Under the Clock

…I was waiting for him. He’d promised. We were going to meet under the clock.

They told me it took the surgeons ten hours to repair the damage to my liver and spleen. They told me that I’d coded on the table. That I’d had something like ten transfusions. That I wasn’t expected to make it through the night.

But I didn’t care. I wasn’t even there. My body was failing, but I’d gone on. See, I was waiting for him. He’d promised. We were going to meet under the clock.

I hadn’t wanted to live. Not when I’d seen him go down, crumple even as he tried to reach me. And because I didn’t want to keep him waiting, I just let go.

It was so easy. I watched as they tried to bring me back. All that technology, the shocks, the compressions, it was not going to work. I left them to it. I went on to that other place and there was the clock, but — I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t there.

But where else could he be?

Wasn’t like there was anyone around to ask. Oh, the place was teeming with people — I suppose they were people anyway, though I couldn’t be sure, they were fuzzy and moved too fast. But there had to be some sort of information booth I figured, or someone to tell me where I could get answers.

And of course there was — there was a desk tucked away in a corner that looked like it had seen better days, and a line of beings lined up in front of it. I couldn’t see who was behind it, not clearly. First it looked like an old guy with a white beard, then it was a rabbi, then it was one of those Hare Krishna types. One time it was a woman, a motherly type in a nurse’s uniform. But when it was my turn, I was facing Paddy O’Halloran, the drill instructor at the Academy. Before I could say anything he looked me up and down and snorted. “Jeez, can’t you ever turn up on time for anythin’, Cadet? Either you’re skiddin’ in ten minutes after class started, or you’re kickin’ your heels an’ looking for trouble before I even unlocked the door. What is it now?”

I told him. He rolled his eyes. Picked up a clipboard and scanned it.

“Nope, ” he said at last. “Nope, he’s not listed. Not for today. Nor are you. Neither of ya. Now get outa the way, you’re holding up the line.”

“But he’s gotta be here!” I felt like I wanted to cry. “He promised. We were going to meet under the clock!”

He looked at me like he was gonna tell me to drop and give him twenty, but I stood my ground. Then he sighed.

“Son, this ain’t Grand Central, an’ I’m not the Missin’ Persons Bureau. Try the Other Place.”

So that was where I went. Or my own personal version of it. The steamy fetid green hell that was Vietnam.

It was just as I remembered in my nightmares. The bodies. The bits of what had once been living and breathing comrades. But he wasn’t among them. He wasn’t anywhere.

Fuck. Where could he be? I knew he wouldn’t have forgotten the vow we’d made.

***

In a minute, they would come for him, with the honor guard, to escort him to the grave, as he had done every year. A pilgrimage of sorts.

He walked into the squad room, to the wall with the photos of the honored dead.

And one in particular. Posed in full uniform, but with a glint of mischief in the eyes. A list of citations. And the Medal of Valor. Awarded posthumously.

The grief, fresh as if it happened yesterday. Dead. All that vitality, that boundless courage — gone.

Pain, lancing through his chest.

We notched up quite a score between us, didn’t we? Most highly decorated officers on the force.

His eyes never left the photograph, the details of the face of his friend and partner. He wanted to reach out and touch, as he had when that face had been alive, and the body responded to his touch. The memory was blurred by time. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to remember what had happened, that last fateful afternoon…

They had beaten Gunther, and come back stronger. The high of that victory they rode for ten years, until another assassin, another hail of bullets, took it all away.

It was just after we got our promotions. The state governor coming here for a rally. We two were running interference, because of the threats against him. There was a terrorist cell the FBI had identified. Just as the governor walked out into the hall, their sleeper agents opened fire. They were using submachine guns. I saw you diving to push the man down, covering him with your own body. Saw the impact of the bullets. You took multiple hits. I tried, but couldn’t reach you in time before I was hit in the back.

The Chief drew a deep shaken breath. So much blood… he remembered the blood.

“Ah, babe,” he choked back a sob. “We were supposed to go together. We promised each other. ‘Meet you under the clock.’?”

He waited for the snarky reply. It never came, and never would again. It had been taken from the world fifteen years ago.

After the Inauguration, the Governor awarded us both Medals of Valor.

It was too late for you. You’d suffered massive damage. The damage to my spine was serious, and I was months in rehab. But I stayed with the force, because that was what you would have expected…

Tears were running from the Chief’s eyes, unchecked.

“Yes. You would. That was the sort of man you were.” The best friend a man could ask for. “I miss you, pal. I always will.”

A knock at the door brought him back to the present. “Come in.”

“Chief.” One of his men appeared in the doorway. “Sir, the car is waiting. It’s time to go.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He looked back at the picture, absently rubbing at the pain in his chest. He wondered if it would ever go away. He reached up to tap the picture. “Time to go, partner.”

Whatever happened next was a blur. The pain grew sharper, stronger. The world around him erupted into chaos, as hands grabbed him and he heard a frantic call for an ambulance. Then it all faded, and he was surrounded by mist.

It swirled around him and he walked through it, walking as easily as ever. It parted, and he was looking up at a clock. Under it stood a dearly familiar figure, fists on hips, grinning like a fool.

“Took you long enough, lover. ” Those eyes. How could he forget those blue eyes, shining with love. And that lopsided quirky grin. “And where the hell have you been?”