A Time for Patriots

“You don’t understand being an alcoholic, Patrick,” Gia said. “I like drinking. I like being able to suppress the rage and the despair as easily as drinking a little Cabernet Sauvignon. I didn’t care if I couldn’t fully function, as long as I didn’t have to feel the anger, the frustration, the helplessness.” She paused, then said, “But now I understand who I am, Patrick. I’m an alcoholic. I know now that I was wasting my life dealing with my anger with alcohol, and I want to change that… no, I’m going to change that.”

Patrick let go of her hands and stood. “And… he helped you realize that,” he said.

“The rehab program got me to stop drinking and start dealing with my anger in a positive way,” Gia said. “But he was there at the meetings, and he knew I was out of work, and he said he could help, and he did. Now he wants to… to take it to the next level, but he said I had to decide about you. But I didn’t know how you felt about me.”

“How could you ever doubt that I love you, Gia?” Patrick asked, almost pleading. “Brad and I welcomed you back every time you left, without hesitation, without a word. I helped you find treatment programs here. You’d be good for a few weeks, and then you’d be gone again. But when you came back, we always welcomed you.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. But you and Brad were… were always gone, and I was here alone in this trailer. I tried to make it a home for all of us, but then I didn’t know how to suppress the anger any way else but with alcohol, and then I didn’t want to be around you and especially Bradley when I was drunk, so I’d leave. And then I’d miss you so badly, and I’d get the courage to come back, and then the whole thing would start all over again.”

Patrick sat back down on the ottoman and took her hands again. “It can be different now,” he said. “I’m retired, Gia. Maybe I needed to grow up and finally realize that. I pretended I had a job and a function here, but now I know I don’t. So I can be with you and help you in any way I can, any way you need.”

Gia looked up, touched the collar of his Air Force — style sage-green Civil Air Patrol flight suit, and choked down a sob with a smile. “I find that a little hard to believe,” she said with a wry smile. “Somehow I can’t see you settling down. If it’s not Civil Air Patrol, Angel Flight West charity flying, flight instructing, or meeting up with your space-faring buddies, it would be something else.”

“Well, Gia, I guess I’ll always do a little bit of that stuff,” Patrick said honestly, “but with you and me together, it can be different. We’ll move off base, rent until we save up some money, then when Brad graduates high school and goes off to college, we can pick a place together and move.”

“Move off base?” Gia asked. “What about… you know, the Russians…?”

“It’s been almost a year since we found out about that, and nothing has surfaced,” Patrick said. “I think the CIA shut that threat down completely. They’ve got bigger fish to fry, and I’ve been under their radar for too long.”

“I saw you on TV, on the news, as part of the team that rescued that little boy in the desert,” Gia said. “I think you’re on the radar again.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Patrick said. “You’re much more important to me than some supposed threat that young Agent Dobson came up with.”

CIA agent Timothy Dobson, an adviser to Kenneth Phoenix when he was vice president, had warned Patrick of the threat of Russian assassination squads sent out after him in retaliation for last year’s attacks in the Gulf of Aden and Yemen, and had suggested that Patrick move to Battle Mountain to make it easier for the CIA and FBI to detect their approach.

Gia looked into his eyes, saw that he was sincere, and smiled. “Thank you, Patrick,” she said. “Let’s take a little time to get to know each other again, and find out what Bradley thinks of all this. And my first order of business is to find a meeting place here on base or in town.”

“I can find that out for you in the blink of an eye… literally,” Patrick said. He activated his intraocular monitors, virtual keyboard, and computer network…

… but Gia put a hand on his arm. “Let’s start exploring a new life together… by doing away with the high-tech gadgets a little more,” she said with a smile. “Frankly, that thing you do creeps me out.”

Joint Air Base Battle Mountain

Several days later

It was becoming an almost daily occurrence now: mornings around eight A. M., the protesters would return to the main gate. Their numbers were growing, but they were becoming more civilized as well. The Nevada Highway Patrol cars were reduced to just two, with no armored vehicles and no riot gear. The Air Force Avenger units were no longer in sight inside the base either, although they were not far away.