longing in his heart.
Jenny stopped, one hand on the cabin door, and turned to face him.
“I think I need to see a doctor. I feel strange, dizzy … weird.” He put a hand up to the wall to brace himself. “My head is pounding; I need something.”
“I knew it. You don’t look like yourself. You’re very pale.” She put out a hand to him. “Here. I’ll take you in. Where do you go?”
“A clinic in town. It’s not far. Haven’t been to it in years, but that’s where it is.”
The walk up to SUV was slow, but eventually she helped Kurt into the front seat and started the car.
“Make a left here,” said Kurt as they passed the Vet Clinic.
“My dog, he’s injured, I had to take him there.” She pointed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a dog. Did you see Dr. Shooner?”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. I take him out a lot, salmon fishing. He’s one of my regulars, him and his wife.”
“Oh her … she’s…”
“A delight? She’s lived here her whole life. He came to town, opened up the clinic, hired her, and within three months they were married.”
“Three months! That’s all it took?”
Kurt laughed. “Yep. But he’s good. He’ll get it done. He’ll fix your dog.”
“I hope so. I don’t want to lose him. We’ve had Charlie five years now.”
“Always more dogs out there.”
Jenny grimaced. “Don’t say that. I can’t think about that.” Her tears welled up. “He’s not just a fish or something.”
“Oh…” Kurt reached a hand over to her. “Don’t listen to me. I’m bad with all this stuff. There it is, on the right.”
Jenny parked in front of a small brick clinic. “I’ll pick you up later, okay.”
“I think they’re only open another couple hours.”
“I’ll be back,” she said.
* * *
“Fire, Fire, Fire! Class Bravo Fire in dry dock one. Fire control team two, report to fire station Charlie. Rescue and Assistance Detail, report to station Bravo. Ladder 32, on their way.”
“What now?” Ron, in dry dock two, ducked for cover under the big sub, which was still on its huge, custom-fit blocks.
Carl ducked in beside him. They hunkered down behind chunks of oak four feet thick and eight feet long that cannonballs would bounce off. There was no room to stand, only to kneel.
Explosions rattled their ears, sparks flew, and metal debris clanged and crashed on the sub above them. Workers ran for cover, many squeezing in beside them. A secondary explosion was followed by a ripping sound—an acetylene bottle hurtled into the dry dock and flew past the huddled men to bounce off the concrete wall ninety feet behind. It hit the floor and spun like a top, flames shooting from its end.
“Jesus Christ! Ah didn’t want to refit that destroyer. They’re damn dangerous; everything is unmarked, fuckin’ shells an’ ammo everywhere.” Carl poked his head out from under the sub.
“Get back in here.” Ron tugged his vest. Carl jerked his head back inside and the white hard hat rolled off and out into the open; a glowing spark landed in the middle of it.
“You’re bald under that hat? I didn’t know it.” Ron smiled. “Put your hat back on, and stop glaring at me.”
“Just you wait ’til you’re my age.” Carl rubbed his head and then put the hat back on.
“Why shells and ammo everywhere? That should’ve all been dealt with last century.”
“We found an old stockpile in a room that was completely welded off to look as if there was nothing there. Makes no sense. Did an overall inspection first to see what we needed to do an’ one of the guys noticed an unmarked space on one of the old blueprints. They been hoarding it for something, for some mission. Who knows? Heavy, heavy stuff. Intended to kill. We were moving the load off ship—not quick enough.”
“This place is a disaster zone. You’re up shit creek.” Ron glared at him.
“Not me, an’ not us. That young Navy Ensign signed off on the HAZMAT. Besides, the Admiral hates that smart ass’s guts. He ain’t done nothing but talk shit to the Admiral ever since he met him. Seems Ensign’s daddy is an Admiral too.” Carl patted Ron on the back as they watched the chaos—firefighters putting out the flames of hell, men evacuated with burn injuries, yelling, shouting, and pure misery. “Maybe we should just blow up dry dock two’s doors while we’re at it. I’ll have to get me a couple them acetylene bottles to set off at my next