Flash 04: OJT, Part 01

"I will, promise," I said. She smiled and kissed me, full on the lips. It felt good having her there with me and we began making out like teenagers. Before long, we made our way to the bedroom and ended the day with yet another mind-blowing, universe-bending round of sex. I saw her eyes flash three times before we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Monday morning came too soon to suit me. I had packed everything the night before and Ginger made sure I packed some warm clothing.

"According to my weather app, it's supposed to get into the low 30s up there tomorrow night," she said. "And I wouldn't want you to freeze to death up there."

"I'm sure they have heat and running water," I said. "It's Idaho, not Siberia." She chuckled at that. When Max rang my doorbell, I grabbed my things and gave Ginger a kiss.

"Call me," she said.

"I will," I told her.

"And you keep an eye on him, make sure he comes back safe," she told Max.

"No worries there, Ginger, I'll make sure he comes home in one piece," Max said with a smile. We left the house and got into Max's car. When we hit the road, he handed me a folder.

"Here's what we have so far," he said. "Client's name is Joe Nelson. Was married three years to Veronica Hartley, but is now divorced. He's looking for the person who screwed up his marriage."

"That shouldn't be too hard," I said. "Wouldn't that be in the divorce record somewhere?"

"It could be, but the records have been sealed," Max said.

"Sealed? Why?" I asked.

"Different states have different rules, but they can be sealed for a variety of reasons. Protect the victim of abuse, for example, or protect sensitive information," he said.

"What about his ex-wife?" I asked.

"Gone," Max said. "He has no idea where she is." I began reading the file Max gave me. According to the file, Nelson said the man who ruined his marriage first contacted him by phone telling him that he was going to fuck his wife and take her from him.

Nelson went on to say the man ended up destroying his collection of stamps and baseball cards, some of which were quite rare, even as he engaged in a sordid affair with his wife. Worse yet, Nelson said, his wife willfully participated in the destruction of his personal property. When he tried to make the court aware of the damage done, he claimed no one -- not the police nor the court -- was interested in investigating the matter.

"Have you talked to this man yourself?" I asked Max. He shook his head.

"Not personally, no," Max said.

"How did you find out about this?" I asked.

"He was recommended to me by John Sykes, the camp commandant at Camp Rollins," Max said. "John and I have known each other for a while. He's referred quite a few cases to me."

"What is Nelson looking for?" I asked.

"Closure, mostly," Max said. "He wants to find out who destroyed his life and his property so he can take legal action."

"I can understand that," I said, thinking about Wheeler, Bergstrom, and the others who all but destroyed my life and my marriage to Ginger. "So, how are we gonna handle this?"

"What do ya mean, we? This is your case, Cameron," Max said.

"My case? You want me to take point on this?" I asked.

"Yup," he said. "Wife and I both figured this would be a good case for you to cut your teeth on. Besides, you need to start earning your keep," he added with a smile.

"I see. Do you and your wife work together a lot?" I asked.

"We work together quite a bit," he said.

"She doesn't strike me as the private investigator type," I told him. He smiled at that.

"Don't be fooled by appearances. There's a lot more to that woman than meets the eye, Cameron," he said.

"I guess so," I said quietly, remembering my first encounter with her at the house-warming party.

"Just one suggestion, Cameron," he said.

"What's that?"

"Don't ever make promises you can't keep. The worse thing you can do is give someone false hope. Remember that. I'll be there to back you up if you need it, but this is your case," he said.

"Got it," I said, looking back at the file.

"Here we are," he said, pulling into the airport parking lot. "It'll take us about an hour and a half to get to Spokane, then another hour and a half or so to get to the camp. You can use that time to figure out how you're going to approach this. And feel free to ask questions."

"Thanks," I said, my mind going over all the possibilities. I was still thinking things over when the plane took off. From what the file said, Nelson had no idea who this mystery man was, and his wife never gave him a name. In fact, he had no contact with his wife at all during the separation and divorce.

All he had was a voice over a cell phone. Maybe that was all I needed, I thought to myself. The latest update to my brain feed application included a voice-print feature, but I never had any use for it before now. Fortunately, I had packed my manual, so I hoped it would help guide me.

I settled into my seat and noticed that Max had already fallen asleep. I fluffed up a pillow the flight attendant had given me and rested my head on it. I was almost asleep when I saw Ginger in my mind. She was sitting at her desk, and she looked up as though I was standing in front of her. This was too real to be just a dream, I thought to myself.

She smiled and her eyes briefly lit up. I smiled back. I heard her in my mind: "This is no dream. I love you, Cameron Drake. Be safe." She winked at me and her smile grew wider.

"I love you too, Ginger Drake," I said in my mind. If this was real, that meant Ginger and I could actually communicate telepathically. I didn't recall seeing anything about that in the manual, but it made sense to me. I made a mental note to ask Smith and Jones about this.

"Get some rest, my love," she responded. "Call me when you get to the camp."

"I will," I responded before falling asleep. The next thing I knew, we were making our descent into Spokane and the flight attendant announced that it was time to sit upright and fold our trays. Max and I both sat up, wiped the sleep from our eyes, and prepared to land.

After the plane stopped, I grabbed my computer bag and my backpack and Max pulled down his briefcase and overnight bag. We deplaned, grabbed our suitcases from the baggage claim area, and went to get the rental car Max had reserved for our trip. I pulled out my phone and called Ginger while Max took care of the rental car.

"Hey, sweetie," I said. "We made it to Spokane."

"I know," she said.

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Don't ask me," she said, sounding as surprised as I was at that moment. "I just knew you had made it to Spokane."

"That's... weird," I said. I told her what happened on the plane. She gasped when I finished. "Are you alright?"

"So it was real, then," she said. "I was just thinking about you and all of a sudden, it was like, you were right here in front of me. I knew you were on the plane, but it seemed to me like you were standing in front of me. And you heard me say I love you?"

"I did, or at least I heard you think it," I said. "And you heard my response?"

"Yes, just as clear as a bell. As if you were really right here."

"Okay," I said. "Keep this to yourself. Make a note of it. We'll have to talk with Smith and Jones the next time we see them."

"You got it," she said. I looked and saw Max was wrapping things up with the car rental.

"I gotta go, but I'll call you this evening, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "I love you!"

"Love you too," I said, ending the call. So, I thought. It wasn't just me. Somehow, the link between the two of us was stronger than I had originally thought. I was curious to know what Smith and Jones had to say. I followed Max to the lot and helped him put our things in the small green sedan he rented, then got in the passenger seat.

Soon, we were on Interstate 90, heading east toward Idaho, which wasn't very far away. When we got to Coeur d'Alene, we took the US 95 exit and headed north.

"So, did you come up with a plan for the case?" he asked.

"I'm going to try something I haven't used yet," I said. "My brain feed application has a feature for analyzing and searching voice-prints. Once I have that, I can search for any matches. Hopefully, that will lead us to the man he's looking for."

"This brain feed thing," Max said. "What all does that include?"

"Everything," I said. "Not only does it give me an audio-visual memory record sorted by date, but it also records every thought, every emotion and even the physiological state of the brain at the time the memory took place."

"And how far back does it go?" he asked.

"From the very first memory on," I said. "Unless I've already downloaded the person's memories. Then it picks up from that point."

"I see," he said. "And how much can you download at one time?"

"I don't know," I said. "I've had up to 12 people's memories in my head at one time."

"Doesn't that get a bit crowded?" he asked with a smile.

"It hasn't yet," I told him. "They're compressed and I can't access the memories when they're in my head. Once they're downloaded into my computer, the app wipes them from my head."

"What about after-effects? You ever get flashes of someone else's memories, thinking they're yours?"

"That hasn't happened yet," I said. "However, once I connect and download the memories, I can connect to the person's mind remotely."

"Interesting," he said. "And this works with everyone you meet?"

"There have only been three people it hasn't worked on," I said. "Oddly enough, you and your wife are two of the three." He nodded his head.

"So, you did try to access our memories," he said.

"I like to know who I'm dealing with," I said. "I don't mean to pry, and I apologize if you feel I was trying to invade your privacy. It's just that I've been through a lot with Bergstrom and his crew."

"I can understand that," he said. "I suppose if I was in your shoes, I'd probably do the same. Apology accepted."

"But it does make me wonder. What's the deal with the two of you? Why can't I sense anything from you?"

"It's a long story, and one that's almost as unbelievable as yours," he said. "Trust me, when Adrestia feels the time is right, she'll explain it to you in her own way. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," I said, which was true.

"Good," he said.

"So, tell me about this camp. Have you been there before?" I asked.

"Yes, I have," he said. "In fact, I was a student there once. It helped make me the man I am today. It's owned by a company called Rollins Enterprises. It's a camp that helps men get their balls back."

"What?" I asked.

"Every single man that goes there has been cheated on. Some have been so abused and emasculated they can barely function as men," he said. "They take those men, whip them into shape physically, then fix them emotionally. They also provide a whole host of services for their students -- lawyers, counselors, private investigators, you name it. It's the hardest three months a man can endure. It's... extreme. But it's worth every minute."

"I'm surprised I haven't heard of this place before," I said.

"They prefer to keep a low profile and I don't blame them. Even still, every class is completely full, and they have a waiting list as long as your arm."

"It's really that bad out there?" I asked.

"You have no idea," he told me. "There's shit going on out there you can't even begin to imagine."

"And you were cheated on?" I asked. Then it hit me. "Did Adrestia cheat on you?" He laughed at that.

"No, but my first wife did. Adrestia helped put my life back together. In fact, she's incapable of cheating. She hates cheaters more than anyone I've ever met."

"So you weren't always the steely-eyed man of mystery you are now?" I asked jokingly. He smiled at that.

"No, I wasn't," he said. "I'm actually a certified public accountant by trade. Or at least, I was. And I was a damn good one."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I guess you could say it was a cliché of sorts. I came home from a tax seminar and found my wife with another man. To be more precise, they ambushed me before I could do anything. Drugged me, tied me to a chair, made me watch my wife fuck multiple men. They made demands of me -- demands I refused. So they beat me until I was unconscious, then dumped me at a hospital. And yes, my now ex-wife participated."

"Damn," I said.

"I was in a medically-induced coma for several days. They had to do reconstructive surgery on my face. That's when I first met Adrestia."

"And she helped you get through your divorce?"

"Yes, and much more. Do you remember the day we first spoke? I asked if you had ever used your abilities to defend yourself or get revenge. Remember that?"

"Yes, I do," I said.

"You told me how you took out Wheeler and his thugs, remember?"

"I remember that."

"Let's just say you're not the only one who's used what you've been given to end a man's life," he said as he looked straight ahead. "It's something you never forget. And yes, I've learned to live with it. And you wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I'd do it all over again. In a heartbeat," he said, glancing at me. I nodded my head in understanding. I knew exactly what he felt. He smiled before he continued. "So you see, Cameron Drake, I know exactly how you feel. And I'm here to help you deal with that."

"Does it ever go away? The memory? The guilt?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You know more about memories than I do. As you probably know, the memory never goes away. The guilt? Well, let's just say you learn to make friends with it and move on. Answer me this. Can you still look in the mirror and like what you see?"

"Yes," I said after a few moments.

"That's what matters," he said. Before long, Max turned off the main road and we drove up a narrow paved road that wound between the largest trees I had ever seen. After a bit, we came to a guard station where a uniformed man carrying an AR-15 stopped us. He checked our identification and radioed ahead. We heard something squawk back and the man handed our licenses back before opening the gate.

"Go on ahead, Mr. Burnage," he said. "The colonel is expecting you. Welcome to Camp Rollins."

"Thank you," Max said. We drove on up and found ourselves in what looked like a military base camp. The place looked immaculate. Wooden buildings surrounded the large paved central area, where a formation of men in t-shirts and camouflage trousers engaged in close-order drill. A large man wearing khaki and a campaign hat marched next to them, calling out cadence.

Max parked the car in front of what was obviously the camp headquarters. We got out of the car and walked inside, where we were met by an attractive blonde receptionist.

"Good to see you, Max," she said as she stood up.

"Good to see you again, Joni," Max said. "Is the Colonel available?"

"He sure is, and he's expecting you. By the way, I have your card keys right here, so don't forget them," she said.

"Thanks, we won't," Max said. She escorted us to an office and announced our presence to a man wearing a khaki uniform. I noticed the silver oak leaves on his collars. He looked up at us, then stood and shook Max's hand.

"Max, how are you?" he asked with a smile. "I'm glad you were able to make it up here on such short notice."

"My pleasure, John," Max said. "This is my associate, Cameron Drake," he added. "He'll be taking point on the inquiry." John extended a hand, which I accepted. I sensed nothing but complete honesty and concern for the people in his charge, so I didn't feel a need to download his memories.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drake," John said.

"And you as well, Colonel," I said. He smiled at that.

"Please, call me John," he said. "I sure hope the two of you can help Mr. Nelson get some closure."

"We'll do our best, John," Max said.

"I know. That's why I reached out to you," John said. "Gunny Rob will be here in just a minute. He'll escort you to the training and services building. So, Max, you've grown so much you needed to hire some help?"

"I can always use help," Max said. We all chuckled at that. Just then, a stocky man in a khaki uniform and campaign hat came into the room. I noticed the sergeant-major insignia on his collar and his name tag read, "Roberts."

"Max, you old dog," the new man said as he shook Max's hand. "Good to see you. How's it hanging?"

"Doing great," Max said. "You?"

"Hell, if I was any better they'd have to pay me," he said. "And who is this?" he asked, looking at me.

"Cameron Drake," I said, extending my hand. "I'm working with Max on this case."

"Good to meet you. Alan Roberts. Senior Instructor here. Everyone just calls me Gunny Rob. I hope you two can get this squared away," he said.

"That's the plan," Max said.

"Well, Nelson is waiting for you, so why don't you come with me and we can get started," he said.

"Sounds good," Max said. We said our goodbyes, got the card keys from Joni, and headed out, stopping at the car so I could grab my laptop bag. We talked on the way to the training and services building, where Nelson awaited our arrival.

"So, what is it you do here, Gunny Rob?" I asked.

"Well, we take guys who've been fucked over by their cheating spouses and help them turn their lives around. Me? I'm just one part of the process. I'm here to make sure these men get the best training possible."

"I get the feeling you were in the service," I said.

"Yep," he said. "United States Marine Corps. Retired. Had planned on spending the rest of my life hanging out, fishing and hunting, but the colonel recruited me and I've been here ever since. In fact, all of the employees here are veterans. Even the receptionist."

"You take your work here very seriously, don't you?" I asked. He stopped and looked me straight in the eye. I didn't need to probe his mind to realize I had struck a nerve.

"You have no idea, Mr. Drake," he said calmly. "To the outside world, these men may be nothing but wimps and cuckolds to be used, abused, and tossed in the garbage like dog shit. They're not just students to me. They're men. Their only crime is they loved and trusted someone else too much. And for that, they've been made to suffer. It's my job to put them back on their feet so they can walk out of here with their heads held high."

"I understand," I said. "More than you know." He looked at me for a moment before nodding his head. He turned and we continued walking to the training and services building. When we got there, he turned to us before opening the door.

"Company policy requires me to sit in on your interview," he said. "Remember, Mr. Drake, this man is my student. I expect you to treat him with respect."

"I intend to," I told him. He opened the door and escorted us inside. We went down a hallway and entered a room. A man sporting an extremely short haircut stood to attention as we entered. Another uniformed man stood up as well. Like Gunny Rob, he also wore a khaki uniform topped off with a campaign hat. Sergeant chevrons were pinned to his collars and his name tag read, "Johnson."

"As you were," Gunny Rob said. The sergeant adopted a more relaxed posture but remained standing. The student, who I assumed was Joe Nelson, remained at attention, his eyes staring at a point on the opposite wall.

Gunny Rob sat next to Johnson and Max took one of the two seats across from Joe. I set my laptop bag down and extended my hand.

"Relax, Mr. Nelson," I said. "I'm Cameron Drake. This is Max Burnage. We're here to get your story." The man relaxed and accepted my hand. I felt the shock that indicated his memories had started the download into my mind. When it finished a second or two later, I released his hand and sat down. "Please, Mr. Nelson, have a seat. Relax."