J. Margos - Shattered Image

We both grinned at each other. I looked up at my only child and marveled. He was six feet one inch tall, and with his strawberry-blond hair and blue eyes he was the spitting image of my husband. Now he was in the same line of work as Jack, too. Now my little boy was a big man who carried a badge and a gun. Then I couldn’t help myself, and I reached up and put my arms around the neck of my “little” boy. My son whom I used to hold in my arms when he cried. My son whose boo-boos I used to kiss and assure him everything was okay. Then something incredible happened.

“It’s all going to be okay, Mom.” He squeezed me tight. “I’m here for you, and we’ll get through this thing with Uncle Teddy together.”

Tears were streaming down my face. I had not intended to lean on my son for support through this, but without my asking or saying so much as a single word, here he was. I wept because it was the first time my small boy had changed roles and become the man to buck up his ol’ ma.

He pulled away from me and pulled his hankie out of his pocket. “No more of that cryin’ now. Wipe your face, and let’s get your stuff loaded in the car and get on the road. You’re the best in your field, and you’ve faced worse things in life than this. You can do this. Let’s get going.”

The flight from Austin had been uneventful. The plane landed on the tarmac in Honolulu and I looked out the window to see Hawaii. I hadn’t been here in a couple of years, since the last reconstruct I did for CILHI. Every time I came here it reminded me of Vietnam-not because of CILHI, but because I had stopped here on my way home from Vietnam. Jack and I had pulled one of our R &Rs here, too. Hawaii would be forever associated with Vietnam in my mind, but no post-Vietnam visit here had resurrected feelings and memories associated with ’Nam like this visit had.

I had taken a hotel on the beach at Waikiki. I thought, Why not? I have to go to Hawaii for unpleasant business, I can stay in a nice hotel. I hadn’t been on a trip anywhere for pleasure since before Jack died, and this trip definitely didn’t count toward that deficiency, but at least the view was extraordinary and the weather was amazing.

I had checked in to the hotel and was in my room unpacking some things and looking out the sliding glass door that led out onto the lanai. The beauty of the place was in such incredible contrast to what I was there to do. I didn’t have to report to CILHI until the next day, so I had the rest of the afternoon and evening to get settled in and to collect myself.

I had noticed that there was a luau planned downstairs that night and I decided that I would go. As a vegetarian, I didn’t relish the idea of watching people eat a roasted animal, but I could steer myself toward the vegetables and just sit outdoors in the pleasant evening air and eat. In any event, it beat sitting alone in the room eating room-service food.

After I unpacked some of my things, I took a hot shower and refreshed myself. I got my makeup on just right, and fluffed my short hair up with the help of a blow-dryer and a little styling gel. I pulled out a brightly colored tropical-print sundress that I brought over for just something like this. Once I had the dress on and my hair just so, I slid my feet into some nice little dress sandals I had brought with me, and headed downstairs for a dinner to take my mind off of everything except paradise.

The luau food had been good, but I sat as far away from the hapless pig as possible. A very nice couple from Saint Louis sat next to me and we had a great conversation, which diverted my attention from the duties of the next morning.

That morning couldn’t have been a more beautiful morning-a morning in paradise. I decided to wear my dark green slacks and a light green raw-silk shirt with my dress sandals from the night before. I needed to be comfortable and wear something in which I could do my work, but I also wanted to make a good impression on the military personnel and the scientists with whom I would be spending my time that day.

I was dressed and ready to go by 8:00 a.m. It was a thirty-minute cab ride from the hotel to Hickham Air Force Base, the home of CILHI. I rode with the windows down, relishing the tropical breeze along the way. One of the benefits of having short hair is that it’s virtually impossible to really mess it up. I definitely had hair suitable for windows-down or top-down, depending on the vehicle.

We got through the gate at the base and arrived at the steps of the CILHI labs, where I paid the cabbie and sent him on his way.

Once inside the front doors, I checked in and waited for Sergeant Major Tomlinson. In a couple of minutes the sergeant major appeared from around a corner and walked down the hall toward me. If there was even a slight wrinkle in his uniform I couldn’t see it. His uniform always astounded me.

His hair was cut so short that it was hard to tell if it was sandy-colored blond or brown. One thing was certain, however; his eyes were deep blue, with a twinkle in them that belied his military bearing.

We shook hands, I picked up my case and we proceeded down the hall to one of the work areas. Once there, I greeted anthropologists whom I had met before and was introduced to several new ones.

I put my case on an empty table they had set aside for me. One of the new anthropologists to whom I was introduced was Dr. Sean Carroway, who would be working with me on “Ted’s case.” The sergeant major excused himself saying that he would return when I was ready to leave later that day.

Dr. Carroway was an interesting guy. He wore a nice pair of trousers and a plaid shirt under a white lab coat, but when I looked down at his feet, I noticed he was wearing hiking boots. He was about five foot eight with a slight frame. I imagined he was about thirty-five years old. He had a shock of wavy, ash-blond hair and dark brown eyes. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners and his left eyebrow would lift slightly. He was a serious scientist, but I imagined there was a bit of a mischievous streak in him. He had a deep, resonant voice that had a soothing, almost mesmerizing quality to it. That was a good thing, since I was sure I was going to be appreciative of anything soothing in a few moments.

Dr. Carroway and I chatted for a while, becoming familiar with each other. We discussed our education and experience, and he asked me about the two other cases I had worked on at CILHI, which predated his tenure there.

When we had finished the preliminaries, Carroway retrieved the box containing the remains in question. He laid the box on the table in front of us and lifted the lid. I held my breath. I remembered when Jack had died how I had dreaded that first moment when I saw his body after death. These were just fragments of bones, but I dreaded seeing them nonetheless. I felt my stomach tighten slightly. As the lid slipped away from the top of the box, I looked down.

Inside was the skull that had been put back together and numerous pieces of bones, none of which were larger than two inches in length. Most were about half an inch to an inch long. There were only about twenty pieces in the entire box. The skull had a piece missing out of the back and part of the lower jaw was gone, but I could still do the facial reconstruction with what was there. Overall, it was as bad as I had feared. If these were indeed the remains of my friend…well, I already began to feel sick that there should be no more left of Ted Nikolaides than this. I hadn’t been able to eat breakfast that morning and I was glad; otherwise, I think I would have thrown up.

I exhaled, gutted up and lifted the skull out of the box. When my fingers actually touched the bone, I shivered inside. It was all I could do to maintain my control.