Her world was in utter turmoil. No one had expected this bloody attack. This was one of the safe villages in the valley, fully enclosed, with a five-foot-tall stucco and rock wall. Two ten-foot-high gates kept predators and the enemy out so the village slept safely each night. Those gates were only opened in the morning, during daylight hours. Too many predators on two legs moved in the night, so those gates were locked.
There was a sudden explosion, so sharp and deep, it slammed Lily into the gunnysacks scattered across the floor. Pain, jagged and sharp, raced through her ears. Pressure waves slapped through the barn, shaking it, shaking her. Goats were screaming in terror. What had just happened? She had no idea. Her life as a nurse and officer had been in a hospital setting, not a bloody, ongoing attack like this.
As she shakily sat up, Lily dazedly realized in alarm that she couldn’t hear anything. The burning odor of the massive explosion filtered through the barn, the inner flesh of her nostrils smarting. Opening her mouth, she tried to breath in, but the odor made her start coughing and gagging. She fell down on the floor, clutching at her neck and chest, trying to draw in a clean breath of air. Impossible! Her throat felt as if it were on fire. It felt as if the tops of her lungs were burning. Was it a chemical explosion? Hazardous material? Something far worse? She lay there, gasping like a fish out of water, eyes bulging, hearing no sounds, trying to suck in fresh air. Die . . . I’m going to die . . .
Lily jerked, her arms around her knees, huddled against the wall, back against one of the brass legs of her bed. Suddenly, her mind canted and she blinked slowly, realizing she was no longer in the goat barn. Her ears popped, and she could hear herself sobbing for breath in the nearly dark bedroom. Air ... she was inhaling clean, fresh, coolish air. She sucked deep drafts into her lungs, her entire body shaking with the vast surge of adrenaline. It felt so good to breath clean air! Eyes tightly closed, she concentrated on her breath, trying to slow down her hyperventilation, the edges of her mind telling her that she was in a flashback, replaying that deadly night.
A small whimper tore from her as she felt the claws of the memory, of that night, start to release her. It was such a relief! Still smelling the acrid odor, the funky smell of the goats, the dankness of her hiding place, she tried to control her breathing and slow it down. Safe. I’m safe. Her mind echoed that litany over and over again. She felt the coolness of the room, her knee-length cotton nightgown with its long sleeves.
Next, she realized where she was, the state and town, that this was Jake Murdoch’s cabin. Reality began a drip, drip, drip into her fried, terrified mind, which was still partly back at the Afghan village and partly here and now. The memory was far more powerful than real life. It always was when a flashback hit her. Often, she felt as if she had two brains, one back there, the other here and now. Literally, she could feel the tug-of-war between them, and wondered which would win.
Hot tears squeezed from beneath her tightly shut eyes. They trailed down the edges of her cheeks, dripping off her jaw; she was helpless to stop them. Partly, the tears were a relief at knowing it was a flashback, that it wasn’t real any longer. Partly, it was the loss of hundreds of innocent families that night when the Taliban came into the village to murder as many as they could because they were colluding with the Americans. She cried for all the women and men who were murdered in that attack, the loss of their innocent children. Lily had never forgotten any of them. Ever. They were branded into her memory and heart. She didn’t want to forget them because they were good people caught in the terrible jaws of jihadists who took a peaceful religion and turned it into a war against those who wouldn’t believe as they did. It was barbaric. Horrifying.
The chill in the room finally pulled her out of it. Lily had no idea how much time had passed; she never did when a flashback hit. Unlocking her stiffened arms from around her knees, she slowly allowed one leg and then the other to stretch outward from their cramped position. The clock on the dresser read four a.m. Shakily pushing her hair away from her eyes, she knew she had to get up. Slowly, more and more reality seeped into her traumatized, adrenaline-soaked brain. The horrifying memory was receding, like the ocean’s tide. Lily knew the tide would come back in at some point.
Jerkily, she leaned forward until she was on the coolness of the cedar floor, on her hands and knees. Pulling the fabric away from her knees, she gripped the mattress, looking for purchase, looking for something to steady her unsteady world. The shadows in the room had changed; the moon had traveled for an hour or more from its position when she’d screamed herself awake. Then, the shadows had resembled the Taliban hunting her. Now, the shadows were more benign. But she didn’t fool herself. That flashback would visit her again. She forced one foot outward, hauling herself up.
Falling onto the mattress, Lily crawled onto it, grabbing at the covers, chilled and shaking badly. As the adrenaline began to leave, it crashed her entire emotional and parasympathetic nervous systems. Collapsing, feeling weakness pervade her, she landed with her head on the pillow, pulling up her legs, curling into a fetal position for protection. Her breathing was steadier now; she was no longer hyperventilating. Closing her eyes, the warmth of the goose-down comforter made her feel safer, as if it were a wall between her and the flashback. A tremulous sigh escaped between her lips. Her gown was soaked with cold sweat. It smelled awful. Lily called it fear sweat because it stank. She didn’t care; she was getting warm, the comforter like an island of safety around the emotion that still roiled within her.
All she wanted was to sleep, to escape her brain, which held these tragic memories and paralyzed her every time they replayed. Her thoughts canted to Jenna, and then to Jake. They were good people. In Jake, she saw someone else who was chased by demons. But he was a lot stronger than she was right now.
Every day, with incremental steps, Lily was trying to get a little stronger. It was in small ways, not large ones. Managing to live through a flashback more than showed her that she had the strength within her to keep moving forward. Earlier, the flashbacks had nearly destroyed her, leaving her helpless and unable to live normally for three or four days afterward. Now, she got through them in a few hours, sometimes in half a day. It wasn’t pretty, but at least her real world now held together, no longer torn apart, drifting in and out of reality. That was progress. It was the last thought she had.
* * *
“Jake, did you hear Lily screaming last night?” Jenna looked up at her son, who had come in to see her before he left for work. She saw his black brows dip as he halted at the end of her bed. She had awakened because her door was partly open; if she needed help, someone would hear her.
“No, I didn’t. Tell me more.”
Jenna pushed her covers down around her waist. She had the bed in a slightly raised position because it was more comfortable on her healing surgery. “She was screaming. It jerked me awake. I’ve never heard that kind of cry from a human, Jake. It sent shivers down my spine. At first, I was disoriented because I thought I was in my home, not yours.”
“You were jerked out of sleep,” he rumbled.
“Yes, for sure.” Jenna looked out the open door. “I wanted to go to her, but I knew I couldn’t do it just yet. Maybe in another week, after my surgery heals up more, but not now. I had no way to get hold of you, to tell you what was happening.”
Jake scratched his head. “I’ll get Patrick to come over here today. I think we might need a buzzer you could press that would get hold of me. I know you have one for Lily.”
“That’s a good idea. But I’m concerned about her. She sounded like she was being murdered, Jake. I didn’t know what to think.”
He moved to the bed and reached out, taking his mother’s hand. “Jenna, she’s a military vet like me. I know she told you that she has PTSD.”
“Is that what happened last night? She had a nightmare or something?”
“Probably.” He released her hand and stood there, feeling his mother’s darkening gaze on him.
“
It was terrifying, Jake. My God, what has that poor woman gone through?”
“We all go through it if we’re in combat, Jenna. She’s not unique, believe me.”
Tilting her head, she gave him an intense, sweeping look. “Is that why when you came home from the war, you didn’t stay at our home?”
Moving uncomfortably, Jake looked away, his mouth thinning. The silence was telling. Finally, he tipped his head in her direction. “Yeah.”
Sighing, Jenna reached out and gripped her son’s hand, which had turned into a fist. “Oh, Jake, why didn’t you tell me?”
He gently squeezed her hand, then released it. “I don’t know. I just knew I’d startle you awake, like Lily woke you up last night. It’s no way to live, Jenna.”
She glanced out the door. “This is awful.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “Oh, poor Lily! How can we help her, Jake? What can we do?”
Giving a painful shrug, Jake muttered, “Nothing. There’s nothing that stops flashbacks and nightmares. We have absolutely no control over them. Sometimes,” he hesitated, looking down at his worn cowboy boots, “. . . sometimes all we can do is take ourselves out of the equation. I didn’t stay with you when I got home because I’m just like Lily. I’m sure she doesn’t realize she woke you up last night. I’m sure she’s ashamed and feeling pretty low after going through what she did last night.”
“It’s only six a.m. I’m hoping she’s sleeping.”
“Yeah, she probably is.”
“Poor darling. She’s so responsible and caring, Jake. This just breaks my heart. How can I help Lily?”
“Well, if you mention it to her, she’ll probably feel lower than a snake’s belly in a wheel rut.”
“Does it affect her after having one?”
“Sure. When I left the corps, the first year was hard on me. I would have a flashback at least once a week, sometimes twice. I was foreman here, and I was losing a lot of sleep.” His mouth quirked. “That’s how I got my nickname: Bear. I was growly, short and irritable. It’s sleep deprivation, Jenna.”
“You make a nightmare and flashback sound like separate things. Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No. A flashback is a helluva lot more intense and can shake your world apart. You relive something you survived. Usually, it’s about being in combat, feeling like you were going to die and not survive it. Flashbacks usually occur when there’s a sound, a smell, a color or seeing something on TV or on the internet that triggers it. You’re caught up in it. You’re there, and you hear, smell, taste and see what that combat situation was when you were caught up in it. There’s no way to get out of it. You’re trapped. You aren’t in control. You’re swept up into what happened again.”
“What if we woke Lily up? Wouldn’t that stop it?”
Jake grimaced. “That’s why a flashback is so devastating to people like us. And to the spouse or family who see it happen. If you were to touch Lily when she was caught up in the claws of that flashback? She wouldn’t know it was you shaking her awake. She wouldn’t hear you. She’d be locked in that experience. And she’d probably lash out and hit at you because she was back there, not here in the present.”
“Oh,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s awful.”
“I’ve seen marriages go on the rocks because of them,” Jake growled. “The man or woman who’s caught in the flashback, if touched, will strike out, thinking the other person is the enemy, attacking them. They’re going to defend themselves.”
“Then, how do I help Lily if it happens again?”
“Best to stand at the foot of her bed and quietly call her name. If you touch her in any way, you’re just deepening her experience. She’s a prisoner within it. It makes it worse for her. If you can just gently call her name, it might help release her a little sooner, but that’s all you can do.”
“My God, I didn’t realize this, Jake. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was ashamed, Jenna. I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t control myself. And I didn’t want to keep waking you up at night, or maybe put you in danger if you tried to shake me awake. I’ve heard too many horror stories of a man coming home and not talking about his PTSD with his wife. And then, one night, he’s hit with a flashback. The wife gets jerked awake, turns over and shakes her husband’s shoulder. He turns and smashes his fist into her face or tries to choke her to death because he’s trapped in the past and thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t defend himself.”
Rubbing her brow, Jenna gave him a long, sad look. “I feel so helpless.”
“So do we.”
“How long does a flashback last, Jake?”
“Could be minutes, sometimes fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“How do you feel when you’re coming out of it?”
“At first? You’re there, not here,” and he pointed down at the floor where he stood. “Slowly, your mind starts separating the past event from the present reality, and for a while, you’re not sure where you are because you’re emotionally overwhelmed and aren’t free of the memories or feelings. It takes five or ten minutes, sometimes longer, depending upon the intensity of it, to realize you’re here, not back there in the dangerous situation.”
“A lot of confusion in your mind?”
“Exactly. And if you try to talk to me when I’m in that phase of coming out of it, strung between two different worlds, I may or may not hear you speaking to me. I may still be caught up in the sounds of battle or whatever is scaring me to death.”
“And so I should just stand quietly and call your name, not touch you in any way?”
“Yes. The more I orient to the here and now, the more I’ll start to hear you calling my name. Once I get a fix on your voice, I’ll hone in on it, and it actually draws me out of the past faster than it would normally, back to the present.”
“That’s helpful to know,” she murmured, her voice fraught with emotion.
“For both parties,” Jake agreed. He looked at his watch. “I have to go. Are you going to discuss this with Lily?”
“I don’t think so. At least, not right now. Maybe she’ll talk to me about it.”
“Doubtful,” he said. “Remember, we’re ashamed of ourselves. We feel bad we can’t control our own body or mind.” He settled the Stetson on his head. “Just give her latitude today. She’s going to be wiped out.”
“I’m sure,” Jenna said, sympathy in her voice.
He leaned over, squeezing her hand. “Lily is lucky to be working with someone as understanding as you, Jenna.”
“I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”
“Yes.” He released her hand. “You’re a Band-Aid on her wound. I know your kindness and care toward others. She’s lucky to be here with you.”
“And you,” Jenna said gently. “Thank you for letting me know about the PTSD you carry. I wish ... well, we’ll talk more later.” She could see the resistance in his eyes. Swept up on a wave of sadness, she realized just how many burdens from the war Jake and Lily continued to carry. “I love you, Son.”
Jake nodded and leaned over, kissing her hair. “Back at you,” he rumbled.
* * *
Lily tried to shake off the exhaustion that weighed her down as she hurried to Jenna’s room. She’d overslept by half an hour. Peeking inside the room, she saw the woman was up, had dressed herself and was using the walker to get around.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, coming into the room.
“Oh, no worries,” Jenna assured her, giving her a warm smile as she eased out of the bathroom. “Look! I can finally get around by myself.”
“Wow, that’s progress. How is your leg feeling?”
“Tender, but no pain. Oh, I forgot to take my pain pill when I woke up.”
Lily halted near her. “That’s really good news. You’re healing fast. Let me get the pill for you.”
“Well, you’ve been giving me massages two or three times a day. I believe that’s made a huge difference. Who doesn’t love
to get a massage?” and she smiled again into Lily’s darkened eyes.
“Are you hungry?” She handed Jenna a glass of water and her medication. She dutifully took it and gave the glass back to her.
“I am. You know what I’d love to do, Lily? How about you follow along with me as I make it across the living room and sit at the kitchen table?”
“I’m with you,” Lily assured her, resting her hand lightly on her shoulder. “Let’s go for it.” Jenna didn’t say anything about her screaming, and Lily was relieved; she’d been afraid she might have awakened her in the night.
“I like strong, assertive women,” Jenna remarked, moving her device on wheels to the hall. “We might be down, but we’re not out!”
Lily remained at her side. “I don’t like the other choice. Do you? Throw in the towel, wave a white flag of surrender?”
Snorting politely, Jenna said wryly, “Women are the stronger of the two genders, no question. And we’re always the ones who carry so many more loads, seen and unseen, than any man ever does.”
Smarting inwardly, Lily whispered, “You’re so right about that.” Right now, she felt like there were twenty-pound weights on each of her feet. She had finally fallen asleep after the flashback, but her rest was broken, restless and light. She knew she had to be alert and observant of Jenna to ensure her safety.
“Jake came in before he left for work,” she said. “He made a huge omelet and said it was in the fridge. Maybe you don’t have to make anything except some toast for me?”
“That was sweet of him,” Lily said as they crossed the living room. There was one step to get up to the kitchen area. Resting her hand on Jenna’s back, she watched her lift her walker with ease. Another sign she was gaining physical strength. “As soon as I get you to the table, I’ll check it out. Want coffee, too?”
Jenna laughed and waited while Lily pulled out the chair at the end of the table for her. “A day without coffee is like a day without sunshine.”
Home to Wind River Page 7
