Mexico. Once over the warm, open water there and well away from land, the former tropical storm exploded into a Category 3 hurricane almost immediately. Forecasts called for Katrina to strengthen to Category 4 by nightfall. He stepped back into the bathroom.

“JEFFREY!” his mother barked when his call connected. He must have a slight hangover because her shout made his head ache.

“I’m here, Mom.”

“We’ve been trying to call both of you all day! Please tell me you’re on your way out of there!”

“I wish I could, Mom. I just woke up and Keiko’s still asleep.”

”ASLEEP? What were you two doing last night that you slept until three in the afternoon?”

“Don’t forget we’re an hour behind you, Mom. Louisiana’s in the Central Time Zone.”

”JEFFREY!”

He winced again. “Not so loud, Mom! Your little boy went out drinking with his wife last night, and then we came back here and ... did married people things...”

“Well, now you’d better figure out how to get yourselves out of there!”

Through the closed door Jeff heard Keiko call his name.

“Gotta go, Mom. Keiko’s up and calling me.”

“Promise me! Call me after you’ve gotten out of there!”

A bleary-eyed Keiko gazed unhappily around the living room as he emerged from the bathroom.

“Honey?” he asked in a quiet voice. She held a finger to her lips. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“How could you let me drink that much, Jeffrey?” Keiko mumbled from inside their hug.

“I was rather impaired myself last night, Keiko. I didn’t notice in the moment.”

“Urp...”

“In the bathroom, honey,” Jeff said while hustling her in.

He pulled her long hair back while she tried to empty her stomach into the toilet, but there was nothing left to empty. He helped Keiko back to the bed before getting dressed.

“Where are you going, Jeffrey?”

“I’m going to check to see if that little store across the street is open. You need fluids, so I’m buying plenty of sports drink and plain water if they are. I’m sure you won’t feel up to going anywhere today so I’ll get some food there, too. I’ll be right back.”

Jeff took the small bag Keiko used for her clothes with him to the market, which was thankfully still open. He bought the drinks he mentioned, as well as microwavable meals with plain rice that Keiko should be able to keep down. The street outside, so busy the day before, looked almost deserted. It creeped him out seeing the vibrant city nearly devoid of life.

“Excuse me, sir?” he asked the hotel’s desk clerk.

“Yes, sir?”

“Does the hotel have emergency generators?”

“We do sir, yes.”

Jeff thanked the man and returned to his room. He mixed Keiko a large glass of half water, half sports drink and brought it to her. He woke her from her nap, watched her finish the drink, then brought her another along with two ibuprofen. While Keiko finished the second glass Jeff started repacking their bags.

“What are you doing, Jeffrey?”

“I want to be ready to leave quickly should the situation call for it, Keiko.” All the clothes they brought went into his pack except for a change of sturdy clothes and shoes for both of them.

“Why would we need to do that?”

Jeff stopped short, realizing Keiko knew nothing of the hurricane bearing down on them. He turned on the bedroom’s TV. Keiko’s eyes widened while reading the information on the screen. One of the projected storm tracks split New Orleans in two. She tried to sit up, immediately turned green, and began to sway.

“Lay back down, Keiko. You keep drinking that mix while I call around and try to get us out of here.”

‘Try’ was as far as he got. Automated messages told him all the busses and commercial flights out of town were sold out. The rental car agencies were either booked solid or had closed early so their people could evacuate. The city already closed its emergency flood gates, which cut the rail lines out of town. Jeff tried one last option.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Knox, but any of our available aircraft that could reach you wouldn’t get there in time to do you any good,” Jake Kelly said.

“What do you mean, Jake?”

“The only available aircraft we could send are turboprops, not jets. By the time one could get into New Orleans the winds there are expected to reach tropical storm force, and that’s if it left right now.”

“Shit. So we’re stuck?”

“I’m afraid so, unless you can get over to the general aviation airport that we flew Mrs. Knox into and book yourselves a charter. The heavier commercial jets can fly in the heavier winds, but not light aircraft.”

“I already tried a local charter, but they’ve either already left ahead of the storm or they’re leaving as we speak.” Jeff peered out the window at the high, thin clouds. “Looks like we’ll have to take our chances here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Knox. I wish we could help you. Your family has been flying with us for years.”

Jeff chuckled. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Jake. We’ll still be around to haunt you after this is all over.”

“I hope so, sir.”

“Catch you on the flip side, Jake.”

Jeff hung up, wondering if his words sounded confident or just full of bravado.