Chapter 5: Troubles

A commotion and strident voices outside, enticed everyone but Lieutenant Halke to investigate.

A first sergeant and two corporals, plainclothes military police, were holding irate “citizens,” in the town center square. Plainclothes may be a misnomer as they were dressed like extras in a cowboy movie, complete with revolvers in quickdraw holster rigs. One corporal carried a lever action carbine and the other, a double barreled shotgun. Period pieces. All three wore MP arm bands.

“What’s the word, Top?” Olé the peacemaker inquired smiling, non-menacingly.

The first sergeant growled a vile inflected word. “Paparazzi!” He did not salute Lt. Cruz, but tugged at the brim of his Smokey Bear stetson. “Ma’am.” She nodded.

This was trouble, BIG trouble! There were no warning notices or signs anywhere to keep people out. They relied purely on remoteness. Now they were discovered. Lieutenant Cruz, Olé, and Doc were in uniform, and Olé had referred to the first sergeant as Top. Could it be anything other than a secret military base? Reporters aren’t stupid, most of them.

“Let’s get these folks over to the infirmary and out of the sun.” Doc suggested. “Move this,” she waved disparagingly at the custom all wheel drive dunebuggy, “over to the motor-pool. Cover it until it can be decontaminated.”

“Don’t touch my equipment! I protest this entire fiasco. I DEMAND to see your commanding officer!” An older man, from his demeanor, the boss, blustered at them.

Olé looked him up and down. “Sure! Understandable you would want to see the CO, but until the CO informs me he wants to see YOU? Nope! We don’t know you, but we will find out exactly who you really are, before you see the CO.” and pointed in the infirmary’s direction as a corporal drove away the souper dooper begadgeted dunebuggy.

“Top? Better to be safe than sorry. I suggest you and your men go to decontamination rather quickly.” Olé liked the gambit Doc had implicated and pointed at the NCO club as the impromptu ersatz “decon” center. Top liked THAT idea! Top looked doomed, but saluted and mumbled, “Yes Sir!” his way of signaling he understood the ploy and would brief the corporals. Olé wasn’t wearing sleeve insignia, just collar badges. Resembled those that officers wear.

Olé acknowledged and returned the salute. “Good man!” overplaying the part. Earned him a double take and a lopsided pinched grin from Top. Accompanying the dejected corporal, Top walked sadly toward the club to be “decontaminated.” Olé steered the paparazzi reporter team to the infirmary. Doc helped herd.

Once inside the infirmary, the “guests,” Warren Norman and company, were cajoled into surrendering their “contaminated” clothes for hospital split-back gowns, and unctuously assured that EVERYTHING would be done to save them from the BAD bacterial infection threatening their lives. They were put to bed and sedated. Their doors, locked.