The Long Count by JM Gulvin Page B

my dad on the phone he told me Ish had been moved to a place called Trinity. I never got to see him the last time – he was still in the hospital in Houston – and I didn’t know about this other one, not till I spoke to Dad.’ His eyes were pinched, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘I had no idea there’d been a fire. I went down there and found the hospital in the woods like Dad said, but it was deserted, all burned up. I spoke to the caretaker, an old Mexican guy who told me the whole place went up and everyone had to be evacuated.’
    ‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s pretty much how it was.’ Beale looked a little tentative. ‘It was six weeks ago now. The fire took hold very quickly though nobody seems to know what set it off.’
    ‘What happened to the patients?’ Isaac asked. ‘The caretaker said they were moved to other hospitals. He told me some of them came here and I ought to talk to you. He said that if Ish wasn’t here you’d be able to tell me where they sent him.’ He looked up, a hopeful expression on his face. ‘Is he here, sir? I’d really like to see him.’
    Beale seemed to think about that. Picking up his pen he made another note then replaced the pen on the desk. ‘Your last tour, you say? You’re home for good now then, are you?’
    Isaac nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Home for good, though if truth be told I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.’ He let a little air escape his cheeks. ‘I guess it’s always like that for someone who knows they’re going home. They tell you ahead of time and it’s all you can think about and yet you’re still out on patrol.’ Hunching a little forward in the seat he gestured. ‘Everybody tells it the same. As the time gets close you just get more and more nervous. It’s on your mind, how if you step in the wrong place or duck the wrong way …’ He broke off for a second then he said, ‘That last fire-fight … Just after they said I was coming home we were on the march – six hundred of us on the road about sixty miles north of Saigon. I kept telling myself it would be all right, how my number wasn’t up and I was going to stay lucky. But then we came to this clearing and there they were there, waiting where we couldn’t see them. Hidden in the sawgrass, they let go with everything they had, and all I could think about was avoiding bullets, leave alone firing back.’
    ‘Sawgrass?’ the doctor said.
    Isaac nodded. ‘Thick as a wheat field, reaches right to your waist.’ Again he looked at the floor. ‘I was walking the point, the tree line just ahead, and we could see nothing for all that grass. I guess they let go with heavy machine guns, ripped into us like you wouldn’t believe. Thirty-one dead and a hundred and twenty-three wounded. We killed a hundred and seventy Vietcong, dug in real deep and waiting for back-up, and finally they sent in air support. Anyway,’ he said, looking up, ‘that’s all done with now,thank God. Ishmael, sir, my brother: I really need to see him.’
    Beale’s expression was fixed. ‘I’m afraid you can’t. He’s not here. The fact is not all the patients at Trinity were accounted for, and I’m sorry, but one of those was Ishmael.’ He watched as Isaac’s features stiffened. ‘We’re missing seven patients in all right now and until we have the final report we won’t know how many bodies were actually recovered. It’s not an easy identification process because with the way that fire took hold, the intensity of the heat, there wasn’t much left.’ He was staring intently across the desk. ‘I’m sorry, but your father will know more. I imagine the investigators have been touch.’
    He watched from the window as the Jeep took Isaac back to the gates. Brow a little sweaty, he plucked a key from the top drawer of his desk. On the far wall a picture of Sigmund Freud dominated the office. Taking it down Beale revealed an inset safe. Two shelves holding various reels of tape in cardboard boxes, they