by Trent Reedy
“Okay,” Sparrow said to JoBell. “We’re going to give you a tiny bit of morphine now, and when that’s kicked in, we’ll close this wound up.” She popped a syringe into the bottle of clear liquid and drew a very small dosage. “And I mean tiny,” she whispered. “I’ve never messed with this stuff, but I know you gotta be careful. Two milligrams, and we’ll see how you do.”
She wrapped one of those giant rubber bands around JoBell’s arm and pushed the needle into a vein. We waited about five minutes, but when nothing happened, Sparrow added two more. JoBell still wasn’t numb, so she gave her a final milligram.
“Are you guysh gonna do thish or are you not?” JoBell finally said, with obvious trouble focusing her eyes.
“I think she’s ready.” Sparrow laughed.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “I can do it.” I scrubbed my hands and dipped a needle and thread in iodine, then gritted my teeth as I started to sew her up. JoBell didn’t even flinch.
“Are you shewing me?” she asked.
“No,” I said. Why worry her? “Relax. We’re just cleaning you up and getting a new bandage.” I kept going, trying not to think about pushing and pulling a needle and thread through my girlfriend. I’d done this before with some of the other wounded people, and treating it like sewing two pieces of cloth together worked a lot better. “I’m not sure I’m getting these stitches close enough.”
Sparrow kept a flashlight beamed on the brown, iodine-slathered wound. “Yeah, try to get them a little smaller, I think. She’s going to have one hell of a scar.”
JoBell closed her eyes and her head slumped to the side.
“Is she okay? How much morphine did you give her?” I said.
Sparrow checked her breathing and then her pulse. “I think she just fell asleep. And I only gave her five milligrams. She’ll be good. If her fever and swelling doesn’t start to go down, we can hit her again with the antibiotic. I didn’t want to overdo it on that either.”
I finished stitching her up and cut the thread with iodine-covered scissors. “Can she overdose on that … what was it called?”
“Amoxicillin. And how the hell should I know?” Sparrow said. “I’m not a doctor. We’re winging all of this with shit you stole from a vet, remember. We just gotta be careful and hope for the best.”
I nodded to her, wiping my hands on a rag and taking my place on the bed next to JoBell. “Thanks for all your help, Sparrow.”
Sparrow shrugged and left the room, leaving me alone with JoBell and my prayers that what we’d done for her would be enough.
—• You’ve worked hard to care for your loved ones. You bought insurance in case of unexpected tragedy. But in these uncertain times, are you sure you’ve provided for the safety and protection of your family? In the event of the loss of electricity, clean drinking water, a safe and reliable food supply, or even breathable air due to natural disasters or war, how can you improve the odds that your family will survive? Go to www.survivethetimes.com. At www.survivethetimes.com, we don’t simply offer you lifesaving products, we also connect you to a one-on-one consultation with your personal survival advisor. Your advisor will be a trained survival specialist who will consider you and your family’s unique needs. Shelf-stable food, water and air purification systems, protection from radiation, and more — you can find it all at www.survivethetimes.com, so that you and your family will weather any trouble in comfort and style. www.survivethetimes.com. Make plans to protect your loved ones. Before it’s too late. •—
—• Both sides in this idiotic war (and let’s face it, this isn’t just an “Idaho Crisis” — this is the Second American Civil War) would like to downplay the loss of life, claiming to be oh so humane in their killing. I think it is important to tell the truth, not only to honor the dead, but in the hope that representing the horror of war in human terms might help us prevent a further escalation of this war. That’s why I started this blog, which I’m calling The Last Full Measure, a title taken from a line in President Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address during the first Civil War.
Please note that the list below contains soldiers and combatants only. Civilian deaths are not included, so the total number of dead is much higher. Also, since casualty lists are not being publicly released, please send me a private message to report a confirmed death as a direct result of this war. However, IN ORDER TO REDUCE DUPLICATION, PLEASE SEARCH THE CASUALTY LIST BEFORE SUBMITTING THE NAME OF A CASUALTY!
—• Warning! You are about to enter the Truth Zone. Here comes … The O’Malley Hour!
Good evening. I’m Bruce O’Malley. Our talking points tonight: The Islam Society of the United States is complaining about discrimination and backlash against American Muslims after people blame Islam for the Idaho Crisis and other problems in America. To be sure, nobody should blame any particular religion for our current difficulties, but leave it to a quote unquote “victim group” to exploit this whole situation for their own publicity. They should be ashamed of themselves. •—
—• A spokesman for the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence said today that significant blame for nearly three thousand deaths related to the Idaho Crisis lies in the fact that too great a portion of the civilian population is armed with weapons that are more powerful than civilians ought to be allowed to own. The National Rifle Association countered, saying that the situation in Idaho is a perfect example of why the Second Amendment rights of Americans must not be trampled by gun control legislation. •—
—• Welcome to Armed Forces Network News. I’m Tech Sergeant Beth Mullen. Special session debate on nullification of the Federal ID Card Act in the Oklahoma House of Representatives began today, and a vote could take place as early as two weeks from now, with most experts predicting passage. Chaotic protests continue on the Oklahoma capitol grounds, but federal agents and Oklahoma City police seem to be keeping the situation under control for now. Some appear to be protesting the passage of nullification, fearing the federal government’s response, while others are cutting up or burning their federal ID cards. Many protestors are armed in accordance with Oklahoma’s open carry weapons permit law. President Griffith says that she is monitoring the situation and hopes that, quote, “foolish and illegal nullification legislation does not lead to another tragedy such as the one in Boise last year,” end quote.
Citing an urgent need for more pilots, the president announced today that the curriculum at the Air Force Academy would be accelerated. Cadets will focus exclusively on pilot training and be commissioned as officers after just eighteen months. They will return to the academy to complete their four-year curriculum and earn their degrees once the pilot shortage has abated. •—
“Griffith’s not going to wait until this governor chick in Oklahoma makes her move,” Sparrow said.
Sweeney and Becca were in the igloo, JoBell was sleeping comfortably and recovering thanks to the medicine we’d gotten her almost two weeks ago, and Crocker was monitoring the radio and keeping watch in the tower. The rest of us had gathered around the kitchen table, eating leftover MRE casserole. I was glad that JoBell wasn’t with us to hear Sparrow call the governor of Oklahoma “this governor chick.”
“Every day Crocker is hearing stuff on the radio about the Fed buildup around southern Idaho,” I said.
“Yeah,” Cal said. “I guess from Fairchild Air Force Base all the way to Coeur d’Alene, it’s like one big Fed convoy. They fly stuff into the base and then ship it thirty miles over the border into Idaho. They’re gonna kill us all.”
“Then what do we do?” Kemp asked.
Luchen took a drink of what he called “choco-wawa.” Since we didn’t have milk, he mixed Nesquik chocolate powder into regular tap water. “We can keep launching these little attacks, but they ain’t gonna do much. We need to kick the Feds’ asses right out of town, and for that, we’re gonna need a hell of a lot more guys.”
“Yeah,” Sparrow said. “We need to find these Brotherhood people and work with them.”
; “Those guys almost got JoBell killed,” I said. “Do we really want to work with people stupid enough to launch an attack when all those civilians were still in the area?”
“Says the guy who got into a firefight outside his own high school,” Sparrow said.
My chair scraped the linoleum as I stood up. “I didn’t have any choice!”
“Whoa, calm down, Wright,” said Sergeant Kemp. “Idiots or not, we have to find the Brotherhood so that at the very least we can make sure we’re not in their line of fire the next time they launch a strike.”
“How do we do that?” Cal dumped a teaspoon of Nesquik into his mouth and tried to chew it. Unable to speak with all that dry powder in his mouth, he frantically motioned to Luchen, who shrugged and passed him his glass of choco-wawa. After a drink, Cal said, “It ain’t like we can just go around town calling out, ‘Here Brotherhood, Brotherhood, Brotherhood.’ ”
“Well,” said Kemp. “At least we know they’re against the Fed. Maybe if we can pull off a few more big attacks, we’ll get their attention and they’ll find us. And speaking of big attacks, I have an idea for a nasty one that might really throw the local Feds off.”
“More sapper stuff?” Sparrow asked.
Sergeant Kemp smiled. “Sometimes it’s great to be a combat engineer.”
* * *
That night I was scheduled for the late shift on igloo duty, so I joined JoBell in her bedroom with the hope of getting a little sleep before going out to freeze with the machine gun. But when she rolled to face me and her lips met mine, I knew sleep was the last thing on my girlfriend’s mind. She’d been complaining for the last couple days that she was well enough to get up, but we’d all begged her to take it easy a little longer to make sure her body had completely fought off the infection. We didn’t want to take any chances after the way we’d lost Danning.
Now she moaned and ran her fingers through my hair as she kissed me harder. I slid my hands down her back and squeezed her ass as she moved up on top of me. Her long blond hair fell down around her face, hiding my view of everything but her, so that across the universe there was only the two of us. She sat up, grinding over my hips as she slipped off her shirt, and then looked down at me, her warm hands pressed to my chest.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She smiled. “I’m about to make it all feel so much better.”
The last time we’d been together, back in JoBell’s room, felt like a lifetime ago. I reached up, meaning to pick up where we left off and take care of that bra.
But I stopped when my fingers found the bright pink jagged scar on her left side. I’d seen it before, but I’d always focused on it clinically, like the wound was something on my truck that needed to be fixed. Now it looked more like part of JoBell, a mark against her intense beauty, a reminder that I’d almost lost her. I slid my hand away from the scar. “Sorry,” I whispered. “Did I hurt you?”
She stopped her gentle grinding on me and leaned forward to look into my eyes, moving my hand back up to touch her wound. “No, Danny,” she said. “You saved me.”
“I was so scared of losing you,” I said to her. “I didn’t know what I’d do without you. You gotta promise me you’ll stay away from protests and riots and things like that.”
She leaned forward, pressing herself to my body. “Danny.” She kissed me. “How do you think I felt every time you went on one of your missions? I never knew when you’d be doing what. A Fed convoy is hit up on Silver Mountain? A burning house sniper attack? Were you there? Were you safe? It got to be where I had to focus on my schoolwork, regurgitating federal propaganda, just to keep my mind on something besides worrying and wondering if you were dead or alive.” Her eyes welled with tears.
“Hey.” I wrapped my arms around her as she laid her head on my chest. “Hey, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, for now,” she cried. “But how long can your luck hold out? How long until Cal comes back with your dead body? Or worse, nobody will come back, and I’ll never find out what happened to any of you.”
“Jo,” I whispered. “I know you’ve never been a supporter of Montaine or of this war, but —”
“No!” JoBell slid off me so she was lying on her good side, propped up on her elbow. “It’s not about the war. Not anymore. I don’t care who is right or wrong. It’s about you, Danny. It’s about us.” Her soft hand caressed my face. When she spoke next, it was in a low near-whisper. “Do you still have that ring you tried to give me once?”
I sat up and slid away from her. “Yes. Always. But don’t mess with me.”
She smiled and wiped her eyes. “I’m not messing with you, babe. I’d love to wear your ring.” She lowered her gaze. “If you still want me.”
“Of course … Of course I want you, JoBell. But, what about … When I asked you to marry me, you said we were too young. And you were worried about college—”
JoBell laughed sadly. “Danny, nobody’s going to college. The whole country is falling apart. We’ll be lucky to stay alive. Anyway, if marriage is all about going through hard times together, show me a couple who has been through more than us.” She locked her gaze with me. “What I want now, more than anything, is to go somewhere safe and just be with you, be your wife.”
I rolled out of the bed and sprinted to the guard tower room where I kept my rucksack.
Crocker looked up from his radio. “Is there a problem?”
I grabbed the quarter-karat engagement ring from my ruck and hurried back without answering. Dropping to the floor on both knees, I held the ring up to her. “JoBell Marie Linder, I love you more than anything. Will you marry me?”
She moved to the edge of the bed and held out her hand so I could slip the ring on her finger. “You know I will,” she said.
She pulled me up to her, and we kissed, long, hot, and deep. JoBell only winced a little bit from her tender scar when we fell back onto the bed. “You’ve just made me the happiest guy in the whole stupid world,” I said. “You’ve got a seriously smart strategy to trick me out of the war.”
“I’m not tricking you, Danny.” JoBell pushed some hair away from my eyes. “This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Everything that’s happened has only helped me make up my mind. And just like, married or not, you’ll never make me do anything I don’t want to do, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want. So if you want to keep fighting the Fed, go for it.” She kissed me. “Or we could find some place to hide away and be together, start our lives together.”
Close to her ear, feeling her heat, I whispered, “The guys just planned another attack. They’re counting on me. But after this one, I’m out. After that, it’s just you and me.”
JoBell attacked me then, and kept her promise to make it feel good.
* * *
A few hours later, I asked Becca to join me in the guard tower. Crocker saw me and Becca come in. “Wright, do you mind if I ask about the nature of the urgency that brought you running in here a few —”
“I’ll take over the watch, Specialist,” I said. “Can I have the room?”
Crocker stood up and stretched. “Well, I suppose I could use a break.” He headed toward the door. “Becca, is there any of your latest MRE casserole down in the fridge? You know I could really go for some of —”
I closed the door to shut him out. Becca smiled. “That was a little rude. Something must be up.” We kept the room pretty dark at night so we could see out the window better and so nobody outside could spot the machine gun we had up here. Faint moonlight shined in just enough so we could see each other, standing at opposite ends of the room. “Are you okay?”
I’d charged into gun battles, but I swear sharing my news with Becca was a million times harder. “Becca, I gotta tell you something. Figured I should tell you before I let the others know.”
She shrugged. “Okay?”
I let out a breath. There was no way to make this easier. The truth was the truth. “JoBell and I are engaged.�
��
All traces of amusement dropped out of her face and she grabbed the back of the chair at the radio station.
“Tried to get supplies through the Fed lines surrounding Lewiston to help the resistance heroes still holding that city, but we got turned back. We’ll keep trying. Idaho rising.”
The radio transmission snapped Becca out of her empty stare. She nodded and found her smile again. “I’m happy for you, Danny. For both of you.” She took a step back and wiped her eyes.
“You good?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” She held out her arms and we hugged. “Two of my best friends will be marrying each other. It’s my duty to be happy. I’m so excited.” She stepped back from me. “Surprised. But excited.” I searched her eyes. Was that a trace of sadness there? Maybe. I didn’t figure I should say anything about it. She made a little punch to my shoulder. “Really, Danny. I’ll … find a way to be okay. Thanks for telling me like this.”
Becca Wells was easily one of the coolest people I’d ever met. “Thank you,” I said.
“But what are we just standing around for!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. “Come on! We have to tell everyone the news!”
Everybody was really happy when we told them about the engagement. JoBell had to beg Cal to stop swinging us around and put us down. The rest congratulated us less physically. Even Sparrow managed a smile and a “Congratulations.”
We unfroze an old, store-bought pie that we’d been saving, and we toasted with orange juice from that canned concentrate stuff. It turned out to be one of the best nights we’d had in a very long time. The guys were in such a good mood that I didn’t have the heart to tell them the next mission would be my last.
The next day, we set up one of our nastiest attacks yet. The Feds were building a second level of their Hesco barrier wall around their cop shop HQ on Main Street to protect everybody near the building. A ring of infantry soldiers formed a security perimeter to guard the guys building the barrier. They even had a machine gun nest on the abandoned thrift shop across the street from their HQ. Altogether, there were probably over twenty-five Fed soldiers in one place— a perfect target for an attack.
