I ask, "Sir, these prison camps look compromised. How many people were being kept here?"
Col. Martins says in an agitated voice, " I don't give a rats ass if your memory is gone Miracle Man, that information is classified which means since you don't already know you don't need to know!"
We arrive at the military camp to find a building that is partially destroyed. Rocket fire has breached the wall in several places. Some of the roof has been burned and a trail of military equipment and supplies strewn about indicate that the camp has been at least partially looted.
Silently the men take positions. Assault rifles at the ready, the men storm the military camp. After several intense moments it is determined that the camp is clear. Corporal Guelph and Peterson are taking first watch guarding the entrance while the rest of the unit work to gather supplies.
Corporal Hatcher and both McFarlen brothers are the casualties and I do what I can to make them comfortable and to find some basic medical supplies to fashion hard casts. At least the bones were set properly so I won't have to put these men through more pain. It looks like that will not be a problem as my wounded friends have discovered a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and are working on their own painkiller. I find the plaster and other supplies I need and work on each of the men until they are set. I find some crutches and pass them around but instruction may not be useful as the men are already fairly drunk by the time I finish up with them.
After everyone has settled in, we meet up in the mess hall and have a meager meal composed of canned spam, mashed potatoes and either water or whiskey for beverage. Corporal Scott asks, "You ain't eatin Miracle Man?"
"I'm not hungry." I say.
Col. Martins walks in, "Uncle Sam's Spam ain't good enough for you? Better eat something son, we have a long march ahead of us. I can't raise HQ on the wire so we are going to have to find a working transport on our own if we are going to follow the turtle."
There is an unpleasant silence which I finally break with a question. "Would you guys humor a guy who doesn't know who he is and tell me how you got into the military?"
There are a few chuckles and then a few more moments of silence, finally Johnson speaks up, "I was drafted if you want to call it that. When things got bad and neighbors started fighting neighbors, you probably remember that the Governor issued a state of emergency and called in the national guard. The guard went door to door armed to the teeth and you either enlisted on the spot or they dragged you away in shackles. I chose to enlist. I'm not a political man, but when your country points a gun at you and says choose sides I figure they got the right to tell me to join just like they did my grandfather and great grandfather for Vietnam and WWII."
Col. Martins says, "I'm one of the few career army guys around here I guess. I believe you either stand up for your country or you should leave. Too many damn liberals and homosexuals were running this country and that is why we are going through this clusterfuck today. I still believe the President will see us through this. When he does we've got to learn our lesson this time. Freedom aint about access to the internet or civil rights. Freedom is about doing what you have to do to keep your country true to the Founding Fathers. George Washington would have never put up with rebellions and nonsense. He would have mustered an army and crushed them! Ever hear of the Whiskey rebellion son? Look it up some time when things get straight. Washington would have been leading us the same way our President has done!"
I nod my head as if convinced by Col. Martins words and say, "Permission to walk around the perimeter sir!?"
Martins looks sternly at me, and says, "I guess you earned a little trust son, grab a rifle and keep your wits about you. Lansing is no longer secure."
I do as ordered and head outside. If I could take a deep breath I would. Lansing has been kissed by too much violent death. I need to find a quiet place to compose my thoughts and plan my next actions. I move at a brisk pace through the rubble and burned out houses. About twelve miles from the camp I find an abandoned Jeep Cherokee. It is black in color, covered in graffiti, the window is shattered but oddly all the tires are still inflated. I look under the hood and everything looks intact. I step inside the Jeep and push the start button. Nothing happens! The engine doesn't even turn over. My grandfather, father and brother all worked for Ford Motor company. Michiganders are known as being great hunters, fisherman and auto mechanics. Other than changing a spark plug or checking the oil I am more or less at the mercy of luck when it comes to cars. I have only one guess concerning what might be wrong so I step over to the battery and drain some of my energy into it. Satisfied that I have charged the battery I step back inside the Jeep and hit the start button again. Wa-waa-waaa-vrooom! Success!! The Jeep even has fuel!
I drive off until I am near a wooded area that looks like a county park and find a small lake. I turn off the Jeep and find a nice piece of wood, some wire and then I fashion a hook. I flip over a few logs and find some worms and toss the line on my hastily constructed fishing pole into the water. When I was a kid I used to fish almost every day. I fished in the canals, the swamp and Lake Erie. Fishing was one of the few activities I could do with my father where at least if he was roaring drunk he was generally in a decent mood, which meant that I was more or less safe from a severe verbal trashing as long as I was fishing. Even when the fish are not biting, it is pleasant to just stare at the water or the surrounding environment and be one with the world. My wife wasn't big into fishing so at some point I gave up on the activity. At this moment I realize how much I missed it. I whistle an old country song and my mood is greatly lifted. As I think about the old times before all the current strife and remember the simple times I find myself drifting through fond memories. On the edge of my perception I notice a flash of white in the woods and focus closely on it. Was that another of Lansing's all too numerous ghosts? Forgetting all about fishing I rush off in attempt to satisfy my curiosity. Through glen and hill I raced about the park. I probably searched for an hour, but I never found the source of the white flash I noticed in the woods. Frustrated I get back into the Jeep and head back to the base.
When I arrive back at camp it is almost nightfall. The men are pleased that I found a vehicle and I bring the vehicle through a garage door on the far end of the compound. Corporal Berry is a mechanic and he makes it his mission to refuel the Jeep and to do what he can to add armor to it. He replaces the battery with a new one from the compound but says that for the most part it is in good shape. We take watches throughout the night and pass the evening without incident.
With morning we have a quick breakfast and then Sargent Johnson, Corporal Berry, Corporal Scott and myself take the Jeep to scout around town. Sargent Johnson says, "Hey Miracle man, why are you so chipper today? You get laid last night?
I notice I am whistling a happy Zippidy Doo Da and stop. I chuckle and then say, "No Johnson, nothing like that. I just think its more peaceful around town."
"What the hell are you talking about Miracle Man?" says Corporal Scott. "In case you haven't noticed and even though the subject is off limits, the prison camp is empty, which means they either got far away from here or they are wandering around Lansing somewhere looking for trouble. In case you didn't know it, we are the ones that locked those rebels up in the first place. They get one look at our uniforms and its going to get hot."
We all get quiet until we find a cache of weapons, ammo, some canned food and a working ham radio. We load the supplies into the Jeep and head back to base. As we pass the prison camp I can't help but smile. The camp is finally silent. Its ghosts have moved on.