More Than Just a Fairy Tale Ch. 17

Patrick sighed. "I wasn't always an economist. I enlisted when I was eighteen. Stooooopid idea! I made it through basic and then got asked if I wanted to do special ops. I agreed. The idea of being a Ranger sounded good. I started going through the training and about half way through, they send you out on a survival trip. A week in an area you aren't familiar with and you have to get from point A to point B," he said.

"Okay, so how was that a bad thing?" she asked.

"I came back eight pounds heavier," he said.

"So? Why was that a problem?" she asked.

"Most guys come back starved. Ten pounds less, and looking like shit. So, they figured I cheated some how. They sent me back out again, and this time, I had a buddy. We had to survive together," Patrick said. He turned onto a side street following the signs to the fort they were going to visit. He parked the car and turned to face Ginny.

"I take it you didn't starve," she said.

"No, but about an hour into the hike, the buddy, a sargent stopped me and said that we needed to talk," said Patrick.

"Okay, quit with the suspense," said Ginny.

"He looked at me and said, 'Grunt, are you a shifter?' I was rather startled and started to deny it. Then he growled at me sub-vocally and let his eyes shift from gray-green to yellow as I stood there staring at him. I answered 'YES SIR' about two seconds later," said Patrick.

"Shit! That must have been one hell of a shock," said Ginny.

"It was. We sat down and talked for most of the afternoon. He said he had thought I was a shifter, but coming back fat had been a big give-a-way. He got assigned to me and figured we'd better talk before the rest of the military found out," he said.

"Before the rest found out?" asked Ginny.

"Yes. Apparently there is a whole sub-culture of shifters in the military. Most of them are special ops. We tend to survive better. Most try to avoid being discovered. Otherwise, there are those sections of the military that want to test us like we are guinea pigs. He'd been poked and prodded and had made it his mission to help shifters avoid detection. He said he had a 70% success rate," said Patrick.

"Did you get out after that?" asked Ginny.

"No, passed the survival course and became a good troop. Learned to pass for human. Served eight years and then got out. Sarge had shown up at my door one evening. He was in civvies and had that haunted look to his face you see from people that have PTSD. He'd come to warn me that the military was now doing blood work to try and isolate shifters. He'd been in the 'Land O Sand' and had avoided it, but heard that those found were being sent to a base in Georgia for further tests. He'd declined his next chance to re-up and retired. He suggested that I do the same. I let him stay with me for a few weeks, while I checked things out," he said.

"What did you find out?" asked Ginny. She had heard some odd stories from time to time but had dismissed them.

"Sarge was right. I got called out on a routine mission and came down on the wrong part of my foot. Twisted my ankle and nearly dislocated my knee. I ended up in the hospital. I thought I was having a lot more blood work than needed, and made a note of the techs. When Sarge came to see me, I gave him the names and he did some checking," said Patrick who stopped to take a drink from his water bottle.

"And, what happened?" asked Ginny.

"Well, he and this doctor I'd never seen before came into my room the next afternoon. Asked all kinds of questions about pain levels and my knee. I thought things were a bit odd, but I wasn't sure what was going on. I just kept answering questions. The doctor excused himself and Sarge watched to make sure no one was headed our way. Then he told me that the doctor wasn't a shifter, but he was on our side. He pulled a bag out of his pocket and it was full of blood ampules. They were labeled with my name, rank and data," said Patrick.

"Geeze!" said Ginny. "What happened?"

"Two days later, this general came in and told me that I was getting a medical discharge. Too much damage to my knee. I'd barely walk, and was of no use to my unit anymore. I signed some papers and less than forty-eight hours later, I was a civilian," said Patrick.

Ginny just sat there and blinked. First the thought of Patrick as a ranger and then the rest of the scenario had left her stunned. "Did you ever see Sarge again?" she asked.

"Yes. He picked me up from the hospital and helped me hobble around while we did the discharge paperwork. The doctor had put a cast on my leg to help the illusion that I was more injured than I really was. After I was fully discharged, Sarge helped me move to a city far away from the base. Two whole states away in fact. Then one night while we were watching a football game, the doorbell rang. I answered it and there was the doctor," said Patrick.

"What?" asked Ginny.

"He asked to come in. We were a bit concerned as I had not given a forwarding address when I left. The doctor handed me a huge package. It was my full medical records. Told me he'd been purging files as often as he dared. Said he'd been doing it for years. When I asked how he found me, he just smiled. Sarge didn't know either. The doctor shook our hands and said his goodbyes," said Patrick.

"Okay, that qualifies as just weird. I can see the military trying to use shifters as super troops, but the doctor was strange. Why would he stay in the military if he didn't like what they were doing?" she asked.

"Not sure. However, about a week before Sarge left for parts unknown, we were watching a documentary on the Civil War on DVD. It was all about battlefield hospitals. I was getting a drink when Sarge yelled. I ran back into the living room wondering what was the matter. He was pointing to the TV. I stopped the program and backed it up. Froze it where he said and it was my turn to freak. There on the screen were a bunch of doctors standing in front of a hospital tent. In the middle was the doctor. Our doctor," said Patrick.

"No. You're pulling my leg," said Ginny.

"Nope. It was him. We found more pictures because we couldn't believe it either. From what we could tell, this guy had been a military doctor for about 150 years. Change of hair color or style and change of service. In each and every one of them though, the eyes and the little scar by his mouth were the same. We never spoke of it again, but we figured he must be some kind of 'other'. We know there are fairies, so who's to say there aren't other things that go bump in the night?" finished Patrick.

Ginny nodded. Goosebumps trailed down her arms. She thought about it for the moment and just shook her head. "Wow. Shall we go visit this fort? See if we find your doctor?" she asked as they got out of the Subaru.

"Yes, see the fort that is," teased Patrick as they headed for the entrance.