Jacked Up Part 4
I had a most unusual dream which cleared up a few things while, at the same time, complicated matters. In my dream I had a conversation with myself. OK, it was Jack and Anita talking but, hey, who can tell them apart these days.
Firstly, it seemed like there were two people in my head, with Anita asking what the hell I was doing in there. However, when I started to explain how the coupling of minds occurred, she said that it was all right, she understood it now, as if just my memories were instantly linked to hers. I understood that she was not the Presidential pawn he had thought she was and that this was similar to a lot of people she had met while in his employ. It seemed that you really had to screw the pooch to get fired or else get to the limit of your ethics.
When she discovered my own military history she was a little overawed by someone who had actually killed in the heat of combat and did not just carry a permit to do so. Then we had a long, and interesting, session thinking about our sex lives, with us both learning a lot about the other half of the worlds’ population. By the time I woke up, we were Anita with a wealth of experience and understanding of our future as well as a feeling of intense horniness. Her side now wanting to explore the act with an intimate knowledge of how to improve male participation, and my side just wanting to get laid, so I could have first-hand knowledge of those incredible orgasms that she remembered.
Before the morning nurse came in I took the notebook out of my bag and tore the pages into small pieces, dropping them into the waste bin beside the bed; I did not need it now as I had the original memories to work with. After my breakfast I was visited by the doctor who authorised most of the pipes to be removed and for me to be able to get out of bed. This made me almost delirious; thinking about a hot shower and hair-wash. A couple of the tube removals were not nice but it did allow me to pee in private again. I was happy that all of the unwanted bits went into the bin-bag along with the paper fragments, to be sealed for disposal in the incinerator.
I was then helped to get out of bed and to take some tottering steps into the shower, where a nurse helped me as I sat in a shower chair using a hand-held nozzle. It was absolute heaven to feel clean and to have my hair washed. It took over an hour before I was dry, powdered and blow dried and given a towelling robe to wear I was allowed to sit in a chair while my bed was changed. I had lunch with a tray on my lap and was given a new hospital gown and helped back into bed, something I was glad to do as I felt worn out from the exertion.
I had not long settled when the door opened and a large man with a worried expression on his face came in. He asked the nurse to leave and sat beside my bed and asked me what had happened. I gathered that he had only been advised that I was in hospital after the AIC had completed his business. I told him as much as I could, saying that I had been heading for Canada to talk to a guy they had detained on his way into the USA when the bus had exploded. I told him that a guy had stood to offer me a seat and that his body had shielded me from the worst of the explosion but he had hit me with some force when the blast hit him on his back. I said that I did not know any more than what the nurses have told me but that I should be grateful to be alive.
The man, who I deduced was a high ranking HS officer, then told me that I was to make sure I was fully healed before leaving the hospital. He gave me a card with just a phone number printed on it and told me to ring it when I was about to leave so that he could organise transport. He said that someone would go to my apartment and pick out some clothes for me. I told him that Juliette Fellows from my office would be able to do that and for her to come in so I could let her know where to find things. I wasn’t going to tell him my security codes as he had not even given me his name when he left, Even the CIA told you who they were, even if it wasn’t their real name, there is a time for a little politeness.
The next day Juliette came in and we sat for a while. She was the only one in the office I trusted as we had often discussed our worries about the Department. I told her a security code which I had set up as a once-only use for situations like this. I made sure to tell her to get everything needed in the one take as she would not be able to get back in again. She told me that there had been a lot of worry in the office after I had been off the radar for a couple of days and that she had been told that our boss had only been told where I was once I had recovered consciousness.
Even though he had a real-time heads-up of the bombing, I had to give it to the AIC as he had kept everything close to his chest regarding serving agents at the location. This had given him the chance to find out about Anita being there and draw the correct evaluation. I know he had been on the Switcher case for a long time so shouldn’t be surprised at his line of thinking. Anita was surprised by the whole Switcher thing, not knowing just how many people had been relocated in a smooth edition of a witness protection scheme.
The following evening Juliette brought me the items I had asked for as well as my post. During the day I had my dressings on my back taken off and replaced with large Band-Aids that I was told to keep on for a week. It was going to be fun finding someone to pull them off; I did have a couple of guys in mind. I was moving well now and the doctor said that I needed to be in for a couple more days to have a few physio and psycho sessions to ensure that I was 100% fixed and certain I did not have concussion. After the two days they removed the attachments still on my arms should I need further drips and everyone gave me a clean bill of health. I rang the number I had been given, telling them that I would be coming out at midday the next day.
The next day I had my breakfast, made sure I had a good shower, dressed for the prevailing weather in Detroit (which was to be cool and cloudy), made sure my pistol harness fitted without scraping the Band-Aids, put all of my bits and pieces in my bag and went down to reception. While I was checking out, a couple of guys from the office walked in and my heart sank when I saw them. They were the two most ‘toady’ guys who were the bosses helpers. This was not looking good.
They walked either side of me as we went to the car waiting at the kerb. I did not ask where we were going but was a little surprised to arrive at my apartment block. One of them told me to go in and pack everything I needed for a long time away in a warmer climate as I had been transferred. Someone higher up the HS chain had decided that I was needed elsewhere. They said I had an hour and they would come up and carry my bags for me – “All part of the service.”
What made me think was that they were not being their usual bullying selves but seemed a little overawed with me. I quickly packed everything, including all of my spare weapons and ammunition and was ready when they knocked on the door, two large cases carrying all of my possessions. They told me to leave my keys on the dresser and they would sort out the lease after I had left. They took a case each and we went down to the car. Half an hour later I found myself in a line of airline passengers heading for Boston.
When I had retrieved my cases and put them on a trolley, I left the luggage area to see a uniformed Army Officer with a board with my name on. When I reported to him he directed me to follow him out of the building where an armed soldier guarded a Humvee. The officer helped me put my cases in the back and we were off. I knew not to ask any questions because I knew that he would only have been told to pick me up and deliver me somewhere else. What did surprise me was, after about three quarters of an hour, that we arrived at the gates of Hanscom Air Force Base.
The officer showed his ID and another. The sentry saluted and, as we drove in, the officer gave me a package and an ID on a lanyard. Looking at it I found that I was now Major Anita Jackson of the USAF with an ID that looked to be pretty high in the security levels. We drove straight out to the flight line and pulled up next to a sleek Lear Jet with a military paintjob. He helped me out of the Humvee and a couple of privates took my bags and stowed them on board. Before I walked to the aircraft steps he said “I don’t want to know what you do for a living, lady, but I wish you the best of luck where you are headed.” He got back into the Humvee and they drove back towards the base gates, leaving me wondering just what I had been sidelined into now.
Marianne G 2021
