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BECAUSE OF YOU CHAPTER 5
The bright red sun crept over the Baghdad skyline as the dawn call to prayer echoed across the city. Shane scanned the road ahead, watching the trash that lined it for hidden det cords leading back to improvised explosive devices, and was silently amazed that he could hear the adhan over the rumble of the engine. His chest tightened as his armored Humvee approached the overpass. Not today. Come on, you motherfuckers. Cut us a break. Just this once.
He looked up at Private Adkins, whose head stuck out of the machine-gun turret, ready to grab him if he didn’t duck down behind the defilade. Shane held his breath until they passed beneath the bridge. His lungs burned until their up-armored Humvee was in the clear and then he let his breath out in a whoosh. He wished they’d hurry up and get more of those new blast-resistant vehicles that big army kept talking about. For now, the armored Humvees were the best they had, especially since his platoon was two trucks short because of that stupid Lieutenant Randall.
No matter what happened, Shane was determined to keep his own fears deeply buried, like the IEDs hidden across Iraq. He had told Jen he could make a difference. He’d believed his own bullshit then. Now, four months into the Surge, he wasn’t so sure. Six men from his platoon alone had already been sent home with injuries, and the overwhelming failure to stop any of them from getting hurt ate away at his soul.
Shane’s stomach knotted as his driver, Specialist Howell, swerved around a dead dog, in case the carcass hid a deadly IED. Sweat trailed down his spine as they rounded the corner, approaching the soccer stadium.
Once there had been professional FIFA soccer games held there. Now fresh dirt barely covered the latest bomb crater. It was like the locals didn’t want to waste money repairing something they knew was going to be destroyed again. Please, not again.
The thought of losing another man to an IED made Shane’s bladder tighten. His platoon had been hit the last three times they’d rolled off the base. The mission had been a success and they’d captured their high-value target, but his men knew better than to relax despite the relative lack of resistance they’d run into. The sun slid higher into the sky, casting an eerie red tinge onto the buildings, amplifying the already sweltering heat.
As if his thoughts had tripped the det cord, the earth exploded and a volcano of concrete and dirt mushroomed beneath the Humvee in front of him. The blast overwhelmed the roar of the engines. Time froze as the explosion launched the truck into the air. It slammed into the field, grinding to a halt fifty meters away. Flames shot out from the wrecked front end.
Shane’s blood slammed through his body, priming it for action. Training kicked in as his body reacted purely on muscle memory. Fear? He would deal with it later. Right now he had to secure the site, get the wounded out of the kill zone, and recover the downed vehicle.
Howell slammed on the brakes as the blast wave rocked their armored Humvee. Small arms fire tinked off the armored shell like deadly hail. They needed suppressive fire before they could determine the shooters’ positions.
‘Adkins! Get that fifty rocking suppressive fire at three o’clock. Howell, give LT Miller fifteen seconds to call this up, and then call it in for him!’
‘Looks like LT Miller just got his cherry popped!’ Adkins called down as he shifted fire with the heavy machine gun.
‘Watch your mouth and pay attention,’ Shane shouted back. He doubted Adkins heard him. He couldn’t hear himself think over the thunder of the big gun blasting overhead, the reverb slamming against his breastbone.
Shane jumped out of the still rolling vehicle, dropping the radio mike and raising his weapon in a single fluid movement. His gut spasmed as his men dismounted, too. But then quiet pride took over as the fire team leaders, Carponti included, ran through the react-to-contact battle drill quickly and efficiently. Shane directed the security positions to better control their position, then got the recovery team set to maneuver once they controlled their sector.
‘Enemy contact from the front and left. Security established on the left. Unknown status of wounded in Bravo Thirty-Two,’ Shane called out as he rushed past Carponti and assumed a tight kneeling position and returned fire on a second-story window. Shane rushed passed him as the replay came over the radio speaker behind him. ‘Air weapons team will be inbound in ten minutes.’
‘Shit, they’ll be dead in six,’ Carponti muttered under his breath.
Shane swallowed hard and kept moving. He didn’t need Carponti to tell him that. He violently suppressed the paralyzing fear that slithered into his chest and tried to grip his heart. Carponti was being serious. He was never serious, unless the shit and the fan were making babies.
Shane glanced around, not seeing the lieutenant. Shit, he hoped the LT wasn’t sitting in the truck pissing himself. Which was just as well if it meant Shane would be leading the assault team to recover their boys. ‘Okay, first squad needs to lay down suppressive fire. I’ll take second squad to recover our boys,’ Shane shouted down the line of troops, catching acknowledgment from his squad leaders.
Carponti relayed orders to his own fire team leaders over the pounding thunder of the fifty-caliber machine guns. Shane knelt and laid out suppressive fire as one of his boys shifted his position to get behind a mound of dirt. Where the hell was LT Miller?
Carponti shot Shane a thumbs-up his men were ready to move.
Shane scanned the area and spotted the LT, standing near his vehicle, the radio handset pressed to his ear. LT Miller was three months out of Infantry Officer Basic Course and, from the looks of it, currently scared shitless. He’d spent his first two months in theater on the staff as a battle captain, writing up after-action reports. Nothing on the staff had prepared him for the chaos and smoke and uncertainty of the battlefield. It was a different ball game when the fire really burned, the inbound rounds were deadly, and the blood wasn’t a moulage training aid.
Miller’s eyes were wide, his face a mask of fear and panic. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to get coherent words past his lips. He held the radio handset near his ear. Miller should have been the one calling in the reports, but from the looks of things, the kid wasn’t hearing anything from the tactical operations center, or from the rest of the platoon for that matter. He damn sure wasn’t coherent enough to call in a report, let alone lead the recovery operation.
Shane took a deep breath and wondered not for the first time why the army, in all its wisdom, put inexperienced young lieutenants in charge. Shane snatched the LT by the collar of his body armor. He pulled him in close, so that only the wild-eyed kid could hear his next words.
‘Calm down, LT. The men are watching you.’
Miller’s eyes scanned the tight defensive formation of their vehicles, unable or unwilling to make eye contact with him.
Shane briefly contemplated the consequences of slapping some sense into Miller. Instead, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Security is set. I’m taking second squad to retrieve the wounded in that vehicle.’
Miller’s eyes skittered around the battlefield and Shane swore. ‘Look at me, Lieutenant,’ he commanded. Miller finally locked eyes with Shane. ‘The longer we stand in the kill zone, the bigger the target on our collective asses gets. We’re not getting air support soon enough we’re on our own for this one.’
He watched Miller take a deep breath. Then another. And then he watched with satisfaction tinged with pride as the cherry LT grabbed his balls and started commanding his platoon like he’d been trained to do. Shane’s men fell into the maneuver positions, and Shane rushed with the retrieving element to pull their boys out of the truck, and God willing, no one would be hurt. At least not bad enough to get sent home.
Rounds landed with sickening thuds and sent up sprays of dirt and dust as they crossed the field.
‘Damn it, Carponti, get down!’ Shane demanded as Carponti jumped on top of the burning vehicle, and tried to wrench the heavy door up and open. It didn’t move. Carponti peered into the armored ballistic glass instead.
‘I can’t get this fucking door open. Try through the turret! Ross!’
‘Get off the fucking ‘ A hiss whizzed by Shane’s head and he hit the dirt. Facedown, his helmet absorbed the blast concussion as an RPG exploded a hundred feet away.
He looked up in time to see a second rocket nail Carponti square in the chest. Shane’s heart slammed against his ribs as he shouted Carponti’s name. No explosion. Goose bumps raced across his skin as he rushed around the truck. Carponti was struggling to sit up, choking as he tried to catch a breath in the thick smoke. Shane grabbed him by the collar of his body armor and dragged him away from the fire.
‘Why don’t you ever listen!’ Shane’s voice carried the chaos. ‘Are you okay?’
‘The boys back at the FOB are never going to believe this shit.’ Carponti was either laughing or coughing, Shane couldn’t tell. He didn’t have time for relief.
‘Get your ass around this truck and lay down suppressive fire. Then, you’re going back with the MEDEVAC.’
‘Bullshit!’ Carponti propped himself up, raised his weapon, and fired at an insurgent running across the field. One shot and a body slammed into the dirt. ‘There’s nothing fucking wrong with me!’
‘This isn’t a choose-your-own-adventure game,’ Shane yelled back. ‘For once in your life you are going to fucking listen to me. Now shut the hell up and help the LT prepare the nine line.’
He didn’t hear what Carponti muttered as he rushed low across the field back to the truck where LT Miller was alternating between talking on the radio and firing his weapon.
What the fuck was taking the air weapons team so damn long? Shane sucked in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to release the tightness in his chest as Tully and Branyan dragged Ross out through the turret. He coughed and tried to help, but everything moved in slow motion. He’d had his bell rung, that was for damn sure.
Another volcano of debris and dirt exploded a hundred feet away. The heat blasted Shane’s face and he’d never been so glad he had on his ballistic glasses as right then.
As he went down, he saw his men hit the dirt, faces buried, arms tucked beneath the armor that protected their torsos. Two of his platoon’s medics fell across the bodies of the wounded, shielding them from the blast. Something burned, like someone had sliced into his legs with a red-hot blade.
‘Damn it, that’s what I get for fucking listening! Sarn’t G!’ He heard someone shout from very, very far away. His last thought was that Jen was going to be pissed at him for getting hurt.
Then the world went black.
* * *
Jen surveyed the lobby near the emergency room entrance. Damn but she’d be glad when the new hospital was built. Sometime in 2012, or so they said. If the wars were still going on then, it was going to be sorely needed. The old lobby was too small, and the emergency room inadequate for the sheer size of the population the hospital was expected to service. And don’t even get Jen started on Labor and Delivery. For what was arguably the busiest maternity ward in the nation, the number of beds was appallingly inadequate, but somehow, women rarely gave birth in the hallway. Across the way, Nicole waved and then focused back on the nervous wife in front of her.
‘I’m sorry. We’re still getting conflicting reports,’ Nicole was saying as Jen approached. ‘We think we know who’s coming in, but we’re just not sure.’
There was a flight of soldiers due in today, and Jen was part of the team responsible for getting them processed and triaged. Some would be easily treated. But others would need to go directly to surgery. Controlling the chaos around the soldiers’ arrival was part of her job. Laura and Nicole had been among the first to arrive when word got out that Reaper battalion soldiers were among the wounded. Over the last few months, Nicole had become part of the fabric of her life, so much so that she didn’t remember what life had been like before they’d been friends.
She needed to add three new names to Nicole’s list, then scrub it against Laura’s to make sure they matched. It was all admin until the wounded actually arrived.
Nicole held up her finger as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. ‘Vic? I am so glad to hear your voice.’
‘Ask him if he can get us a confirmed list of who’s on the manifest,’ Laura said. She walked up from the edge of the crowd that seemed to be growing. So far, they were tracking only five soldiers en route. ‘There’s five passengers, but only three names.’
Nicole nodded. ‘Laura wants to know if you’ve got a list of oh my God.’ Her eyes filled, spilling tears down her cheeks almost instantly. She staggered and Jen caught her before she fell. Together she and Laura guided her to a chair. ‘No. Don’t get on a plane. I’ll call Mom. I’ll be there tomorrow . . . I’m not freaking out, damn it. I’m coming. So don’t argue . . . I love you, too.’
Nicole flipped her phone shut and stared at it for a long moment. When she moved, it was like she snapped back, ready for action. ‘I’ve got to go. Vic’s hurt. He’s in Landstuhl in Germany.’
‘I’ll drive you to the airport,’ Laura said. ‘What happened?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me, but he’s heading in for surgery.’ She shook her head in response to Laura’s offer. ‘Everyone needs you here. My mom will help get me on a flight.’ Laura pulled Nicole close and for one brief sliver of time, she lost her strength again, breaking down with a quiet sob. Jen rubbed her back, biting back her own sadness to be strong for her friend.
After a moment, Nicole straightened, but her lips quivered as she struggled to pull everything back inside. ‘I gotta go.’
Jen wanted to say something, anything that could offer her friend comfort. But before she could think of the right words, Nicole was gone. She looked at Laura. ‘How does she do that?’
Laura smiled sadly. ‘She’s married to Carponti. I imagine that takes a different kind of strength.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
She was right, but that didn’t make anything easier about today. Today was personal. It always hurt bringing the wounded home, but this? Knowing some of the wives in the waiting area made this so much worse.
The wait was the hardest part. Jen hated seeing the wives and mothers and fathers lingering in the lobby, waiting for the ambulances that would bring their loved ones from the airfield to the hospital. The chalks from the airfields, the convoy of ambulances and police escorts, were always rushed and urgent. It was critical to keep control of the chaos as the soldiers arrived and were processed.
A little boy, no more than four years old, was crying for his breakfast, leaning against his mother, who was huge with a new pregnancy. He’d jammed his fist in his mouth, and his eyes were bright with tears as he sobbed quietly. Jen knelt in front of the little boy’s mother, who looked panicked and exhausted all at once. ‘Can he have a Nutri-Grain bar?’
The mother nodded, relief sparkling in her red and swollen eyes. The boy wasn’t the only one stressed out. Jen squeezed her hand briefly. ‘What’s your husband’s name?’ Tears mingled with fidgeting and the air hung thick with the tension of the unknown.
‘Caspers. Private John Caspers,’ she whispered, and the urgent hope in her voice broke Jen’s heart.
‘John is scheduled for immediate surgery.’
Mrs. Caspers’s face fell and she held on to her son as he chewed on the blueberry bar. ‘Will he be okay?’
She wanted to say yes. Oh, God, how she wanted to say yes and give Mrs. Caspers the certainty she yearned for. ‘I don’t know. We’ll do our best.’
Tears leaked out as Mrs. Caspers rested one hand on her belly, the other clutching her son.
Releasing a tense breath, Jen turned toward Laura, the calm in the eye of the storm. She was handing out baskets of basic personal hygiene items to family members for their soldiers, who would arrive in borrowed clothes at best or tattered uniforms at worst. She’d been on the phone constantly since she’d arrived at the hospital, making arrangements at the Fisher House and other lodging facilities for families who’d just arrived and needed somewhere to stay.
Jen’s hands clenched around her clipboard as she glanced at her watch. She released a breath and focused on something she could control. ‘How many families have been notified?’
Laura checked her list, frustration creasing between her brows. ‘All but the families of the two who haven’t been identified. I mean really? We’re seven years into two damn wars and we still can’t manifest wounded soldiers properly? How hard is it to count soldiers when they’re all high on painkillers?’
‘Any word from Trent?’
‘Not a damn thing.’
Jen wished she could have ignored the biting hurt beneath Laura’s words. But she didn’t have time to even offer sympathy, because that very minute the ambulances pulled into the drop-off area in front of the emergency room. Conversation froze as Laura shuffled the waiting families back, clearing a path for medical personnel.
Two men climbed out of the second ambulance under their own steam. Jen’s throat tightened as their wives, both looking no older than high school seniors, rushed up to them. One of the men had his arm wrapped in a bandage that was six inches too short. The other sank into a wheelchair almost instantly, but not before his wife nearly knocked him over.
One of the nurses guiding a gurney shouted, bringing everyone’s attention to the wounded soldier under her care. ‘Blood pressure’s dropping over here!’
Jen raced to the side of the gurney. Blood seeped through a bandage on the kid’s thigh. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. The kid’s screams echoed through the waiting room.
They needed to stop the bleeding or he’d be dead in minutes.
Jen rushed over, applying pressure in the middle of the choreographed movements of the emergency team. She ran with them, keeping her hands pressed to the wound until the trauma team took over and they pushed through the automatic doors that swung wide to let them through.
‘Got it from here, Jen. Thanks.’ The dark-eyed surgeon met her gaze. ‘Go wash your hands.’
She held her hands up. Blood smeared over her palms. Reality crashed over her. Blood. Exposure.
Jen walked toward the stainless-steel sinks but turned when the door to the OR swung wide and two nurses maneuvered another gurney back to the operating room. She froze, stunned into absolute silence.
Shane.
He was wrapped tightly in grey thermal blankets. An IV bag hung from a solitary stainless-steel pole, the tube ending at the juncture of plastic, tape, and black tattoos. Thick straps snaked around his torso, hips, and legs, securing him to the gurney. Jen couldn’t see if he was breathing on his own or not. The medics wheeled him back to surgery as Jen just stared, unable to resolve this image with the man she remembered.
Her heart bled for him as the door closed behind the second surgical team.
Oh shit. Laura. Jen quickly washed her hands and rushed back to the emergency room waiting area. Laura was no longer calm. Tears streamed down her friend’s face and her breath came in quick, short gasps. ‘You saw him?’
Jen nodded, her own heart breaking even as she folded Laura into her arms. For once, her friend wasn’t the strong one. Jen didn’t have the right to be upset. Shane wasn’t hers; she shouldn’t care enough to cry for a man she barely knew.
So how could she explain the tears spilling down her own cheeks?
* * *
Something shifted, like plastic sliding against linoleum, and Shane had the sudden sensation of being watched. The feeling pulled at him, urging him out of the haze of the drugs and the pain of his memories. From somewhere far away, an echo of something burned his skin.
The morphine that deadened everything inside of him made thinking difficult. He closed his eyes, wishing he could drown out the buzzing in his head and sink back to sleep. Sleep was good. Nothing burned when he was asleep.
Her face was fuzzy, but he could make out the vague shape of a woman. No . . . Anyone but her.
Shane turned his face away, denial tearing at this soul. She couldn’t be here. Not now.
‘Shane? Can you hear me?’
He groaned and covered his face. At least he attempted to. His right arm was too heavy to lift. He squinted hard and saw the fuzzy outline of a cast.
Shit.
He started taking inventory of his available body parts. At least the ones that would respond. He couldn’t feel a thing from his waist down and he damn sure wasn’t about to look. He was horrified that he might see an empty space where his legs should be.
Shane dragged his good hand over his face and pulled himself out of the despair that threatened to pull him back under. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. Disappointment threatened to choke him.
‘Shane?’
Jen stood at the edge of his bed, near his hip. Her image kept fading in and out of clarity but during a single moment of lucidity, he saw what he’d been afraid of written across her face. Great. Fucking sympathy. Just what he wanted.
‘The fixators holding your legs together are going to hurt for a while.’ Her voice was soft, like a pillow after a hard day. ‘You need to tell us so we can stay ahead of the pain.’
Fury sparked to life inside of him, crashing through the haze of drugs. ‘Do I look like I’m in fucking pain?’
He was used to the way his men reacted to his temper. But Jen? She simply folded her arms over her chest and stood near that damned sheet, watching. Waiting.
‘You don’t have to be an asshole.’
Shane couldn’t look at her. Not again. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at her and see pity staring back at him. ‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not.’
He turned his face away, unwilling to look into those dark eyes and see the remains of himself reflected back at him. He heard the tink of glass against a tray, and something hot crawled up his arm. Fuck, more drugs. Which meant sleep. It was a reprieve from the incessant dreams of fire burning around his platoon while Shane could do nothing but watch his men burn. He didn’t deserve the reprieve. The pain was his punishment for fucking up and getting hurt.
The drug slithered through his veins, wrapping around his brain like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. He hated it. He didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to think. He just wanted to drop into that hollow morphine cloud and sink straight to hell where he belonged.
Maybe then the burning failure in his heart would stop bleeding out.
ONE CLICK BECAUSE OF YOU
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