, Stephanie thought. “Let’s cut through the BS, Curtez. What are you suggesting?”
“Do I really need to say it?” he asked.
“I think maybe you do. I think maybe you need to tell me that you want to kick my
husband out of our little corner of the world.”
Curtez was struggling. He felt that he was being pushed to the brink of something
he did not want to attempt to cross. His true hope was that Stephanie would talk to
Trip and get some action from him, not this. “Fine, Stephanie, I want him gone.”
She really didn’t think he’d say those words and they hurt as much as if he had physically
slapped her. “I can’t, Curtez, I can’t make him go out there alone.”
When Curtez didn’t say anything, she knew what his silence was implying.
“We’ll umm…we’ll leave in the morning. I hope you can sleep with your decision,” she
told him. “Hello, John.” She walked over to her husband who was furiously working
at something.
“Who?” he asked, looking up.
“Oh, Trip, I love you so much.” She bent down to kiss the top of his head.
“I made you something.” He beamed proudly. “Been working on my Origami.” He handed
over something that looked strikingly like a rolled up wad of paper used in an office
basketball game.
“It’s lovely,” she said, turning it around and over, trying her best to see what hidden
wonders it held, like her husband obviously did.
“You have it upside down,” he told her.
“Oh, I see it now,” she lied. “Tomorrow morning I thought you and I should go for
a walk.”
“Perfect, I think we’re out of Genoa salami.”
She cocked her head. Not once had they had salami since they’d been holed up—Genoa
or otherwise—and for the life of her, she couldn’t ever remember him eating it.
“Well then we should probably get some.” She smiled.
John the Tripper slept peacefully that night, dreaming of Pop-Tarts and some strange
man he felt like he should know wearing a poncho that looked eerily familiar. His
wife, on the other hand, paced throughout the night keeping a watchful eye on the
street below them, looking for any signs of trouble.
Stephanie gently shook her husband awake the moment light began to seep into the office.
Curtez was watching her, his dark eyes never wavering. She wondered if, and hoped
that, he was rethinking his position from the night before. He came over as John arose
and stretched.
“I’m starving,” John said as he scratched his nether regions. “Hey, Diggs.”
“It’s Riggs. Here Stephanie, I packed you some supplies.” He handed her a backpack.
“I hope there’s a deli slicer in there,” Trip said, taking the bag and putting it
on.
“Trip, you’re in your underwear. Don’t you think you should dress first?” his wife
asked.
“We going to be gone that long?” he asked. “These underwear are very comfortable.
I bought them in Spokane back in ‘88 when the Dead were in town.”
Curtez knew he had to stay strong; he had just handed down a death sentence to these
two. It was for the betterment of the entire group though. The sacrifice of the few
for the good of the many was the Army way.
The group gathered around the trio when they began to figure out what was going on.
Stephanie was pelted with questions and pleas not to go. She knew if she told the
group why she was leaving that enough of them might rally to her side, but she wasn’t
overly confident. Quite a few of them had surrendered all of their decision making
to Curtez. She couldn’t take it if her friends turned on her as well. Even if they
did, she would make an enemy of Curtez and it was very likely that he would find her
more and more difficult missions to undertake until finally one day she wouldn’t come
back, and at that point, her beautiful, wonderful Trip would be completely at his
mercy.
Although, better than Curtez had tried, yet somehow her husband had always come out
on top. She smiled at that. She could see Trip getting to Riggs so badly he would
just walk out, but that wasn’t fair to the rest of the group. Riggs had made some
hard choices for the group. Ultimately, he had kept them alive. What was the point,
though? They were marking time here and nothing more. This wasn’t