John O'Brien - Reckoning

“Made it okay, eh?” I ask Robert.

“Yeah, it was a pretty uneventful flight really,” he answers.

“How is Greg?”

“He was still unconscious when we landed. I think the doc is with him, but I haven’t seen him since we arrived,” Robert says.

“Why didn’t you wake me for landing, Dad?” Bri asks, walking up and stifling a yawn.

“You needed your rest, Bri. It’s all good.”

“What in the hell happened to you?” Robert asks, seeing remnants of grime on Bri’s face and in her hair.

Bri starts to tell her story, her voice fading as her and Robert walk away, heading toward one of the Humvees. Gathering our gear together, we trudge wearily to the waiting rides. I don’t say much. Returning to Cabela’s brings back the full extent of what we’re facing.

Inside the building, with night fully upon us, Robert heads up the stairs. Bri and the others of Red Team grab a bite to eat before heading to wash away the grime accumulated from two days in the field. Lynn and I head upstairs to see the doc and check on Greg.

Walking into a partition set up for the doc, I see Greg lying on a bed. There’s a lot of swelling on one cheek and his closed eyes look sunken. His breathing appears shallow but with normal repetitions. A mask connected to a green oxygen tank covers his mouth and nose. Turning to the doc, who is standing next to the bed, I ask how Greg is doing.

“He’s stable for now and is doing well from what I see. His vitals are close to normal. I thought at first there might be some swelling on the brain but there aren’t any indications of that. This is really the best I can do for him considering,” the doc says, sweeping his arm to indicate the oxygen and IV setup. “We just don’t have the equipment and, to be honest, even if we did, I only have the vaguest notion of how to operate them. We’ll keep him monitored and the IVs going for hydration. The concern will be if he remains unconscious for a period of time. He’ll need sustenance beyond what the IVs will provide. But, we’ll let him rest and see if he recovers on his own. I won’t be concerned unless several days have passed without a change in his condition. After that, we’ll have to come up with something different.”

“Thanks, Doc. Let me know if I can help or if there’s anything you need. And I know this goes without saying, but let me know if there’s any change,” I say.

The horrible feeling returns as I see Greg lying on the bed. I really should have known better than to send a single team out—Stryker or no. I was trying to alleviate any guilt that I would have felt by cutting short the search for families because I wanted to get my son back. Perhaps there was some justification for that, I mean, for me, it was what I was going to do, and would again, but I should have delayed the mission and not spread us so thin. Now those soldiers who were seeking to find out about their families will be buried with the coming day. It may have been their choice to continue looking, but it was my responsibility to say no and to come back out in strength at a later date.

I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but they seem to be coming in droves as of late: Robert getting bitten, Greg’s team, all dead but one, and today, coming close to losing Bri. Besides that, there are the night runners increasing in numbers north of us and this other group targeting us. It’s just becoming too much. While I may have asked for this, I’m ready for someone else to take the reins. The peaceful feeling I had during those scant few minutes of flight, watching the sky paint its glorious sunset on a canvas of blue, is gone and forgotten.

Even though I want to sit at Greg’s side, I nevertheless turn and leave with Lynn. We won’t be having a meeting as it’s late and I’m tired. Lynn and I make our way to our cubicle. Inside, it feels tiny and cramped. I’m looking forward to having the quarters built so we can have more room. I’m sure everyone else is feeling the same way.

Mom comes by and we talk for a while. With worry, she mentions that I’m looking ‘stretched thin’. I, of course, tell her not to worry, “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”

I ask how she is doing, attempting to turn the conversation.

“I’m fine. I’m worried about you taking Robert and Bri out with you all of the time. I know you can take care of yourself, but I heard what happened today.”

I notice Lynn nod her head and stare harder at me. This is so not the time to be mentioning that. I feel bad enough already. Even though I fucked up, I still feel the same way about them gaining experience. I’m not going to be around forever. This world we now live in is going to be this way for a lot longer than I’m going to be around, and my kids need to gain the knowledge and skills to survive in it. Yeah, I don’t need to make foolish decisions like I did today, going into that building when there was no need, but they need tools to survive. I just don’t know how to both give them that and keep them safe at the same time. I am still at constant odds within myself, trying to come to terms with those two opposing concepts. I relate that to mom as best I can.

“Well, Jack, you know best. You always do,” she says, patting my knee and rising to leave.

“That is such a mom thing to say,” I reply, giving her a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She smiles and, parting the curtain at the entryway, leaves.

“She’s right, you know,” Lynn says after the curtain closes.

“Not now. I’m too tired. I know I fucked up today and I already feel bad enough.”

“It’s not about today, Jack. All of us went in, even after you said it wasn’t safe. The point is—” she starts.

“You’re really going to do this now, aren’t you?” I say.

“Yep.”

“The truth of the matter is, I’m tired. I’m tired and I don’t want to do this anymore. Let someone else take charge and do it. With what happened to Nic, to Robert, and almost happened to Bri, I just don’t feel like I’m able to lead effectively anymore. I know my decisions will be biased based on Robert’s and Bri’s safety. And yours,” I state.

“Who would you have take over?”

“You, Frank…fuck…anybody. Even Bannerman,” I answer, looking down at my boots.

“And you’d listen to them, and do as they say. I know you wouldn’t with me. You haven’t yet, so why would you start all of a sudden, so let’s not even go there.”

I look up and stare at her. She knows me all too well. “Don’t even begin to bring logic into this.”

“The point I was going to make wasn’t about Robert or Bri. It’s that we’re all tired. Yeah, mistakes will be made and people will get hurt. It’s the world we live in. But you are pushing too hard and worrying about shit that you can’t help. That’s a good and bad thing, Jack, but your mom’s right, you are getting stretched thin.”

“I know, and I feel my decisions are getting affected by it. I don’t know what to do, and maybe it’s time someone else had a chance.”

“Again, you’d follow someone else’s decisions if you didn’t like them?”

“Stop that.”

“Like it or not, you’re what we have. Most people see you and the others in the decision group as their best chance at survival.”

“I just don’t fucking want to do this anymore.”

“Be that as it may, you’re it. I know this will only be blowing hot air, but don’t push yourself so hard. There are others here that can help.”

I only sigh, feeling the stress of our situation still gripping me. In all honesty, I know what’s coming and don’t want to make the decision. I don’t want to make a wrong one that will bring down the fragile hope of survival that we are clinging to. I have a huge fear of failure and that potential is looming large. My not wanting to be the one in charge is because I don’t want to be the one who fails. But, on the other hand, passing that off will amount to the same thing. I’m basically feeling sorry for myself and not wanting to take responsibility right now.