Blades of Bluegrass

by D. Jackson Leigh

Convinced, Teddy gave in. “Tylenol then.” She shook out two tablets from the bottle in a nearby cabinet and handed them to Britt with a bottle of water. She began putting their makeshift treatment room back in order while Britt obediently swallowed the tablets. “I need to change into uniform.” She glanced at Britt. “Sorry.”

  Britt shook her head. “It’s okay. I want to shower before I dress. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”

  * * *

  Teddy’s breath caught when she looked up from texting with her boss. Capt. Britt Story, dressed in her desert camos field uniform, stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Sure, Teddy worked around uniformed soldiers most of the time, but Britt wore her camos like a second skin. Tall and erect, but not stiff. Teddy fought down the impulse to stand and salute.

  Britt held up the prosthesis in her right hand. “I didn’t know if I needed to bring this…or wear it?”

  Teddy noticed her empty sleeve was already neatly cuffed to just below the end of her residual limb. “You don’t have to wear it. I’m a little concerned about the place under your arm the harness is rubbing. But bring the prosthesis. We’ll need to try it with the new harness.”

  “Okay. I’m ready when you are.”

  “Hold up,” Lynn said, coming out of the pantry. “If you have time, stop by the farmers’ market on your way back and see if they have the things on the list in this bag.”

  Britt took the cloth shopping bag Lynn held out and tucked it against her body with her residual limb. “Got it covered. Let’s roll,” she said, sounding as if she were commanding a convoy.

  Teddy couldn’t resist coming to attention and snapping a salute. “Yes, ma’am. Your transport is ready.”

  Britt played along, lifting the hand of the prosthesis to her brow in a mocking return salute. “Stow that cell phone, Lieutenant. There’s no texting while driving in this state.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Teddy flashed a grin at Lynn as she trailed Britt out of the kitchen.

  Lynn winked and gave Teddy a thumbs-up at Britt’s playful response. Yep. Capt. Britt Story was finding her feet again.

  * * *

  The day was a perfect seventy degrees and sunny, so the drive over the mostly empty county roads was amazing in the sleek convertible. Once they hit city traffic, not so much. The smaller car was crowded between exhaust-spewing trucks and bulky SUVs on the major artery running to the Veterans Affairs Hospital. Teddy had never minded the city before, but she’d become spoiled by the past few weeks of clean country air.

  “I meant to ask earlier. Why are you posted at a VA hospital while you’re still active duty?”

  “I’m part of a small special team assigned to research and recommend our path forward in prosthetics. Many new advances are making the hope of returning valuable personnel to duty, even to the battlefield, a real possibility. We’ve identified several potential candidates for our research in this area and decided to locate here temporarily while we wait for funding to be approved for permanent quarters.”

  “So, you got diverted from your mission to play nursemaid to me.” Britt’s mood had soured the minute they parked at the hospital, and Teddy felt the wall she’d spent the past weeks tearing down rising between them again.

  “I wasn’t sidelined. You—the method of your amputation—is our first chance to test the most recent advance with a soldier right off the battlefield.”

  “So, I’m a guinea pig for your program?”

  Teddy tugged Britt to stop and faced her. She needed to choose her words and approach carefully. “This isn’t just about you, Captain. This is about your duty to your fellow soldiers. If you will withhold judgment until we finish here today, I’m hoping you’ll see it as an honor, not just duty.”

  Britt gave a curt nod. “You’ve got today, Lieutenant.”

  They began walking toward the hospital again.

  “I was texting with the team commander, Colonel Winstead, when you came downstairs. We picked the perfect day to come in. A doctor from Duke University is here and would like to see you. He’s part of their team that’s making phenomenal breakthroughs in the field of prosthetics. If you agree, they want to work with you on their latest project.”

  “I’m not staying in the army, Teddy.”

  “You don’t have to in order to be part of this.”

  They stayed on the ground floor but walked through a maze of corridors until they reached double doors that opened into a gymnasium-sized room, where several-dozen therapists worked with patients at various stations.

  “Hey, Lieutenant!” A woman sitting on a treatment table waved them over.

  “Rachel, hi. How’s it going?” Teddy asked, leading them to the young woman’s table. Teddy gave a covert thumbs-up to a therapist working with a patient two stations away. They’d conspired to have Rachel—one of their hardest working, most upbeat patients—at the rehab center to meet and hopefully influence Britt.

  Rachel held up her left hand, the bionics whirring as her thumb and index finger formed an O. “A-okay,” she said. “I love this hand. They said it just might be my ticket to get off medical disability and back in the army again, now that I’m bionic.” Her arm had been amputated mid-forearm, and she continued to demonstrate the hand’s capabilities by touching each finger to her thumb. She picked up a tennis ball from the tray next to the treatment table and tossed it from her bionic hand to her real hand and back again.

  “Wow. Your eye-hand coordination has really improved. I can tell you’ve been working hard.”

  “It’d be a lot easier if I could feel the fingers.” Rachel held the bionic hand up and wiggled the fingers. The futuristic limb showed some of the mechanics through the red and black semi-transparent covering. “My brain can make the fingers move, but it still wants to pick stuff up with the end of my arm because that’s where my feeling stops. If I’m not looking at the hand and the object when I try to grab something, I always misjudge the distance. But it’s nothing that should keep me from doing my job if the army would take me back.”

  Britt’s eyes followed the ball as Rachel tossed it from one hand to the other. The bionic fingers didn’t move as quickly as real fingers. “What was your MOS, soldier?”

  Rachel grinned. “Sniper, ma’am. I was lucky it was my left hand that got blown off when our transport hit that IED. Not even this super hand could get me back in if it’d been my right one. I need to be able to feel the trigger.”

  They watched as she tossed the tennis ball to her bionic hand but missed catching it. The ball joined a few others scattered around the floor, but Rachel just reached for another on the tray and tried again. She turned hopeful eyes on Teddy. “Do you think there’s a chance for me?”

  “Colonel Winstead is working to get a protocol written for returning someone to combat service. This isn’t something they’ve done before. We’re breaking new ground, but keep practicing so you’ll be ready.”

  “I want to go back to work, Lieutenant.” Rachel scowled. “I was near the top of my MOS in hits. In the army, I’m important. I hate being a civilian. I’m nothing out here. I’ve got a high school diploma and one hand. I can’t even get a job as a waitress or a dishwasher.”

  “You’re getting your medical-disability checks, right?”

  “I don’t need money. I need to work, damn it.” They all flinched at the loud pop when Rachel’s bionic hand squeezed the tennis ball too tightly. She dropped it back onto the tray. “Even if they don’t want to put me back in the field, I could help train troops at the gun range.”

  Teddy patted Rachel’s thigh. “Try to be patient a little longer. We’re pushing this as fast as we can.”

  “Okay. Sure. I’ll wait.” Rachel looked at Britt, her eyes traveling for the first time to Britt’s empty sleeve. “Oh. I thought you were another PT. Sorry. I didn’t see the sleeve at first.”

  “No problem.”

  “The lieutenant will fix you up.”

  “That’s the plan,” Britt said. “Hold on a second.” B
ritt walked over to a desk on the other side of the room. Teddy shrugged at Rachel’s questioning look. They watched as Britt bent to write something, then headed back to them. She held out a yellow note to Rachel.

  “This is the address for a gun shop and shooting range near here. Ask for Rick, and tell him Britt Story said he might need some help.”

  Rachel’s face transformed. “Hey, thanks! I’ll go see him now.” She hopped down and headed for the door, then trotted back to them and held out her hand for Britt to shake. “Really. Thanks, Captain.” With that, she was sprinting for the door again.

  “You made her day,” Teddy said, smiling at Britt.

  Britt shrugged. “Rick’s a veteran, too. He’ll understand and at least give her something to do other than rehab. I’m surprised she got that high-tech hand. I can’t imagine what it cost.”

  “Not as much as you think. The parts were three-D printed, which drastically lowers the price. Our hope is a future where prosthetics like Rachel’s will be routinely available to all veterans and active military.”

  Britt nodded, her gaze roving the large room filled with amputee veterans—some young enough to be recently discharged, others old enough to have lost limbs to disease. Teddy tried to caution herself against being too hopeful, but Britt seemed to be softening toward the project. Getting her on board to work with the Duke doctors would give them a running start.

  * * *

  Britt hesitated in the door of the treatment room when two men—one in uniform, the other in casual slacks and a golf shirt—looked expectantly at her. Doctors. She knew the look. The Tylenol pills that had taken the edge off her pain were long used up, and her arm was aching. She wasn’t in the mood for being poked and prodded. A hand brushed her back, and Teddy, who stood behind her, spoke softly.

  “I’ll be back in one minute. Don’t let them start without me.”

  Britt nodded but wanted to catch Teddy by the arm and haul both of them out to the parking lot. She fought to stuff down her rising temper. She’d always been an even-keel kind of person, but Afghanistan and the army had significantly shortened her fuse. She stepped into the room and came to attention to address Col. Tom Winstead. “Sir.”

  Colonel Winstead stood from where he’d been propped against a counter and held out his hand. “Captain Story. Come in. I’m Tom Winstead.” He looked past her. “I thought Teddy, uh, Lieutenant Alexander was with you.”

  Britt shook his hand but remained stiffly at attention. “Lieutenant Alexander diverted for a minute and asked that we wait to begin.” She wasn’t sure, though, what they were here to do, and her irritation was growing too big for the room. She felt crowded by the two men, the way she felt crowded by her father and everybody else who’d been pushing at her. Sweat trickled from her temple and along her jaw. She was crawling out of her skin and about to excuse herself before she exploded.

  Then Teddy was there, pressing a cold bottle of water into her hand. Despite the fourth body crowded into the room, Britt felt like the walls moved back a few inches so she could breathe again.

  “Sorry,” Teddy said to the two men. “I didn’t want to get off schedule with Captain Story’s medications.” She turned her back to them to face Britt, effectively placing herself between Britt and the men. She took the bottle of water back and pressed a small white pill cup into Britt’s hand instead. “No arguments, Captain. It’s just Tylenol and Tegretol for the nerve pain. Down the hatch.”

  Britt immediately missed the bottle that was cooling her hand and her head. She tossed the pills into her mouth and traded the pill cup for the now-opened bottle that Teddy held out. Britt gulped down half of it, wishing she could pour the rest over her head. “Thanks,” she said, taking one more swallow before handing it back to Teddy.

  “You okay?” Teddy’s question was soft, her gaze following the bead of sweat Britt could feel still sliding along her jaw.

  “Yeah.” Britt looked away from Teddy’s worried eyes, then gave a small sigh. Teddy deserved an honest reply. She held Teddy’s gaze and casually wiped the sweat away. “I’m okay now. A bit of phantom pain was getting the better of me, but it’s already fading. The pills will take care of it.”

  Teddy stepped away and nodded to Colonel Winstead. The men had waited, apparently deferring to Teddy since she’d been treating Britt for the past few weeks. That was saying a lot because colonels, especially men, rarely stepped aside for a lieutenant. It raised Colonel Winstead’s stock as far as Britt was concerned.

  Colonel Winstead cleared his throat and indicated the other man. “This is Doctor Will Thomas, from Duke University.”

  Dr. Thomas smiled and held out his hand. “Please. I’m looking forward to working together in the coming year, so it’s just Will.”

  Britt shook his hand. “Britt Story. Uh, just Britt.”

  “And we’re going to ignore rank while we’re working, so I’m Tom.”

  Teddy blazed a smile that lit the room and held out her hand to Will. “I’m Teddy, and I’m really excited to learn more about your project, Doctor Thomas.”

  “Will,” he said, matching Teddy’s smile.

  Britt frowned. He was handsome and a little too friendly. Time to move this along and get the hell out of this hospital. “So, Dr. Thomas, I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. I haven’t signed up to be your test subject.”

  “Yet,” Teddy said, frowning at Britt. “Will…” She emphasized the use of his first name. “maybe if you told us more about your project.”

  “Sure,” he said, grabbing a laptop computer from the counter and opening it to a video waiting to start. “This explains how we connect the nerves still viable in your residual limb to sensors in the fingers of the prosthetic hand and allow you to feel sensation.”

  “Sensation?”

  “Hot or cold, and pressure,” Will said. “We’re still trying to master texture, like the difference between touching silk and cotton.”

  Britt didn’t appear convinced, so Teddy jumped in.

  “Any type of feeling is a big step, Britt. It will solve two of the largest problems—the spatial perception Rachel was talking about and grip. How to hold something without squeezing it too tight.”

  “May I examine your residual limb?” Will asked.

  Britt started to refuse. It still throbbed. But she caved after just a glance at Teddy’s pleading expression. Her cooperation would reflect favorably on Teddy, maybe even earn her a promotion. She was uneasy, though, still uncertain of her next step in facing what had happened in Afghanistan. Her loyalty to family and country, her disillusionment with the chain of command, and a promise she’d made a young woman under her command were getting tangled up with her growing relationship with Teddy. Today, however, didn’t feel like the place to take her stand. She’d go along for now. “Yeah. Okay.”

  They waited while Britt unbuttoned her camo shirt, handed it to Teddy, then hopped up on the exam table.

  “You’re still having a lot of pain?”

  “Not really.”

  “She’s actually ahead of schedule in her rehab.” Teddy elaborated since Britt was being rather nonverbal. “We began strength exercises this morning, so she’s experiencing more residual limb pain today than usual.”

  Will was gentle as he probed and tapped. She jerked when he hit where a nerve was apparently near the skin.

  “Sorry, but I needed to test that.” His smile was broad. “The surgeon did an excellent job. Once you’re healed enough, you’ll be an excellent candidate to work the bugs out of our prototype.”

  Britt stayed silent. There was nothing really to say. She was in a holding pattern until the army decided her fate. But they couldn’t keep her in their service forever. She qualified for medical retirement. Hell, all she wanted was to be released. She didn’t need their hush money, and she’d get an army lawyer to explain that to her command if necessary.

  Will studied her. “You have to want to participate, Britt.” He looked at Colonel Winstead. “The army can
’t just order her. I can connect nerves to electrodes in the prosthesis, but I can’t make her brain finish the connection. She has to want to move the fingers badly enough.” He turned back to Britt but stopped when Teddy put her hand up.

  “Captain Story is still recovering from her wounds and has been back from deployment less than a month,” Teddy said.

  “The earlier we can orient her brain to the arm, the greater our chances of success,” Will said.

  Teddy whirled on Colonel Winstead. “Colonel, she needs time. I don’t have to explain to you the psychological shock of returning from deployment.”

  “If she needs time, she’ll get it.” Everyone turned to the man standing in the doorway. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, his features left little doubt he was a close relation to Britt.

  Britt had had enough of the arguing over her. She turned to Sen. Brock Story. Her father had interfered in her life enough. “You don’t actually have a say in that, Senator. You are no longer in my chain of command, and I’m an adult competent enough to make any decisions the army doesn’t make for me.” She faced Colonel Winstead and stood at attention with her eyes focused over his shoulder rather than on his face. “Is there anything else, sir?”

  Colonel Winstead glanced at Brock, then studied Britt for a long second. “I’m glad to see you healing so well, Captain. I trust Lieutenant Alexander is taking good care of you?”

  Britt relaxed a bit and met his gaze. She was already aware of Teddy’s admiration for her boss, but something about his demeanor—his warm eyes, his open expression—put Britt at ease, too. “She’s a hard taskmaster, but yes, sir. She is.”

  “Good. Then you’re dismissed, Captain Story. I want to see you back here in two weeks to review your progress.”

  “Yes, sir.” Britt whirled and stepped around her father to leave the exam room.

  * * *

  Britt nearly collided with a woman who looked like she must have a van full of children outside, waiting for her to drive them to soccer practice. “Sorry. Excuse me.”