Nuclear Options

Nuclear Options

"Who's up?" the Pizza Hut manager loudly called out as he frantically tried to keep up.

When no one answered, his hardest-working delivery guy said, "I'll take it."

"What? No way, Dalton. You just got back. You've had three runs in the last hour," his manager said.

"It's Terrance's turn," the younger man quietly told him.

"Terrance? What the hell?" the manager railed as he turned to find his least-motivated driver.

"I'm tired," came the reply from the sleep-looking, heavyset, college sophomore.

"What? You're tired of having a job?" his boss bellowed.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Let me have it," Dalton said again.

"Okay. Fine. It's yours. But you can't be the only one willing to do all of the god..."

Before he could let out another string of profanity, a walk-in customer caught his attention, forcing him to be civil.

"Welcome to Pizza Hut. How may I help you?" the manager said as Dalton grabbed four pizza boxes in their warming blanket and headed to his car.

As he was leaving, a co-worker named Trish who'd made it very clear Dalton could call her or 'stop by' anytime, said, "Do you ever slow down?"

"Not when there's work to do," he told her, remembering to smile.

"Well, if you ever do take a break, you know where I..."

Before she could finish, Dalton was out the door and on his way to deliver all four pizzas to one address. He'd taken over a dozen to a home once, so four was no big deal. The only downside of having only one stop was that if he didn't get a decent tip, it would be another waste of time and gas.

As a 22-year old freshman at the University of Georgia in Athens, Dalton Russell needed every dollar he could get his hands on. As a Navy veteran he had the GI Bill which covered his tuition, books, and fees, but he was living in a shabby apartment with three other veterans, and the cost of food, rent plus utilities, insurance, gas, and other expenses had to be paid for.

So while 'slinging zas' was a lousy job, the Pizza Hut on Baxter Street was about as close to the campus, and his apartment, as one could get. As much as it sucked, it was a job. And for now, at least, a job was a job.

As he fired up his car he thought that with any luck, a middle-aged woman with money would answer the door. From there all he'd have to do is smile, call her 'ma'am' a few times, and he'd walk away with five or ten bucks.

In just the short amount of time he'd worked there, more than once he'd been tipped $20, and once he was handed a $50 bill along with the woman's telephone number. Had she not reeked of stale cigarette smoke and one other little detail—a large diamond ring on her left hand—he'd have called her back. But having been raised with integrity, and after four years in the U.S. Navy, a whole lot of honor to go with it, that was one bridge he'd never cross.

That women found him attractive was something Dalton Russell took for granted, and yet he wasn't too proud to use that to his advantage when it came to making some extra money to pay the bills. He didn't go out of his way to exploit something he'd been given by purely random chance, but it didn't hurt that he'd lucked out in that one area of life's lottery.

It was already dark at 5:30pm, and that was no surprise considering it was the middle of January and downright cold outside. Dalton set his phone's GPS to the delivery address, then put the Hyundai Elantra he'd bought on active duty in gear and headed south toward Woodland Hills, a reasonably nice area of town.

Each time he drove anywhere, Dalton took in as much detail as he could. He was the kind of person who loved life, had many interests, and found almost everything he saw, heard, or read interesting. Houses were just one of those interests, and he had a goal of owning one in the not-too-distant future. But that meant finishing college, getting a decent-paying job, and above all else, finding someone to share that house—and his life—with.

Had he not been so motivated to find that special someone, he probably would have re-enlisted. His rate, or what the Army and Marine Corps called an 'MOS', both military speak for 'job', was offering the maximum bonus allowed by law. There was a complicated set of criteria for determining the maximum amount, but the short version was $90,000. There was, however, an exception to that limit. People in the medical field, aviators, and guys like him who were in a nuclear specialty, could receive more.

He had fours years of active duty, and had he shipped over, he would have received about $80,000 before taxes. If he'd had six, he'd have qualified for the exception to the maximum amount. In reality, he'd have been paid about $35,000 in a lump sum, then received equal portions of the remaining after-tax amounts on the anniversary of his re-enlistment.

As tempting as it had been, mostly because he really like what he was doing as a Navy Electrician's Mate, Nuclear Power, or 'EMN2'—his rate. After a year of soul searching, Dalton had made a very tough decision and left active duty six weeks ago. He'd been assigned to Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay, Georgia, his entire time, and because it had a lower tax rate than his home state of New York, he'd changed his 'home of record' to Georgia as soon as he'd been eligible to do so.

That meant he could attend any university in Georgia at the in-state rate, and after visiting Atlanta and Athens before getting out, the smaller town won his business. He hadn't been able to start school until the winter semester, but he was now taking 15 credits and up to his eyeballs in academia while working as many hours as he could.

As he got a little ways outside the downtown area, he started checking out houses, and the homes he saw weren't all that great. Like any city, Athens ran the gamut from shacks to mansions, and while he didn't see himself ever living in the latter, he had no desire to live in the former, either.

He wasn't snobbish, he just wanted a decent home for his future wife, and with any luck, maybe a child or two. He and his younger brother, Mark, had been well cared for by their solidly middle-class parents, and he wanted to provide that for his future family. Beyond that his goals in life were rather modest.

He followed the GPS voice prompts, and within ten minutes found himself on the street that belonged to the customer to whom he was delivering the four pizzas. When his phone said, "Destination is on the right," he almost missed it. He couldn't see a light on anywhere, inside or out, even though every other house on the block had electricity.

After double checking the order, Dalton knew he had the right place. But with the house in total darkness, he couldn't help but wonder what he might be walking into. A meth lab seemed extremely unlikely, but there was no way of being sure until someone opened the door. In this case, not getting a tip might be the least of his worries.

He got out, went around and grabbed the large Pizza Hut container holding the pies then headed up the sidewalk. As he got to the porch he heard the unmistakable sound of young girls laughing and breathed a sigh of relief.

He pushed the doorbell button before realizing it required power.

"Gee, we sure learned a lot in the Navy, didn't we?" he told himself before knocking.

A couple of seconds later he heard, "Girls! Can you PLEASE quiet down?"

When the door opened, he could tell there was a woman standing there, but it was so dark he could barely see her.

"Four pizzas for...Vann?" he said, remembering to smile.

"Yes. That's me. I'm Vann. Well, I'm Rachel Vann, but..."

The woman apologized then turned her head and yelled again.

"Mia Vann! Can you please get your friends to quiet down a little! The pizza's here and I can't even talk to the delivery guy!"

A second or two later it got deathly quiet, and just seconds after that, several little girls in pajamas came scurrying to the door and huddled around Ms. Vann.

"Well. So you can be quiet!" she said.

Dalton was still smiling, but seeing these small girls made it easy to do so.

"Wait," he said. "I have four large pizzas, and there are only..."

He balanced the pies with one arm then pointed as he counted.

"One, two, three, four. There are only four girls here. Who's gonna eat all this pizza?" he teased.

"There's five of us!" one of the girls said with a very heavy southern accent.

"Oh, okay. Well, that makes sense then," Dalton said.

"How much to I owe you?" Ms. Vann asked as she pulled a wallet out of her purse.

Dalton couldn't see the receipt, but he knew the total and gave her the amount which, with the special they were running, came to $48.73.

The woman was fishing through the wallet and trying to see the denominations of the bills. She managed to locate two twenties and a ten, then said, "You can keep the change."

Dalton tried not to laugh, and even though that amount would barely cover his gas, he couldn't be upset because the girls were so cute. At least what he could see of them, anyway.

As he passed the stack of pizzas to the only adult, he heard someone coughing and wheezing.

"Mia? Are you okay?" the woman asked.

"I...I can't breathe very well, Mommy" Dalton heard the fifth little girl, who'd just appeared, say.

"Do you have any medicine left?"

Ms. Vann was obviously that girl's mother, and when her daughter said, "I just used the last puff and it didn't help enough."

"Is there anything I can do?" Dalton asked just before the door started to close.

"What?" the woman said. "Oh. No. Not unless you can get the lights back on."

"Well, I just happen to be an electrician," he told her.

His eyes had adapted to the darkness, and he could see her face a little better now. Just that little extra bit of visual acuity made two things apparent. She was at least a reasonably attractive woman, and she was looking at him like he was crazy, and Dalton understood why immediately. No real electrician would be delivering pizzas.

"Sorry. I'm not a state-certified electrician, but I was an electrician in the Navy, and I can do pretty much any kind of basic electrical work on a house that a 'real' electrician can. I just can't do it legally."

His specialty was working with the electrical components of a submarine's nuclear reactor, but a circuit was a circuit, and he really could do pretty much anything that involved circuitry.

"I don't want to keep you," the woman said.

"It won't take long if it's something simple," Dalton assured her. "But I will need a flashlight."

One by one, five flashlights came on, all of them directly in his face.

"That should work!" he said as he covered his eyes as the girls all giggled while the woman's daughter tried to giggle, too, but only coughed.

"Here. You can have mine," the girl who was coughing told him as she held it out to him.

"Girls? I need you to take these pizzas to the kitchen. Don't do anything until I get back, though, okay?" the woman said.

"Okay!" they all called out as had three of the girls give their flashlights to her daughter then gave a pizza to each of the other girls, keeping one flashlight for herself and offering one to the pizza guy.

"And don't drop them, okay?" she called out as they went scurrying off.

"Again, I apologize," the woman said. "We're having a sleepover. Today is my daughter's sixth birthday, so it's been crazy around here. Her asthma is acting up, and the the power went out about 15 minutes ago right after I called in the order, so..."

Dalton laughed as he took the flashlight then said, "I'll follow you."

"The breaker box thingy is downstairs," she said as she led him to a small door in the hallway.

The wooden stairs creaked as they slowly made their way into the basement which was even darker than the rest of the house.

When they got to the cement floor, the woman shined the light around the room then said, "Ah. Over there," as she held the beam on the gray box.

Dalton went ahead of her making sure not to trip on anything or knock his head as he'd done onboard submarines too many times.

He opened the panel, and just as he thought, the main breaker had been tripped. There were a number of reasons why that might happen such as lightning strikes, power surges from the utility company, or an overload to the electrical panel or faulty wiring. He didn't have time to figure out what caused it, but he did know to turn off every breaker then reset the main before turning on each individual circuit below it one at a time.

"Is it serious?" the woman asked.

"I don't think so. "I'd have to come back when I have more time to see what caused it, but if we can get your power back on, I think you'll be fine for now anyway."

He knew there was a chance there could be something more serious, but that seemed unlikely, and it wasn't his place to fix. Still, with her and the girls in the house, leaving without knowing what was wrong was going to eat at him.

"Okay. Let's see what happens," he said once everything was ready.

He began at the bottom and worked his way up to the bigger circuits that handled the dryer and the heat pump, and one by one, the lights began coming back on. He could see a light from the hallway which, along with the excited screams of the girls, told him everything was okay.

When the basement light came on, the woman nearly squealed with delight herself.

"Oh, my goodness! Thank you SO much!" she said excitedly.

As Dalton turned around to tell her she was very welcome, both of them froze and just stared at one another. This woman wasn't just attractive, she was very good looking. And although Dalton didn't know it, she was stunned to see just how attractive he was after not ever getting a good look at him, the five-flashlight thing aside.

"Sorry," she said. "I...I didn't mean to stare."

"It's okay. I was kind of doing that myself," he told her as they both looked away.

Neither of them spoke until she finally said, "Um...thank you. Again," before stepping aside.

"My pleasure," he told her as she quickly glanced back up at him as he walked by.

Once they got to the top of the stairs, the woman thanked him again then said, "I can't imagine you'd be interested, but would you like to at least have a slice of pizza with us?"

Even though he delivered the stuff, Dalton considered pizza junk food and almost never ate it. He'd wrestled in high school and still worked out as often as his hectic schedule allowed and had the body to prove it. So things like pizza, soda, candy, red meat, and white bread were taboo, and he only rarely had a beer or glass of wine.

"Oh, no. Thank you very much, but I've gotta get back and go on another delivery run. You know, starving college student and all that," he replied apologetically.

"Of course," the woman said as they stood there a foot or so apart.

"I'd really like to come back, though, and try and find out why your main breaker tripped. It'll bother me until I do."

"I...I couldn't ask you to do that," she told him.

She looked at him then asked if he thought it might be serious.

"I can't say without looking at it. But please either have your husband check it out or call an electrician. A...real electrician."

Dalton smiled but the woman didn't.

"My husband walked out on us two years ago, and I really can't afford to pay an electrician so..."

"Then it's settled. I'll come back and check it out for you. Free of charge. Just let me know when, okay?"

"Are you sure?" the woman asked, a look of concern on her very pretty face.

"I am. One-hundred percent."

"I'm home from 6 o'clock on Monday through Saturday and all day Sunday," she told him.

"I go to school full-time and work as often as I can," Dalton told her. "This is Friday so...is Sunday okay?"

"You really don't mind? she asked again.

"If I don't take a look at it, it'll drive me crazy. So yes, I'm sure."

"Well, okay. And again, thank you."

"You're welcome, ma'am," he replied out of habit.

"Oh, my goodness! Please don't call me 'ma'am'!" she told him.

"Okay. Then you're welcome, Mrs..."

"Rachel," she told him.

"All right. Rachel it is. And I'm Dalton."

The woman smiled and told him she was pleased to meet him just as the girls started getting loud again.

"I really need to check on them," Rachel said, pointing toward the noise. "My daughter has asthma, and her inhaler just ran out, and I'm about to lose my mind!"

"Can she make it without it? Her inhaler?" Dalton asked.

"Yes, but it's very hard for her. I called in a refill, but I can't leave now to go pick it up until tomorrow. I knew she was getting low. I just kept hoping she'd make it through the night."

"Which pharmacy?" Dalton asked.

"What?" Rachel replied, a puzzled look on her face.

"If you'll tell me the name of the pharmacy, and call to let them know I'll be picking it up, I can get it for you right now."

When Rachel realized he was serious, she turned away again. This time, tears were forming in her eyes, and she didn't want him to see.

Dalton gently touched her forearm then said, "I want to help, okay?"

He watched her dry her eyes then turn his way again before speaking.

"I'd pretty much given up hope that there were still people like you out there," she told him. It might have sounded corny or cliché had she not been so emotional.

"It won't take me long, and I'd feel a whole lot better knowing she won't be uncomfortable all night."

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

"Yes. Just call and let them know I'm coming, okay?"

Rachel gave him the name of the pharmacy and the address, and Dalton knew exactly where it was. But in his haste to be helpful, he forgot to ask her for the money to pay for it. The thought never even crossed his mind until he got halfway there. Rather than turn around, he assumed there would be a small co-payment that she could reimburse him for when he returned, so he kept going rather than waste more time going back.

As she'd promised, Rachel had called ahead, and the pharmacist let him know he could have the prescription as soon as he showed him some form of ID. But when he told Dalton how much he owed, it took his breath away.

"Ms. Va-yunn's IN-shur-unce doesn't cov-uh this NEB-u-liz-uh," the pharmacist said in a heavy drawl.

Dalton had put away about $15,000 while on active duty, but that money had to last all four years while he was attending college, so it was a kind of emergency fund he tapped only when he couldn't earn enough to pay his bills. He'd used $200 of it in the time he'd been in school, and if need be, he'd used some more to help this sweet little girl out, even if he never got paid back.

The thought of a her not being able to breathe seemed like an emergency to him, so he plunked down his credit card knowing he could afford the charge. The man rang it up, thanked him, then asked Dalton to 'give Ms. Va-yun, a two-syllable word in Georgian, his best re-gahds.

"I will," Dalton promised as he picked up the white bag with the tiny inhaler that was worth its weight in gold.

If he'd thought Rachel had been overly apologetic before, she became smothering when he returned. She told him over and over how sorry she was and kept saying how foolish she'd been for not giving him the money upfront. The truth was, she didn't have that much money, and would have had to write him a check then ask the pharmacy not to cash it until Monday. She'd done that several times already, and she knew the only reason she was allowed to do that was this particular pharmacist's having taken a shine to her.

Each time, Dalton smiled and assured her it wasn't a problem. When she later handed him a personal check, he looked at it twice but didn't say anything. Not even when she asked if he could hold off cashing it until Monday when she got paid.