St. Clair Ch. 03: The Siren

Sergeant Marina Pruitt was also supposed to be very, very, dead. Killed with the rest TJ's squad in an ambush and the massive blast from a booby-trapped building.

Tammi gave her a soft smile. "You just stay here, I'm gonna make a couple phone calls." She walked over and searched through kitchen drawer, finally pulling out an old, tattered camouflage address book.

She spoke into the phone in hushed tones for quite a while. If Marina could hear her, it didn't show, but then she wasn't reacting to much.

###

TJ stared at Tammi, then looked over at Marina, who seemed to be staring at, or maybe through, the table. "A records mix up?"

Tammi nodded, glancing to follow TJ's look. "That's what her mom said. Glad you still had the address book with her mom's number in it. She said something about a woman named Rodriguez."

"That'd be Maria Rodriguez. She was a Puerto Rican in Kelsoe's squad. They got hit in the same ambush. PAC-the personnel clerks-got their records screwed up one time and we were still working on fixing it. The two of them were joking around about all Hispanic 'chicas' looking alike."

Marina hadn't reacted to TJ at all. Just staring through her and barely moving when TJ hugged her. She was responding to questions, but wasn't even really sure why she was here, or who TJ was.

Tammi gave Marina a look TJ thought was reserved for injured puppies. "The head injury, then all the medications and after effects of the concussion, or whatever it was, she didn't know what was going on. Then they figured it out after you'd been to see her mom. The family was thrilled, but it didn't last."

"What happened?"

Tammi eyed Marina thoughtfully. "Anger sometimes. Even rage. Mostly withdrawal." She glanced over at TJ. "She has trouble sleeping, she can barely stand to read. They have no idea how she managed to hold it together long enough to pass her CDL course. Her mom says she has 23 different medicines to take. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes they even work a little."

TJ knelt down next to Marina. "Hey, girl. You want to lay down and get some rest?"

"Ok." Marina stood up, then hesitated and pointed at Tammi. "She has my keys. In her bra."

TJ gave a slight smile. "She does that to me, too. But she knows I'll go after them, no matter how long it takes." She held her hand out for the keys. "Let's all go get your stuff."

After they opened the truck up, Marina climbed in and TJ followed; Tammi climbed up from the passenger side and looked over a veritable wall of electronics. "What is all this?"

Marina wordlessly stepped back into the sleeper compartment.

TJ slid into the driver's seat. "A whole suite of radar detectors... looks like four different police scanners. I'm not even sure what that thing is next to the GPS is." She leaned over. "A stereo suite. Looks like professional gear from a club I was in once." She glanced back over her shoulder into the sleeping quarters, then looked closer at a rack of electronics. "Swear to God, it looks like somebody pulled that out of a radio station." She sat back and looked over the set-up again. "I think this is a pirate FM radio station." She glanced over the settings. "A pretty powerful one too."

"What about these?" Tammi handed her a massive stack of maps, marked in an array of colors. "I don't know what all the stuff on the maps mean, but here's the log book. Dad had one in his rig."

TJ paged through the maps with a growing sick feeling, then began flipping through the log book. She looked back into the sleeper. Marina was setting the bed up.

"Marina. You sleep inside tonight, okay? We still have a bed in the guest room."

Marina looked at her puzzled, as if the words didn't make any sense at all. "I always sleep in here."

"Not tonight. Tonight you sleep in the house, okay?"

A shiver passed over Marina's face; maybe something like fear, maybe not. She froze.

The sick feeling in TJ's stomach surged. "Sergeant Pruitt. You sleep inside the wire tonight."

Marina gave a slow single nod, then pulled a set of clothes out of a rack; another pair of jeans, and another faded black shirt. "Yes, Sergeant."

They led her back to the house where TJ handed her a towel. "We've got hot water today. Go shower up."

A wan, almost-smile tic'd across Marina's face, then she headed into the bathroom to shower.

"What's going on?" Tammi gripped TJ's arm and hissed in a low voice.

"The maps are all convoy route maps, all marked up with danger areas, ambush points, no-go zones. She used to do all those for us. She's still doing it, over and over and over. Back and forth across the US constantly. Probably broadcasting the whole time. The FCC would never catch here, even if they knew to look for her. She's probably cooking her logs somehow, because I don't think she ever leaves the truck unless she has to." She paused and held up a crumpled map. "This is her map of how to get here. Our house is marked as a forward operating base. Surrounded by danger zones."

Marina, left the bathroom door open while she undressed to shower, utterly unconcerned with 'normal.' Her whole body from neck to ankles was a single woven pattern of ornate rose tattoos.

"You never mentioned the tattoos."

"Last time I saw her, she just had one, a rose on her right shoulder. It was to remember her grandmother."

"Looks like she's trying to remember a lot of people now."

"Maybe she's trying to remember everyone."

They managed to tuck Marina into bed. Wordlessly, Tammi pulled an easy chair to block the front door.

The next morning before dawn, TJ silently slipped over and looked in, feeling a moment of panic when she saw an empty bed. Tammi touched her arm and whispered. "In the corner away from the window. I checked on her earlier."

Just like she checked on TJ.

TJ leaned her head against the doorframe. "She's going to leave today."

"We can't stop her. Her mom tried."

"Yeah. She's on a schedule."

As they lay breakfast on the table, Marina came out, fully dressed, looking at TJ. "You're real, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. How did you know?"

A phantom of a smile appeared. "Because you're still here, and 'cause you're all fucked up, Chica. You look like a fuckin' movie pirate." She paused and the smile passed. "Because Jenkins and White never look fucked up when I see them." She shook her head and the Marina that TJ knew faded again. "I have to go."

"You could stay here, Marina."

"I can't stay anywhere. Not anymore."

"At least get some hot chow, and we'll make sure your laundry is all done, okay Sergeant?"

Marina nodded.

###

Luther tinkered with the still, tapping a copper line into position. Mae would have his ass if he managed to blow up the shed again.

He actually looked forward to Deputy James' visits, though he did wonder what she would think if she knew Agent Cooper was about nine feet under the red rock drive she came up every time. Where the outhouse had been before he moved it. He briefly pondered why nobody ever asked about the other three guys that had shown up with that asshole.

Either way, he decided, she probably wasn't too worried about it. Damn good NCO, practical as hell.

###

Tammi gripped TJ's hand tightly as they watched the semi move slowly away.

"At first, I thought it'd be wonderful for you, you know? Knowing that one of them lived. That there was another survivor." Tammi's voice was soft and sad.

TJ held her breath, not trusting herself to say anything, tears winding their way down her face.

Tammi's voice softened even further. "But she didn't survive, did she? Not really."

TJ shook her head silently, slowly.

Tammi watched the truck finally disappear down the lane. "She promised to come back. Told her she has to spend one night here every time her route passes through here, no matter what. Made her promise not to cheat by going north or south on purpose."

"She agreed to that?"

"She'll stop here, get food, get laundry done and take a shower. I didn't give her much choice, made her swear. And you told me once she always keeps her promises."

TJ felt a distant flicker of hope, watching down the road after the ghost.

###

She brought up "Stairway to Heaven" and let the ethereal introduction fill the cab. The signal called out into the distance and for the first time in a very long time, she wondered if anyone could hear her. Wondered if anyone was listening.

Marina just touched the balance on the stereo to bring the sounds into peaceful harmony again. She glanced over at the crumpled map on the dash. She probably needed to update that. Remove some of the danger areas for when she passed back by next. A tiny hint of a smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. Around her, she could feel the truck bare it's fangs in a fierce grin.

###

Post Production Notes:

I don't quite know what to say here. Coming home can be harder than going to war.

A veteran in the US commits suicide roughly every 65 minutes. I don't have numbers for our brothers and sisters in arms in other nations, but I doubt it is much more encouraging.

If you are lost, seek help. It is out there.