Free Missing by Sharon Sala Page B

cooperating.
      He wouldn't communicate. He didn't feed himself or bath himself, and Aaron hadn't planned on being a nursemaid. After four days, Wes's face was disappearing behind a rapid growth of black whiskers, which, to Aaron, made him look even more ominous than he had before.
      Disgruntled and rapidly losing his patience with the situation, Aaron fed Wes a bowl of cold cereal in the morning, washed it down with a cup of warmed-over coffee, and left a bologna sandwich for him to eat at
noon
. Each night when he came home from work, the sandwich was right where he'd left it and so was Wes. Frustration was growing. He tried to hire a neighbor to come in and feed him, but the neighbor had taken one look at Wes and said no.
      Now word had gotten out in Aaron's apartment building that he had a head case living with him. The news was not well received, and the few friends that he had in the area were starting to shun him. It was putting a crimp in his social life, and that couldn't go on much longer.
      Meanwhile, Wes was in the same situation. He wasn't comfortable hiding behind a wall of silence and pretending he didn't know where he was, but there was nothing he had to say to Aaron. He'd wanted out of
Fort
Benning
and away from anything that reminded him of war, and he'd used Aaron to make that happen. Now that he was out, his ambition seemed to have ended. He had no plan, and because he didn't, he felt caught by his own lies.
      So each night and each morning until Aaron left for work, Wes hid behind a wall of silence. It was only after Aaron was gone that he would put his head in his hands and weep. Some days it seemed as if he would never quit. The sadness within him was total. He was certain that he would never know joy again. And there were also the dark days when he did nothing but curse God for taking his family and leaving him behind.
      Each night he let Aaron put him to bed, ignoring the verbal insults and abuse Aaron heaped upon his head for being a useless bastard, then waited until Aaron turned out the light and closed the door before he could let himself relax, confident that he'd managed to maintain his lie for one more day.
      And each night, as Aaron went to his own room, he had his own conscience to face. He had to consider where Wes had been and what he'd endured. He knew that Wes had been repeatedly tortured. He knew he'd found his own wife and child under the debris from the terrorist bombing, and that he'd killed the terrorist with one shot between the eyes. He also knew that directly after that, he had shut down as completely as if someone had turned out the lights in his mind.
      Aaron then had to accept that the same man who'd killed without thought was lying just a few feet away, with only a wall and a door to separate them. At that point, he would turn around and lock himself in. If his crazy stepbrother woke up in a state of confusion and started trying to kill people again, he didn't want to be the first victim.
     
      Aaron was reconsidering his plan to care for Wes and thinking of taking him to the first nuthouse that would accept him and forget he was there. But he wouldn't make a dime if he did that. It would take all of those tax-free monthly checks just to keep him caged. That left Aaron uncertain as to how he was going to make this work, but either way, he knew he couldn't keep a crazy man in his house much longer.
     
     
     
    It was the fifth night in Aaron's apartment, and Wes was beginning to make plans to leave. As soon as he heard Aaron go into his bedroom and lock the door, he rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. A slow ache rolled through his heart as he thought of the home he and Margie had shared. It was nothing like the filth and drabness of the apartment that Aaron called home. Margie had loved plants, both green and flowering, and had some in every room of their house. He thought of the countless nights he'd lain with her wrapped in his arms, the faint