***
Kaspar sat on the old wooden chair and wiggled his now numb ass around. The nervous energy remained, but the intensity of it dropped somewhat. This reminded him of the times when he would wait outside the principal’s office for beating up some punk kid who talked shit in the school yard. He remembered how his mother would have to leave work to talk with the principal. Growing up, his mother needed every job she had, and even lost a job once because of him.
The attempts to memorize his answers to their questions were abandoned long ago. He had been sitting out here so damn long that he did not care what they asked, he just wanted to get it over with. He told himself over and over again that this rebellion seemed to hurt for good men and, not that he was one, they would let anybody join at this point. Kaspar was about to abandon the chair and walk around when he heard the double doors open up. The look on Paxton’s face brought back the intensity of his nervousness.
“Your turn, kid.” Paxton said.
Kaspar stood up and walked through the double doors that Paxton held open. The old veteran let the doors shut. Kaspar thought this whole time that Paxton would be in there with him. Maybe coach him up or something. Wrong again.
He looked forward at the five sharp dressed men behind some desk on the stage. Kaspar looked down at his attire, his white tee and blue jeans, and felt out of place, like a fish out of water. He put up a cheap grin but nobody behind the desk smiled or said anything to him. The grin was lost and he stepped up to the podium.
“You must be Ryan,” Roberson said.
“Must be.” Kaspar replied.
“I’m…sorry.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“What brings you here?”
“I wish to join Paxton and his crew. Blow some shit up, you know?”
Kaspar heard a laugh and looked over to the older gentleman, Olyphant. He gazed into the old man’s eyes and wondered if it was genuine or mockery.
“Blowing shit up is not what we specialize in here.” Olyphant said.
“And, who are you?” Kaspar asked.
“Nicholas Olyphant. But, I think the better question is who you are.”
“I’m a nobody who wants to be a patriot.”
“Oh, that’s bull, son. Bullshit. You want nothing but to avenge your mother’s death, am I right?”
“Listen, Mr. Olywhateverthefuck, I’m here to stop that from happening to anyone else.” Kaspar almost believed his own lie.
“You little shit. Nobody talks to me that way.”
Kaspar held out his wrists, “I just did. You going to arrest me, now?”
“No, but I’ll make damn sure that you never…”
“Nick, cool it.” Blackman said. “You ever been in combat before, Mr. Kaspar?”
“No, sir, not really.”
“Then, you don’t know what it takes to succeed in a combat situation?”
“Not yet, sir. But I can learn…I’m eager to learn.” Kaspar replied.
“I’ll bet you are,” Blackman replied. “But there are certain things that you cannot teach like instinct and ingenuity.”
“Put a gun in my hands and I’ll give you ingenuity.”
“You’ve got spirit,” Roberson said. “I’ll give you that much. What is it that you really want? Be honest.”
“When I saw my mother dead…” Kaspar paused to swallow the lump in his throat. “I swore I would find those responsible. Not just for my own personal fulfillment, but so they couldn’t do it to anyone else. I watch the news, you know, I see the reports. I just never thought it would happen to me.” Very nice bullshit.
“Why,” Hayes asked, “didn’t you try and do something about this problem sooner?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was because I was…content with my life, I guess. I made some money…”
“Illegally,” Olyphant said.
“And, I suppose what you do is legal, right?”
“That’s different. We’re making a difference…trying to make a difference.”
“I made a difference to her. I made it to where she didn’t have to go out there with those trigger happy Agents and their prejudice against the elderly.”
“I guess what we’re tryin’ to figure out is whether or not you are a sleeper.” O’Leary said.
“Me?” Kaspar demanded. “A sleeper with the USR, are you kidding me? They killed my mother.”
“Maybe you used that as a way to infiltrate us.”
“You know what? You’re right. I gave in my own mother just so I could fuck around with you people. That’s exactly right, sorry to waste your time.”
Kaspar gave a fake salute and turned his back on The Committee. He was right. This was one giant waste of time that could’ve been spent out there or at the shooting range. It was a terrible idea, anyway. Kaspar did not care for this Committee or its snarky leaders. Just go on about your business and…
“Wait, Mr. Kaspar.” Roberson called out.
Kaspar turned and refaced them. They all still had blank, expressionless faces that stared at him. What else did they have to say to him? They might as well blame Kaspar for his father leaving. Hell, just go ahead put all of the USR on his shoulders. He shook his head and returned to the podium.
“We like you, kid. Well, all of us except Mr. Olywhateverthefuck.” Roberson said and he chuckled. Olyphant’s face turned red as he stood and glared at Roberson. Kaspar wanted to give him the middle finger to top off the sundae.
“Like me?” Kaspar asked. He turned his head back to the table. “Why?”
“You’ve got spirit, like I told you. Sure, you’re, uh, people skills need some work, but you are all right, kid.”
O’Leary leaned forward, “Sorry about askin’ you all of those questions about your mother, but it had to be done.”
“That’s fine.”
“This,” Olyphant cried, “is an outrage! This little prick just showed a complete lack of respect for authority and you’re just going to…”
“Nick,” Blackman said.
“What?”
“Shut up.”
Olyphant’s dumbfounded face turned two shades darker. He stormed off the stage. His loud footsteps echoed throughout the empty room, as did the loud slam of the door. The loud echo of the door caused Kaspar to flinch, but his focus remained on the men. He hoped that one day he would run into Olyphant after The Committee kicked him out. Nobody to protect him then…
“Don’t worry about Nicholas, he’ll be fine.” Roberson said.
“Who said I was worried about him?” Kaspar asked.
“Listen, he’s right about one thing. You must show us more respect. However, you are in, that is, if you still want in.”
“Of course I do.”
“Listen to John,” Blackman said. “He knows what he’s talking about. He’ll make a soldier out of you, yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, please, don’t go and mess this up,” Roberson said. “We’re taking a huge risk with you…Mr. Paxton is taking a huge risk with you. We’d hate to see our cause jeopardized because of you.”
“I won’t let you down, sir.” Kaspar promised.
“Go on about your business. If you need anything, John knows how to reach us.”
Roberson shooed the newly christened rebel out of the room with his right hand. Before he turned to the exit, Kaspar saw the others huddle around each other. The sounds of low voices filled his ear drums. He wiped the perspiration off of his forehead as he walked for the door. Outside the Chamber, Paxton sat on the chair, his head nodded up and down.
“Wake up, old man.” Kaspar said.
Paxton’s head shot up. He looked left to right a couple of times to gain perspective on his surroundings. He was losing to old age. That old age took away his balance, instincts, and his warrior’s edge. Back in the killing fields of North Korea, there was no way in hell he would have fallen asleep like this.
“How’
d…” Paxton said, his speech interrupted by a deep cough. He cleared his throat, “How’d it go?”
“I’m in.”
Paxton stood and a look of shock matched with a sly grin filled his tired face. The kid did it, he actually pulled it off. He put on a full blown smile and stuck out his right hand. Kaspar embraced it. The two men shook hands for the first time.
“Welcome aboard, soldier.” Paxton said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, it’s time to meet Joe Young.”