The Weiter morning was quiet. The bruises on Skipper’s body had turned the deepest possible shade of purple, his left eye had swelled to its max, and his beak remained shut.
Private had tried to get him to eat, but Skipper didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Rico had started to work on a wheelchair for him in Kowalski’s lab, and Kowalski remained topside to take messages from visitors. He knew that the last thing Skipper would want is a) for people to see him in his current state, and b) sympathy.
Later on that evening, Rico and Kowalski presented Skipper with his wheelchair. Skipper sideways glanced at it for a few Sekunden out of the corner of his eye, and then turned back to the bunk above him. Kowalski sagte he’d leave it Weiter to his bunk for him and did so.
“Skipper?” Kowalski called a couple hours later. He entered the room from his lab with a clipboard. “I’d like to ask some memory questions, just to test your mind. Is that okay?”
Skipper remained silent for a moment and folded his flippers over his stomach.
“Whatever,” he answered quietly.
Kowalski pretended not to notice his indifferent tone and clicked his pen.
“Do Du know what Tag it is?”
“Tuesday,” Skipper answered. Kowalski marked him correct.
“What about the date?”
“July 2, 2014,” Skipper answered.
“Excellent. I want to read to Du three words. Then Du will repeat them back to me. They are: airplane, building, table.”
“Airplane, building, table,” Skipper repeated.
“Good. How are Du feeling? Physically, I mean?” Kowalski asked making some notes.
“Like I got hit Von a drunk driver in a Toyota in the middle of Manhattan,” Skipper answered, causing the tragic memory to flash in Kowalski’s mind, making him cringe.
“Where does it hurt?” Kowalski asked keeping his eyes on his notes.
“Everywhere,” Skipper answered. “Except my legs. They’re just tingly,” he added in a softer tone.
Kowalski finally rose his gaze toward him.
“And,” he started with a clear of his throat, “what were those three words from earlier?”
“Airplane, building, table.”
“Good,” Kowalski sagte finishing up his notes. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “You know, things could be worse. Just be thankful you’re alive.”
Skipper turned his head toward him and stared him dead in the eye for the first time.
“Am I, Kowalski? Am I really?”
Kowalski held eye contact with a hard stare, pressing his beak shut. Skipper turned back to the above bunk and remained silent for the remainder of the day.
— § —
Two weeks passed and the only time Skipper spoke oder even moved was to get into his wheelchair and go to the bathroom. His diet had decreased to nibbling on a single fisch for entire days, causing his weight to drop off drastically. Kowalski tended to his wounds every morning and evening, and most of the bruises had either faded oder turned a sickly shade of yellowish-green. During open hours, Private and either Kowalski oder Rico would go entertain the visitors, knowing that Private’s cuteness would distract them while someone stayed with Skipper. Alice grew suspicious of the penguins, as she always had, but considering if she reported a oder all of the penguins missing every time they weren’t in their habitat, she’d have Lost her job Von now. So, she shrugged it off, knowing that the pinguin would turn up eventually.
Missions became three-penguin operations, and Marlene would stay and look after Skipper while they were gone. Marlene would coax him into eating, oder playing cards oder chess, and once she offered to take him out for some fresh air. Skipper declined all of her offers with a slow shake of his head. So, Marlene spent most of her time there just sitting and waiting for the team to return. Finally, she asked Kowalski to speak with her privately upon their return.
“There has to be something we can do, Kowalski. This can’t go on,” she sagte once they were topside.
“I just don’t know what to do, Marlene,” Kowalski replied. “He’s just so distant. It’s like he’s in his own little world. We’ve all tried talking to him, but I don’t even know if he listens half the time! None of us can even look him in the eye anymore. They’re just so . . . empty. I can’t describe it.”
Marlene looked at the ground and sighed.
“He’s in there somewhere, I know he is. I can feel it,” she sagte hugging herself.
Kowalski put a flipper on her shoulder.
“I think so, too. I just don’t know how to bring him out,” he told her.
Marlene shook her head and her eyes started to glisten.
“I just don’t understand. Skipper hasn’t done anything to deserve this,” she sagte with a quivering lip. “You know, as annoyed as it made me, I actually kind of miss him bursting into my habitat unannounced.”
Kowalski tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, but couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace as she broke into tears.
— § —
Later on that evening, Private brought down the abendessen Alice had left in their fisch bowl. After giving Kowalski, Rico, and himself a fair share, he waddled over to Skipper’s bunk with his.
“Skipper?” he called softly. “I have dinner.”
Skipper didn’t answer.
“Skipper, Du need to eat. This is unhealthy. How do Du ever expect to walk again if Du don’t keep your strength up—?”
“Don’t Du get it, Private?” Skipper snapped, turning his head sharply to him. “I will never walk again. As your commanding officer, I order Du to leave me be.”
Skipper turned his head back and adjusted it on his pillow. Private stood Von his bunk holding Skipper’s abendessen with a dumbfounded expression and tears welling in his eyes. Kowalski and Rico watched from across the room with their beaks hanging open. Kowalski waddled over to him and rested his flipper on his shoulders.
“It’s okay, Private. Come on over here,” he sagte in a soothing tone as he guided the young cadet away from the bunks, but Private stopped after a couple of steps with his expression hardening. What he did Weiter came as a shock to everyone, even himself.
“Hey! What the hell was that for?!” Skipper sagte when Private threw the fisch at him with all his might.
“You are not my commanding officer!” Private screamed. “My commanding officer fought off an angry walrus with a wing and a prayer! He didn’t let anything stand in his way! Not villains, not annoying lemurs, not even psycho zookeepers in Hoboken! I don’t know where my commanding officer is, but he is not the pinguin that’s been lying in that bottom bunk for over two weeks! He’s not the one who gave up on himself without even trying! And he is not the yellow-bellied coward that lies before me now,” he sagte harshly, narrowing his eyes and staring hard into Skipper’s incredulous expression. Kowalski and Rico’s lower beak seemed to rest on the floor of the HQ as silence flooded the room. After waiting a moment for his words to settle, Private turned on his heel, climbed the ladder, and pulled himself from the hatch with the eyes of the others—even Skipper’s—following him out.
When Kowalski and Rico turned back to Skipper, he was propped up in his bunk Von his elbow, looking down at the floor with a concentrated expression.
His expression almost looked . . . guilty.
— § —
Kowalski left Rico with Skipper to go after Private. After searching virtually the entire zoo, he finally found him on the clock tower facing Central Park. He approached him from behind, but Private seemed to have sensed his presence as he said, “I’m not taking it back,” in a hard, serious tone.
Kowalski stopped behind him and eyed him sympathetically.
“I’m not here for that, Private,” he told him. “I wanted to know if Du were okay.”
“I’m just peachy, Kowalski,” he snapped, making Kowalski wince.
“If it makes Du feel any better, I’m glad Du sagte what Du did. It might have gegeben Skipper the push he needed,” Kowalski told him.
“I was going for Mehr of a shove,” Private muttered.
Kowalski cracked a smile.
“I’m pretty certain it was,” he sagte stepping vorwärts-, nach vorn so he was Weiter to him on the edge of the clock tower. He tried to meet his eye. “You have every right to be angry, Du know. Even Rico’s angry, and Marlene! But, Du know, Skipper has a right to be angry, too, even though I don’t agree with his taking it out on everyone else. But he is the one taking this the hardest. Fighting is in his blood. If it weren’t for science, I’d bet my left flipper that his blood cells battle each other for oxygen. Without his legs, he’s—lost,” Kowalski explained.
“Then why doesn’t he do the physical therapy?” Private asked irritably.
“Honestly? Because he’s scared. He’s afraid of the thought of trying and failing to use his legs in front of anyone, even us. He’s afraid of appearing weak and helpless,” Kowalski told him calmly.
Private’s frustrated expression softened.
“I think you’re right. The last thing Skipper would want is sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal,” he sagte mournfully.
Kowalski sighed and patted his back.
“We all do. Come on, let’s get back to HQ.”
Private had tried to get him to eat, but Skipper didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Rico had started to work on a wheelchair for him in Kowalski’s lab, and Kowalski remained topside to take messages from visitors. He knew that the last thing Skipper would want is a) for people to see him in his current state, and b) sympathy.
Later on that evening, Rico and Kowalski presented Skipper with his wheelchair. Skipper sideways glanced at it for a few Sekunden out of the corner of his eye, and then turned back to the bunk above him. Kowalski sagte he’d leave it Weiter to his bunk for him and did so.
“Skipper?” Kowalski called a couple hours later. He entered the room from his lab with a clipboard. “I’d like to ask some memory questions, just to test your mind. Is that okay?”
Skipper remained silent for a moment and folded his flippers over his stomach.
“Whatever,” he answered quietly.
Kowalski pretended not to notice his indifferent tone and clicked his pen.
“Do Du know what Tag it is?”
“Tuesday,” Skipper answered. Kowalski marked him correct.
“What about the date?”
“July 2, 2014,” Skipper answered.
“Excellent. I want to read to Du three words. Then Du will repeat them back to me. They are: airplane, building, table.”
“Airplane, building, table,” Skipper repeated.
“Good. How are Du feeling? Physically, I mean?” Kowalski asked making some notes.
“Like I got hit Von a drunk driver in a Toyota in the middle of Manhattan,” Skipper answered, causing the tragic memory to flash in Kowalski’s mind, making him cringe.
“Where does it hurt?” Kowalski asked keeping his eyes on his notes.
“Everywhere,” Skipper answered. “Except my legs. They’re just tingly,” he added in a softer tone.
Kowalski finally rose his gaze toward him.
“And,” he started with a clear of his throat, “what were those three words from earlier?”
“Airplane, building, table.”
“Good,” Kowalski sagte finishing up his notes. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “You know, things could be worse. Just be thankful you’re alive.”
Skipper turned his head toward him and stared him dead in the eye for the first time.
“Am I, Kowalski? Am I really?”
Kowalski held eye contact with a hard stare, pressing his beak shut. Skipper turned back to the above bunk and remained silent for the remainder of the day.
— § —
Two weeks passed and the only time Skipper spoke oder even moved was to get into his wheelchair and go to the bathroom. His diet had decreased to nibbling on a single fisch for entire days, causing his weight to drop off drastically. Kowalski tended to his wounds every morning and evening, and most of the bruises had either faded oder turned a sickly shade of yellowish-green. During open hours, Private and either Kowalski oder Rico would go entertain the visitors, knowing that Private’s cuteness would distract them while someone stayed with Skipper. Alice grew suspicious of the penguins, as she always had, but considering if she reported a oder all of the penguins missing every time they weren’t in their habitat, she’d have Lost her job Von now. So, she shrugged it off, knowing that the pinguin would turn up eventually.
Missions became three-penguin operations, and Marlene would stay and look after Skipper while they were gone. Marlene would coax him into eating, oder playing cards oder chess, and once she offered to take him out for some fresh air. Skipper declined all of her offers with a slow shake of his head. So, Marlene spent most of her time there just sitting and waiting for the team to return. Finally, she asked Kowalski to speak with her privately upon their return.
“There has to be something we can do, Kowalski. This can’t go on,” she sagte once they were topside.
“I just don’t know what to do, Marlene,” Kowalski replied. “He’s just so distant. It’s like he’s in his own little world. We’ve all tried talking to him, but I don’t even know if he listens half the time! None of us can even look him in the eye anymore. They’re just so . . . empty. I can’t describe it.”
Marlene looked at the ground and sighed.
“He’s in there somewhere, I know he is. I can feel it,” she sagte hugging herself.
Kowalski put a flipper on her shoulder.
“I think so, too. I just don’t know how to bring him out,” he told her.
Marlene shook her head and her eyes started to glisten.
“I just don’t understand. Skipper hasn’t done anything to deserve this,” she sagte with a quivering lip. “You know, as annoyed as it made me, I actually kind of miss him bursting into my habitat unannounced.”
Kowalski tried to think of something to say to make her feel better, but couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace as she broke into tears.
— § —
Later on that evening, Private brought down the abendessen Alice had left in their fisch bowl. After giving Kowalski, Rico, and himself a fair share, he waddled over to Skipper’s bunk with his.
“Skipper?” he called softly. “I have dinner.”
Skipper didn’t answer.
“Skipper, Du need to eat. This is unhealthy. How do Du ever expect to walk again if Du don’t keep your strength up—?”
“Don’t Du get it, Private?” Skipper snapped, turning his head sharply to him. “I will never walk again. As your commanding officer, I order Du to leave me be.”
Skipper turned his head back and adjusted it on his pillow. Private stood Von his bunk holding Skipper’s abendessen with a dumbfounded expression and tears welling in his eyes. Kowalski and Rico watched from across the room with their beaks hanging open. Kowalski waddled over to him and rested his flipper on his shoulders.
“It’s okay, Private. Come on over here,” he sagte in a soothing tone as he guided the young cadet away from the bunks, but Private stopped after a couple of steps with his expression hardening. What he did Weiter came as a shock to everyone, even himself.
“Hey! What the hell was that for?!” Skipper sagte when Private threw the fisch at him with all his might.
“You are not my commanding officer!” Private screamed. “My commanding officer fought off an angry walrus with a wing and a prayer! He didn’t let anything stand in his way! Not villains, not annoying lemurs, not even psycho zookeepers in Hoboken! I don’t know where my commanding officer is, but he is not the pinguin that’s been lying in that bottom bunk for over two weeks! He’s not the one who gave up on himself without even trying! And he is not the yellow-bellied coward that lies before me now,” he sagte harshly, narrowing his eyes and staring hard into Skipper’s incredulous expression. Kowalski and Rico’s lower beak seemed to rest on the floor of the HQ as silence flooded the room. After waiting a moment for his words to settle, Private turned on his heel, climbed the ladder, and pulled himself from the hatch with the eyes of the others—even Skipper’s—following him out.
When Kowalski and Rico turned back to Skipper, he was propped up in his bunk Von his elbow, looking down at the floor with a concentrated expression.
His expression almost looked . . . guilty.
— § —
Kowalski left Rico with Skipper to go after Private. After searching virtually the entire zoo, he finally found him on the clock tower facing Central Park. He approached him from behind, but Private seemed to have sensed his presence as he said, “I’m not taking it back,” in a hard, serious tone.
Kowalski stopped behind him and eyed him sympathetically.
“I’m not here for that, Private,” he told him. “I wanted to know if Du were okay.”
“I’m just peachy, Kowalski,” he snapped, making Kowalski wince.
“If it makes Du feel any better, I’m glad Du sagte what Du did. It might have gegeben Skipper the push he needed,” Kowalski told him.
“I was going for Mehr of a shove,” Private muttered.
Kowalski cracked a smile.
“I’m pretty certain it was,” he sagte stepping vorwärts-, nach vorn so he was Weiter to him on the edge of the clock tower. He tried to meet his eye. “You have every right to be angry, Du know. Even Rico’s angry, and Marlene! But, Du know, Skipper has a right to be angry, too, even though I don’t agree with his taking it out on everyone else. But he is the one taking this the hardest. Fighting is in his blood. If it weren’t for science, I’d bet my left flipper that his blood cells battle each other for oxygen. Without his legs, he’s—lost,” Kowalski explained.
“Then why doesn’t he do the physical therapy?” Private asked irritably.
“Honestly? Because he’s scared. He’s afraid of the thought of trying and failing to use his legs in front of anyone, even us. He’s afraid of appearing weak and helpless,” Kowalski told him calmly.
Private’s frustrated expression softened.
“I think you’re right. The last thing Skipper would want is sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal,” he sagte mournfully.
Kowalski sighed and patted his back.
“We all do. Come on, let’s get back to HQ.”
