When A Warrior Comes Home Read online

  Butch sniggered, then laughed; Mike joined in; Brian caught it, too. The women remained solemn-faced. Rosa’s eyes brimmed with tears. Sarah’s gaze locked on her husband. When the men’s knee-jerk hysterics faded, the table fell silent long enough to create distance between them all.

  Finally, Mike said, “But, you’re right, Rosa. Brian here, Nerdman to his friends,” Mike gave Brian a friendly arm-punch, “saved our asses.”

  Butch said, “No shit, dude. Did you see the trailer the next day?”

  Brian nodded. A draft from the ceiling fan chilled his face. He remembered the burned-out shell—nothing but ashes.

  Rosa gave Brian’s arm a tiny squeeze before she withdrew her hand. “Thank you both, anyway, for Butch.” Where she’d touched him, his skin pulsed.

  “So, Brian,” Mike said, lifting his voice, shifting the focus, “how’s VCOM?”

  Brian shook his head. In a voice still deadened by memories of the blackened trailer he said, “Canceled—lack of funds.”

  Mike’s head pivoted. His eyes widened and his neck and cheeks flushed. Brian eased back in his chair. The man looked as though he was about to come across the table, to strike out, to explode. He roared, “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!”

  “Heh, dude, watch the language—ladies present,” Butch snapped.

  Mike shouted at Brian, spittle spraying. “The demonstration was perfect. This is asshole Swain’s fault. He fucked up, didn’t he?”

  Butch’s right hand snaked out, and he grabbed Mike’s wrist. Knuckles blanched from the pressure he was exerting, he spat words from between tight lips. “My wife is at this table, soldier. Mind your mouth.”

  Switching the focus of his anger, Mike glowered at him.

  Sarah jumped from her seat. Her chair scraped backward and tipped over, clattering to the floor.

  A group of women standing close by edged farther into the bar. The bartender craned his head to see over the crowd. With one hand on Mike’s shoulder and the other on Butch’s, Sarah said, “Come on, guys. Don’t bring the war home.” She smiled at Butch and waited.

  “Sorry,” Butch said. He released his grip, leaving white finger marks on Mike’s skin.

  Brian stood. His hand trembled as he retrieved Sarah’s chair. He’d spent six months with these men in a combat situation and never once seen them come close to blows. Sarah threw him a thank-you smile and sat.

  Into the silence hanging between Mike and Butch, Brian said, “It wasn’t Swain. He recommended continuing the project. The appropriations committee voted him down. They balked at the cost of the production version, especially in light of the planned troop reductions.”

  Sarah asked, “What will you do next, Brian?”

  “Ha. That’s a one-hundred-thousand-dollar question.”

  Mike stared at the table. Butch still had eyes locked on the top of Mike’s head. The danger hadn’t passed.

  “What do you mean?” Sarah raised her eyebrows and flicked a look at the two warriors. She wanted him to change the tone.

  “Well, on Tuesday, I showed the LightCube to Adam Barnes.”

  That got Mike’s attention. “The GameSoft whiz-kid?”

  “The same. I went to their offices yesterday to discuss a potential business cooperation. They’re interested in licensing the LightCube for one of their games.”

  Butch stopped glaring at Mike, reached across the table, and thumped Brian’s back. “That’s great news, dude. Heh, don’t forget your poor army buddies when you move onto millionaires’ row.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Brian said.

  “Which game?” Mike asked.

  “A new one, 3D, scheduled for release in a couple years.”

  “Cool.”

  The tension had lifted. Sarah smiled, and Brian thought she winked at him, although he couldn’t be sure. He laid his hands flat on the table. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s a no go, I’m afraid.” Brian recognized the look that passed between Butch and Mike. To these men of action, he was brains heavy, but balls light. He spoke quickly, determined to prove them wrong. “Come on, guys. It’s not that I don’t want to. Hell, this could be the biggest break of my life. But the US Army owns the rights to the device we used in Iraq. I have to start over with the primitive version I had before VCOM, and I can’t afford to build what GameSoft needs. I’m going back Monday to ask Adam to hire me as a contractor to do the work.”

  “Well, that is a more secure approach. Isn’t it?” Rosa said.

  Mike slapped the table. “Except GameSoft will own the controller, right?”

  Brian nodded and delivered a watery smile. He didn’t want to talk about this. He wouldn’t have mentioned it if Sarah hadn’t begged with those big blue eyes. Crap.

  “How much do you need?” Mike asked.

  “Like I said, it’s a one-hundred-thousand-dollar question.”

  Mike looked over at Butch, who gave a small nod. “What if we could raise the money?” Mike asked.

  Rosa’s face switched from calm to alarm. Her voice lifted an octave. “We don’t have that kind of money.”

  Mike waved an arm to the room. “I’ll wager every guy in this bar plays video games, and they have more money than you’d think, especially the ones returning from overseas. Most of them lock away the hazard pay they receive while they’re deployed. Can’t spend much in Camp Liberation anyway, right, Brian? And Sarah and me have equity in our home.” Mike stared at Sarah. Brian couldn’t read her expression. Intensely focused on her husband, her cheek twitched. She ran a hand through her hair.

  Brian’s ears and face were burning, and he knew they’d be beetroot red. “Guys, that’s… well… an estimate. In software there are no guarantees. Timescales always overrun. But I’m honored you’d even think this way. Thank you.”

  Sarah completed her visual examination of Mike and returned her attention to Brian. She tilted her head to the side. “Tell me about this LightCube?”

  Brian sipped his drink, and before he could speak, Mike answered for him, talking fast and using both hands. “You know how we hold the thumb controllers to play video games?” He mimicked the action.

  “Si,” Rosa said. She smiled at Brian and set his pulse racing again.

  “Well,” Mike said, “Brian has a better controller. It’s like a cube of light that projects from a tablet. He waves his fingers around and controls what the robot does. Or, for GameSoft, it would control the game so there’d be no need for the thumb controller.”

  “And you don’t need a screen,” Butch said. “The images project onto the inside of a pair of cool glasses. Right, Brian?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t understand—” Mike opened his mouth to explain further, but she held up her hand and stopped him. “I don’t understand, but if Adam Barnes only needed three days to decide, that means a lot.”

  Butch asked, “What did Barnes commit to?”

  “Not much. Access to his gaming software, and technical assistance with the interface. I have to create a working prototype before they’ll license the controller from me. Of course if that happens; once I have a contract with GameSoft, I’ll be able to raise funds for production. Or, they may go exclusive because it’d be a real market differentiator—a breakthrough, like Sony’s Wii.” Brian heard himself and realized he didn’t have a chance of accomplishing what he’d just described. “But, honestly, guys. I’m out of my depth here. I think it’s better to—”

  “I’d like to see this LightCube,” Sarah said.

  “Me too,” Rosa said. They all stared at him until he said, “Really? Okay. I can drive down with the demo tomorrow if you’re that interested.”

 

  They finished their drinks and walked as a group into the parking lot.

  The others had already driven off when Sarah started her car, but Mike grabbed her hand before she shifted. He leaned across and with one finger pressed to her cheek, he turned her to face him. The intensity in his eyes sent ants crawling through her s
tomach.

  “Sarah, I love you more than life itself. You gave me Daniel. You gave me Christopher. You’re a perfect wife to me, a perfect mother to my boys. I can’t explain why I’ve behaved like I have since I got home. But it stops here. I’d like to start over. If you’ll allow me.”

  When she arrived at the bar, Mike had apologized for his behavior, but she couldn’t tell if he was talking or the booze. Now she was sure. And something snapped. From deep within her came an involuntary wail. A piercing sound fermented from the pain and fear and confusion she had contained, held back, bottled up since Christmas: all the excuses she’d made to the children after Mike’s emotionally distant Skype calls, all the anguish she’d hidden when he came home, screamed at her boys and disrespected her parents. Her walls broke and grief burst through and she flung both arms around her warrior’s neck and clamped on, hanging from him as though he were a lifesaver in a hurricane. Headlight after headlight from cars leaving the parking lot raked the windshield and played against her closed eyelids, and still she held tight.

  When she finally released him, his cheeks were wet with tears.

  Mike straightened in his seat.

  Head bowed, chin on his neck, he whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter 12

  The following morning, while Christopher helped Sarah prepare Sunday breakfast, Mike sat with Daniel in the living room and apologized for his behavior since returning from Iraq—the talk was Mike’s idea. After ten minutes, they came into the kitchen. Mike, arm looped over his son’s shoulders, said, “Are we ready to feed this growin’ boy?” Sarah smiled. The house was a home again. Last night, in bed, she and Mike had made love. Her man had been passionate but also careful to see to her needs, and afterward she’d fallen asleep nestled in his arms, safe, secure, and sated.

  After breakfast, the kids went to play and left her and Mike, sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Should I call your folks?” he asked.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. They understood that you were tired and stressed after the long trip from Germany. But thanks.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. Mike smiled and seemed calm, but she wondered how he might react to her next suggestion. I can’t live life in fear of sending him into a rage.

  Sarah took a deep breath. “What do you think of me asking Pop for advice about the LightCube investment?” She waited, stomach clenched, steeled for another angry outburst.

  “Good idea,” Mike said. “I think Brian’s technology is amazing, but you’re the accountant, and Pops has run his plumbing business for thirty years. It can’t hurt to get his opinion.”

  Before Christopher, Sarah had worked full time in Fayetteville General Hospital’s finance department. She still filled in occasionally when they were shorthanded. When Mike welcomed Pop’s input, it increased her confidence that the considerate, supportive man she had sent to Iraq was finally home.

  Sunday afternoon, Brian brought the LightCube and swimming goggles to their house. Butch, Rosa, and Noe joined them in the living room, and the adults took turns driving the Mario demonstration. Even Christopher tried, squealing with delight when Mario danced to the beat of his fingers. It proved impossible to pull Daniel away.

  How much Brian’s project had helped to snap Mike out of his funk, Sarah couldn’t tell, but perhaps her man needed to see a way forward that didn’t involve him being the breadwinner in the US Army. When deployed, he shouldered a huge responsibility. And the staff cuts weighed on his mind. They’d even discussed not re-enlisting this summer.

  Pulling equity from the house to invest in a software project was risky, but Mike admired and trusted Brian. Others made big money in technology. Heck, some were just kids—why not her and Mike? One thing was for sure, if Daniel’s response was any barometer of success, Brian’s LightCube would sweep the nation.

  Brian was teaching Daniel a few nuances of the device when Sarah said, “Brian, can you excuse us for a few minutes?”

  A doubtful look crossed Brian’s face when he saw his potential backers leaving. “Sure. I’ll be fine here.”

  She led Butch, Rosa, and Mike into the kitchen, and they hunkered around the table. “Well?” Sarah said.

  No one answered. Then Mike and Rosa both spoke at once. Mike waved for Rosa to go ahead.

  “I think it’s magical,” she said.

  Sarah grinned. “I felt I was inside the game, not sitting on a couch controlling it. Butch, what about you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s nowhere near as good as the version Brian had in Iraq. How do we know he can improve it?”

  Butch’s flat affect and dull voice tempered Sarah’s enthusiasm. “We’ll ask him how long it’ll take. But, Butch, don’t you think if we showed this to the guys in the unit they’d be impressed?”

  “I guess.”

  Rosa chucked her man under the chin. “Don’t mind Grumpy. He got outta bed on the wrong side.”

  “The device he had in Iraq was way better,” Mike said, “but Brian explained he had to start again from the original code. Rosa and Sarah have only seen this version and you’re impressed, right?”

  They nodded. “Okay, we’re agreed on the technology,” Mike said. “Sarah talked to her pop this morning and got pointers about equity. Everyone okay with her taking the lead?”

  All three stared at her, and Sarah’s heart played out a fast drum beat. Saying you will do something and doing it, are very different things. But if they took this leap, she couldn’t put the burden of responsibility on Mike. He had enough to deal with. “Okay,” she said. “Bring him in.”

  Sarah and Rosa organized coffee, and Mike pulled Brian from the other room. They sat around the kitchen table with a plate of cookies between them. Sarah unfolded a page of notes she’d made while on the phone with her dad. “Brian if we can fund this project to the tune of one hundred thousand dollars. What will the money be spent on?”

  He reddened and cleared his throat. His left eyelid fluttered. Brian was thirty-five, Mike’s age, yet he acted like a nervous schoolboy. Rosa had confided that she thought him cute—not Sarah’s type, though, too skinny and cerebral.

  “Well, I plan to work full time on the project. I’m talking sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. I have to eat and pay my bills. Unfortunately, I blew my savings on a condo in Raleigh.” His face glowed red. His neck was blotched like a map. “Believe me, guys, if I’d known GameSoft was happening, I’d still be living in my cheap and cheerful one-room rental. And I didn’t expect VCOM to be canceled. I assumed… Well you know what I assumed.”

  Mike tapped Brian on the shoulder. “We understand. You need to deal with the situation at hand, not the one you wish was here, right?”

  Brian nodded. “So I estimate three thousand a month to gas the car, pay the bills, and buy food. I won’t have any business costs because I’ll work at GameSoft’s offices.”

  Sarah asked, “How long will it take to build the LightCube?”

  “Four to six months.”

  Sarah jotted a figure. “That’s eighteen thousand dollars operating expenses. And the rest?”

  “That’s for the fabricators to build a new LightCube and heads-up display. Adam Barnes wasn’t too impressed by my swimming goggles.” A smile crept into the edge of his mouth.

  Rosa laughed aloud. “Oops. Sorry!” she said. “They are kinda clunky.”

  Brian raked fingers through his hair. “I plan to contract with the same company that built the army’s version, but I can’t use the VCOM design specifications, so I have to recreate them. Militec spent two hundred fifty thousand to create the equipment I used in Camp Liberation.”

  “Wow!” Mike said.

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “So how come yours will be so much cheaper?”

  “Partly because everyone overcharges the US Army, but mainly because they’ve built the LightCube before.”

  Sarah frowned. “But you can’t use that work.”

  “Right, but imagine you w
rote a report then had to reproduce it a few months later. Second time would be easier and faster. Same thing applies for the hardware manufacturers. The build will be quicker and cheaper. As Rosa pointed out, the swimming goggles are the biggest obstacle. I asked George—he’s my opposite number at Militec—and he felt sixty to eighty thousand would be enough. By the way, George wants to participate if there’s equity available.”

  “He runs Militec’s software development division, right?” Sarah asked.

  Brian said, “George is chief technology officer.”

  Sarah glanced at Mike and widened her eyes. He nodded back at her, clearly thinking the same thing she was--if the head of tech at Militec wanted in, that was a huge positive.

  “Okay, Brian.” Sarah fixed him with a businesslike stare. “Now for the one-hundred-thousand-dollar question. How much equity are you offering your investors?”

  Brian smiled. “When my dad was alive, he had a saying: ‘One percent of something is always more than a hundred percent of nothing.’” Brian opened his palms face up on the table. “I’m not a businessman, but I am a terrific hacker. I know how this technology should be developed, so I won’t give up control. But, you’re taking a risk, and I’m honored you are. How about thirty-three and a third percent?”

  Sarah fired back, “Why not forty-nine percent? That’ll still give you control.”

  Mike’s head snapped up. Rosa’s mouth dropped open. The kitchen fell silent. A car horn sounded outside.

  Brian took a few seconds before he answered. Face flushed and the tips of his ears bright red, he said, “I can’t bring money to the table. I wish I could. But I have spent ten years building what you saw today. In time and materials, I’ve got over three hundred thousand dollars invested. And don’t forget, the thirty-three percent is founder’s stock. We’ll need a second round of funding after the prototype is ready. Venture capitalists will fight for a piece of the action once GameSoft commits. So in six months, your founder’s shares will be more valuable.”