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Gordo was in his new NASA jumpsuit – one that actually fit, unlike the decade-old jumpsuit he'd broken the zipper on – with a parachute pack strapped to his back as he sat on an aviation trunk and waited for Ed in the hangar at Ellington Field. He was lost in his thoughts and fears of what had just occurred at The Outpost.
"You ready to go, buddy boy?" Ed asked as he arrived, crossing the hangar. He was outfitted the same as Gordo, with the addition of a pair of aviator sunglasses. As Ed reached Gordo, he stopped, seeing Gordo's face drawn in worry. "What's wrong?"
"I saw some ants," Gordo said plainly.
But he knew Ed would pick up on the significance. He would get it. He would remember their time together on the moon, when the ants that had been sent to space with them had escaped their broken formicarium and scattered inside the Jamestown base.
I saw some ants was as good as admitting that something was wrong. Just as it had been when he and Ed had gone for a walk on the moon – what Gordo liked to refer to as “apartment hunting.” Just as it had been when Gordo had confessed that spending months at a time in a one-room lunar base was not what he had signed up for. Just as it had been when he had hallucinated ants in his spacesuit, crawling on his skin and sending him into a panic that had nearly caused him to remove his helmet on the lunar surface.
Ed had saved him. Tackling him – as well as that could work on the moon – and talking some sense into him until Gordo had calmed down.
And then Dani had saved him too. By breaking her own arm in the dead of night, in an attempt to keep NASA from finding out about Gordo's mental state.
They would have grounded him for the rest of his life. He never would have flown again. He didn't care to fly in space, despite what Ed was forcing him to do with Jamestown 91, but he loved to fly planes. Fighter jets. He loved the power and the freedom. And he loved that he could land on earth when he was finished and head back to his multi-room home where his kids were waiting for him.
Now, he was scared. Now, he didn't want to return to the moon. He didn't want to be trapped in a spacesuit, helmet locked on, with just a thin layer protecting him against the lethal void of outer space.
Now, he wished NASA had grounded him because then he would have an excuse to never fly again. To never return to the moon. He wouldn't be panicking in his spacesuit. He wouldn't be panicking when he saw blinking red lights on his VCR in his pitch black bedroom as he tried to fall asleep. He wouldn't be panicking about ants crawling all over his Pepsi can at The Outpost.
"What?" Ed said, removing his aviators. "When? What were you doing?"
"Watching TV at The Outpost," Gordo answered. "No booze," he added quickly. "Just Pepsi." He and Ed were about to take up a couple of T-38s and fly down to the Cape, and he didn't want Ed thinking he had imbibed beforehand. "They were just—They were crawling everywhere, man." Gordo looked down at his hands. He could still feel his skin tingling from the experience. "They were crawling everywhere," he repeated.
"Was anyone with you?" Ed asked.
Gordo could hear the concern in his voice. "Yeah. Danny was there. He was working."
Gordo paused, staring somewhere past Ed, across the airplane hangar. Ed lifted his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. Gordo didn't need to look at his face to know that his concern was growing.
"It was over pretty quick," Gordo continued. "Karen, she-she-she killed 'em with some bug spray."
Ed lowered his hand, his concern turning to confusion. "What—What, you mean the ants were real?"
"I thought I was losing it again, Ed. I thought I was seeing things again." As Ed turned and took a few steps away, Gordo continued. "I couldn't catch my breath, and—I was shaking and sweating all the way here."
Gordo looked down at his hands, his skin still crawling. The panic he had felt at The Outpost rose again in his chest.
"I could just feel 'em on my hands and on-on my face." He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, re-living the sensation. When he opened them again, he looked outside the hangar at nothing in particular. "Ah," he uttered, hearing the fear in his own voice. "What if it happens up there again, Ed?"
"Hey, Gordo," Ed interjected. "You're not hallucinating. This isn't happening."
Gordo stared past Ed, nodding his acknowledgment. He knew Ed was right. He knew the ants had been real this time. But the fear had also been real. He had thought he was hallucinating at the bar, and he had begun to panic. That feeling hadn't left him. Even after Danny had said that he saw the ants and after Karen had sprayed them, Gordo was still panicky. Still scared. Still worried that once he got to the moon, he would have the exact same experience as the last time.
Gordo's hands were tensed above his knees with his fingers splayed. He breathed heavily. After a few audible breaths, he squinted against the sunlight to look up at his friend.
"You know, my old man," Gordo began, his fear bringing back a painful memory. He looked away from Ed, outside of the hangar again. "He was the toughest son of a bitch I ever saw. And the horrors he endured in that war—Guadalcanal, Peleliu, Okinawa—and those Banzai charges." Gordo looked at Ed again and then past him into the depths of the hangar. "Japs coming at him, screaming like wild animals, running right over the backs of their dead, but he never left his machine gun. He just kept right on firing. I never saw him back down from anything." Gordo paused, swallowing thickly as he stared at his memory. "’Til the cancer."
Ed studied him closely, letting Gordo gather his thoughts.
"I go and see him. He's laying flat on his back in his bed. He's gasping like a fish out of water. Eyes big and wide, and he was so scared." Gordo felt the lump in his throat, choking him up as he relayed one of the worst memories of his life. He fought back his tears even as they burned his eyes, threatening to escape. "I just couldn't take it," he continued, his voice breaking. "Just ran out of the room."
Gordo nodded at his memory, at his thoughts, re-living the fear and shame and guilt he had felt during one of his father's final moments. His chest ached with the feelings, like he was right back there again, watching his father – who had never been anything but strong and tough – lie terrified and dying in his bed.
A tear escaped, rolling down and then falling from Gordo's cheek.
"I don't know," Gordo said, trying to regain his composure. "Maybe the...fear was in him all along," he said. "Deep Down. He was just too weak to..." He trailed off, feeling something click inside of him. Feeling like maybe he had more in common with his father than he had ever realized, he finished his thought, saying, "...to fight against it anymore." With his own fear overtaking him, Gordo desperately asked, "What am I gonna do, Ed?"
"You can start acting like a man," Ed said.
Stunned, Gordo looked up at him, his eyes wet and vision blurry. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "What?"
"You heard me," Ed said without a hint of gentleness. "You're a damn astronaut." He took a step closer. "You sat your ass on top of five-and-a-half million pounds of high-explosive fuel and told them, 'Light the fuse!' And now you're sitting here crying like a little fucking baby?"
Even as his tears of fear moistened his eyes and cheeks, Gordo felt anger take hold in his chest. He looked away from Ed, hurt and ashamed and pissed.
"'Oh, Ed,'" his best friend mocked as Gordo's fear quickly morphed into anger. "'I'm so scared. I'm so weak.' How about you grow a pair?"
Gordo got to his feet, clenching and unclenching his right fist. He looked his best friend in the face and calmly said, "Careful, Ed."
"Or what?" Ed sneered. Jabbing Gordo in the chest, he said, "El Gordo going to do something?"
"El Gordo just might," Gordo said, trying to hold onto his composure. He was pissed. Gordo had laid his heart out, sharing his fears with his best friend – sharing the feelings that kept him awake at night – only to be mocked for it.
"Maybe you have lost it," Ed said, piling on.
"Shut up," Gordo said through clenched teeth.
"Huh?" Ed uttered.
"Shut--" Gordo began, but Ed jabbed him in the chest again.
"Maybe you're not Gordo Stevens anymore."
"Shut up!" Gordo said, jabbing Ed in the chest.
Ed backed up a step but glared at Gordo. Then, he leaned in closer, saying, "Why don't you book a flight to Florida on Pan Am? I'm sure they can find you a seat." He turned and left the hangar.
Gordo stared after him. His cheeks had dried, but his eyes still burned with tears. But he wasn't scared. He wasn't desperate. His best friend had mocked him when he was feeling vulnerable, and Gordo was pissed.
His lower lip trembled with anger and adrenaline, and his hands shook at his sides.
Gordo picked up his flight bag from the floor beside the aviation trunk he had been sitting on and followed Ed out of the hangar and onto the apron.
***
Ed was four inches taller than Gordo, with longer strides, but Gordo hurried to catch up to him. The Texas air quickly dried his eyes, his blurry vision being replaced with red.
Gordo dropped his flight bag on the ground and then hit Ed low, tackling him from behind. Having not been expecting the attack, Ed hit the ground hard, dropping his flight bag in the process. His aviators skittered across the apron. They both let out low grunts as Gordo landed on top of Ed.
"Whoa, hey," someone nearby on the apron said. Gordo ignored him.
In the moment, Gordo wanted nothing more than to punch Ed, but he wasn't going to beat on him from behind. He scrambled off of Ed, and let Ed turn over. Ed glared up at him as he got to his feet.
"I told you El Gordo just might do something," Gordo sneered.
"Is this what's happening?" Ed asked.
"Yeah," Gordo said. "This is what's happening."
"All right, then," Ed said. "Bring it on, Captain."
Gordo charged at Ed again, every nerve in his body firing. Ed threw a punch which Gordo ducked. Being shorter than his opponent had its advantages, and that was one of them.
Gordo quickly threw a jab to Ed's side. Ed grunted and then threw an elbow which caught Gordo in the jaw. Gordo was stunned for a moment as pain radiated throughout his entire face.
Ed put both hands on Gordo's chest and shoved him. Gordo stumbled backwards, tripping over Ed's flight bag and hitting the ground hard. Luckily, he was still strapped into his flight gear, and the parachute pack on his back took the brunt of the fall.
Ed was on top of him in an instant, straddling Gordo's thighs and clutching the front of Gordo's flight suit in both fists.
"Hey," someone shouted.
Gordo and Ed both looked towards the sound of the voice. Two of the men on the apron were jogging over as though to break up the fight. Two NASA fighter jets loomed behind them.
"No assistance needed," Ed shouted over to them.
But Ed was distracted by the interruption, and Gordo took the opportunity to swing at his best friend. Ed reacted quickly, blocking the blow with his forearm. But the movement put Ed off balance, and Gordo used the momentum to buck Ed off of him.
He lunged at Ed, shoving him onto his back on the ground. He tried to jump on Ed as Ed had done to him moments earlier, but Ed was too quick. That was one advantage Gordo didn't have over Ed. A decade ago, he did. A decade ago, Gordo was lean and fit, strong and quick. But a decade was a long time, and Gordo had lost a couple of steps somewhere in there. He'd lost steps and gained weight. He was no longer lean or fit, strong or quick. He was forty pounds heavier and out of shape.
Ed was still lean though, still fit. He was broad-shouldered and toned, and Gordo could feel his friend's strength as Ed wrestled him on the apron.
Gordo did his best to keep Ed from pinning him down, but he was running out of stamina. His breathing had picked up, and he could already feel his muscles beginning to fatigue.
"Is this you acting like a man, Gordo?" Ed growled as they struggled.
"Fuck you," Gordo sputtered, anger surging through him. He got his left arm free and punched Ed in the rib cage.
Ed exhaled sharply. They continued to wrestle until Ed got the upper hand, wrapping an arm around Gordo's neck from behind. He purposely fell onto his back on the apron, bringing Gordo down on top of him. He squeezed his forearm around Gordo's neck, against Gordo's throat, threatening to cut off his air supply.
Gordo tried to pry Ed's arm away from his neck, but he was no match for his stronger, far more fit friend.
"This is what you wanted, right?" Ed said.
Gordo ignored the question, continuing to struggle against Ed's arm around his throat. Ed wrapped his legs around Gordo to keep his body still.
"You can give up now," Ed said. "And we can go about our business."
"...or?" Gordo managed to choke out.
"Or I can squeeze a little harder until you pass out."
Gordo kept his hands on Ed's arm but stopped trying to pry himself free. But he didn't give up. He was beat, but he wasn't finished. He still wanted to punch Ed in the face. He needed to. Something in him wouldn't be satisfied until that happened.
"You done?" Ed said.
Gordo didn't respond. Instead, he stopped fighting, stopped struggling, and let his muscles relax as well as he could despite the constant surge of adrenaline and anger coursing through his veins.
Ed must have taken Gordo's lack of struggle as compliance. As giving up. But Gordo hadn't. He was simply biding his time.
A moment later, the constriction around his throat loosened. Ed removed his arm from Gordo's neck and released his legs from around Gordo's body.
Now free, Gordo flipped over on top of Ed. Before Ed had a chance to realize what was happening, Gordo punched him in the face. His fist connected with Ed's cheekbone, and Gordo's knuckles stung from the blow.
Ed looked up at him, surprise widening his eyes. Then, they flashed with anger, and Ed threw a punch of his own, connecting with Gordo's jaw.
Gordo hit Ed again, and the latter grunted. Gordo knew another blow was coming, but he didn't bother blocking or dodging. He let Ed hit him in the face a second time. He punched Ed again, waiting for Ed to retaliate.
Ed threw his third punch, his fist landing hard against Gordo's jaw and rocking his head to the side. The blow knocked Gordo off balance to his right, off of Ed. He collapsed to the apron and rolled onto his back. His face ached, and he squinted against the sun.
Ed scrambled on top of him as Gordo tried to catch his breath. Ed clutched the front of Gordo's flight suit in one fist. He drew back his other fist, and Gordo braced himself for the blow.
It didn't come.
Instead, Ed unclenched both fists. He laid his palms flat against Gordo's chest as they both breathed heavily. Then, Ed pushed off of Gordo and sat on the apron a few feet away. Gordo let the adrenaline in his veins subside. Then, he slowly sat up with an audible groan.
"You okay?" Ed asked, pressing the back of his hand gently against his lower lip.
Gordo nodded despite the throbbing in his face. He was still sucking for air, and his muscles ached with fatigue. "You?"
Ed pulled his hand away from his mouth, revealing a small amount of blood on the back of his hand. "Yeah."
Gordo looked past Ed to a group of half a dozen military men and women fifty feet away on the apron. They all stood facing Ed and Gordo.
"Apparently, El Gordo still has some fight in him," Ed said. Gordo looked at him, and Ed offered a small grin. "That is the Gordo Stevens I remember."
Gordo returned the grin, and then a quiet laugh rumbled in his throat. Ed began to laugh too, and before long, they were both cackling on the apron.
The group of military personnel broke up, seeming to have lost interest in the two lunatics in NASA jumpsuits.
When their laughter subsided, Gordo took a deep breath, letting it out heavily.
"You sure you're all right?" Ed asked. "Your face doesn't look so hot."
"You should see the other asshole," Gordo said with a grin.
Ed snorted. "Yeah, well, that other asshole kicked your ass."
"He wishes.”
"Oh, please,” Ed said with humor. “I was about to beat your face in."
“Why didn’t you?” Gordo asked.
“You already looked like you were about to pass out,” Ed said with a smirk.
Gordo chuckled. "I was just a little out of breath, that’s all."
Ed snorted again. "Time to get back in shape, buddy boy."
"Yeah," Gordo said with a smirk. "And then I'll be able to kick your ass in a fight, as well as in a dogfight."
"Oh, you think so, huh?" Ed asked, eyebrows lifting.
"Yeah," Gordo said, grinning. "I know so."
"Oh, it's on," Ed said.
They both got to their feet and retrieved their flight bags from the ground. Ed picked up his aviators and looked them over before sliding them on.
Gordo grinned and gestured towards the fighter jets on the apron, saying, "Let’s see what you’ve got, Admiral."