Read Overrun for Free Online Page B

unless I found myself in that situation,"
Everson said slowly. "Nobody can."
    "That's what I'm talking
about, Jack."
    "Except maybe you."
    Kirken didn't answer. He reached
across the table to the counter where his clothes were being kept. He dressed
silently not looking at his friend.
    "I'm hearing there might be
legal repercussions for what you did yesterday," Everson then said to him.
"There are rumors that Wagner is going to jump all over you with charges
of troop endangerment, facility contamination and the like for bringing that
kid back."
    "He won't do it,"
Kirken said. "There were witnesses. If it even goes to court, I have
plenty of people that saw a United States soldier step over the wounded body of
a ten-year-old kid without even showing one thought of looking back.
    “He wouldn’t risk that being
brought up. Even if he did, I don't think it would even matter anymore."
    Everson looked questioningly at
Kirken but ignored his last comment.
    "I don't think the courts
are as sympathetic as you might think. At least not anymore. That ten-year-old
kid fired on dome troops. I don't think…"
    Kirken held up his hand to cut
him off.
    "You know John, you can get
in a lot of trouble for thinking and talking the way you do. Obligation to consider
that kid's life ceased the instant he picked up that gun and pointed it at your
squad."
    "No one ever saw him with a
gun," Kirken said lowering his legs into his pants and onto the floor.
"Not me. Not Wagner. The only thing anyone saw was that kid hitting the
ground. So close to Wagner he could have probably caught him. But that guy
didn't even look. In front of his own troops, all he could do was run. And you
know what? That's what those new troops are going to remember. That's what they
saw their commanding officer do."
    Everson walked to the other side
of the room and took a seat in a corner chair while Kirken continued to talk.
    "The only thing those
troops learned that day was that life on the outside is second-rate. Not
important. Well, what happens when that idea really spreads? What if it already
has? What happens when everyone in here finally decides it’s o.k. for those
people to die? What happens to them? What happens to us?"
    "I don't know, John,"
Everson said to him. "I really don't know."
    Kirken raised his arms and
tucked in his shirt. He looked around on the floor trying to find where he
kicked off his shoes.
    "What I do know, John, is
this. You've done everything in your power to bring your kids to come live here
with you."
    "That has nothing to do
with this," Kirken snarled doing nothing to conceal the effort it took to
keep his voice under control.
    "It has everything to do
with this, and you goddamn well know it," Everson shot back. Despite the
rising tone of his voice, he remained seated in his chair. "No one that I
know thinks like you. And no one I know has a situation like you do. It was
unfortunate and inadvisable for you to become involved with the people on the
outside. I said that then, and I say that now. But you went ahead and married
Deanna. You lived on the outside for awhile. You saw more than most of us will
ever see. And you were lucky enough to be allowed back. But life on the inside
and the out is too short for us to dwell on the bitterness of it. You can't
just give up hope."
    "I gave that up a long time
ago, Jack," Kirken replied somberly.
    Everson became quiet for a
moment. The only sound was the padded footsteps of the nurses shuffling outside
the door.
    "Well, then maybe you
shouldn't be working in here anymore. Maybe you belong with them out
there."
    "Yeah, maybe," Kirken
said walking past Everson towards the door. He pulled his coat from a hook, and
after putting it on, turned to look one final time at his friend.
    "John…"
    "You're right, Jack."
Kirken moved toward the door and wrapped his fist around its handle.
    "John, what you do here is
important. You don't have to be ashamed about coming back. Both your kids know
that you didn't