Time Sensitive Target

Part 38 - Expect More, Pay Less

I was late to the appointment at the Naval medical centre, traffic congesting the bridge and freeway to a near gridlock. I wasn't looking forward to being poked and prodded again, or answering inane questions.

"How are you feeling?" Asked the nurse, in the pleasantly modern examination room. What did she want to hear?

"Fine," I lied. What else was I meant to say? 'I yo-yo between murderous rage, sheer terror, and absolutely nothing at all'. They would only insist on the anti depressants they'd already tried to push on me.

"Well that's good. It's really important you take your vitamins and eat well. After some time careful exercise is a good way to ease yourself back to full fitness. Your consultant will give you all that information, I'm sure," she carefully peeled back the dressing on the last wound across my wrist. "I think it's ok to leave this to the elements now, it's scarred a little but it looks nice and clean." I was fully healed, how miraculous. "Right, we'll just take your blood pressure and see you again in a few days."

The appointment was quicker than I'd expected, with minimal prodding. I'd banked on it taking up most of the afternoon, which meant less of the day to spend avoiding Jase.

"What are you going to do for the rest of the day?" The nurse asked cheerily, reading my mind as she inflated the monitor around my arm.

"Shopping," I mumbled.

"Oh- retail therapy, that's nice. Blood pressure is very low, we'll have to keep an eye on that. Just take things slowly. And you have a lovely afternoon," she peeled the band from around my arm and smiled warmly. I tried my best to smile back a little.

"Thank you," I stated quietly, and exited the room. Jase was waiting outside, standing opposite the door with crossed arms.

"All okay?" He asked. I nodded. "They took the dressing off?" His eyes darted to my wrist. I nodded again unnecessarily, he didn't need the confirmation.

We travelled north, away from the only two locations I'd been to. Vehicles crammed along the freeway, crawling along behind one another in a slow snake of traffic. Slowly but surely it seemed to ease a little, until our car also relieved the slew with a left turn into a huge parking lot for the superstore. 'Target' identified the building in large bold red letters; two obtrusive circles, one smaller inside the larger to illustrate it's namesake branding the building. I should have been excited. Under normal circumstances I would have been, there was something oddly intriguing about going to a supermarket in another country. What would you find there? What would be different? Instead, I felt nothing but dread. 

Jase at least didn't attempt further small talk. He turned the engine off and glanced to the TV in the back seat. Once all the doors were closed it wasn't noticeable at all, the windows were tinted in what I supposed was a standard CIA modification. I took a deep breath as we headed for the entrance, wondering why I was so anxious. This was no different to walking down the hall of the medical centre, after all. But it is. These are normal people. Civilians. No one here would understand. I needed to get out of my own head. I was glad of the occasional streams of consciousness, it reminded me that I did have free thought and that I was experiencing life. But in some sense it was a hell of a lot easier, albeit emptier, to go through the day entirely numb. 

I grabbed a large cart from the bay, walking forward with trepidation and Jase beside me. A member of staff at the entrance smiled happily and handed Jase a leaflet, which he glanced at and tossed into the trolley. 

"Shall we do the clothes first?" He said, as though I'd never been shopping before and it wouldn't have dawned on me that perishable items should be picked last. I aimed the cart towards a huge womenswear department, concentrating totally on the weight of the trolley and the physical exertion it took me to wield it in the right direction. Ignore the halogen lights. Ignore the wide expanse of space. Ignore the strangers everywhere. I weaved up and down aisles until I found the things I needed; leggings, joggers, jeans. Pyjamas were important, I needed something other than the tiny shorts I'd been supplied with. When I wheeled round to the underwear aisle, I hesitated. I'd never bought intimates with a man before, let alone one I wasn't intimate with. I'd have to actually speak.