Free Out of the Storm by Kevin V. Symmons

and a thirty-day trip to the stockade. But tonight his mind was on overload. Eric pulled out a bottle from his dresser drawer and popped two five-milligram Valium into his mouth. Instead of swallowing the tablets, he chewed them, making for a quick and easy entry into the bloodstream. Returning to his bed, he left his clothes in a heap on the floor. Sleep overtook him in ten minutes.
    ****
    Through a fog he heard the ringing. He was dreaming. Elaine was there. Eric wanted to stay with her—fought to. She was smiling deliciously at him, giggling, beckoning to him, but the ringing was unforgiving, relentless.
    Eric gave in and opened his eyes. The morning sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains, but he could tell by its angle it was early. The air had a damp feel. Last night’s cool, fresh breeze was a memory. He rolled over and reached for his cell. It fell off the night table, landing on the floor. The digital clock said 6:22. As he tumbled off the bed Eric grabbed the phone and pressed Talk.
    “Yeah,” he whispered. “Eric Montgomery.”
    “Eric, it’s Lip.”
    “Sorry. I was asleep.”
    “Wake up, buddy!” his friend commanded. “I wanted to call you from home.”
    “It’s okay. I understand.” Eric stopped his friend, needing to hear whatever Lip had found out. “What’s up?”
    “Well...”
    “Let me have it. It can’t be that bad.”
    “That’s the problem,” his friend said with a tentative voice. “It isn’t anything.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “All I could find was name, rank, and serial number. When I tried to dig deeper, I drew a blank.”
    By this time Eric was up, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What are you talking about? Who could shut you out?” His friend was a senior Naval Intelligence officer in one of the East Coast’s largest bases.
    “I have no idea. All I know is that his records were pulled by someone a couple of weeks ago—first Friday in May to be exact. I couldn’t get them. The computer said, ‘File temporarily unavailable.’ No hard copies, either. I figured the thing on the computer was a glitch, so I sent my chief over to records. Nothing. Next thing I know I’m getting a call from the ranking officer over there. Jesus, the guy’s a rear admiral and he was on the horn before my chief even got back. He sounded tough and curious, too curious—asking me why I was interested. I gave him a BS answer. Told him that Ralph’s name came up in a routine inquiry into a security breach. Guy didn’t say shit. But I don’t know if he bought it.”
    Eric sat on his bed trying to get his arms around what he was hearing, to put it together with what Ashley had told him. Ralph was frightened by something. And for him to put Ashley and Kylie on the street, to send them to him so suddenly with nothing meant it was no Saturday night barroom scuffle or an angry bookie. No, this was something heavy or dangerous. Maybe deadly.
    And it was looking more and more like Ralph had sent them to find him. Eric didn’t know who or what to believe. Suddenly, a sick feeling gnawed at his gut. Eric wanted to know what had happened to Ashley’s mother.
    “Lip, this is damn weird.” Eric whispered into the cell. “Ashley told me that Ralph was scared. I hadn’t talked to him in years, but the other day, just after they got here, I found a voice mail from him. Don’t know how long it had been there. But he was scared. Scared shitless.”
    “ Je-sus . You never told me that! He called you? ” Eric heard his friend breathing heavily. “That’s FUBAR, Rick.” Lip was silent for a minute. “Sounds fucked up.” Lip’s interest seemed to ratchet up a notch. Like a bloodhound with a fresh hint of the scent.
    “It surprised the hell out of me, too. Ralph was small time. Into nickel-and-dime shit. I told you about him.” Eric shook his head. “And now, according to what you’re telling me, as far as the Navy’s concerned, he doesn’t exist.”
    “Oh no. He exists. At