Fear Assignment: The Enemy Within

The Enemy Within

Schimidt pulled his long legs from under his computer console and gave them a stretch. Withdrawal from his favorite mental obsession greeted him with distress as it always did when he had to exit cyberspace. The chair squeak spinning on its axis as he rose to proceed to his bedroom.

He listened. Only birdlike sounds from his backyard that reminded him of the whistles the VC used in the jungles of Viet Nam.

The wide double closet doors jolted him with a staccato burst from their bottom scraping the floor’s aluminum footing. He decided his fatigues with the large side pockets coupled with his superstitious ‘Trust In The Lord’ stocking cap would give him the best possible protection on this operation.

He extracted a crinkly piece of paper from his left shirt pocket and looked over his shoulder. Satisfied there was no way the enemy could see him, he folded it into little squares and hid it in a hidden flap sewn into the jacket for occasions just like this.

He entered the bathroom and left the door open. The mirror showed a prematurely aged face checkered with colored blotches. He thought the patches were growing more and more definitive with time.

He disrobed and threw his clothes on a pile in the floor. The hot shower water was a tranquilizer to his nerves. A mental picture of his thirteen-year-old boy Bobby reestablished his commitment to take these necessary risks.

Water dripped off his body as he exited the shower forming an untidy pool on the floor. He dried himself as fast as he could, donned his outfit, and wiped up the offending puddle.

He could meet resistance upon opening the front door. He turned the knob, inched it open, and peeked out the door.

‘Good’, he thought. ‘No sign of the enemy.’

The path to his vehicle was lined with evidence of their former presence. Empty canisters, cigarette butts, and ration bags lay along its sides.

He greeted his khaki green jeep with affection. Climbing in,the front seat felt familiarly worn and the operational control panel reassured him. The seat adjacent to his provided cover as he dug out the secret directives from their hidden compartment.

‘Dear Mr. Schmidt. It has come to my attention that your son Bobby may be experiencing abnormal personality development. Can we discuss this Wednesday morning at 9AM?

Sincerely,

J. Harris, School Psychologist.
Midland Junior High.”