by Sharon Sala
“It’s empty! She’s not here!” he cried. Then from where he was standing, he spotted boot prints off to the side and jumped down. “I’ve got footprints. She got out!” he said, and started looking for a trail.
But when he found it and realized she was crawling, he knew she couldn’t be far. He started following the drag marks, shouting out her name.
“Jade! Jade Wyrick!”
* * *
Jade was spinning, going around and around on the merry-go-round, and every time she passed her mother, she waved.
Her mother kept snapping pictures and waving back. Then the music started playing louder, and the merry-go-round was spinning faster and faster, and there was pain—so much pain.
Jade was crying now, and calling “Mama, Mama,” and holding on to her horse with all her strength.
“Hold on, Jade. Hold on, baby, hold on. Mama loves you. Hold on! I won’t leave you alone.”
Jade was crying... Help. Help. Somebody help me.
* * *
And then the voices in her head became reality as consciousness returned.
Someone was shouting her name, but it wasn’t her mama. She could hear a man’s voice shouting, “Jade! Jade! Where are you?”
Tears rolled out from beneath her eyelids.
Charlie. I’m here, Charlie. Help me.
But the thought was never voiced, and she couldn’t stay conscious long enough to tell him where to look.
* * *
Charlie saw her boot and then her leg and pushed through the brush to get to her, then dropped to his knees beside her, feeling for a pulse.
It was there.
“Thank you, God,” he muttered, and grabbed his radio. “This is Dodge. I found her! She’s alive.”
Searchers came running, and then radioed their location as Charlie was checking her wounds. She had a cut on her head, and another on the side of her neck. But it was the bloodstains on her shirt and pants that led him to the injuries. When he found the bullet wound in her shoulder, and then another one in her upper thigh, blood loss became an issue.
He dumped his backpack, grabbed a pair of surgical scissors to cut through her sweater to get to the shoulder wound, revealing the red-and-black dragon on her chest. To his surprise, the wound was barely seeping.
He pulled out the first-aid kit and began tearing open gauze pads to field dress the wounds.
“Unwrap these!” Charlie said, and tossed a couple of rolls of self-adhesive bandages to one of the men while he felt for an exit wound.
There was none, which meant that bullet could have ricocheted off bone and be anywhere inside her. He pressed the gauze pads onto the bullet wound, applying pressure while another man used the stretch bandage to keep them in place.
Once that was done, Charlie cut the leg of her jeans to get to the other wound, discovered it was a through and through, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped, which made no fucking sense. He applied more gauze pads and self-adhesive bandage to hold them in place, and then looked up.
“Do we have a stretcher coming?” Charlie asked.
“About a mile away!” Tulsa said.
Too far. “That’s time she doesn’t have to give. Jade! Can you hear me?” Charlie asked.
She moaned.
“It’s me, Charlie. Can you hear me?”
“Hear you,” Wyrick mumbled.
“Did you see who did it?”
“Chopper...rifle,” she said, and then grabbed hold of his hand and opened her eyes. “Cyrus...don’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving you. I promise,” Charlie said.
Wyrick sighed, remembering that was what her mama had told her, and let go, falling back into the shadows.
But Charlie wasn’t waiting for that stretcher to arrive. “Since she got herself out of the cockpit and crawled here, I’m taking a chance that moving her isn’t going to make anything worse,” Charlie said, then scooped her up into his arms.
Her head rolled toward him, her cheek resting against the bicep on his arm as he pulled her close.
“Lead the way,” he said.
After that, it was a scramble to get her to the stretcher and then to the waiting chopper from Medi-Flight.
Charlie was one of the men with the stretcher when they slid her into the back bay, and then he climbed in behind her.
One of the paramedics reached out to stop him.
“Sir, you can’t—”
Charlie shook his head.
“Sorry, dude. I not only can, but I am, so move out of my way. Someone shot her down. She took a bullet in the shoulder and another one in the leg and still survived the crash before crawling out of a burning cockpit into the brush. The last thing she said was ‘Don’t leave me.’ So move the hell over, because I am not letting her out of my sight.”
“Fair enough,” the medic said. “Just stay out of the way.”
Charlie crawled all the way past where she was lying, then settled in cross-legged and held on to the stretcher as the chopper lifted up and took off.
He watched in silence while one established an IV and another began to cut away the rest of her shirt and jacket to get to the field dressing. That was when they saw the dragon where her breasts used to be.
A paramedic looked up.
“Holy shit.”
“She’s already survived her own kind of hell. Don’t let her die,” Charlie said.
“On it,” he said, and started the drip.
“Where are we going?” Charlie asked.
“Memorial Hermann Med Center... It’s a Level II trauma center in the Woodlands.”
Charlie nodded.
They were on the way to Houston.
Seventeen
Wyrick kept fading in and out of consciousness. The sound of the rotors made her think she was still in her chopper—thinking she was still flying. And every time she’d reach for the cyclic stick, only one arm would work, which sent her into a panic, flailing her hand all about, trying to find the stick.
Finally, Charlie grabbed her hand.
“Wyrick! Wyrick! You’re safe. Just hold on to me. We’re on the way to a hospital.”
She moaned. “Shot at me...couldn’t—”
“I know, baby, I know.” Charlie.
“Cyrus...found me. How?”
Charlie wasn’t going to tell her about Benny, and for the first time ever, he lied to her.
“I don’t know. Lie still. You’re covered in blood.”
“Bleeding... I stopped it,” she mumbled, and then went quiet.
Charlie didn’t say anything. If they’d heard her, they wouldn’t believe what she’d said. But he knew she was capable of creating her own miracles, and he was in awe.
A short while later, they were flying over Houston, and when Medi-Flight finally landed on the helipad, a trauma team was waiting.
Charlie came out of the chopper with her, then ran beside the gurney, staying with her all the way until they took her into surgery. At that point, he stood in the hall as the door closed behind them, and flashed back on Annie’s body being taken away from Morning Light.
He walked down the hall to the waiting room, still trying to wrap his head around this day, wishing he had his hands around Cyrus Parks’s neck. He’d thought when Annie died that his life couldn’t get much worse, but he was wrong. This was bad. It was beginning to sink in how desperately he did not want to lose Wyrick, too.
* * *
The Dallas police found the white van Benny’s assailants had been driving, abandoned in a parking lot at a mall. They’d parked in a location without video surveillance, so they had no idea what the vehicle they’d left in looked like, and the registration on the abandoned vehicle came back stolen over two months ago.
As for Ed and Alma, they were long gone.
* * *
Benny’s family was at the hospital when he came out of surgery, and so was the detective who had caught the case.
When the surgeon came in to talk to them, they all stood up at once, including the detective.
“Benny Garcia family?” the doctor asked.
“That’s us,” his father said. “How is my son?”
“He’s stable and in recovery, but he’s still unconscious. His nose was broken, but has been reset. He has a broken jaw, which has been repaired, but he’ll be drinking his meals for a while. We removed his spleen, reinflated a collapsed lung and reset some broken ribs. His eyes are still swollen shut, so we’ll have to assess them at a later date.”
His mother started crying. “Thank you, Doctor! Thank you.”
“He’ll be in recovery for another hour or so, and then they’ll move him to his room. You can see him then, but keep it low-key.”
“Yes, Doctor, we will,” his father said, and then the family hugged each other with joy as the doctor left.
“Good news,” the detective said, and handed them his card. “When he gets strong enough to talk, would you let me know?”
“Yes, sir,” his mother said, and put it in her purse.
* * *
Cyrus Parks was at home, pacing the floor with an eye to the clock. Once he learned she had flown out of Dallas, he’d seen this as his chance.
He had people in the air at Galveston, waiting for a sighting, and then once they spotted her flying out over the bay, they circled at a higher elevation, waiting to see where she went next. When she headed back to shore, and then kept flying north toward Dallas, they began pursuit.
He had no idea the strike had already happened, or that they’d waited to contact him until they were on the ground.
And then his phone rang.
“Hello.”
“The bird went down in smoke, full of lead. We’re done.”
Cyrus exhaled as the call disconnected.
That was a hard call to make. She’d been the success story they’d always wanted, only to become a problem they couldn’t control, but he was smiling as he put down the phone.
It was over.
* * *
Charlie spent three endless hours in the waiting room before a surgeon appeared.
“Anyone here for Jade Wyrick?”
“I am,” Charlie said, and stood as the surgeon approached. “Is she—?”
“She’s stable and in recovery. The bullet in her shoulder had lodged against her collarbone. We removed it and patched her up. The wound in her leg was a through and through. No major arteries impacted. She has a concussion and multiple contusions and some major bruising. And that is one hell of a tattoo she has. We did our best to keep it intact. The damnedest thing... I’ve never seen it before, but there was next to no bleeding during surgery. It was like every cut I made cauterized itself. She’s in pretty good shape, considering she was shot down. I hope they catch who did it.”
“She’s an amazing woman,” Charlie said. “When can I see her?”
“They’ll be taking her to a room on the fourth floor.”
“Okay,” Charlie said. “Just make sure it’s a private room large enough for a place for me, because I’m not leaving her alone. Someone tried to kill her, and it’s not the first time. When they find out she’s not dead, they will try again.”
The surgeon frowned. “We can move her to a private hospital for recovery if it will make it easier to keep her under guard.”
“How long do you think she’ll be hospitalized?” Charlie asked.
“It’s hard to say right now, but I’d guess at least three days minimum.”
“Then leave her here. Just make sure your staff knows. And I’ll be contacting Houston PD about it. They may or may not choose to get involved, but I’m with her all the way.”
“As long as there’s no danger to other patients, it’s your call, but if that changes, we’ll be moving her,” he said.
Charlie understood their situation, but his focus was on Wyrick, and as soon as the surgeon was gone, he picked up his things and headed for the elevator.
* * *
Wyrick came to in a room full of people talking and machines beeping and sounds of moaning.
And like before, someone was calling her name—this time, a woman.
“Jade! Jade! You’re out of surgery and in recovery. My name is Susie. Can you open your eyes for me? Wake up, Jade. Wake up, honey.”
Wyrick tried to answer, but it came out as a moan.
“Good girl,” Susie said. “Open your eyes now. You can do it.”
And so she did, catching a fleeting glimpse into a world of lights, and the scents of antiseptic scrub and ammonia, orchestrated by a dozen different beeps in different stages and rhythms. She knew this kind of place... She’d been in one before, when they took off both her breasts. But why was—?
Oh shit. The crash.
Wyrick sighed. “Charlie...”
Susie patted her arm. “Is Charlie your guy? Does he know you’re here?”
She sighed.
“Knows...”
“Do you remember what happened?” Susie asked.
Wyrick’s lips were dry, and when she started to lick them, she realized her lower lip was swollen.
“Hurts,” she said.
“Your lips?” Susie asked.
Wyrick blinked. “Yes.”
“I can fix that,” Susie said, and swabbed them with something slick and cool.
Wyrick closed her eyes. The urge to slide away was real, but Susie wouldn’t let her, and a short while later, they were rolling her out of recovery and taking her down back hallways to an elevator. Everyone she saw was a stranger. She couldn’t relax for fear Cyrus’s people would find her and finish the job.
Then the orderlies were pushing her bed into a doorway and into a room. When they began moving her from the gurney to a bed, and there was a nurse standing nearby holding her IV, and a shadow suddenly moving on the wall, she panicked.
“No! Don’t—”
All of a sudden, Charlie was standing at the foot of her bed. Her Charlie—dark hair with the tiniest wisps of gray at the temples. The biggest shoulders, the kind that hold the weight of the world. The man with the broken heart was here for her.
“I’m here. You’re safe,” he said.
And just like that, her panic was gone.
“You found me,” she said.
“Barely, and when you get better, you’re putting one of those damn tracking apps on my phone so I can keep track of you, savvy?”
“Savvy,” she mumbled, and closed her eyes.
* * *
And for the next three days, Wyrick’s sleep was haunted by scenes from her past that came and went with the pain and the meds that dulled it. She didn’t know she talked in her sleep, but now Charlie did, and with every nightmare he witnessed, leaving him to read between the lines—the shock of her existence rolled through him.
What they’d done to her as a child, leaving her care to people who were little more than scientists keeping records of her progress, ignoring the childhood she should have been living in an effort to study and utilize every second of her mind and skills, was a crime and a tragedy.
* * *
As for Wyrick, each dream was a reality until she woke up in a panic. And each time she awoke, she had to readjust the reality of where she was, to where she’d been. Then Charlie would be right beside her bed, shaking her awake, or just holding her hand and telling her she was safe.
The sound of his voice was enough.
And so the days passed, while Wyrick healed faster than her doctor could believe, and neither she nor Charlie saw fit to tell him why. She wanted to go home. She was vulnerable here, and the sooner she got home, the sooner she could bring all of this to an end. It was going to cos
t every bit of privacy and anonymity she had, but Cyrus Parks was going down.
* * *
Wyrick was sitting up in bed with the tray table across her lap, poking at what passed for her lunch. Meat loaf with ketchup, scalloped potatoes cooked without salt and a little salad in a plastic bowl with one cherry tomato on top. The tomato made her think of Merlin and his greenhouse, which made her want out even more.
“This stuff is awful,” she muttered.
“It’s not so bad,” Charlie said, happily eating the food from his tray.
“You’ll eat anything,” Wyrick said.
Charlie popped the tomato from his salad in his mouth and chewed.
“You’re just pissy because they don’t serve Snickers and Pepsi,” Charlie said.
It was the truth, but she glared at him, just the same.
“I’m not pissy, and they’re releasing me tomorrow,” she said. “I want to go home.”
“They’re letting you go tomorrow if you have someone to stay with you until you’re more mobile, which means hiring a nurse for a while,” he said.
Wyrick frowned. “No nurses. I don’t trust anyone. Cyrus will find out I’m alive, and some nurse who’s supposed to take care of me will poison me instead. I’m going home and that’s final, and if I have to, I’ll check myself out against doctor’s orders. I have to get home. I have something I have to do.”
Charlie pointed at her meat loaf.
“You gonna eat that?”
Wyrick rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not going to eat it. Help yourself.”
He raked it onto his plate and kept eating, talking around the bite he was chewing.
“Calm down, woman. Nobody’s going to do anything to you again.”
“Oh! What...now you turned psychic, too?” she muttered.
“I know because I’m taking you home, and I’ll stay with you in your home, until you feel like kicking ass again.”
