Slicer’s on guard duty at the Nest checkpoint. The log gets interrupted a lot when he either waves cars or bikes through, gives them a more thorough look or in a few cases turns them back
It’s been bugging me these last twenty years that I can’t really remember what happened to me and It back in Afghanistan. Not much, but I couldn’t give it a rest. Comes to fuck things up for me at the worst possible moments – I get flashbacks and blackouts for reasons I never figured out. There’s this one crossing in the Barrens that I can’t drive through, not without shaking and sweating. Roses smell like fear and death to me. And those are just the ones I finally pieced together. There are a lot more.
With Frettchen, I guess I feel safe enough to follow up on this. Or maybe I’m just pissed at whoever did this. Something happened and my whole unit was wiped out, except It and myself. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t hostiles. Fuck, I sound like some conspiracy nut. Anyway, we went to a veteran’s meetup and there I came across a third survivor, someone I had known to be killed. He was not MIA like the rest of the troop, but KIA. Yet here he was. Couldn’t remember a thing, except something about a doctor and our lieutenant. Can’t say that it rings a bell, but it’s better than nothing.
We also got to know a guy named Chuck (Chuck Norris, I kid you not) who has agreed to do some snooping for me. I set him up for a date with Kerry in return. He says that the files have been tampered with, ages ago, and someone did a pretty good job. But what’s not there can sometimes tell you as much as what is. Frettchen and me will go to Boston next, to see Lieutenant Baker’s widow, who gets paid a lot of money for someone with a husband who is only missing.