"You remember Brian Peters?" Clark asked one Friday morning.

"Not really," Martha answered as she flipped a pancake, "but go on."

Jonathan lowered the newspaper to better listen.

"He was a couple years ahead of me. He graduated last year and joined the army. He's really loving it, and he invited me to check out the base he lives on over spring break to see if I might want to go that direction someday."

"You think going to a military base is the wisest place for you to be?" his mother asked.

"I know it might not be a possible career goal given the physical exams they require, but it's not like anyone's going to be giving me the third degree when I'm just visiting."

"I don't know," Martha said.

"With Pete gone, I need a distraction, a plan for my life, and it's not so far away and only for a week."

"You sure this has nothing to do with Whitney going into service?" Jonathan asked. "Are you trying to compete with his heroics in Lana's eyes?"

"No," he said perhaps a little too quickly. "This is something I want to do for me."

His parents looked at each other, doing some kind of silent communication, before reluctantly giving their consent.

"Okay," Jonathan said. "We can spare you around here for a week."

"Just be careful," Martha added. "And if you have to come home early because some new power is emerging, just do it. You can make your excuses later."

He smiled. "I will. I promise." His parents could be strict and rightfully worried about others discovering his origins, but they always gave him the freedom to find himself and for that he was thankful.

sss

"This is home," Brian said, spreading his arms out in a room full of bunk beds. Then he pointed to one in particular. "This will be yours for the week and the one on the end will be your locker."

"Thanks again for inviting me," he said, setting his duffel bag on top of the green blanket.

"I just remember what it was like to struggle through senior year with no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and I thought why not pay it forward. Give you a head start on your options. So what do you think so far?"

"The base is different from what I pictured in my head. It's almost like a mini town in here."

"Tell me about it. You can't beat watching a movie for three dollars. You should catch one while you're here. Well, I'll let you get situated while I go take care of something and then we'll had over to the mess hall for some grub."

"Sounds good."

Alone, he made quick work of putting everything in the locker. He really hadn't brought much.

He went over to the window to look out and saw a girl smoking between the narrow strip created between this building and the next one, the perfect hiding place. Something about her intrigued him, so he went outside to investigate.

"Can I find somebody for you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not even supposed to be over at the barracks." He could see why. She was obviously a civilian, and she was dressed in a way that might entice in her shorts and tank top.

"My guess is you're not supposed to be smoking either."

She grinned. "Guilty as charged. What are you doing here?"

"Visiting."

"Ahh," she said, taking in a slow drag as if she hadn't a care in the world despite her illicit activities. "Fresh off the farm, aren't you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You smell like hay."

He sniffed his sleeve. He'd been pretty sure he'd changed into a fresh shirt before he'd left.

"I'm kidding. I just hazarded a guess from your fashion sense or rather lack there of."

He was finding himself more annoyed by the second, and yet, the intrigue remained.

"You considering a military career?" she asked.

"Maybe," he answered. He swallowed as she moved in closer.

She stopped short and ground her cigarette out with her shoe. "Do yourself a favor, farm boy, and run while you still can."

As he watched the brunette's retreating form, he couldn't help wondering what the danger was that she was referring to: military life or herself? Irregardless, he had a feeling he hadn't seen the last of her.