leg.
“Jake, I remember when you joined this man’s army. You were a skinny kid, acne all over your face. Remember that?”
Jake cleared his throat. “My enlistment has always been fresh in my mind. Thank you very much for reminding me of my acne problem.”
Colonel Roberts chuckled. “Getting back to what I was saying. You’ve made us proud a hundred times over. Something smells foul about this. Now, against my superior’s wishes I’ve tried diligently to see what I could find out about this project. The Pentagon has sealed its copies and everything is classified. I don’t trust it, Jake. Not for one minute.”
“It’s an experiment, sir, like every other one I’ve participated in.”
“Yes, I understand that. But goddamn it, I can walk in and find out any of those results. I can’t find squat out about this one. That bothers me. Sending my finest into a situation that I’m not clear on, that bothers me.”
“I can’t back out, sir. I’ve agreed to go if selected.”
Colonel Roberts leaned back in his chair. “I can’t change your mind?”
“Short of ordering me not to go . . . no you can’t, sir.”
“I can’t do that.” Shaking his head Colonel Roberts leaned forward. “Just make me a promise. If there is trouble, you will do everything in your power to get in touch with us here. Got that?”
“I got that.” Jake gave the Colonel an odd look. “I understand and appreciate your concern. But it’s a mental endurance experiment, that’s all. The only thing that could happen to me is that I could break. And I guarantee you, sir, I will not break.”
^^^^
“Can you give that back to me?” Cal reached out her hand, fingers wiggling toward Joyce’s boyfriend, Pete. He sat legs crossed on the couch. In his hand he peered at the manuscript that contained the information about the participants. “Come on, Pete, you’re bending the cover.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal, Cal. It needs to be bent.” Pete looked up at her through the tops of his bi-focal glasses. “Bent from being read, read thoroughly.” He returned to the pages.
Cal stared at him, arms crossed. Pete looked so much like the attorney that he was, sitting there smug, in his white shirt, open tie, brown pants, his pot belly hanging over a belt that seemed to be pulled in one notch too many.
Pete picked up his glass, took a small sip of his bourbon—his beverage of choice-—and straightened his position on the couch. “Cal, I promised Joyce I would review this . . . this participant information mumbo jumbo shit.”
“I am an adult woman capable of making my own choices, Pete.”
“Are you?” Pete stood up from the couch. “I mean, are you actually in the right frame of mind to be deciding on whether or not . . .”
“Don’t!” Cal held up her hand. “Don’t even give me shit about my right frame of mind. I passed all of their psychological tests.”
“Yes, you did, but to their specifications.” Pete nodded.
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cal’s voice had risen in anger, and then she turned her stare to Joyce. “And you . . . you stand there huddling in the corner, did you tell him to get on me like this?”
Joyce shook her head. “No. I told him to look at the stuff. Whether you like him or not, he’s rational, listen to what he’s saying.”
Cal shook her head. “There’s nothing either of you are going to say that’s going to be a news flash to me. No one will change my mind.”
Holding the manuscript outward, Pete moved to her. “Have you read this? Really read this?”
“Yes, and I intended on reading it more.”
“And you don’t see it?” Ignoring Cal’s huffs of irritation, Peter pointed to the manuscript as he spoke. “You question my judging you. You say you passed their tests. OK, what were the standards set as the determination factor for pass or fail? Did they mention that?”
“My God, Pete!” Cal faced him. “This is not some shoddy operation. It