I heard it on the news, that there was a Free Palestine demonstration outside the gates of Arlington National Cemetery just before Memorial Day.  And then, the reporter’s description of the event that transpired, injected a frigid spike straight up my spine, then down again: They attacked an old man who lowered the Palestinian flag to the ground and incensed the crowd. They descended upon him, and from what we could see, he used his cane to beat several protestors unconscious before he was taken to the ground. Amazingly, another man wearing a beard and a Chicago Cubs baseball hat, ran into the crowd, knocking the protestors to the ground like they were thin pencils with legs, then he picked up the old man in his arms, and looked up, and suddenly the Blackhawk helicopters released some fast-roper soldiers who took both men away to parts unknown.  My god, this was an unbelievable scene with people laying on the ground crying in pain, some unconscious and then, why this old man?  Why? 

The reporter put a microphone to a well-dressed man in a suit who was surrounded by some straggling protestors: “Sir, do you mind me asking you some questions?”

“Sure”

“Who are you and what is going on here?  The people need to know.”

‘I am a lawyer with the ACLU, and I am representing some of these peaceful protestors who were viciously attacked today.  We will be filing lawsuits against the U.S. Government and the perpetrators of this crime.”

“The old man, you mean?”

“Yeah, the old man with Einstein hair.  He was a vicious animal to these innocent students.”

I fell to the floor, because my legs could not hold me any longer.  That had to be Ollie, my beer-drinking, all knowing hero and mentor!  Where did the helicopter take him?  Did he survive?  I grabbed a cold Guinness from the refrigerator and tried to collect my thoughts.  I looked up Arlington Virginia and the closest hospital was a civilian hospital, but I took a guess, that since these were Blackhawks, sent by the military to pick up only two men, then, they must have flown in him to Walter Reed Army medical center, and google says it is only 19 miles away.  Had to be Walter Reed!  I stopped drinking, bought some tickets to Bethesda Maryland and took the midnight flight.

During the flight, I couldn’t get that idiot lawyer’s words out of my mind:  The old man with Einstein hair was vicious.  Ollie, vicious?  No way.  He’s 103 years old you weak-dick libtard.  But he attacked because he was provoked and surrounded by no-brain pussies who have no idea what they were protesting. I rented a car and then parked in the parking garage at Walter Reed.   I quickly walked to the lobby registration desk and asked about my friend.   But it was then, that I realized that I never knew his last name.

“Excuse me Ma’am, I said to the front desk clerk.  I need to visit my friend.  His name is Ollie.”

“Ollie who?  What is his last name?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Can’t help you sir, without more information.  What is his date of birth?”

“Don’t know, sorry, he’s my friend but —”

“Sorry, can’t help you.”

“He was the old man, on the news, at Arlington, you know they —”

“Sir, we cannot discuss patient information, and I have no idea where this friend of yours is.”

“Thank you for your lack of help.”  I couldn’t believe I said that, but I knew he was a patient there, I just felt it, and I traveled all the way here for nothing, it seemed.  He had no other friends, except maybe, shadow men, and who else, I don’t know.  I walked back to my car, on the fifth floor of the parking garage, but in all the stress, I forgot I was on the fifth, and took the elevator to the fourth, then, walked up the stairs one more floor.  I exited the stairwell, then I heard behind me footsteps—but they were the clicks of heels, a woman’s heels, I didn’t look back, but Ollie taught me to listen to the cadence of the steps, and it would tell you a lot.  When I got to my car and unlocked the doors, she was behind me and said, “Dr. Carson, come with us.”

I was surprised someone at Walter Reed knew my name, and more surprised, that it was a tall brunette, wearing a well-fitting business suit and business heels, and her silky hair curled like a delirious waterfall of joy.   But she meant business.  Her Sig Sauer was in my back and well, that put a cold steel damper on my natural review of her physical appearance.

“Come with me.”

She led me to her black suburban with darkened windows, and she sat with me in the back seat, while her driver looked at me and said, “Hello Dr. Carson.”

She got right to business and said, “Carson, we know why you are here.  You are looking for Ollie.  But you need to know, you are now in over your head. You are a doctor and a writer, but you know nothing about what you are getting into.  I’m telling you now, it is best to stick with what you do best, but stay away from the old man”

“Who are you?”  I asked

“You don’t need to know.  Let’s just say we have mutual interests in Ollie.”

It’s then I remembered what Ollie told me at the bar: “Because of me, they will be watching you.”

“What’s your name, lady with the shiny gun?  Tell me, do you shoot doctors?”

“Only if they mis-behave.  You can call me Veronica.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I am pleased to meet you or not Veronica, but my guess is we will meet again.”

“Depends on what you do next, Carson. But I advise you to live your life, and stay away from Ollie if you know what’s good for you.”

It’s then that I realized that he was alive, probably doing ok and was a patient at Walter Reed.  Ollie taught me well.

© SRCarson Publications, 2024