The Pale Man Rises

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

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PART TWO: THE CONFRONTATION

Even though it was the tenth day of December it still wasn't very cold. Oh there was a chill in the air, but the temperature was quite unseasonable. One might think he was afoot on some brisk spring afternoon rather than the near middle of the year's finality. But it didn't matter to the soldier, he probably wouldn't have noticed even though he was the kind of person who'd get a chill just standing in front of a fan on low speed. He just felt to damn good.

He was quite happy as he sat surveying the city from his vantage in the backseat of the taxi. He could see much activity on the streets. People eager at shopping rushed about burdened with brightly colored holiday packages and municipal workers labored late into the day stringing lights setting about decorating the city for the coming Christmas holiday.

At last the post taxi turned right from Watters Street into the precincts of the Union Bus Terminal. Several buses, long, with gleaming chrome sat angled under the awning, which fronted this, the eastern portion of the brick depot.

Smoke plumed from their exhausts and choked the brisk late fall air. The taxi driver looked into his rear view mirror and eyed the soldier who was his fare. "Well here we are, last trip you'll have to make wearing that uniform." he said cheerfully. He was himself a retired serviceman. He never bothered to volunteer this information to those whom he chauffeured. He never confronted the reason, it was never divulged, and he tried to disguise it even from himself. It wouldn't be wise if he hoped to get a tip from these young soldiers. Many still retained the young trooper's resentment of an NCO they had encountered during their tenure in the US Army and were not apt to dispense any of their last payday to a retired Sergeant First Class even if they themselves were now NCOs.

The real reason was of a much more prideful nature. He just couldn't admit that he had been a soldier, that he thought soldiering was the only thing, the only endeavor that he was truly capable of doing. 

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And the fact that he was only an E-7 after 24 years under arms was a testament to the fact that he really wasn't very successful at that either. He was a divorced lonely man who had to pension out his pension to his ex-wife and their two children.

It had been so long since he'd seen his two sons that he had almost forgotten what they looked like. He had to study their most recent photos to conjure up an image of them. He was bitter and angry, he lived in a rundown trailer in a rundown part of town, he drank too much, and his early demise was something he anticipated daily with an uncommon desire for it to quickly arrive.

Driving a taxi not only supplemented his depleted retirement income, it also brought him into contact with the troops at Fort Tom Dillman. The sounds and the odors of the place comforted him bringing back memories of more enjoyable times.

There were many days and nights that he had to deliver these men and sometimes women soldiers, en-route to their homes, to the airport or the bus terminal. For some it was their last as a soldier in the army. And when this was the case it was a memorable time for them and he liked sharing their joy. And happiness is often the bride of generosity and they would give him a really good tip. It was not only a journey through nostalgia for him, it was also a brief respite from his increasingly invasive depression.

The soldier scrunched forward on the back seat a broad grin etched across his face. "Believe me it'll be a pleasure to get this monkey suit off. I really don't know why I wore it, I've got plenty of civvies I could've worn." he said excitedly as he retrieved his wallet from his breast pocket.