DISCLAIMERS/WARNING: I suppose there will be blood shed and violence and name calling. It is an adventure after all. The main characters are unusual for so many reasons but chief among them is age and infirmity. My goal is to explore a population most media want to ignore. This story is in no way meant to mock or ridicule aging and illness. Instead, it is, by design, a celebration of the reward for endurance, the only reward promised for good behavior in the Ten Commandments, the goal we all work toward but are terrified of achieving…long life.

ENJOYING THE STORY?: Then, for goodness' sake, let me know p.phair@comcast.net

SOMETHING OLD BECOMES NEW: My site got a make over for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, and/or New Year. So let's celebrate something we have in common; our appreciation of stories for grown up at http://www.phair1.com/

FOR BOB, my own hero

# The Old Spies' Home

## Chapter Two

### by

## phair

"Time to strap on the guns again. Lock and load, let's rock and roll," Grandma grinned and grabbed the hand control draped over the arm of her recliner.

Robert stayed seated as a motor started to turn. Slowly, the chair Grandma was sitting in began to rise from it's base. The back and seat combined in an inverted effort to ease the old woman onto her feet. Grasping a hold of the metal walker in front of her, Grandma shook down the pant legs of her black jeans by stomping one sneakered foot and then the other. The hems of the pants grudgingly dropped below her swollen ankles.

"Damn neuropathy!" She complained.

Robert had kept a close eye on her feet while she was getting up. "Too much salt. You're puffy."

"Don't be ridiculous! They got me on all kinds of pills and the dullest diet ever dished up." Her fledgling lie began to unravel when Robert walked over to her chair. "What? Did I leave skid marks again?"

Her effort to distract him ended with him tugging a potato chip bag free from between the chair's seat cushion and armrest. She stared at it as he held it up. Irrefutable evidence hung out for all to see right before her eyes.

"Wonder how that got there," she muttered and bit her lip.

Robert raised both eyebrows.

Grandma tried to be relaxed under his close observation. "What? I don't spend all day in my room, you know. It could have been an aide or a housekeeper who sat in my chair to have their snack."

Robert waited patiently holding the package.

"Really, they could easily waltz right in here while I'm on my morning walk. Or during my midmorning recon. We might need to get me a better lock for the door what with national security hanging in the balance."

Robert was unmoved by her claim.

"Oh, awe, ouch!" She grimaced in feigned pain clutching the denim shirt over her heart. "If looks could kill, I'd be heading to Arlington to get planted by now! You caught me, okay? I had a bag of wise potato chips. Big friggin' deal!"

"It's a big deal," Robert said unsure of why his Grandma could not understand this concept. "If you eat salty stuff, you go to the hospital. I don't like visiting you at the hospital."

Grandma eyes narrowed and her lips pursed ready to make a comment but Robert continued talking.

"The hospital's scary. I don't like it there. Daddy never got to leave there." He thought a moment longer and added, “Hospital's smell bad too.”

Grandma let out a small gasp and her shoulders drooped. Her eyes moistened and she fought back her tears. It took her several tries to say what she wanted.

"You're father was a good man, Robert. A brave soldier. He died serving his country. I know it was hard for you to lose him that way. It was hard for me too. He was my only child. He was," she shivered with a sob, "he was a hero."

Robert shrugged a little and said, "I just wanted a Dad. Didn't need no hero."

"I'm sorry," Grandma said not knowing what else she could say.

"Me too."

"Okay, you win," she relented with an exasberated sigh. She could not withstand his somber expression another moment. "I'll give up salt, okay? Cripes, first smokes then booze and now salt. How much stuff does one woman have to sacrifice to stay on your good side?"

"Only all the bad stuff," Robert answered seriously.

"Well boy, that'll be everything!" She groaned.

Robert vigorously shook his head no and held up his thumb, index finger, and middle finger. "N'uh, only three things not everything. Just three really bad things."

"Used to be the three most important vices of my life," Grandma quipped before letting the grief over her losses go. "Okay, enough clowning around. Let's assemble the away team."

Robert hurried over and grabbed his backpack again. He unzipped the small pocket at the upper end of the pack. He tugged the only two contents out quickly; a small note pad and pen. Flipping open to the first page, Robert got his pen ready to make checks next to the names already written there in neat block letters.

"You and me, of course," Grandma said and Robert put marks next to the second and first name on the list. "Radio, we'll need him for sure." Robert checked off the fourth name on the list. "Carlos," a check was scratched after the fifth name. "And, Shortstuff."

Grandma didn't wait for Robert to make the check next to the sixth name before she headed for the door of her room.

"JuJu," Robert said. "You forgot JuJu."

His Grandma was opening then door and did not turn to face him with her answer. "Screw her! She's off my squad."

"No," Robert blurted in a near panic. "JuJu gotta come with us. Like always."

Grandma spun around without bringing her walker with her. She nearly toppled. For one brief moment, terror filled her eyes as she lost her balance. Robert saw her predicament and grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. She clutched at his arms like a lifeline. He might have been short at five feet and five inches tall but he was very strong and easily held her still until she reclaimed her center of gravity.

"Don't let me fall," she begged in a bare whisper.

Robert smiled in spite of the barely averted catastrophe. "Never drop you, never!"

"You're a good boy, Robert."

"JuJu's number three."

"A good boy who doesn't play fair," Grandma said with a scowl. "Okay, she's back on the squad now get me my walker before we both fall over."

The two of them were plodding down the carpeted hallway in the Assisted Living section of the sprawling complex. Grandma moved three steps a head of Robert as they approached a cross hallway. She was nearly half way to the other side when his deep voice cleared with a sharp cough. Grandma looked over her should and saw he was already taking the West Corridor and pointing for her to come too. Grandma rolled her eyes but turned her walker to follow him.

When she was directly behind him, she hushed, “I don't think she's in, actually. She has some appointment with homeless cats or goldfish every Friday, right?”

“Nope,” Robert shook his head and said in a clear voice that made Grandma cringe, “JuJu got the Animal Shelter on Wednesdays only. Listen, music.”

Grandma sighed hearing the sounds coming from behind Jude's door. The driving beat was as familiar as the scar across her upper thigh and just as old. She obeyed Robert's gesture and stepped closer to knock on the door. Hoping not to be heard, she gave a short and light rap then turned to race away.

“Nobody home,” she breathed as she hurried pasted him only to hear the door creak open.

“Robert!” The voice was sweetly happy with genuine joy. “And Micah, so good of you to drop by. Come in and I'll turn the music down.”

Grandma gave a heavy sigh of defeat. She slowly turned back to the door. Robert was waiting for her to go in first. Jude had already disappeared into the room to tidy it for her company. Grandma shot a dirty look at Robert.

“Holding the door for me? What? Worried I'll sprint off down the hall for a quick get away?”

“Yes,” he replied seriously.

Grandma hung her head knowing she was caught. She pushed her walker forward wondering if, after years in the spy game, her skills were tarnished and dulled with age. When she felt her grandson's hand gently touch her elbow to steady her as she listed to the left while navigating the threshold, she realized it was not her skills lacking but Robert's keen observations of her that were so well honed. She entered the room steady on her feet and with a smile threatening the corners of her mouth.

“Shall I microwave some hot chocolate?” Jude asked after shutting off the music.

“No time for that,” Grandma groused. “We've got a mission and we still have to get the rest of the team to the departure gate.”

Jude nodded and grabbed her shoulder bag.

“Aren't you going to shower?” Grandma asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jude looked down at her impeccable clothing; soft cotton yoga pants and three quarter sleeved blouse. “Do I look a mess?”

“Stinky,” Grandma wrinkled her nose.

“N'uh,” Robert objected. “JuJu, you look beautiful. Always beautiful.” He blushed slightly as he said the words. “Besides, we running late.”

Jude nodded and lifted her bag's strap over her head so it would hang across her chest. She walked toward her team mates but they stayed still.

“What?” She asked confused by their hesitation.

“Shoes, JuJu. You need shoes,” Robert said and pointed to her bare feet.

“Right you are,” she hurried back to her chair to slip on her socks and sneakers.

Grandma studied the woman while she was occupied with other duties. Jude's once soft blonde hair was graying and dimming but still held a healthy shine. The cut was a short, bouncy angle which flattered older women. She was thin but not wasting away. In fact, Jude seemed a bit more muscular than she was in her fifties. Yoga was certainly keeping her body strong and flexible unlike Grandma's stiff hips and knees.

“Naw, not old age that wrecked my body. Too many jumps behind enemy lines, is what did that,” Grandma comforted herself with the thought.

“So,” Jude asked as she stood up, “what's the mission?”

“Bringing a friendly in from the cold,” Grandma stated.

Jude nodded before asking, “Where?”

“New York, New York,” Grandma sang softly with perfect pitch.

“Ooo, let me grab my credit card,” Jude grinned. “We'll need to stop by FAO, right Robert?”

The young man's eyes went wide, “Do you think it'd be okay?”

“Of course,” both women stated at the same time.

Grandma watched as Jude hurried to her desk to retrieve her plastic form of an ecstasy pill. “At least, she and I still agree on the most important thing in life; Robert.”

Chapter 3

The trio was moving at a steady pace down the long corridor to the recreation room. A throbbing Latin beat was vibrating off the walls and the three travelers seemed to fall into a unified step as they walked. The sound of stomping feet quickened their own feet toward their destination.

At the door of the recreation hall, Grandma peeked through the square window and shook her head grimly. “What a bunch of pussies.”

“Micah,” Jude reprimanded the older woman. “It is all about physical fitness. If you kept up with a good range of motion regime you might have a little more mobility ease and still be six feet tall.”

Grandma rolled her eyes, “If I hadn't broken my back saving your ass from the Ruskies in East Berlin then I might have full range of motion! And, for the record, I'm still six feet. It just isn't all vertical at the moment.”

“No argue,” Robert interrupted them. “We need Radio, Carlos, Shortstuff. Then you argue on the bus ride.”

“Roger that,” Grandma agreed and pushed the door open with her shoulder and walker frame.

The music was blaring and the exercise group appeared to be hypnotized by the rhythm. They moved as one. A band of one dozen gray haired and stooped back women, two panting men, and one limbless, wheelchair bound man bobbing his head to the beat. The women were drenched in sweat from their struggle to keep up with the dance steps the instructor performed at the front of the room. The three men moved with limited effort of any muscles except those controlling their eyes. Their focus was on the tight bottom of the twenty something exercise instructor.

“Radio! Carlos!” Grandma barked. “Get your asses over here!”

The exercise instructor flashed an annoyed look at Grandma but said nothing. She did not miss a beat either. The group never missed a step as the two men scrambled over to Grandma. However, they did have to move to allow the limbless man enough room to pass by in bulky electric wheelchair.

Grandma moved away from the door to let the men exit. The taller of the two had large, bilateral over the ear hearing aides which attached to a long wire leading into his shirt pocket. The wires fed into a square box stuffed inside. His hair was curly and still a sandy blonde but streaks of white were taking root. The shorter man was pasty faced and plump. His shirt was soaked with sweat but it was unlikely caused by his effort to keep pace with the exercise. The tenting in his pants indicated his routine was a much different form of exercise.

“What's up Wolf?” The man with the hearing aides asked.

“Radio, Carlos,” Grandma greeted both men before looking over their shoulders at the door being banged open by the electric wheelchair.

Jude placed her hand on Robert's arm and gently moved him closer to her side. Well out of the way of the door. Well out of harm's way.

“This doesn't concern you,” Jude said in an uncharacteristically flat voice.

The limbless man winked at her, “Always a pleasure to you see you too, Cobra.”

“She's right, this doesn't concern you,” Grandma seemed to relish then next word, “Brick.”

Carlos grinned but said nothing while Radio fiddled with his hearing aides unaware and argument was brewing.

“Hey, we're all on the same side.” Brick grinned broadly as he made his next statement, “Besides, you lot are going to be one man short on the squad. You need me to plug your hole.”

“The only thing I'd use you to plug is the crack at Chernobyl,” Grandma smirked. “We don't want or need you so just go away.”

“Really? You don't need a search and destroy guy? Seriously? You gonna try to wing it with just the four of you and ‘tard boy?”

Robert turned away from Jude to stop his Grandmother from swinging at Brick. At the same moment, Jude bent down and pulled a cord out of the mess of wires at the back of Brick's wheelchair. The lights in the control panel attached to the suck puff wand blinked off.

“He's not worth it,” Radio said as he walked over to Grandma and placed his hand on her hand. “He's never been worth it.”

“You are a fuckin' sleaze, Brick. You know, you're a real piece of shit,” Carlos cursed the man.

Brick ignored everybody except Jude. “Not funny, Cobra. Plug that back in. I mean it. Plug me back in.”

“No,” she said simply and walked between the stranded wheelchair to face her team. “Let's get going. Where's Shortstuff?”

Carlos shrugged but Radio said, “Don't know. He didn't meet with us for breakfast.”

“Look it you faggots, I know where your pal is. Plug me back in and I'll tell you all about it,” Brick hissed.

Grandma made eye contact with Jude and focused on her before giving a slight nod. Jude returned to the side of the wheelchair and fiddled with the wires. Lights flashed back on in the control panel. Brick grinned and gave Jude a smug wink.

“That's better, Missy.”

“Quit the shit, Brick. What's going on with Shortstuff?” Grandma questioned him.

“He got sectioned last night. A major sun downing event. Tore up his room and slugged a slutty nurse. He's banished to the locked unit.” The squad was silenced with the news. Brick continued, “So, you got no choice but to let me in on your little mission. Where are we going?”

“There are always choices,” Robert said quietly and Grandma nodded her agreement.

“We going to get Shortstuff?” Carlos asked.

“Yep,” Grandma answered and turned her walker to head down the hall for the main concourse.

Her squad fell in behind her. Brick chuckled at his victory before blowing into the suck/puff control. His wheelchair did not move. He blew again but remained stuck at the doors to activities.

“Hey Jude, I'm stuck in neutral. You hooked me up wrong.”

Jude looked over her shoulder at the man and answered, “No, I hooked you up just fine. See ya around, Brick.”

TBC

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