“Sir, it will be ongoing, but I do need to release the bombing and gunnery ranges. All branches of the service have been understanding, considering the seriousness of this problem, but it is putting their programs behind schedule. I am getting a steady stream of inquires as to when they think I might open the facilities up so they can start scheduling operations.”
“I can see that it would be a potential issue. You can go ahead and open those sections of Nellis,” the President said.
“Sir, if it helps any, we have literally combed almost every inch of those areas at least a dozen times. I just don’t see how he could be in any of the range areas. I don’t intend to open them all just yet. I am still holding out hope we will find him. For now, I will only open ranges 62 through 65 south. The others are over the mountain areas and I still have men searching those regions,” the general said.
“I appreciate all that you and your men have done. I take it nothing came out of your talk with Dr. Yurris?”
“She maintains that she has not seen or heard from him. I have no reason to doubt her at this time,” the general replied.
“At this time? Are you still having some doubts?”
“Oh, nothing I would hang my hat on, it’s just that I have some doubts about her integrity.”
“Interesting. Thank you general. Now, I need to return to my meeting. You will let me know if something turns up?” he said.
“You will be the first to know,” the general answered.
Raymond felt the rough texture of his whiskers as he lay back against the wall. He was thirsty and hungry. They only brought him a cup of water and a bologna sandwich each day. At the very least they could put mustard on it to break up the monotony.
He looked at the marks on the wall. It had been six days and no one but the guard had been down there. He never spoke, just opened the slot and tossed the sandwich in and an eight ounce bottle of Gatorade. How much longer did they intend to keep him here, he wondered, and to what end? They were going to have to do something with him eventually. He had been over every inch of the cell, probing for any weaknesses but it had been solidly built. He wasn’t going to just scratch or dig his way out of this place.
His bed was a solid slab of concrete with a thin mattress. The cell had nothing more than a hole in the floor for a toilet and a stainless steel sink with warm water coming out of one tap. Those were the only things in the room.
It was almost like movies depict solitary confinement where the bad guy is locked up with nothing but the clothes on his back and little to eat. The mental images of Steve McQueen in the movie Papillion, when he was placed in solitary confinement, flashed across his mind. Lord, he hoped he didn’t look like that. Who was looking for him? He had to be reported as missing by now, so if he could hang on long enough, someone would have to find him, right?
“Get up,” the guard said. Raymond blinked his eyes. He didn’t even realize he had been sleeping. He slowly stood, using the wall for support.
“Hand out your pants, socks and shoes.”
“Why?”
“Do what you’re told or I will come in and do it for you,” the guard snarled.
Raymond slowly removed his shoes, socks, and pants and handed them through the slot. The guard passed back a set of camouflage fatigues and a pair of fresh socks and military boots.
Well, Raymond though, at least I am getting a fresh change of clothes. He would have liked a fresh shirt and pair of underwear, but this was a step in the right direction. Nine marks were now scratched in the wall by his mattress. His whiskers were past the scratchy stage and starting to turn into a beard. If he just had a mirror he could have seen how he looked. He had always wondered how he would look in a beard, now he had the beard but no way to see how it looked on him. Life is just not fair sometimes, he thought, and then laughed out loud at the irony. Like not having a mirror was his real problem.
Angie Beck had been working at the base infirmary for over six years and was capable of handling most of the routine situations that came up. She was always cheerful and everyone seemed to know and respect her. In fact, she had likely attended to almost everyone there at one time or the other. She had done everything from giving routine shots, performing an emergency tracheotomy, and even delivering two babies. Her worst duties had been attending to burn victims and occasionally, a broken bone.
Doctor Campbell, the base surgeon, was currently away at a training seminar in Las Vegas. At least that is what his orders stated. The golf clubs were a dead giveaway that more than medicine was going to be discussed. It was just starting to get dark, and she was finishing filling out paperwork and looking over the medical inventory supply list before calling it a night, when two security officers came.
“Hi guys, what can I do for you?”
