Double Vision--Part 2

by Phoebe Kersula

No wine untasted.

"Molly! " The clear voice of a youth no older than fifteen traveled over the water, and Molly ran to him, catching him in her arms. Kit came slower, languidly, observing the two, obviously enamored of one another as they spoke in tongues that lovers know best. He was loathe to break them apart, let them dream their dreams a little bit longer, but he knew he must. He tapped Molly on the shoulder, for he knew that young boys paid no heed. At least he wouldn't have.

"Kit...! " She actually blushed a crimson color! Kit was amused, to say the least. And not much tended to amuse him these days. Caught up in the moment, Molly blurted "This is Xavier. Xavier, Kit Cloudkicker. "

Xavier, slightly flustered, shook Kit's hand. "K-Kit Cloudkicker? " He stammered. Kit acknowledged the awe in the youth's tone, flattered. "Pleased t' meet you! " He looked at Molly with stars and perhaps a tiny sliver of reproach in his eyes. "Molly never mentioned she knew you, Mr. Cloudkicker sir. "

"Yeah, well, it's not really important. "

"Not important! " The spotted bear looked like he was choking. "Not important?! Why, you're a hero! You came back--" Xavier went on, unaware he'd made a faux pas. Yeah, I came back. But not everyone did. Kit thought, smile prominent, eyes full of the memory of war.

When Xavier came back to reality, Molly was gently tugging at his sleeve. She turned to Kit. "I'll see you later, " she stated, and Xavier followed her stupidly, worshipfully, not realizing the power the girl had over him.

Kit stood in the doorway of Louie's, feeling like a third wheel. Man, you go to war and they change everything on you. He didn't recognize half the pilots, and there were even a few female pilots lounging around. One he recognized as Ernie Marshman's former WASP girlfriend, Fiona. She did not return his gaze, just continued staring vacantly across the room until a burly tiger, handsome in a rough-and-tough way, sat down next to her. But she did not smile.

"Li'l Britches, you made it! " Baloo bellowed from across the room, the large gray bear lumbering over to greet his surrogate son and former navigator, obvious pride shining in his eyes. "Louie! A special drink for the hero of Cape Suzette here!"

"Krakatoa Special comin' right up, cuz! " The orangutan propetier sang from behind the counter, hands and feet flying to mix and match quickly, lighting the sparklers with finesse, everything as usual. Well, at least some things never change. "What's that, Kit my man? "

Kit jumped slightly, not having realized he'd thought aloud. "Nothing. Can I have that 'Special now? "

"It's all yours. " Louie handed him the sparking coconut half-shell cup, and before Kit could dig in, Baloo clapped him on the shoulder and announced: "Three cheers for our hero! "

"Hear, hear! " Someone called, and Kit, with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, recognized it as Xavier.

"Please, Papa Bear. I'm not a hero. " Kit insisted, but to no avail. Coconut ha' shells were lifted into the air, and a hearty cheer went up. "No! I'm not a hero! " Kit's protests were lost in the din. Baloo slammed his own shell into Kit's, the contents of his own Krakatoa Special sloshing over the sides, must like his errant enthusiasm. Only Louie heard the young man's protests, and he yelled for quiet, but the crowd was beyond listening, too wrapped up in their own patriotism to notice, each coming forth to shake Kit's paw heartily and with gusto. Hero...hero...hero... the word spun in Kit's mind dizzily. Somehow, he was on someone's shoulders, and they carried him around the club, cheering and tossing him into the air. Then he was back to his former spot, where they all regarded him from expectant eyes. "I'm not a hero. " Kit said, and slammed his Krakatoa Special down onto the counter, where obnoxious cracks erupted down the sides. "I'm not a hero! "

"Whatsa matter, Li'l Britches? " Baloo asked in a low voice, To the crowd he said: "He's just bein' modest. Aren't ya, Kit? "

"I'm not thirsty anymore. " Kit stated in a flat voice, exiting curtly, without regard for the whispers that followed him, nor the sudden hurt in Baloo's eyes. The cup rolled over on it's side, and 'Special began to ooze out.

May, 1944

The girl regarded him from cool gray eyes, hefting up the enemy's gun with a resolution in her orbs, and, toeing the rapidly cooling bodies, spoke rapidly in German. Kit shook his head, to indicate that he did not understand, but also because he could not stand to hear the language of the enemy coming from his self-appointed ally. She bit her lip in consternation, and reverted back to the stilted English from before. "Ve steal clothes. They are not needing anymore, nein?" It was then that he noticed that her dress was dark with blood, grime, and...something else. It was a ragged dress, surely not meant for traveling, nor were her shoes. Perhaps she had escaped from a mental hospital, that was why her clothing was numbered, right? ...Right. Kit stared at her in horror as she began to undress the smaller of the two. Why, up close one could see he was but a boy! Younger than him, even! He felt his stomach heave. He could see the hole where the bullet had passed through the skull, black with blood. He dropped to his knees and vomited into the tall grass. When he arose, the girl stood there, gun impassively in hand, running a hand through her black hair neatly, efficiently. She was taller than he had first thought, or maybe that was because the soldier's boots had built-in heels. No doubt, it was that. Why, she wasn't more than a scant day over seventeen, if he was any judge! She smiled nervously at him as if searching for approval, and he noted that she had an endearing habit of nibbling her lower lip. "It'll be okay, " Kit assured her. "We'll make it. "

"Vhere is...Americans? Uslandians? Ve go. " She informed him, pointing towards the abandoned jeep. "You--escaped POW. Me--guard. " You escaped--but from where? Kit thought, allowing her to nudge him with the gun, hoping her habits didn't include itching trigger fingers.

"I--I don't know...I was--am--a pilot, not a foot solider. I don't even know where we are. " The girl rolled her eyes, but Kit continued. "And you, who are you?" She stared at him quizzically. Apparently English wasn't her best language. Well, no kidding. Kit made the appropriate accompanying hand motions. He tapped his chest. "Me, Kit Cloudkicker. Pilot. "

"Kiih--Keet--Kurrt--" she tried, stumbling over pronunciation.

"No, Kit. Try it. " Kit instructed, shaping his name slowly with his lips.

"Kiht Cloudkiihcker. Pilot. " She grinned at him, and pointed to herself. "Heidi Nikoleckly. Sch--Swing kid. Schwingen--Swing Heil! " Then she jabbed him again with the gun, and steered him towards the waiting jeep.

"Swing Heil, " Kit repeated, as if he understood, but he did not.