No Man Left Behind: A Veteran Inspired Charity Anthology

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Jackson, wake up!” I hear. Shooting upright, I look around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you were screaming in your sleep,” Evelyn says.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” I tell her, looking over at her, seeing concern etched on her face. I know what she sees, I’m drenched in sweat, I probably look like I haven’t slept in days.

  “I promise, I’m okay, it was just a dream. It’s all over now. Come on, climb into bed,” I tell her. Nothing would settle me more than her in my arms. I look over at her and notice her eyes are red and rimmed, puffy and instantly I want to find out the threat and eliminate it.

  “What happened?” I ask her, knowing she might not want to tell me, but she has done so much for me.

  “It was just a very long and hard shift,” she says, her eyes welling up again.

  “Come here,” I say, pulling her into the bed next to me. I know I will not be able to go back to sleep but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold her while she sleeps.

  “I’m sorry work was hard.” I wrap her in my arms, her body is warm and pliable.

  She curls up and lays her head on my chest. Nothing has ever felt this right, this comfortable and I owe it all to her.

  “Do you have dreams like that often?” she mumbles.

  “Yes, but it’s nothing I can’t live with. Shhhh, go to sleep, we can talk about that in the morning,” I tell her, running my fingers through her hair.

  Chapter Six

  Evelyn

  “Why did you pick the name Gracie for her?” he says, pointing to Gracie. I knew this day would come. Talking about Grace in any kind of way rips open that wound.

  “My sister’s name was Grace,” I tell him, hoping I can make it through this one without crying.

  “I named her Grace after my sister, her name was Louisa Grace, but she hated her first name with a passion, so she just went by Grace for everything. Grace was in the Army. She specialized in explosives working with the K-9 unit in Baghdad, Operation Iraqi Freedom,” I tell him, looking over at Gracie sleeping peacefully.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” he asks. I clear my throat trying to make sure I can make it through.

  “She was on her second tour when her unit was sent out to search and clear an abandoned building. It was said the building housed radicals. She and Tex, her German shepherd, just finished clearing it when their building fell under fire. She was hit, Tex pulled her to cover behind an abandoned car until they could be rescued. She was discharged, Tex was reassigned to a new handler and she just couldn’t recover. One year after she was discharged my sister fell victim to 22 A Day.” I reach up and grip the small pendent between my fingers and give it a small kiss.

  “When people talk about coming back, they don’t tell you how hard it is, they tell you all the good parts but not about the bad,” he tells me, in a story like Grace’s the bad outweighed the good.

  “My sister was a force of nature; she had her whole life in front of her. She was twenty-eight when she committed suicide,” I whisper.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. The words I have heard a million times but sounding more sympathetic coming from him.

  “Grace was so full of life, always eager to help anyone, anytime. She loved animals, so when she joined the K-9 unit it wasn’t a big surprise. When she came home, she was a whole different person, her spark was gone.” I try and collect my thoughts.

  “You know when I came home, everyone just expected me to be okay. In the hospital every time a nurse came in to check my vitals, or when I had visitors come by, they always said the same thing. Just thank goodness, it could have been worse, thankfully you are still alive. Don’t worry things will get better,” he tells me, his tone breaks my heart in some ways he reminds me of Grace.

  “You know what most people don’t understand, they don’t understand that physically you might get better, but when you close your eyes you are right back there. Right back at the start, you repeat some of the most terrifying moments over and over again. I know there were days I was in such a dark place I could have ended it all. I would have done anything not to see the explosion and carnage that was left behind that day.” The way he talks about it, when he talks about those memories, he is intently back there.

  “Do you still have those days?” I look at him questioningly.

  “I still have dark days but nothing like what I had when I first got back. When my leg is acting up or when I sit too idle, the past can still haunt me,” he tells me honestly.

  “Does it bother you a lot?” I ask, pointing to his leg.

  “Hell yes, it is more discomfort than anything else, after a long day or when it is really hot outside, and I am sweaty,” he says.

  “I think what you have done, how far you have come, even since I met you. I think you are very brave and a good man,” I tell him and I have no idea what is coming over me.

  He timidly runs his knuckles down my cheek. “That is because you make me want to be in a better place. Getting to know you, the kind of person you are, not to mention when you are around, I don’t feel so numb and the fact you don’t take my crap, makes me want to spend as much time with you as I can.” His lips crash over mine and I am stunned. The urge to kiss him back is overpowering. The way he tastes like mint mixed with a hint of coffee. I grip him hard pulling him closer to me.

  When I pull away, we are both panting. I can feel my heat overpowering me, creeping up my body.

  “I’m sorry, I have wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, shocking me.

  “It’s okay. I’ve wanted to do that as well, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” I confess to him. I want to scream at him I want more, please don’t stop kissing me.

  He grabs me, wrapping me in his arms. “I have wondered what you tasted like since the day you barged into my house,” he tells me and I couldn’t do anything but sigh.

  “I have to work tomorrow night but can I come back over after my shift?” My voice was just above a whisper.

  He leans in kissing me tenderly. “I would love for you to come over, what time is your shift over?” he asks.

  My feet hurt, my back aches, and my heart hurts. Sometimes my job takes so much out of me, I don’t know if I have it in me to go back again.

  Work was crazy and I am so thankful it is over. When I get to Jackson’s I can hear shouting coming from the bedroom.

  “Jackson, wake up!” I say, trying to stir him out of his nightmare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you were screaming in your sleep,” I tell him filled with concern.

  “I know, I’m sorry” he says, and I can see he is drenched in sweat.

  “I promise, I’m okay, it was just a dream. It’s all over now. Come on, climb into bed,” he says. Nothing sounds better than to climb into bed with him and forget about my day.

  “What happened?” Jackson asks, knowing something was bothering me but unsure what it is.

  “It was just a very long and hard shift,” I say, trying not to let the day’s events destroy me. My eyes well up again.

  “Come here.” He pulls me into him, tucking away all the bad stuff.

  “I’m sorry work was hard,” he says.

  “Do you have dreams like that often?” I mumble.

  “Yes, but it’s nothing I can’t live with. Shhhh, go to sleep, we can talk about that in the morning,” he tells me, running his fingers through my hair.

  Chapter Seven

  Jackson

  I don’t know how long I laid there last night, the way she felt on me, I could have stayed like that forever. The way she looked and acted she must have had a rough night at work.

  I can feel her shift, telling me she is awake.

  “Good morning,” I say, kissing her.

  “Morning.” She wraps her legs over mine deepening the kiss.

  “Are you ready for breakfast?” she asks, stretching.

  “Yes, please, I need to get up and let Gracie out,” I say, sitting u
p on the bed.

  “Here.” She reaches for my crutches.

  “Thanks, babe,” I say, leaning down, placing a chaste kiss on her lips and she rewards me with a smile.

  “May I ask you a question?” she jokes.

  “Yes, you may,” I retort sarcastically.

  “How often are you having dreams, and do you think when we go back to the VA next week, we should let them know?” she asks. Her tone tells me she thinks I’m going to be angry and the old me might have been.

  “I have them every time I close my eyes, I see all of my men that never made it home. Mainly they are memories from my time over there and I can’t figure out a way for them to go away, period. And as far as speaking to someone, I guess I could give that a try,” I tell her openly and honestly. I just hope it helps with what she is going through.

  “Now, your turn,” I say. “What happened at work last night?” I can tell by the way she is shifting from one foot to the other it isn’t easy for her to talk about.

  “Sometimes my work is amazing! When you meet the kids, they worm their way into your heart even though it’s oncology. Most of the kids that come in are terrified, their parents have little to no knowledge on cancer, so you hold their hands and you still hope for the best. Last night I had to tell a mother of a six-year-old that he has stopped responding to treatment and there is nothing more we can do for him except to make him comfortable,” I rush out, my eyes welling with tears.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I tell her and wrap her in my arms. “I think what you do is so brave and wonderful, you help families in their darkest hour. You help give them hope,” I tell her.

  “Thank you, I really needed to hear that,” she says, reaching up and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “What do you want to do today?” I ask.

  “I feel like getting out of the house,” I tell her, and she is shocked. “Thank you for being there for me,” I blurt out. “I mean thank you for not giving up on me, when it was hard between the hospital and here. You truly are amazing.”

  “Honestly, I think it is more we saved each other. I was barely living when I met you that first day,” she whispers, her breath skimming across my face.

  “I love you, Evelyn May, thank you for everything,” I tell her, kissing her with so much passion and love, mixed with adoration.

  Epilogue

  It’s been six months since Evelyn and Gracie walked into my life, to tell you the truth they have saved me. I thought when I came back from the war, I had left it all behind me. I know now that I didn’t. I only brought all that pain and the memories back with me. I learned you could surround yourself with a million people but when the darkness pulls you down there is no amount of people that can stop that. I now work full time with Dogs Inc. helping the handlers training the puppies, showing them just what signals the puppy needs to know and I am doing it with Gracie proudly by my side. My life is no longer just existing, I am now living. I still have hard times; I still have night terrors, not as frequently as I did before. I did learn a great lesson from them both. Only way to deal with it is to focus on things that will be there on the other side when you come through, and for me that is Evelyn and my Saving Grace.

  Sam’s Only Hope

  Claire Ashlynn

  Chapter One

  Samuel Paxon

  Explosions fire all around me. The weightless feeling of flying through the air settles at the bottom of my gut. The heat from the flames scorch at my skin and pain blasts throughout my body as we land. I jerk a glance at Tom, the driver, and the side of his face is covered in blood.

  Wrenching to the back the best that I can, I look for the radio and gunner men, but the back of the vehicle is twisted metal. Pain radiates and shoots up from my left foot. I gaze down and see that the floorboard is gone and so is my foot.

  “Fuck!” I scream as I jerk up into a sitting position on the bed. Sweat pours down my body as it trembles, I try to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. Grabbing my anxiety pills from the nightstand, I pop one and chase it down with water. I gulp down the whole bottle. Flicking a look at the clock, I see it’s four-thirty in the morning. With a groan, I roll over and slip to the side of the bed. There’s no reason to lie around, I won’t be able to fall back to sleep anyway. Once the nightmare invades, there is only one way for me to relax. Glaring at several pill bottles lining the nightstand, I shake my head. Nope, they don’t help much. No, I hit the gym. Working off the adrenaline is the only way to get the fear and anguish out.

  I reach for the cloth sleeve from the side table and glide it on. Grabbing the metal prosthetic, I try to thread the Velcro strap through the bottom but my hands are still twitching. Giving them a firm shake, I steady them and continue to attach the piece to my stub.

  I slip on my sweats and stand up, then head to the kitchen and pop a K-cup into the coffee machine. While the machine does its magic, I scramble three eggs and heat up some precooked bacon.

  Adding a little cream and sugar to my mug, I give it a quick stir and blow on it before taking a sip. The warmth from the hot liquid works its way through my body starting at my center. After scarfing down my breakfast, I shrug on my jacket and grab my gym bag.

  The trip to the gym is short. Ice hangs from trees, lamp poles, and roofs, and patches of snow dot the side of the road. It’s early February, but in Nederland, Colorado, we still have several months of ball freezing weather ahead of ourselves. I pull into the parking lot, skirting around a patch of black ice, and park next to the handicap spot. Fuck if I’m using it. I’ve worked my ass off for two years to get where I’m at and I’m owning my success.

  Through the well-lit windows, I see that it’s deserted. Just the way I like it. Less staring people.

  Heading inside, I switch out my everyday prosthetic for the athletic one. I set to work on the free weights. After several sets, I’m still on edge. I climb on the treadmill and start my routine. By the time I’m done and worn out and covered in sweat, I’ve run five miles uphill. My stub’s sore by the time I step off. I sit down with my back to the wall and guzzle down a bottle of water. Slipping my athletic leg off, I rub Tiger Balm into the sore muscles. Grimacing, I fight through the agony.

  "Hey, you," a sweet voice says. Looking up, I see a luscious, curvy woman with straight, long auburn hair that hangs down to the globes of her sweet ass with a warm smile. Her eyes are a unique gray-green color. I rub my stubble on my chin while checking for drool.

  "Hey, Hope. You’re up here early this morning," I remark, devouring her with my eyes.

  "Yeah . . . I'm actually hoping to catch up with you. I know you like to come to workout in the early mornings."

  Hope's been in my life since before I was released from the hospital. She was assigned to be my physical therapist when I returned stateside, then transferred to homecare so she could continue working with me. I’m not sure why, the first year, I was not in the right mindset. She pushed me to my limit and beyond, if not for her, I don’t think . . . no, I know I wouldn’t be where I am today. If I wasn’t so fucked up, I would explore more of a relationship with her.

  “So, what’s up?” I ask, curious about her intent. She looks nervous as shit. I watch her bite her lip, wanting to do it for her.

  “I was wondering, if possible, if you could do me a favor?” she asks, not quite looking at me and shuffling her feet. That’s her tell. She was up to something.

  “Sure,” I say slowly, waiting for her to spill it.

  “So, I was wondering if you could watch Careful for me. I’m going out of town for the weekend and I don’t want to kennel him. He’s doing so well with his training and I think putting him in that place will set him back,” she explains. Careful is her K9s for Warriors dog. She’s been working with him for six months. Relief floods my body; I can do that. It’s just a dog.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, I can take care of the pup,” I assure her.

  “Great!” she says with just a little bit too much enthusiasm. I’m still
getting the feeling that there’s a catch. “I can drop him off this afternoon with his stuff. I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s fine. I need to head home and get ready for work. I’ll see you later,” I say as I clean up the equipment that I was using.

  “Okay,” she says as she looks at her watch. “Oh, crap, yeah, I‘ve got to get going, too.” She hugs me. She’s always been a touchy feely type of woman. Because I’m hopelessly in love with her, I would do anything for her.

  I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close. Taking a deep breath, I take in her sweet scent of lavender. My dick twitches to life. Pulling away, she lays a kiss on my cheek and rushes out the door with a wave.

  Regret hits me hard. I want her so damn bad, but who would want a broken, discarded soldier.

  Chapter Two

  Hope Smalls

  My face is on fire as I rush out the gym door. The brisk cold air hits my face. I’m hoping it’ll cool it off. Oh . . . My . . . God . . .He’s so freaking hot. Got to stay professional. To be honest, he should have graduated out of physical therapy several months ago, but I’ve been making excuses to be able to see him. Why would a sexy, athletic man want anything to do with my curvy ass? I’m heavy topped and heavy bottomed, my waist is trim, not matching the rest of my body. I’m firm, there’s just a lot of me. I work out, but nothing shrinks, just tightens up. I love me, but I don’t think he would be interested, he could have anyone.

  I can’t help smiling as I feel that I’ve done a good thing for him. I just hope that he’ll see that by the end of the weekend. I put the application in for Sam to get Careful as a service dog. This weekend isn’t really for me to go away but for him to have a home visit with the dog to see if they are a fit.