“I’m fine. They had me in here for about a day. I’m heading back to the squadron — my predeployment line should be coming up soon.”
“What predeployment line?”
“You mean you don’t know what’s going on?”
“I’ve either been drugged to hell or this ringing in my ears and this pain blocks out everything. What’s going on?”
“We’re generating SIOP alert sorties, Mark,” Furness said solemnly. “Russia invaded the Ukraine and hit ’em with low-yield nuclear weapons. Alpha Flight is uploading nukes, and the rest of the fleet is getting ready to deploy.” If Fogelman’s mouth could have dropped open in surprise, it would have — his eyes widened to nearly normal proportions at her words. “You mean you didn’t know? Nobody told you?”
“I don’t believe it … this really sucks,” Fogelman mumbled, coughing. His head dropped back on his pillow in complete exasperation. “Nobody”—he groaned, staring at the ceiling, trying to control his breathing to combat the pain—”has told me shit. Hembree, Cole, no one has been by since I’ve been awake. I guess I know why now. Shit, a nuclear attack in the Ukraine. It’s not as if we haven’t been expecting something like this — ever since Velichko ousted Yeltsin. Jesus. Who would’ve thought it? And we’re uploading nukes? I haven’t looked over my nuke stuff in a long time. I think I’ll stay here until this is over.”
“Smart move.” She smiled. After a long pause she asked, “They may not have let your folks on base to see you because of the recall and alert,” she offered. It was the only reasonable, less painful explanation as to why he had no visitors yet — unfortunately, she expected the painful reason was the true reason: no one much liked Mark Fogelman, so why should they care if he was in the hospital? “My planes have been grounded out at Clinton County for the same reason. You want me to give your folks a call? When you get a regular room they’ll get you a phone, but until—”
“The doctor called them — left a message.” Fogelman sighed. “They’re off to the Keys for the rest of the winter, I think. It’s no big deal.”
Furness never thought it possible, but she actually felt sorry for the guy. The guy crash-lands an armed bomber and goes into a coma for over twenty-four hours from a severe head injury, and when he wakes up he learns that no one had ever come to see him. Not even his parents or fellow pilots. Even if he was an ass, it still wasn’t right to just ignore the guy. “I’ll call one of your friends. Who was the last one I met? Josette? Judy?”
“It was Josette, but she’s … not available,” Fogelman said, still staring up at the ceiling. Rebecca heard the faint catch in his voice and noticed the glistening of tears. “Just forget it. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” she asked with genuine concern.
“Yes.” He coughed.
They sat in silence for several long, awkward moments. Then Rebecca sighed. “Hey, the plane made it down in pretty good shape. I met the new MG — in fact, he pulled us out of the cockpit. Turns out I know the guy, from the Persian Gulf War. How about that?” No response. “There’s a story behind how I know the guy, and when you’re out of here I’ll tell it to you over a beer at Afterburners. You won’t believe it.” Fogelman nodded noncommittally and continued to stare at nothing in particular. “Anything else I can get for you? You want some clothes, toothbrush, anything?”
“No.” He sighed.
Furness rolled her eyes in complete exasperation and got to her feet. “Jesus, Fogman, if it’s a pity party you want, this is the right time and place for it. A nuclear incident has happened in Europe, you barely survived a plane crash, and we’re getting ready to go to war with … well, I don’t know who, but we’re mobilizing for a war. But the worst thing of all is that no one has come to see Mark Fogelman in the damned hospital.”
“It’s because no one gives a shit about me.”
“No one came, Mark, because everyone’s busy generating planes and moving nukes around the ramp.” She wasn’t about to say that the real reason was that he was a shit. “You’re warm and safe and dry here, and they’re freezing their butts off trying to get some thirty-year-old bombers up on the line.”
“Well … you came to visit.” He smiled.
“Yeah, and look at me: I crash a plane, my business has been closed down because of the generation, my planes are snowed in, and I’ve got a new plane in my hangar that’s costing me ten thousand dollars a month taking up space that no one can fly and that’ll put me in the poorhouse in two months. On top of all that, I catch my jerk boyfriend sleeping around on me. Your situation looks a hell of a lot better to me right now. In fact, move your skinny ass over — I’m staying here. You go generate my sortie.”
Furness was surprised to see a painful grin spread across Fogelman’s face. “You’re making all this up just to make me feel better, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, right,” Furness said wryly, with a hint of a smile. “Listen, Mark, I’m going to the pad for some rest. I think my line comes up late tomorrow morning, so I’ll come by to visit you in the morning. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
He paused for a moment, shrugged his shoulders, then replied, “I might as well start looking over my Dash-One to get up to speed on the nuclear stuff. If you brought my flight bag from wherever they’ve stashed it, I’d appreciate it.”
Rebecca looked at him as if she hadn’t heard right. “You … what? You want to read your Dash-One?” This was a new side of Fogelman, Furness thought. Hell, he didn’t usually get into the books unless it was time for his check ride — now he wanted to read it to pass the time! “You got it, Mark.” She got up to leave.
“Rebecca?” She turned toward him. He hesitated, an embarrassed smile on his face, then said, “Thank you for bringing me back okay.”
“We did it, Mark, not just me.”
“No … no,” Fogelman said emphatically. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, Becky. That was the first time I’ve ever flown the G-model with serious malfunctions in it. The thing always worked before, so I never much worried about the systems. When everything crapped out, I was nothing more than a damned passenger. I didn’t realize until then how much I don’t know. If I had a pilot that had the same attitude I had about flying the Vampire, I’d be dead now. Dead.” He paused again, staring at some spot far away, then added, “With a nuke going off in Europe there’s probably thousands of dead, but that doesn’t affect me a fraction of what my own death does. I was ready to punch out. I was ready to drop into the cold Atlantic Ocean hundreds of miles from here rather than trust you with the knowledge and skill I knew you had. I’m a total jerk.”
“Mark, I don’t fly with passengers, I fly with crewdogs,” Furness said, patting his arm. “I won’t step into the cockpit with someone who doesn’t know their shit. You have a relaxed attitude about flying, I’ll admit that, but you’re not unsafe — just casual. We fly simulator missions and take tests all the time, so I know you know your shit. Just don’t give up on yourself. I’ll get your books, and I’ll even get a weapons officer to come out here and give you a briefing. I know the accident investigation board will be out to debrief you as soon as they find out you’re awake. You’ll get lots of visitors now.”
“Thanks, Becky,” Fogelman said. “Back to the real world, huh?”
“If you can call it that, Mark,” Furness said. She gave him a thumbs-up and a friendly smile, a sincere one for the first time in many months, and departed.
“Rebecca!” Lieutenant Colonel Larry Tobias greeted her as she entered the squadron building. He gave her a big fatherly bear hug. A bunch of her Charlie Flight crews were in the mission planning room with their helmet bags and flight gear, getting ready to head out to generate their bombers. “It’s great to see you, Becky. I see you’re on the schedule. How’s Fogman? Have you seen him?”