Hey Guys. This is some pages from my old Journal. I was returning from two back to back awful assignments. It was a moment when I realized I couldn't do it anymore. Somewhere in the dark there was a roar, like the ocean, smashing against the shore, and a distant chime rang. A voice, gentle and kind, spoke words I couldn’t comprehend. “…eetie? Sweetie?” I swam upward towards the light, opening my eyes. I was on the plane. “There you are! You had me scared.” I blinked, trying to get my crusty eyes to work. I looked at the flight attendant who crouched next to my seat. She was young, maybe twenty one, with dark blonde hair, cut short like mine. Only a few inches taller than me, she was petite; a polite way of saying short and skinny. A look of relief filled her clear blue eyes and girlish face. Her smile was pure, open. I returned it without thought. “I kind of kept an eye on you while you slept. I don’t think you moved once. Pretty sleepy hunh?” “I guess I was M’am.” I answered. She scrunched up her face in an exaggerated scowl. “I’m not a M’am yet. I’m Julie.” she said, grinning at me. “Zoe.” I said grinning back. My voice sounded croaky, and my mouth was so dry it was sticky. But other than that I felt amazing, like while I had slept, I had been transplanted into a new body. “We’re getting ready to land Zoe, and you have to put your seatbelt on, or I wouldn’t have waked you.” She told me. Her voice was soft, and there was a slight accent she tried to cover; Brooklyn, maybe. “Oh, okay. Thanks Julie.” I said, as I pulled the strap across my waist, and fastened it. I tried to lick my parched lips with my sandpaper tongue. Julie glanced about conspiratorially, and said in a hushed tone. “You’re thirsty aren’t you? Were not supposed to serve anything now, but I’ll get you something. What would you like?” “Water, please.” I whispered back. “Coming right up.” She looked around the cabin again, checking on the location of the other older attendants. She was acting as if she were on some top secret mission. She disappeared behind me to the galley. I smiled to myself. I knew why. She was the new kid; trying to fit in with her seasoned peers, follow the rules. But because of her youth and inexperience, she liked to bend them just a little. It was cute. She magically reappeared, covertly slipping me the cold clear bottle from behind her back. I took it quickly, looking the other way, playing along. She turned around to face me, and winked. I mouthed “Thanks” as I unscrewed the lid, put it to my lips, and chugged. It hit the spot. “I’d better get back to it. See you on the ground Zoe.” “Thanks Julie.” We exchanged winks, and little Julie turned to go. She paused, looked back, pointed to her head, and said… “By the way, I totally love your doo.” She grinned again, and was gone. I was alone again; just me, myself, and I. And that was okay. I filed Julie’s “highly classified H2O espionage” in my pitifully thin file of good memories. I was still reveling in how great I felt. It was as if the past four days had never happened. It wasn’t only my body that was renewed; I felt calm inside, positive, more so than I had in a long long, time. I had made a decision for myself, a choice, and it was intoxicating. I yawned and moved in my seat, rotating my neck and shoulders, and drawing my knees up to my chest, to get the old juices flowing. I looked out of my window again; as I felt the plane begin to bank, descend. Below lay Las Vegas, Sin City, home. We had been trying to out run the morning sun as we had flown west, but it had caught up to us; and here it was, reflecting off of the massive glass structures below. The city glistened like a diamond in a desert wasteland. From up here it didn’t look like a cesspool. Down there waiting for me, was the Sergeant. Like Tag, he was the other constant in my regulated universe. He was my transport to and from assignments. Since day one in the field, he had delivered me to, and picked me up from airports, bus stations, rest areas, and skeevy hotels, over a three state area. The Sergeant was Native American, not Indian, as that term is both geographically, and politically incorrect. He had set my ass straight about that on our first meeting, when I had, out of ignorance, used the “I” word, when inquiring to which tribe he belonged. He had stepped threateningly close, looking down at me from atop his six foot plus frame as he had corrected me. He was what I had pictured when I had read Howard’s Conan books; except for the Army regulation hair. He was a frickin wall of muscle. I knew on a really, really, good day, I could take him if I absolutely had too; but not without having the vast majority of my shit broken. That charming exchange had been as close to personal contact as we had ever come. The rest had always consisted of monosyllabic statements of fact about departures, arrivals, coordinates, and time frames; real exciting stuff. Mostly it was silence. “Why was that?” I wondered, feeling like a complete moron for not having asked the question before now. I mean, granted I was not the most socially adept girl in my class, but ten years without asking the man “How’s things?” seemed excessive, if not totally rude. But, by the same token, he had never asked either. Maybe it was because of the circumstances of our time together. I was always either cycling up for, or decompressing from a mission; definitely not my best moments for getting to know you, some weather we’re having, small talk. I had always assumed he was a solitary creature, like me; and, yes, thank you, we all know what assuming does. Perhaps he was simply respecting my privacy, leaving the proverbial ball in my court about our relationship. Relationship; the word felt weird in my mouth. I had just let it lie there all this time, never making the effort. I made another decision then. It was becoming easier, and easier. It was new leaf day at the Mickey Mouse Club, and I was going to start with the Sergeant. I would try to reach out to him, make amends for my lack of consideration. The thought filled me with an optimistic anticipation. I was going to make him my friend. Besides, I had already hit it off with Bill and Julie, two complete strangers. The Sergeant already knew me, more or less. In Vegas terms, that made me the odds-on favorite to win. I had said goodbye to Julie. She and the two veteran attendants had been standing at the doorway, saying thank you to the passengers, as we got off of the plane. I had felt a pang of sympathy for her. She stood separated from the others, looking tiny, and lost, as if they had pushed her away. I had looked at the taller, women with their perfect make-up and hair; their, oh so fake smiles, and artificial personalities, and then at Julie. I thought of Cinderella, and her two rotten step-sisters. I wanted to tell her to hang tough. That she had so much more going for her, than those two animatronic bitches ever would. But instead I just smiled and waved. She’d figure it out for herself. We all had to. I walked fast though the terminal, my book bag slapping against my hip. I wanted to run, to do cartwheels, and back flips. Instead of fading as I had expected, my feeling of liberation seemed to be building. It was becoming scary; I tried to rein it in a little. I mean, a lifetime of damage doesn’t just evaporate during a four and a half hour flight. I knew that. Baby steps, I tried to tell myself. Then the thought had occurred that maybe the voice had been right. Maybe I had snapped. If I had, and it felt this good, then I didn’t care. I skidded to a sudden halt. I dug into my bag and found the generic, disposable cell phone. It was procedure for me to buy one on each of my expeditions. They were for emergency use only. (Like, I was going to burn it up, calling all my friends. Yeah, right.) The signal would bounce around the world via satellites, until it was untraceable, then to the base. I was only to call the memorized number, if the situation became a totally snafu’d, end of the world, DEFCON one, cluster. That had been pounded, literally, into me. I had only ever used it, once. I dialed the phone, my pulse kicking up a notch. It rang a few times, and then a prerecorded message played. “Hi! You’ve reached Bill Rigano’s office. Sorry I missed your call, but leave me a detailed message, and I’ll get back to you ASAP. Have a better one. Bye!” There was a beep, and I started, not sure of what to say. “Hi Bill, this is Zoe, from the airport. You asked me to call, and… well… I am, I guess. Anyway, I got here okay, and just wanted to say… thanks for being so nice. Bye Bill.” I hung up. I had kept a promise, mine and no one else’s. I had done it for myself. My training sounded like a car’s seatbelt alarm. “You violated protocol.” “Tough shit.” I answered back. I walked over to a large garbage can, the kind with the flaps, and reached inside, holding the cell. I gave it a squeeze, and it crumbled in my hand. I let the pieces fall, pulled my hand out, and dusted the remains off. It had been my business, not theirs. I felt a smirk touch my lips. I felt like a rebel. I turned, and started out again. As I approached it, the terminals sliding door opened. I stepped out, the dry, already ninety plus, Nevada heat striking me, like an opened blast furnace. The familiar scents in the air filled my nostrils. It was great. I began scanning the vehicles in the loading zone for the gold and black, triangular Nile Hotel placard. It was my cue. The cars were different every time. I spotted it on the driver’s door of a black Escalade, with heavily tinted windows. Bingo. I trotted toward it, cutting behind it to get to the passenger side. The windows were so dark; I could see my reflection clearly. I heard the door unlock, as I reached for the handle. I yanked it open, and scrambled up into the passenger seat, tossing my book bag in the floorboard, and slamming the door behind me. It was cool and dark inside the cab. I felt my pupils instantly widen, compensate. The Sergeant sat in the driver’s seat facing the windshield. He hadn’t looked at me as I’d gotten in. He had both hands on the steering wheel, and for a second he reminded me of the Sphinx; face inscrutable, powerful arms stretched out, silent as stone. He was wearing immaculately pressed casual clothes, and sunglasses, which considering the tinted windows, I thought was kind of overkill. I was suddenly petrified. I had convinced myself that it was going to be so easy. That I would just say “hi” to him, and we would be best buds. But now, sitting next to him it seemed so childish. My stomach fluttered, like I’d swallowed a frickin bird. I had to follow through, otherwise my new beginning would end right here. No matter what, I had to try. It was time to grab it, and growl. I turned to face him, trying to give him my best smile; the one I had planned on being so honest and endearing. But I was so nervous, it felt forced, pasted on. “Good morning Sergeant!” I blurted out. Oh god! My voice sounded so anxious, so desperate. I had to tone it down. I sat there with my frozen Jack in the Box grin, waiting for his reply. “Seat belt.” he said, as he began to pull out. It took a second to register. “Oh, right, got it.” I answered, pulling the belt around me, and fastening it. Julie had done the same thing on the plane. I took it as a good omen. As we pulled out of McCarran, he spoke again as if he hadn’t even heard me. “There was an accident on the return route; we have to take a detour. I’ve notified Base to expect a twenty minute delay on arrival time.” He sounded like a frickin on-board navigator. “I see.” I said, my mind drawing a blank. I was blowing it. “Your C.O. has been notified, and will reschedule your debrief accordingly.” He continued. It was falling into the same old pattern. I had to say something to jar it loose. “Thank you Sergeant. It gives us a chance to talk.” There was an almost imperceptible turn of his head, and I could feel his eyes appraise me from under his dark glasses. Again, there was silence. I pressed on, feeling like I was floundering. “So how are you?” It sounded so lame. There was no verbal response, but I began to sense stiffening in his posture. I waited, looking expectantly at him. I heard his pulse began to elevate. I caught another sideways glance from him. I knew he had heard me. “So? How are you?” I asked again. He was ignoring me. Didn’t he get it? Did he not understand the risk I was taking? That I was working my ass off here? His demeanor became ever so slowly, defensive. Then he eased his right hand off of the steering wheel, and rested it in his lap. I knew then, exactly what he was thinking. How could I have been so stupid! I must be crazy to have tried to do this. The anger erupted in my guts; not slowly like before, but instantly, filling me with meanness. How dare he treat me like this! The words shot forth, oozing sarcasm as I mocked his deep voice. “I’m just peachy! And how the hell are you? Glad to see you made it back alive. and in one frickin piece again!” He turned his head this time and looked at me. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice still monotone. I stared at him; feeling like fire should be shooting out of my eyeballs; my smile turning sour, with my mood. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you!” He looked back out the windshield, watching the slow traffic. He checked his side mirrors. He was acting all laid back, but his body told a different story. “Save your conversations for your C.O., they’re above my pay grade.” he said simply. “…above your…? It was as if his words had reached across the cab like an invisible hand, and slapped me in the face. I sat stunned. It was complete and absolute, straight up rejection. He didn’t want to know me. He didn’t even want to be near me. And judging from his body language, he was afraid of me. The nastiness poured out of me then. “So tell me Sergeant, is it the whole world you’re mad at? Or is there just something about me in particular that pisses you off?” I was really starting to make him uncomfortable now, and I liked it. “I will not engage you.” He said. “Engage? Good! Keep using the Jargon like you’re a real soldier. Like, only the best of the best could handle this shitty Driving Miss Daisy detail you’re stuck with.” I snorted at him. “I suggest…” he started, but I cut him off. “I suggest you drive, since that’s all you’re good for. Either that or find a cigar store to stand in front of.” I wanted to hurt him, cut him the way he’d cut me. His lips and the fingers of the hand in his lap twitched. I kept pushing. “What’s the matter Chief? Heap big warrior afraid of little white she devil? The Great Spirit, him tell you her bad frickin medicine? So which is it? Do you hate me because of what I do, or because of what I am?” He was livid now, his teeth gritted. He wanted to smash me like some annoying insect. Good. At least I was getting a reaction. “What do you want from me?” his voice boomed in the soundproofed cab. “An answer!” I yelled back at him. The traffic had slowed to a crawl. He took off his sunglasses and looked at me now. His dark eyes burned with a fury that rivaled mine. “Both!” he screamed. I sat back looking into his ferocious face, feeling my anger leaking away; as if I were a balloon he’d punctured. I listened. “What you do is a perversion of every law of man and God! Yes God! Me good Christian redskin, you racist little monster! It’s not justice, its government sanctioned vigilantism! As for the other…” A look of absolute disgust crawled across his features, his lips drawing back. “I don’t know what you are. I’ve never wanted to know. But I know what you‘re not. You may look like a child, but you aren’t. You’re some nightmare they made in that damned lab thirteen years ago! A thing they wind up, and send out to settle their scores.” He kept hammering with his words, as something inside me withered. “And, just because I’ve had to escort you all this time, doesn’t mean I have to like you, or even acknowledge you! You’re an abomination, and being around you is as close to damnation as I ever want to come. I’m not like your keeper. I didn’t volunteer for this bullshit! I was a real soldier before they forced me to be a part of this freak show! I wasn’t given a choice! That answer enough for you?” He stared at me, waiting for me to jump back at him, to give him an excuse. But, I just sat there. I had asked for a response, and I had gotten one. I was empty, done. If one of the few people, who knew that I existed, despised me this much, thought of me as not even human…a thing… I looked out of my window at that world that just a few short minutes ago; I was so sure I could be a part of. It was like looking at the surface of Mars now. I didn’t belong there. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I belonged anywhere. I began to feel that falling sensation inside again. The Sergeant still glanced from the traffic to me as he drove. I spoke without meeting his contempt filled eyes. “I appreciate your honesty Sir, and I apologize for my disrespect. I’m sorry my existence offends you. But Sergeant, did you ever consider that they didn’t give me a choice either?” I sensed a flinch, then a relaxation in his body. “One point three seconds.” I told him. “What?” he asked. “You were trying to calculate how long you would have to reach your weapon before I could kill you. One point three seconds.” We fell to our regular silence, as the last of my hope dissipated. The huge interior of the Escalade began to shrink. I felt it closing in around me, like a box. My seatbelt and shoulder strap started tightening, squeezing the breath from me. The vents in the dash that had blown frosty air, now reversed and began sucking away the oxygen. I had to get out. I didn’t look at the Sergeant. His words still hung in the cab’s diminishing air like poisoned gas. He was the enemy. I couldn’t let him see weakness in me. “Could you pull over somewhere? I asked. He looked at me now as if I was there, but that didn’t matter anymore. “You know I can’t. It’s against procedure. No stops while on route.” His tone was different, softer somehow. I glanced at the speedometer. “Please, I have to pee.” “We’ll be at base soon. Just hold… Before he could react, I unfastened my seatbelt and unlocked my door, throwing it open. I grabbed my bag from the floor and stepped out. We were going thirty miles per hour in the left hand lane. The soles of my shoes made a grinding sound as they hit the pavement, and I tried to keep upright. I was trying to run, fighting my body’s inertia. Cars in the two right lanes hit their brakes and leaned on their horns as I streaked in front of them. I made the curb moving flat out now, with no clue, no thought to where I was going; only what I was escaping. I just ran.