The Chest
By: Trivette Lover Heather
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The tall man shadow escaped the door behind him as he entered the darkness. He closed the door behind him, flashlight in hand. His steps a lot slower than he remembered the last time he took this journey. His free hand grabbed the guard rail as he went down step by step.
Finally he reached the cold floor, slightly shuddering as his feet touched the concrete. His eyes squinted as they adjusted to the darkness, his flashlight illuminating dusty boxes and furniture. Then his eyes widened as the light found what he was searching for.
He knelt down slowly and put the flashlight on a nearby box to shed some light. He moved a dusty blanket off the chest and held the lock over the opening in his hand. The man thought for a moment then went forward with the combination. The sound of the lock clicking open pierced something in his heart; he hadn't felt in a while.
He placed the lock on the cold floor and proceeded to open the chest. Grabbing the flashlight he saw the contents, not an ounce of dust on any of them. Some of the pictures were faded and bent, but the faces still in tact.
He fisted through them, grabbing first a picture of a man from centuries ago, still fresh in his mind.
He closed his eyes and remembered…
--
"A handshake won't do Henry…"
"Did
you really yell Give me and Incubator or Give me Death?"
"You had to be there"
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"I don't know what Henry would do without Radar…and I don't know what we'd do without Henry, but I cant wait to get home and find out"
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"To your son Henry"
"Let's hope I get home to see him before he gets drafted and sent over here."
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His eyes opened then closed quickly as he remembered…
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I have a message. Lt. Col. Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There weren't no survivors."
He placed the picture back in its resting place. Slight smiles passing his face as he rummaged through the items. Until he reached …Her…
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"I don't fall over, captain. Everything around here will be just fine if there's a little less leaning a lot more leadership. We need obedience. We need discipline, not this chaos. Doctors like you constantly out of uniform. Nurses who don't belong in uniform. Dogs running around loose in camp...they're getting run over by jeeps."
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"Remember all those awful things I've done and said about you?
"Yes?"
"I'd like to get well and do them all over again."
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The old man smiled slightly as he kissed the picture.
"This kiss will have to do Margaret." He said to the picture. "Goodbye. Once again." He finished as he placed the picture besides a few other miscellaneous things from his past.
Next came something very special to him. He lifted the teddy bear and patted its head. He leaned his back against the chest and held it tightly…closing his eyes…
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"I don't think this place is turning out to be that great an experience for me. I mean I work under terrible pressure and everything and there's a lot of death and destruction and stuff but outside of that I don't think I'm really getting much out of it."
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"Look, you can't lay all that on my shoulders. Don't you know how much this place stinks? Don't you know what it's like to stand day after day in blood? In the blood of children? I hate this place. And if I can't stand up to it to your satisfaction, then... then the hell with it. How dare you? The hell with your Iowa naiveté, and the hell with your hero worship and your teddy bear, and while you're at it, the hell with you! Why don't you grow up for crying out loud? I'm not here for you to admire. I'm here to pull bodies out of a sausage grinder, if possible without going crazy. Period."
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The gray haired man shook his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. He remembered the apology and the day that his young friend left…now forever.
"Goodbye again Radar O' Reilly." He kissed teddy on the forehead and sifted through the items once again, now sniffling a bit.
He grabbed another picture and a grin lit up his face.
"Trap"
He said simply as he struggled to remember his friend. He winced as he remembered just missing him to say goodbye. But back here in the world he didn't miss it…
"Goodbye buddy." He kissed the picture and mockingly saluted it, causing him to smirk a bit as he imagined Trapper doing the same.
He reached in again to find a pocket sized bible, with the note inside still in tact.
"Bless You Hawkeye Pierce, my dear friend, in here you will find your peace. I promise."
--Francis Mulcahy
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The man flipped through a few pages and remembered his dear friend, The Father. He remembered the night after he returned home when this precious little Bible found him that peace.
The man began to cough a bit from the dust and decided it was time to go. His Bible still in hand, he reached for the blanket and tossed it over his possessions, catching last glances of the pictures. The flashlight started to flicker as he grabbed it. And as he made his way back up the dreaded stairs he looked back at the chest and said quietly, "Another time Beej."
The stairs seemed so much easier to climb up then they did down for the old man. Every time he convinced himself he would get to his best friend, but he could never do it. The pain hurt so badly.
Everyone he knew had passed on; he was the only one left. As fate would have it, he supposed. But the pain can be so much to bear sometimes for an old heart.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he took a hold of the handle, and then released it looking back down the stairs. He turned himself around, grabbing the railing once again. He had never done this in his life, a journey twice down the steps that led him to sadness and grief…
"I promised you Beej…I promised you." The elderly man remembered. He took slow step by slow step.
As he reached the chest he could do nothing but gently fall to his knees and weep…And weep…and weep…
It was silent and cold in that basement every day of the year until this day…years after the man passed on, the new owners could swear they still hear weeping coming from the dreaded basement and would dare not take the journey down the steps.