Chapter 01 - the Snow
"Hey, folks out there in radio listening land. If you bear with me? I can just rip right through this mandatory weather component on my clipboard here. You let me get that outta the way, and we can get back to the music. So, here's the weather."
The radio voice took a deliberate and audible long slow breath in.
"Its the middle of winter, people! What do you even expect. Its been snowing, off and on for a couple weeks. And guess what? Yep. Its going to snow some more. Maybe a lot more. Depending on how these big air masses come together, and where exactly you are in the eastern half of the United States... you could get no snow, you could get some snow, or? They're talking maybe a couple feet, in some areas. So, there's your future weather forecast. We know the snow's coming, but how bad it might be and where? Anyone's guess. Temperatures are holding above or below 30 in most parts of the northeast during the day and hovering around 20 or so, at night."
"So there's the weather. Now, lets get back to the music. Here's a not so common song you almost never hear anymore, even though it once spent time in the top ten. Here comes---"
I muted the radio.
"What's the matter, honey. You don't like that song, I take it."
"I kinda know it. Its okay."
"You know it, kind of. It was in the top ten. You would have had no choice, but to know it."
I gave her my patented little half grin.
"I don't know what this syndrome is called. Pretty sure there's one for it, though. Guys join the service? You get this weird combination. Still a typical young guy, but they won't know about four, six, eight... years of fashion. You see them when they're out? They like stuff that was popular years ago."
"This is a syndrome, huh?"
"It is. And, if they deploy overseas... they get it worse. I have this little chunk of my life. I can't tell you any of the movies, songs, fashion trends. Cars and motorcycles look different. In a way? It feels like, you get back and just wake up one day. And its ten years later."
I call her my wife, but its not like we're legally married. Same thing to me, even without a piece of paper. She was a year into her doctorate of psychology, before she dished out of college sports paying for her degree collection. You have to know her in a quite intimate way, to be privileged to that. The rest of the world thinks she quit before her last semester ended to get her associates. No one better to ask about any kind of syndrome, at least around me.
"Hmm. What you describe, sounds like a case of institutionalization."
"I was in the service. Not the loony bin, honey. While I will admit there are some similarities, its vastly different."
"Oh, there's all kinds of institutionalization. Jail, mental hospitals, yeah. There's also the military, police, probably more I'm not thinking of. As soon as you move and get out of the loop? After long enough, it all shows similarities."
"Great. I'm now clinically no different than a guy that spent ten years in state prison."
I heard her issue a light chuckle, one of the many things I enjoy.
"Actually, mister smart ass. To a sociologist? Yeah. Example time. You, and some other guy in your small town. You, go to the service. Other guy? Yeah, let's say he went to jail, or got locked up for talking to god. Ten years later, there you both are, you both come home. Now. To a teenager from that town? Yeah. Both of you, do the same thing."
"What, though."
"Cultural touchstones. The famous movie, everyone knows the famous line? Not you guys. The, funny commercial. You guys don't get that reference, either. You both pick jogging shoes, that look like they came out of a time warp. You both like hearing ten year old popular music. The similarities don't end there, either. It all falls under the same heading. You guys were institutionalized, and when you come back? It shows."
"What symptoms do we show."
"Mm. Not everyone shows the same things. A few things, are more popular than others. Choice Anxiety, is one of the crowd favorites."
"I have, what was that? Choice, Anxiety. Is that like, blue ribbon anxiety."
"Huh?"
"Well. I go to the store. Made with choice beef? The best beef. Thought the Choice Anxiety, might be the very top of the line."
"That's... cute."
"Thank you. I'm like a pun machine, sometimes."
I got the giggle I treasure so much.
"And I never noticed. Choice Anxiety, is when a person is suddenly presented with a million choices they have to make. They got used to things being a certain way. An example, might be helpful."
I nodded along.
"It would. I can't wait to hear what else is wrong with me, you know. Its fascinating."
"Cereal? Is the classic example."
That took me by a mild surprise.
"Really?"
"Yeah. When you were little, you had certain boxes of cereal. In the kitchen cupboard, I'm going to guess."
"Well? Yeah. Who doesn't."
"There's a lot of choices, for breakfast cereal."
"Well, it was whatever mom bought. I wasn't allowed to pick my own cereal. I had to whine and point and badger mom, to get a change."
"True. But notice something. You, had a way to influence what cereal got put in the kitchen. You might want the prize in the box, but if you tell your mom its lower in sugar? You might get her to buy it."
"I guess so."
"But, when you go to jail? You get whatever cereal they give you that day, that week. You might not like it, but you get used to it. When you were in the service, what was the cereal situation like."
"Kinda weird. Mom, always had like... four kinds of cereal boxes? Some I liked more then others. Mom had some, old lady cereal she liked. Dad, had an okay brand he usually ate. Me, as a kid? I usually had two or three she got for me. Now, the service, the mess hall. If you wanted cereal, they had... these big gigantic clear plastic tall bins. Instead of five boxes of cereal in the cupboard, it looked like... continuous cat feeders lined up. Pretty rare to run out. Similar choices, though."
She raised her index finger at me. She'll make a point now.
"Aha. Yet, you have zero way to influence, what brand of cereal goes in that silo next. At least you had a chance, with your mom."
"Still light years ahead of the guy in state prison out of high school, for ten years."
She chuckled again. God, I like hearing it.
"Uh huh. And when you were overseas? You always told me all about the freeze dried food you had to eat, marching around the jungle. I mean, probably better than state prison food, but you eat what they give you."
"Uh. I see your point. Ten years later, neither one of us knows about the famous new cereal all the teenagers eat now."
"Its not as much about knowing? Its about you had your choices controlled for you. For ten years. You get used to it. Now, when people get home again. They report going to the grocery store? They don't like it. A big store, might have a hundred and eighty-seven brands of cereal lined up, taking up a whole big long aisle. People with institutionalization? They report it takes them too long, to walk up and down and look at all the cereal choices."
"I guess it is, now that you mention it."
"Uh huh. More than lots of choices, too. You might look at, what. Prices. Sizes. Sugar content, or how healthy you perceive it to be. When you first got home, it was kind of a chore, to pick out a cereal box at a big store. People showing more Choice Anxiety than others? Won't acclimate to this. They'll try to seek out smaller stores, if one's available and they can."
"I guess its not just the cereal."
"Nope. Paying for things like food and clothes, that used to just be given to you. Paying and choosing, both. There's lots of things that add up, that institutions do to people in groups. To an older teenager? You all stick out like a sore thumb in certain ways."
"Do I have, Choice Anxiety then?"
"Mm. No. You all feel the same stimuli, but the individual comes out, in how you respond to it. You, for instance? Not like I haven't had ample time to watch you shopping. Cereal? You scan the cereal shelves, picking out the big bags of what you like. If one goes on sale, and price per ounce drops? You get more bags at once. You, are making? Your own service cereal dispensers, basically. The way you describe it to me, what you got used to in the service."
"I never thought of it like that."
"Clothes? Please. You wore work clothes and work boots and jogging shoes for ten years. You buy jeans and work pants. Work boots and jogging shoes. Sweat pants and sweatshirts. All practical clothes to work in, and all very similar to the service. You even like backpacks and gear bags and belts. They molded you, you picked it up from being immersed in it, but its definitely there."
"Wow. I never noticed."
"Prison, overseas combat. Both, stressful things. When its all over, what do you want. Go home, and you want to enjoy things the way you remember, the way they should be. Before the traumatic thing happened. Little creature comforts."
"And, what are my own... creatures."
"In your case? You like to have a tray of food over your lap, while you watch a movie. You told me a million times, it reminds of the snack tray mom made for you as a kid for watching a movie. Lots of little things, like that. And, its not so much that you do those things. You always stop and point it out to me. How, this was how you enjoyed it. As a kid."
"See, that's what I like about you. You don't pry into my personal life to much."
She looked around her, next to me in the old pickup truck I had her in.
"Well. You got this thing all, ready for some winter snow coming now?"
"Yeah. I love this old thing. Remember, before I met you in DC? I was a delivery driver. You've seen where I come from. Lots of hills. I had to have something to drive around in, for going up and down hills, when there was ice and snow everywhere."
"And this was it, huh."
I patted the dash, with great affection.
"Yep. This thing is unique. Whoever bought it new? Got the eight foot bed, as an option. Makes it hard for me to find pickup caps for it? But, its great for hauling. Four foot by eight foot shit, lays perfect in the bed. When I needed a gas tank once, I found out this thing can take the bigger, longer gas tank. I bought that one, to replace it. And, I found out you could have gotten dual tanks on this model. So? I bought two of them, and installed them both."
"I remember running out of gas, and you laughed and told me about the second tank."
"Yeah. I wired and plumbed that up custom. You, are sitting over the main tank. The original tank, its just the extended range size. The second tank? Is back along my side. The gas gauge, is only on your main tank. Now. If you have the second tank filled up, and you run low on your gauge? You just hold the secret button and... voila. The fuel pump just pumps gas over to the main tank. And, you can watch on your gas gauge."
She shrugged.
"Handy if you know its there, and how to work it."
"Also? I fill both bigger gas tanks up. That's a lot of weight, which is great for winter. I keep the extra full size two rims and mounted tires? Behind the tool box. Tool box, tires, more winter weight. And if I have to? I can toss rocks into the bed, or even snow for extra weight if I need it. Also? I have one of those tool box extra gas tanks. Its going behind the tires."
"More weight."
"More weight, but also more fuel. Two bigger tanks. An extra big tank, too. If I fill them all up, imagine how far we can go, even if the gas stations are all closed. Or, we could idle the engine all night, stay warm if we had to. I don't have the back seat of modern pickup trucks, but I have the tool box. I can put things in there, that would be handy to have in winter. If we got stuck somewhere."
"So. This is our, what. Our... civilian, winter, troop, transport."
I patted the dash again.
"Old, ugly... and useful. Lots, of little stuff. The transmission? There was an option, to get the super heavy duty TH-350. Its all but bulletproof, on a smaller truck this size. That thing was intended for full size work trucks. This thing's like a little tank."
"And you're happy you got your, special winter tires."
"Happy? I'm ecstatic. I keep two full sets of tires for this pig. Regular deep tread, for summer. And, a set of really deep tread, for winter. And, for winter? Nothing like spiked tires. Old timers, swore by them. Now. When you go spiked tires? There's choices there, too. Long spikes, or short spikes."
"Oh, I remember. The tire guy was still trying to talk you into short spikes, you insisted."
"Right. Since I have dedicated snow tires... why not have the long spikes, and I can slap those rims on, just for the deep snow. I can go up and down any icy hill, just drop it down into low 1, up or down, any turns are fine. I swear, its better than four wheel drive, and I get twice the gas mileage."
"Well. We do live in the country, and its looking like its going to be a bad winter, for snow. I admit it, I've seen this thing go in snow before."
"I know its no thing of beauty to look at, but... it works, it works good, and it has great sentimental value, too."
"How old is this thing, anyways."
"Honest Indian? This little tank was bought brand new, the year I graduated high school."
"Really."
"Yeah. A guy I know, got it for nothing. It was rusty, it had been wrecked. He spent very little money, he was a mechanic, he could do body work. He restored it, like I said for next to nothing... for a family member, that had problems and needed a vehicle. When the truck came back to him, he didn't really have a use for it. It had been restored, it was cheap. So? I bought it, because I knew how good of shape it was in, no matter how many years old it really was."
"Everything is a story, with this truck. Stop. You're making me jealous. I just realized it, too. You've been with this truck, longer than you've been with me."
I know she's kidding. I was ginning up something maybe fun and witty both, when she did it herself.
"You know, the truth? I grew up on a working ranch farm. My high school vehicle, after I was old enough to drive? One of the old work trucks, from the farm. Actually, all the guys in high school drove trucks I hung out with. Only the girls, drove little cars. I was one of the guys. So, yeah. I actually like your truck. What else do we need to do, to be... winter storm warning, certified."
"Mm. Toss that big hauling tank back there. Get it filled up, too. I already wiped the tool box down, inside and out. The tools, too. I can put things that don't weigh much in there. Blankets, tarps, pillows, candles, candy, water, whatever. If we got stuck in a winter ditch for a weekend? We could do it in style. Talking on the CB. Playing cards, playing board games. Heating up freeze dried field rations. Trading our candy bars and entrees, in our meals."
"Hmm. You make it sound kind of, almost romantic."
"That's my old lady. Winter survival? Turns her on."
"Well. Its being all close, for days on end. Sharing food. Keeping each other... warm. Yeah, kind of romantic, in some weird way."
"Well. I love this old pickup truck. Its my winter rat, and its good at it. I can load up four by eight sheets of plywood, and eight foot long two by fours, easy. So, its my pack mule when I need it. Great for fishing and camping trips for us."
I thought I was done, but my phone beeped and then hers as well.
My phone.
"Hi, honey."
"Hello. How much do you love me?"
"Without measure. The hell you need."
"I went, on a business trip. I'm outta state. It was scheduled, for over a month. But, it went over a couple days."
"What are you telling me, honey."
"Like I started. How... much do you love me, Panic."
"Little one. What do you need."
"I don't wanna drive home, in this mess. What do I have to promise you, that you come and get me, and drive me home."
I'm on speaker phone, by the way.
"Honey? I'll definitely come and get you."
I could hear the rush of air.
"Oh, thank god."
"Zar?"
"Yes..."
"Send me GPS info. Daddy will come and get you."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, honey."
"Thank you. I owe you? Big time."
Her phone beeped again, directly.
"What."
"Is Panic with you, honey?"
"Yeah..."
"What kind of mood is he in."
"Mike? What's up."
"I... got a situation. I could use a hand."
She handed the phone to me.
"Mike. You're on speaker. What's up."
"Panic? I got a... its not a situation, but... I sent a guy? to meet some guy. Now, I got no contact. I realize, its in the middle of this winter weather mess. What I was hoping, was... you agree to go out there, and maybe look around a little. See what happened to my guy."
"Hey, Mike. First come? First served. Zar called me, wants a ride home in this mess. I gave my word."
"Okay. Where you picking her up at."
I told him.
"Oh. Well. You could, on the way back? Just, come through. Take a look, for my guy. Hmm?"
I sighed.
"Mike?"
"Panic."
"Level with me. What's going on."
"Panic? Here's the deal. I sent a guy, to make contact. I get no answer. I'm hanging. Now, I realize. Its the weather, he wrecked, whatever. I just need someone qualified. Swing by and see about this stuff."
"Mike. You have manpower, out the ass. I'm actually supposed to go and get Zar."
"So? Go and get her. Then on the way back, see if you can make anything on this. Panic? Don't make me beg."
"Mike. Its important?"
"It could be. What do you say."
I sighed.
"Mike."
"Yeah."
"Szarabjorna? Comes first. I pick her up. On the way back? Yeah, what do you need."
"Thanks, Panic. Stuff's a little crazy right now. I can't spare Junior, and he's beating my ear he wants to go pick her up. Everything is either running behind, or getting rescheduled. I got men spread all over. Everybody's behind the eight ball right now. That's one of the reasons, I can't just send some gopher junior agent, to pick her up and stop in to see about my no show."
"I said I'd do it, Mike. What am I walking into, anyways. A business meeting, or... some crack house, somewhere. What."
"No, nothing like that. I'll level with you. Another reason I can't just send anyone, is its supposed to be off the books. Standard meet and greet, some information. Not a huge deal, in and of itself. But, they were supposed to do the deed, at a safe house. Hence, I don't wanna broadcast the location. Send the locals, to swing by. Send some junior agent, on an errand."
"You think there might be a problem of some kind?"
"Panic? Its not my safe house. It belongs to another agency. So I didn't get the address, up front."
"So how do I even know where I'm going, then."
"He was supposed to meet in a side road little diner. Then they go off to the safe house. I get confirmation he made contact, he'll fill me in shortly. Last I hear from him. Next day, there's no phone. I lose vehicle GPS, too."
"What do you think happened, then."
"Me and Junior, are thinking standard fiasco. Ran out of gas, on a back road. Car broke down. Maybe he had an accident, maybe he ran off the road. For all I know? He slipped on some icy cement steps, and he's waking up in a hospital somewhere."
"You want me to gumshoe around some, but quietly."
"Yeah. No suits, badges, uniforms, cars with lights on them. Your ID says FBI on it, should be enough. But if you get any static? A phone call from home base here, will free things up. Just look around quietly, is all I ask. When you get back, let me know if you had any expenses."
"And, if I need anything. How busy you got Junior."
"Panic, with the weather right this second? Hectic, would be an improvement. I'm talking, people sleeping in their offices, that kind of thing. Do you have any idea how spread out the FBI really is? We got satellite offices all over the damn place, and some of them are in the snow already. They got agents and employees not making it in, not making it back. Court schedules? All running behind. We got laboratories, warehouses... everything's fucked because mother nature decided to redecorate. And she went with white, for a theme."
"Mike, I already said yes. I just wanna make sure I get Junior, for tech support."
"I'll instruct JR, to take your calls ahead of anyone else. And remember, you'll have his wife with you. I'm sure you won't have any trouble, getting his attention. Hey, speak of the devil. Here's Junior now."
I could hear the other voice after the rustling of someone moving the phone around.
"Senpai. Thanks for doing this. Zar doesn't want stuck for god only knows how long. I was going to be in the doghouse, for not being able to pick her up. We're short handed, and its not like I can send some junior agent out of state, just to pick up my wife. Christ, we can't even scare up warm bodies to go see where the courier went off the road at. I was gonna bite the bullet, and send her an expensive cab ride to the airport? Airports aren't taking non-essential flights. Bus stations are shutting down, too."
I thought about it.
"Then, one of you noticed. These two things could go together."
"Yeah, my idea to try to rope you into going to get Zar. Mike had his thing slide off the road. It just made sense, after I looked at a map. Then, once we thought about it some more. For me, I can rest easy knowing she's with you. Even if you guys get stuck in snow on the side of the highway somewhere? I know she's safe. Then Mike thinks you're a great option, for his deal."
Mike came back in.
"Panic?"
"Yeah."
"Here's the thing. I don't have a lot to go on. The other agency volunteered the GPS on the vehicle. Junior went after the cell phone we were talking to, to generate another beacon. We lost both of those."
"Name, picture."
"That's someone else and their sandbox. I'm waiting on that. When I get it, you get it."
"What's the holdup. I kind of need a vehicle and a face, or I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for, Mike."
Mike went dry.
"I would imagine, they have people sleeping in their offices. And remember, this was supposed to be a quiet meet and greet."
"So, its not a drug deal in a crack house."
"Oh, hell no. White collar stuff. Financial, rules, regulations, irregularities. Shenanigans on paper. Maybe your next question would be, why am I handling a meet and greet for some other agency."
"Glad I thought of that."
"Yeah, I know. The contact? Was supposed to be part of a... whistle-blower kind of deal. Boring stuff, we're not talking about senate hearings on TV or anything like that. Which, is how I got tapped to handle the meet and greet. Maybe that also explains why everyone wants it kept quiet if it can be, at least for now."
"All right. What's my itinerary look like."
Junior came back on that one.
"The best time to leave? Was yesterday. The second best time? Right now."
I glanced at Merry, riding beside me.
"I'll take option C."
"Which is?"
"Let me finish getting my shit together, and I'll leave as soon as I can."
We said our goodbye's and I signed off.
"You can hear all that, honey. Looks like I'm going on a little road trip."
"Hmm. I'm jealous."
"Really? Of what. Sounds like I got a long drive ahead of me. When I get there? I turn right around and start back. Another long drive. Then? I get to run around in the snow, playing find the magic mouse. Followed by, you guessed it. Yet another, long slow trip back. Probably, with limited success to show for it all."
"Since when have you ever planned on failure."
"I figure Zar will be happy to see me. This other guy? He's probably the smartest one out of all of us, you know."
"How's that."
"He was probably bright enough to listen to the weather reports? And pulled into a motel somewhere. There's always somewhere to eat, near any motel. Guy's probably just finishing a nice baked city chicken dinner, trying to decide what he wants for dessert. With his phone off."
I got the little sideways grin out of her.
"I'm still jealous."
"Of what."
"Hmm. I was starting to look forward to the big snow, Panic."
"What were you looking forward to."
"How quiet its gonna get. You got me to like those late night walks. Not to mention. I was thinking about me, you, and both cats maybe spending a night or two at the little cabin. There's a fireplace, and we never use it. I was seeing the cats, laying by the fire. Me and you too, on a deer hide. This big snow, came early. We have a couple weeks, until hunting season and everyone comes to the camp."
"Sounds nice. The fire, the cats. Cozy. I suppose you have to be there, too. Nothing's perfect, but yeah, that's close."
"Hey!"
"Well, what do you want. The cats? They'll just lay there. I can relax. But you? Oh, no. I'll have to kiss you, and stuff like that. And I wanna relax."
"Well? Get your little road trip over with, mister. You get back quick enough? Maybe, I'll be nice. And, agree to do... all, the, work."
"I can just lay there? Sounds good."
"Well, when I need it? I'll just smack you around some, to get you to move."
"Now that? Sounds great."
"I know, right. I was gonna try not to scare the cats too much, but... can't promise anything."
I couldn't help but deliver my now well established trademark laconic humor. Hey, its my thing.
"Okay. I got the fire, the cats... girl cooties, too, but then nothing's perfect in this world. Question. What are we eating. I know, each other for a snack, but... what's the main course."
"You're worried about the food."
"I'm just concerned about the cats and their needs, that's all."
"Oh. I see. And, what would you think the cats would like to eat in this scenario."
"Hmm. If you're getting off on this, cabin cozy deal, and it really sounds like you are. I was thinking... all pork. Pork steaks. Pork sausage. A pork roast. I'll get into Skykid's cast iron collection, we can cook it all slow, near the fire."
"Mm. You have my attention. Do we gnaw on pig meat only?"
"Ah, rules. Whatever it is? It has to go with pork, or it has to use pork as an ingredient."
"Oh my. Food rules. And what would a pork menu, even look like."
I shrugged.
"You like the baked beans, in the cast iron bean pot. Pork and beans? A classic. Unlike when you open a can of pork and beans, and you search for the pork. You're lucky to get a small tablespoon of it, you know."
"They really should call it? A can of beans and pork. Its false advertising, to put the tiniest ingredient, first like that."
"Oh. The opposite. We'll see how much pork we can get into the bean pot. Side dishes for days, right there."
"That's side dishes. I'd say lets talk turkey? But, lets talk pig."
"Okay. Pork steaks? We'll fry a couple up, sure... but, I'm gonna slow cook some of them. In BBQ sauce. The roast? Will take forever, simmering like that. Everything else, will be all side dishes."
"Like?"
"Hot sausage, links and patties. I'll make meatballs. For sandwiches, and spaghetti."
Merry turned her head to me in the pickup, and made an exaggerated lip smacking display. To me, it resembles a cat licking its chops. I'm a cat person, so that's perfect.
"I always was, more of a meat and potatoes girl. You have my attention."
"Well, I planned the menu? For the cats, but... glad you like it."
Hitting the gas station interrupted the conversation. Gas both the truck tanks up. Go back and get the tool box sized gas tank now and fill that up, too. And? I both need to get moving, as well as pack really well so if I do get stuck, I can camp in style. Being quick and thorough both, are at odds with one another.
Its always something.