Stark Resolution (Stark Trilogy Book 3)

by C. D. Bradley

  “Have you lost your fucking mind? You are going to get us both killed!” Colin continued cover fire for Stark as he jumped out of the vehicle and ran into the building blind.

  As soon as he crossed the threshold he began to fall. The Hyundai fell too, over a great cliff. They crashed down into the river depths. Suddenly, Stark was aware that they were in a raging river. Where the fuck is Colin? The Hyundai rolled and plunged. Stark realized he must still be in the car. Stark swam over as the rust bucket took on water. He needed to get to Colin. He could see him now, partially underwater, pinned in the car. Colin’s eyes were wide and frightened, his red hair flowing in the current as bubbles swirled around his mouth and nose. Frantically, he pulled at the seat but he was pinned in place. Stark pulled with everything he had in him. His lungs burned from lack of oxygen. Colin gritted his teeth, his body straining. He let out a final yell expelling all the tiny bubbles of life and sucked in a mouth full of water. Stark watched in horror as he stopped struggling. Eyes wide, mouth open, Colin became part of the river bottom.

  Stark screamed and water rushed in his mouth. “Colin! Fuck. No. Fuck. God, damn it!” He sat up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and still screaming. Fluorescent lights suddenly came on, blinding him, and a nurse rushed into the room. Stark tore at the sheets but he was tangled in a mess of tubes and wires. He ripped sticky devices off his chest. Where the mortal fuck am I? The beige walls and matching floors screamed military hospital.

  “Sergeant Stark. Calm down. You need to relax,” the woman ordered, and pressed an alert on the wall. A small light outside his door began to flash. She moved to him quickly and tried to ease him back against the pillow.

  The touch of her skin on his felt like ice. He drew back reflexively.

  “You are burning up,” she exclaimed. “You have a fever, Mr. Stark. Please calm down. You are in Walter Reed Hospital. You were injured on assignment and you have been flown here for care. Please just sit back and let us take care of you. My name is Jamie, and I am your nurse this evening. Everything is going to be ok.”

  Before Stark could respond, two other women and two large men in scrubs entered the room.

  “Sergeant Stark,” one of the men began, “we need you to settle down. You have torn all your leads off. Let’s get these back on, ok?”

  Stark stared at the strangers. Why the hell am I here? Where is Kira? Where is Colin? They were the ones who needed help, not me. Hell, even the little shit is banged up pretty bad.

  “Where is Kira? I mean, Captain Riley? Where is Sergeant Colin? Are they here?” he mumbled groggily. The garbled sounds were almost unrecognizable even to him.

  Images from the extraction started flooding his mind like an avalanche. One memory on top of the other cascaded in as he started to shake. This was not him. He was not sick. He was a special forces soldier. What he needed to do was get the fuck out of that bed and find out what was going on. He tried to move toward the edge of his bed. He felt a sharp crushing pain in his right foot as if someone was stabbing it. He jerked his foot back but it wouldn’t move. Stark froze.

  The people in the room were moving about, giving each other worried looks. They were talking to each other and staring at him. Their voices blended with the beeping and chiming of machines in the room. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. He didn’t care. The last words he heard before blacking out on the boat sounded like a gong in his brain. Somebody get a fucking tourniquet. His leg … his right leg … What the fuck happened? The pain was like a vice crushing his toes. He looked down at the tangle of sheets and blankets covering him. He took a deep breath and with one swift motion pulled the linens away.

  At first, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Surgical dressings and gauze covered most of his right thigh, down to just below his knee. Then, nothing. He stared at the empty space on the sheets. He shook his head and closed his eyes. This wasn’t fucking happening. No fucking way. He could feel his foot, but it was on fire. He opened his eyes again, unable to look away from the vacancy where his throbbing foot should be.

  “Fuck. Oh, hell fucking no,” Stark blurted and the room stopped. Everyone stilled and stared at him.

  Jamie came forward and put her icy hand on his shoulder. “Sergeant Stark, I know this is a lot to take in. You suffered significant injuries to your right leg and lost a great deal of blood. The tourniquet they placed in the field saved your life but it severely damaged your leg. I’m very sorry.”

  Stark swallowed hard. She doesn’t know shit. Her fucking leg isn’t lying in a garbage bin some place rotting. The gravity of the situation began to set in like a ton of bricks. His thoughts jetted back to Colin and Kira. Where the hell are they?

  “Where is Sergeant Colin, is he here too? What about Captain Riley and Sergeant Reed?”

  “Sergeant Stark. I’m sorry I can’t give information about other patients,” Jamie answered, her voice falling low.

  “The hell you can’t! I was with them when this happened! I want to know that they are ok!” Stark growled back.

  “It’s a matter of HIPAA. We can’t just …”

  “Fuck HIPAA. God, damn it! Are they ok, or fucking not?” Stark hissed through gritted teeth. He was losing his patience.

  “Sergeant Stark, we will get some answers for you. Just sit back. Dr. Stover is on his way,” Jamie softened her tone. She opened a medication vial and checked his IV.

  “Don't knock me out,” Stark ordered. “I need to be awake. I need to know what's going on. Please don't knock me out.”

  “It’s time for your medication and you are running a fever. You need to settle down. We will take care of everything, just relax,” she talked in hushed reassuring tones.

  He was not reassured. Stark wrung his hands and stretched his neck forward and back. This is not real. I’m going to wake up and be on the damn plane coming home. Colin is going to be there making fun of me for my little flesh wound. Kira is going to be ok. She has to be.

  “Are you hungry or thirsty?” Jamie interrupted his thoughts. “You are on a clear liquid diet but I can order you a tray.” She finished administering medication in the IV and cleared the tray table.

  “No. I just want …” Stark felt the rush of stars returning. “I want …”

  “Sergeant Owen Stark,” a heavy male voice called Stark into consciousness, “I’m Dr. Stover.”

  Stark opened his eyes. To his dismay, he was still in the hospital room. The reality of this place and what it meant, began to set in. Stark swallowed hard. His mouth and throat were as dry as the Sahara.

  “You need to take in fluids,” Dr. Stover instructed. “You have been unconscious for six days. Unfortunately, you lost a lot of blood with the initial injury and the boat team wasn’t aware of the extent of your injuries initially. They were able to stop the bleeding enough to save you, but we weren’t able to save your leg. I imagine this is all coming as a shock to you, but rest assured you are in one the best facilities in the world to begin your road to recovery.”

  The doctor continued talking, pointing out the highlights of their program and the advances in prosthetics. Stark tried to listen at first, but none of that really mattered. He needed to know about Colin and Kira. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t at least get an update on their conditions.

  When the windy doctor took a breath, Stark blurted, “Can you give me any information on the people I was brought in with? Sergeant Chip Colin, Sergeant Zach Reed, and Captain Kira Riley? We were all extracted together. They were injured. Reed and Riley had gunshot wounds. Colin was injured in a car accident and was underwater for some time. Please, I just need to know how they are.” Stark searched the doctor’s face for any clues. The somber way he looked at the floor made Stark’s heart sink. “Please, Dr. Stover.”

  “Sergeant Stark, I’m going to spare you the HIPAA bullshit. You deserve some answers.” The doctor pulled up a chair and sat by Stark's bed. “Sergeant Reed did well during surgery. He is recovering here in the hospital and
should be discharged soon. I can ask him to come see you if you like. He asks about you every day.” The doctor paused, smiling over the deep lines that were forming on his forehead. Stark had been trained to read people.The way the doctor was fiddling with his clipboard, and looking at the floor told Stark that the worst was to come.

  “Yes, I would really like to see him. What about Riley and Colin?” Stark pressed. A hard knot was forming in his throat. Stark tried to swallow past it. He wasn’t sure he could bear what he was about to hear.

  “Sergeant Stark, we have no doubt that you did everything in your power to bring everyone home safely. Though many of the details of your mission are classified, your sacrifice in getting Sergeant Reed and the others to safety at the expense of your own leg is just …” The doctor’s plangent tone shook Stark.

  “I'm no fucking hero. Please, for God's sake, where are they? Are they ok?” Stark pleaded.

  “I’m very sorry. Sergeant Colin never made it here. The PJ team did everything they could. He was gone by the time they got back to a field surgical team.”

  Hearing the words cross the doctor’s lips shot daggers straight into Stark’s chest. Jesus, God, Colin is gone. No. There had to be some kind of mistake. That goofy Ronald McDonald looking mother fucker could not die. No fucking way.

  “Maybe there was a mix up. Maybe he is already back on base. You said he never came here. Could he have just been fine and now he’s already back home? Can you check again?”

  “Owen, I’m very sorry. Sergeant Colin is gone. He didn’t make it. I

  have read the report.”

  He is lying. He has to be lying. Stark rocked back and forth in his bed. This is not happening. Stark had lost many friends over his decade in the service. He knew that came with the territory but this was fucking different. God, damn it. Chip Colin is not dead. His best friend of ten fucking years, his brother, is not fucking dead. No. No. No. Stark shook his head and fought tears that burned his eyes. He was not going to sit here in this beige fucking hell and listen to this bullshit.

  He started to get up and remembered he couldn’t go anywhere. He was missing a God damn leg. Stark balled the blanket up in a tight fist. His knuckles blanched white and he took several panting breaths. His chest closed in on him like a vice and he struggled to breathe. He felt like the walls were closing in. One question burned in his mind. He had to know but he was afraid to ask. Stark swallowed against the cheese grater in the back of his throat.

  “What about Captain Riley? Was she brought here too?” The voice coming out of his mouth was barely audible, like a forgotten toy whose batteries had almost gone.

  “Reed, Riley and you were triaged, stabilized and sent here,” the doctor replied.

  “Captain Riley is here?” Stark felt the first glimmer of hope.

  “She underwent several surgeries. Her injuries were extensive. You have to understand that she was in rough shape before she ever went into the water. How Dr. Holt was able to keep her alive to that point is nothing short of a miracle. She is in the ICU here but has not regained consciousness. We have called in her family and at this point it’s unclear when or if she will wake up.”

  “She’s alive …” was all Stark could manage to get out. She made it. Somewhere in this hospital, hooked up to every tube and hose imaginable, Kira fought for her life. His heart raced. She had to be ok. If she died, then Colin’s death was for nothing. Stark knew that wasn’t true. They would risk their lives, even give their lives to bring a soldier home. He took a deep breath. Every breath seemed forced, like he had to remind himself to do it, or he would just stop. Each inhalation felt labored and heavy.

  “Yes, but as I said her injuries were extensive. She was shot in the back, and it really did a number on her chest and shoulder. We saved her arm, but I’m not sure what the function will be like. If she pulls through the next forty-eight hours, time will tell.”

  Stark reached over, placed his hand firmly on the doctor's forearm, and looked him in the eye. “Take me to her. I need to see her.”

  LIGHTS IN THE hallway reminded him of the lights in a long ocean tunnel as they rolled down the beige corridor. Dr. Stover was breaking protocol by bringing him, but Stark didn’t care. He had been awake less than four hours, yet it seemed like four days. Knowing Kira was this close and not being able to see her, was as physically painful as his missing leg. Every second that ticked by could be her last.

  The stringent odors of urine and disinfectant from one of the rooms permeated his nostrils and threatened to bring back his clear liquid diet. He gagged just thinking about it. He had furrowed his brow and pressed his lips into an “are you fucking kidding me” look when nurse Jamie had shown up proudly displaying her tray of mystery liquids. So many choices … brown hot, red cold, green cold, and clear room temperature … mmmmm some fucking meal, if you could call it that. Nurse Jamie was having none of him leaving until he held it all down. Now, as a cold sweat broke on his brow, he nearly lost it. Fuck, he was not going to vomit, no fucking way. He willed himself to keep it down. Nothing was going to stand in his way now.

  They approached the bank of elevators that would take them down to the third floor. Dr. Stover spoke to a couple of nurses, who flashed toothy grins at Stark. They have to be fucking kidding. Stark knew if they could see the monstrosity his right leg had become they would go running for the hills. The blonde nurse stepped closer to him. He smiled back politely but wished the elevator would hurry the fuck up. Finally, the light above the door flashed five, the bell sounded, and the door opened.

  After a couple of the slowest humans on earth made their way out of the elevator, Dr. Stover wheeled him in and pressed the button for the third floor. Stark’s heart raced. He just had to see her. The doors closed and the elevator creaked into motion. An older man and woman stood to his left. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them holding hands. Will Kira and I ever be like that? Will I ever be able to hold her again? He looked down at the blanket covering his lower half. Who am I kidding? Kira isn’t going to want to spend the rest of her life with a broken man. She deserves better. Fuck. Stark still could not believe he had lost his leg. He shook his head and closed his eyes. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel real. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel his right foot. He opened his eyes again and stared at the vacant step on the wheelchair. It was real. Just like earlier, the vacancy glared back at him. He had to make sure Kira was ok, and then he would leave her alone.

  When the doors opened, he watched the older couple exit and walk down the hall. He wondered what it would feel like to grow old with someone he loved. I will never know. Colin will never know. The thought paralyzed him for a moment. Colin will never get to do any of that, and it is all my fault. Stark realized the moment on that hill, he traded Kira’s life for Colin’s. Colin was strong. He was a warrior. Stark had expected him to always be there, and now he was gone.

  The wheelchair slowed as they approached the ICU. Dr. Stover paused to swipe his key card. The double doors opened and he wheeled Stark inside. The central nurses station was surrounded by rooms with clear glass fronts. Dr. Stover paused at the desk to inquire about her room. The nurses looked quizzically from Stark to Dr. Stover. He heard Dr. Stover explaining how Stark was part of the team who brought her home.

  Stark looked down the hall. Room after room contained people whose lives had just been turned upside down. Other than the staff, no one anticipated spending time here. Family after family prayed and hoped that their loved one would survive to come home. Stark wondered how Kira did this day after day. He had observed her from the hallway of the hospital in Colorado, holding the hand of a dying patient. She had listened to their fears and eased both the patient and their family. Though he couldn’t hear her words, he had seen their effect.

  “Captain Riley is in room five, right up there on the corner. She’s not doing too well though. They started dopamine today to help keep her pressure up. Her wounds were extensive. The fact that she even
lived to get here is a miracle. There is no way to know how long she went without oxygen. Captain Holt has been here almost every day since she was brought in. We have told him there’s no way to know when or if she will ever wake up. Then, last night her pressure started falling. It’s just not looking good. I’m sorry.” The redheaded nurse piped up batting her eyes as she mentioned Holt’s name, but fell again as she talked about Kira.

  Stark began scanning the room numbers until he locked on room five. There she was. He couldn’t make out anything in the room from there, as the curtain was drawn.

  Another nurse from the end of the desk joined in the conversation, “Did you say Captain Holt? Oooh, that is a fine hunk of man. I heard he risked his life to save her. He has been by her side every day.”

  Stark shook his head. He knew better than to set the record straight. He was a quiet professional. It was not his place to disclose any fdetails of a mission. He hadn’t been debriefed yet, and until he was he didn’t know what the official version of the story was, or what he was allowed to say. Instead, he just gritted his teeth and concentrated on room five. He just had to see her. The first nurse began talking quietly to Dr. Stover. Her grim expression spoke volumes. He was going to crawl to her fucking room if he had to. Stark looked up to Dr. Stover and nodded toward her room. Please.

  Dr. Stover gave him an “I’m sorry about this” nod and began to wheel him toward the room. Stark’s heart was racing now. A few more rotations of the wheels and he would be at her side. They stopped in front of the glass door and Dr. Stover slid it open. He pulled back the curtain and wheeled Stark into the room. Monitors displayed each blip of her heart. Though she did not move, the slow rhythm beep … beep … beep … was like she was calling I’m here … I’m here … Stark wheeled himself closer to her bed. She was lying on her back covered in blankets and the blue hospital gown. Multiple IV bags hung from a pole by her bed, and she had a tube down her throat that connected to a ventilator. The machine beeped and whirred, occasionally sounding like the theme from The Jetson’s. “His boy Elroy” sang and pumped vital oxygen into her damaged lungs. Stark saw the chest tube that trailed down to a suction canister containing a frothy bloody fluid. He shuddered. He was not medical, but he had been at enough bedsides to know this was bad.