A flask with a glow-in-the-dark bead in it was shook like a server's bell and the bead made a little Tinker Bell noise.  The woman took a sip, then held it in her mouth, and took a swig of coffee.  She swallowed.  "Better?" A woman named Anastasia asked.  The woman shook her head side to side and the false eyelashes unstuck from her eyelids.  "Now I am." 

     She turned and offered me both.  I waved that off with my pen and notebook. "Now.  Where were we?" I assumed she was asking me about the interview. The other woman realized she meant her.  "Well," she put her butt against a field-type-portable desk and pointed soft slipper'd toes and gloved hands with the glove finger tops cut off at a woodstove, "It's hard to say exactly," 

     "Why?" 

     Anastasia scooped a tea pot off the top of the woodstove and poured the steaming water over the coffee grounds.  The woman closed her eyes and smelled the air dreamily. She pulled a match out of a leather jacket pocket and struck it on the stovetop.  She'd produced a cigarillo to smoke and lit it so the small space would smell (i)like heaven on earth(i).  "So....you slept good?" 

     "Oh yes," the woman puffed an "O" that stayed complete until she stabbed at it with a pen and didn't quite cut it as much as sculpt it.  Then she casually accused Anastasia of saying, "I was up there?" 

     Anastasia sighed.  "I had to.  Someone called emergency services or something and people in de-bombing gear showed up.  The woman lightly patted the cigarillo out in a mini skillet ashtray.  "Was the director there?" 

  "I can't tell you that." 

  The woman turned quickly and grabbed Anastasia's shoulders and didn't shake her, but grasped at her sweater and said, "But you must!" 

  "I wasn't there."

   A slim cardboardy textured wood door opened.  The tall auburn-haired woman in a blouse and slacks lowered her head and stuck it through the opening.  "Lara, you may speak to Mr. Tim now." I didn't even know there was a door there. 

     Inside a man in a scrunched up "S" of a home-hospital bed had his whole right side in a cast and the plaster was also in an "S" shape.  Before I could say anything at all the woman held up her hand for me to hush.  "And you would like me to relay a message?" 

  The man's teeth were clenching bloodied gauze, he slightly nodded and said, "Yes." 

  "It was something like," she pulled a tiny homework notepad out of her shirt pocket, "Tell a Mr. McGaha," the man nodded, yes, yes.  She used a corner of sheet to wipe drool from the man's chin.  "What would you like me to tell him?" The man looked out a cracked pane of glass and it seemed like colors ran through his eyes instead of tears and he said, trying to swallow and speak, she put a quiet finger to his cheek.  He rubbed the red rash near the cast on his chest.  "I need a pencil." 

  "Now come with me," she brush-tugged my sleeve.

  She put the homework pad on the portable field desk.  "Have a seat ladies." All our knees were almost touching. She sighed but it wasn't worry, nor frustration.  "Who wants to go first?" 

  It was a loaded question.  I ventured, "Outside to smoke?" 

  "All smokers?"  We nodded.  "I'll go outside." 

  As soon as she did we lit up and Anastasia accidentally knocked the notebook off the desk.  The other woman took a drag and looked way slanted down through the false eyelashes. "Put that back on the desk will you, Lara?" 

  "Na-ah," but I reached down and picked it up just as her foot shot out and tried to kick it.  Then I went outside.

  From somewhere came voices, GO Gunner, GO Gunner!!  GO Riley, GO Riley!!  I pressed hard on my walkie collar, "I love you Gunner Gray."  The auburn-haired woman threw her cigarette down and started to run towards me waving the smoke away from her face so I could read her lips.  I'm GOING TO KILL YOU.  I stumbled back a few steps when I realized she was still coming at me, pointing, YOOOOOUUUU.  She grabbed at my collar but I hand blocked her like karate.  She pulled at my shirt collar harder and I started to try to pull away.

  I got away.  Around and around the little outlying building.  The man in the cast watched us going by.

  As the sun started setting I went to sit by her on a rock.  She threw her arms up, letting go.  "Do you want me to go away?" She sucked in a thin steady breath and shook her head no, almost imperceptibly.  "But tell me why you did that." 

  "Okay.  Are we on tape?" She reached out for my hand, and drew it to her heart.  "No.  You must trust ME." Her hand got caught in the short stem of wire I'd tucked into my watchband.  She held it up and asked me with her eyes, "What's this?" She stood up and looked down at me.  "I can and will explain." I took it back from her and showed her the multiple holes on my special walkie.  "This one was the one I spoke into.  It goes with a documentary of us." 

  "Us?" 

  "MY generation 

  "It's a different channel?" 

  "Cha.  You think I'm crazy or something?!"