John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

He stared at the face of the woman as she passed. She was clearly in her late seventies or early eighties, using a walker to help her stay upright and stable. As she slowly proceeded up the walkway, he added, “She has probably lost her husband…run out of savings…either doesn’t have any kids or at least doesn’t have any who are inclined to help her. I’ll bet she’s thinking this is her best option.”

“Either that,” the federal officer began, his voice betraying an emotional secret he was not going to share, “or her kids wanted to take her in and she prefers this to placing that kind of burden on them.”

Clements nodded. His eyes suddenly connected with those of a young girl who was the only one in the group not staring expectantly at the entrance, but glancing all around. She noticed that he was looking at her, and smiled. It was a half-hearted smile.

She couldn’t be any older than my daughter, he thought to himself.

“Maybe sixteen or seventeen at the most.”

He did not realize he had spoken the last thought aloud until the marshal responded, “What was that?”

Snapped from his reverie, he answered, “I was just noticing that young girl. She can’t be more than seventeen. What the hell is she doing going in there?”

Following Matt’s gaze, the officer found her in the crowd and shrugged. “Do you know how many kids that age kill themselves?” he asked rhetorically. “Too many!”

As they talked, Matt noticed that the girl’s eyes never left his and she was slowing her pace, letting the rest of the group pass her. As she came even with the two of them, she had managed to make it to the back of the crowd.

As the other new entrants proceeded through the door, she paused near the threshold, looking undecided. For some reason, she was still looking at him. As if drawn by her stare, he stepped toward her, immediately feeling the grip on his arm from the federal officer.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Clements turned and looked at him, his normal urge to rebel against authority waxing without encouragement. In a motion slightly more violent than he intended, he jerked his arm free from the grip and insisted, “We were told that through the doorway was the point of no return. She hasn’t gone in yet.”

The man shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s a no-win deal for you.”

Matt took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that she was still standing and waiting, apparently for him.

“What do you mean?”

“Since we’ve been posted out here, I haven’t let any of my men talk to them.”

“Why?”

The marshal’s expression softened, and his eyes shifted to some point off in the desert, as he said, “Think about it. Only two things can happen. If you talk to her and don’t change her mind about going in there, you are going to wonder about her for the rest of your life…with absolutely no way of ever finding anything out. She will keep popping into your head when you least expect it, and you’ll want to know if she’s okay…what her life is like in there…if she’s even alive.”

Matt thought about his words for a moment before saying, “I understand. I can deal with that. But what if I talk her into not going in? That’d be a good thing.”

Shifting his eyes back, the marshal persisted, “Would it? You have no idea why she’s doing it. You don’t know what a mess she’s made of things. And if you throw her a lifeline, you might as well adopt her because she is going to attach herself to you like a tick on a hound dog.”

He started to respond again, but was cut off. “And what if you do talk her out of going in there and a month from now, or six, or a year, she decides to take the other way out? You’re going to feel as if that’s your fault. You are going to have to deal with the guilt of knowing that if you’d let her walk through those doors today, she’d still be alive.”

The two men stared at each other for almost a full minute before Matt shrugged and said, “I hear you. But it won’t hurt to just talk to her.”

Before the man could respond, Clements turned and walked over to the young girl. As he crossed the fifteen feet between them, he noticed that she was painfully thin, almost anorexic. Her red hair was shaggy; either it was the result of the latest in youth hairstyles or she had hacked at it herself in front of a mirror. As he came closer to her, he saw that her eyes were a deep green, almost aquamarine color and her face was covered with freckles.

“Hi,” she greeted him as he arrived.

“How’s it going? My name’s Matt.” With that, he reached out to shake her hand.

Tentatively, she took his hand. “I’m Tillie.”

Smiling at her, he asked, “Short for Mathilda?”

Grinning back, dimples tucking themselves deeply into her freckled cheeks, she replied, “Yeah! Not too many people get that. That’s cool.”

He released her hand, and she reluctantly lowered it back to her side, as she said, “It’s an old-fashioned name. I happen to like old-fashioned.”

“I do, too. Matt is short for Matthias.”

She smiled, and they both fell into a brief silence until he began, “I walked over because it looked as though you wanted to talk.”

Tillie dipped her chin closer to her chest and looked at him through her top eyelashes. The move was too coquettish to be natural in his mind. He waited for her to speak.

“I did. I mean, I do.”

Letting one side of his mouth curl up in a half smile, he remarked, “Here I am. But why me?”

“You…I guess you remind me of my dad.”

It was Matt’s turn to grin. “As I watched you approaching, I thought to myself that you were about the same age as my daughter. How old are you?”

“How old do you think?”

“Sixteen, seventeen maybe.”

She jerked her head in a rapid shake, making even the shortened hair twirl back and forth. “I’m almost twenty.”

“You don’t look it.”

“I get that. All the time.”

He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before asking, “What did you want to talk about?”

The lightness on her face disappeared. She looked down at the edge of the walkway and motioned. “Can we sit down?”

“Sure.” He dropped onto the curb next to her and waited.

His patience was quickly rewarded as she began to speak. “It’s not like I’m not sure about this whole thing. I am. I really am. It’s such a major thing, you know, and I saw you there and realized that you reminded me of my father. I thought, I don’t know, maybe we could just talk it through.”

“Okay.”

“Plus, I don’t have my dad anymore.”

“What happened?”

“He died when I was thirteen.”

“How?”

“Heart attack. At the time… to a thirteen-year-old, he seemed so old. But, you know, I realize now that he was really young for that kind of thing to happen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I think, no, I know that if he hadn’t died young, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in today, that made me come here.”

Matt chose his words carefully, still thinking about the marshal’s warning. “Want to tell me about the mess? Is it really bad enough to warrant this?” With his last comment he gestured vaguely in the direction of the interior of the complex next to them.

She twisted around on the curb to face him. “I don’t know if I want to talk about all of that.”

“Then what?”

Tillie hesitated for a moment before blurting, “I want to know what you think of this place.”

Surprised, he rocked back on the curb and stared at the bright-blue desert sky, trying to gather his thoughts. “I assume you aren’t asking me about the construction but, if you are, I built a damn good complex here.”