by Faulks, Kim
Still I held onto that. I captured her pain as though it were my own.
I harbored her hate as though it were my own.
And as the darkness swept me away.
I knew I loved her.
Chapter Twelve
“Mark.” Fingers brushed my arm. “Mark Jaydin.”
I opened my eyes to a nurse. She smiled, her gaze drifting to my pupils as she leaned close. I opened my eyes fully, sleep slipping from my grasp. “There’s someone here who’d like to meet you.”
She straightened and stepped away as Commander Matthews stepped into my room.
I stiffened at the sight, blinked and then stared around the room. Shadows clung to the corners…and out in the hall bright lights burned.
“Mark…” the Commander murmured and neared the side of the bed.
He looked different to the man I met years before. His back not so straight, eyes not so bright.
“That’s not my name,” I muttered, anger and loneliness consuming me. “Sir.”
He nodded. “I was told you go by Sixth now. Seems the name has served you well. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”
“I remember,” my stony words slipped free. “I remember the two choices you gave me, be weak forever, or die.”
He stiffened, and then gently shook his head. “That was never my intention. I wanted you to understand your own potential, that’s all. Being there, with them, you never would.” He gripped the railing, hand hovering close to mine. “You’d always be ridiculed, always be beaten. It would’ve killed you…at least this way, you at least had a chance to kill it back.”
I could see it in his eyes, he truly believed that. Maybe it made the anger easy to swallow…maybe it made all those vacant stares that waited for me a little less heavy.
But the burden would always be there.
The nights would always be there.
I’d have to live with it for as long as I lived.
“And now I understand you want to go home.”
And here was the kicker, for that, I’d give anything, even absolution. “Yes, I want to go home. I want to see my family, what little I have.”
There was a twitch of his lips, a shut little smile that told me he knew those words were a lie. “Then we’d better get you home.”
My heart raced as he turned away. “When?”
He stilled for a second, glanced over his head. “If the doctor gives the all clear, how does tonight sound?”
I sat up straighter and stole a breath. Tonight. I’d be on my way home. “Yes…thank you, Sir.”
He gave a nod and then turned away. Was this his atonement? He put me on a plane that night after making me graduate in front of him, and now he was here to send me back home.
“One more thing. Corporal Gready has a bug up his ass where you’re concerned. He’s been making waves, has Daddy pulling major strings. I’d watch my back if I were you.”
“He’s home?
“Didn’t you hear? He barely made it to Fiddler’s Green. Had his father meet with someone higher up than me, and demand a position for his son on base. Corporal Gready never even saw the front line, but he somehow got his rank before he was medically discharged, citing psychological issues. Like I said son, you might want to watch your back.”
And then he was gone, striding along the hallway, medals sparkling in the overhead lights. He nodded to the nursing staff as he went. I leaned back against the pillows and shifted my foot…and kicked something on the bed.
A wide dark box sat beside my foot. I shot my gaze to the door, and then leaned forward.
Velvet felt soft under my fingers. I grasped the edges and dragged it close. My mind was dragged back into the past. Dad once wrapped a box just like this and put it under the tree.
A string of pearls for Mom.
Pearls she wore right up until the day I last saw her. Jamie wrote to me once, said Mom got married, and he’d just became a father by a girl called Bethany Brown. I never heard from him again. Seemed like I should care…but I didn’t.
I skimmed my thumb along the side of the box, finding the groove and then pried it open. Purple filled my view. My fingers trembled as I skimmed the ribbon and lingered on the golden star.
I swallowed…and then swallowed again. Still, the lump in my throat refused to budge. Lights blurred as I lifted my head to the hallway. This wasn’t about absolution…this was about recognition—about pride.
My feet slid from the bed once more, and this time when I touched down to the floor I never wavered. I gripped the velvet box and snapped the knife edge of my hand to my brow. “Oorah!”
My pack sat on a chair. Bullet holes littered the back. I wanted to dump it, like I wanted to dump a lot of things I had here. But the damn thing was part of me now.
I stumbled to the chair and gripped the strap. Jaydin USMC was written in block letters on the side. I glanced to the medal and then bent. My damn fingers shook as I pierced the weave and clasped the pin closed. Dust billowed from the fabric as I dropped it back to the chair and looked at the medal. “Purple and brown.”
There was a fresh set of cammies on the table as well as my old boots. I reached for the thin gown and yanked. Buttons popped, opening the garment to the waist, and exposing the wide bandage across my chest.
The padded gauze sank under my fingers. I pressed my fingers as the nightmare descended…Walker…Snowman…Purple hair…
Somehow, I’d known I was in trouble the moment I stepped up to that doorway. My senses were screaming, but they were smothered by the roar.
The savage brutal power. I held the gown in place and stumbled forward to the small mirror on the stand. Power tore through my head, standing the hairs on my arms.
I reached for the metal frame and lifted the mirror. Light speared from my eye and reflected. The beam was brighter than any light, flooding the room in a heartbeat.
And that same energy coursed, not through my body, but over it, flowing along my arms as it radiated down. The steel bed rattled in the room behind me, and then through the ward. I could feel it, searching…seeking…hunting, like my Purple hair’s power hunted for her.
I closed my eyes as that hunger consumed me. Cries echoed along the ward with the rattle of beds and cupboards, and that sound washed over me.
That divide between us became a little wider…
Deep down I’d always known…
Known that I was different…
That I was a freak.
A freak with a conscience. A freak with powers.
A freak that was finding more just like him.
I yanked the rest of the gown away and pulled the fresh cammies back on. Socks and my boots were next. Pain savaged my chest as I moved. But I welcomed the pain, I held onto it, and as I yanked my last lace tight and straightened, I caught the faint sound of footsteps heading my way. I made for my pack as that power hummed inside me.
I knew it was the nurse, knew exactly what she’d say.
I was getting out of here…and I was finally going home.
She was different this one, younger, kinder. Too new to be here. Her gaze went for the bed as she stepped through the doorway, and then widened.
One scan of the room and she found me beside my pack. “Oh, I expected you to be still in bed.”
I glanced at the papers in her hand. “Not if I had a snowballs chance in Hell of going home.”
Her smile was instant, and for a second I held onto the sweetness, savoring it as my last memory of this goddamn place. “You’re all signed off, and good to go. You must have some friends in very high places.” Her gaze slipped to the medal pinned to my pack, and then jerked back to me. “Looks like you’re going to be boarding within the hour. These are the doctor’s prescriptions, and detailed instructions on when to see your own GP. There’s also military paperwork you need to sign. But that’s about all, you’re free to leave, Corporal.”
I gave a nod, crossed the floor and gripped the straps of my pack. “Lead t
he way.”
Paperwork was signed before I left the ward behind. I made my way across base to the Inventory. Bottles of pills were packed between clean cammies and new boots in my rucksack. I tested the weight against my shoulder and gave a nod.
Silence settled. Silence in their stares as I climbed into the jeep and was driven toward the tarmac. I was used to the crack of gunfire, used to the arid breaths, used to the feeling of desperation—but hope washed through me now as we rounded the Airforce base and stopped.
There was a nod, and a salute from the driver. “Good luck, Sir.”
“Thank you.” Hollow words filled my chest as I gripped my pack and made for the doors.
Two hours later, under the cover of darkness, I climbed the stairs of an Airbus. I was going home…
Others piled in around me, haunted stares and careful glances. I closed my eyes as the engine started and sent tremors through the aircraft. Eighteen hours…eighteen hours of sleep. Because once I hit US soil, there’d be no more.
I’d not sleep—not rest—not until I found her.
Purple hair was quiet now...too quiet.
I reached out and felt the guys energy pulsing with power.
But not her...
Fear filled me as the aircraft roared, engine revving…revving…revving, until the shudder became a shake and we finally moved.
I gripped the armrest and focused on the power of the engine as we rolled down the far end of the tarmac and slowly turned around.
Haunted images clung to the edges of my mind. Purple hair came to me…strapped to a bed with a hypodermic needle in her arm. I can’t hold on…
The Airbus surged forward, gunning…gunning…and the wheels lifted. My hands shook, nails clutched the armrest. On the ground I’d take anything, live rounds an IED…hell I’d shot at almost anything.
But flying…being up in the air with nothing but a chunk of metal between me and the ground—that was fucking terrifying.
“You good Marine?”
The roar cut through the seats from behind me. I glanced through the cracks to the Sergeant at my back and nodded.
“Damnit, was hoping you were the onboard entertainment.”
A shit-eating grin followed. My grip eased, fear loosened its hold as the Airbus heaved its body into the sky. The bright lights from Bagram grew smaller and smaller, until we left them far behind.
There was only darkness now. Darkness and sleep. I dreamed of her…dreamed she stood next to me in that field of grass. One of us, she murmured and reached for my hand.
Needle marks in the crook of her arm marred pale skin. Long silver scars covered her forearms, too neat to be anything but a knife. Burn marks flared red and then blistered as I stared at her outstretched hand…
Her shirt tore at the corner with an unseen touch, exposing the smooth skin of her chest. Burn marks puckered her flesh until the skin split and blood spilled free.
I knew then…knew she was somewhere being tortured—knew the marks on her body were happening to her right now. Knew without the others I’d never find her, not until it was too late.
Slick tears fell free as she closed her eyes.
Stay with me, I reached for her. Fingers brushed and then intertwined. The air around us hummed with energy. Tall grass bowed. We were a sonic boom…a tsunami of power flowing over the field and across the land.
Two more…two more added more power than I could imagine.
One of us…they whispered. I lifted my gaze to the redhead on her other side…Tex, his name resounded. His hand had captured hers.
I stiffened at the rush…him…her…us…and across the field came Shadow. Night followed him, washing the field of grass with the kind of inky blackness that smothered you.
One of us, he answered and reached out his hands. It was so easy…so goddamn easy just to step forward and close the circle. And at the same time as I stepped forward so did Tex. Hands outstretched, grasping one another.
And the ground beneath us shook.
Hold on, I whispered. I’m almost home.
The Airbus suddenly dropped in the sky. My stomach rose, smashing against my chest. I wrenched my eyes open and we found speed again and shook.
“It’s all good, just turbulence,” the Sergeant called from behind me. “We’re about five hours from home, you slept most of the way. Here.” He handed two trays over the headrest of the seat. “Figured you’d be hungry.”
“Thanks,” I answered with a yawn.
The plane leveled and the shudders eased. I gripped the trays and stared through the gloom at the food. Wrapped sandwiches, electrolytes and an apple. My fingers shook as I gripped the plastic and tore. My belly howled, twisting and turning as I wolfed down the meal, and turned to the next.
“Stationed at PB Jaker,” the Sergeant called. “You?”
“Sangin,” I growled. “Under Captain Swach.”
“Jesus.” He stared at me, and then glanced at my chest.
I followed the stare to the padded dressing on my chest. “Shot by a damn sniper…yesterday, I think. Missed everything vital.”
“Bloody hell, you’re one lucky sonovabitch. Must’ve had someone watching out of you. I heard there’s a guy there…Sixth, they call him. He’s like some guardian fucking angel. You know him?”
I bit down on the apple and gave a slow nod. Please don’t ask me…please don’t ask.
The Sergeant just stared…glanced to the purple heart on my pack, and then back to the dressing before he spoke once more. “Heard he got shot yesterday saving eight of his unit. Left shoulder,” he muttered. “Missing everything vital.”
Chew…chew…swallow. But the food wouldn’t slide, wedged in my throat as I waited for him to say something else. I twisted the cap from the bottle and drank as the Sergeant leaned back against the seat. One-way conversation now over.
I stared through the windows into the darkness, catching the faint twinkle of stars above. Five hours passed so slowly up here. The other guys around me slept curled on their sides.
But sleep for me was long gone, stolen by the faint memory of that tick…tick…tick in my head. Like a bomb ready to explode.
The sound meant something. I knew it did.
I ate the rest of the food and tried to think as the hours slowly slipped by, watching as the sky slowly brightened from inky black to deep grey…and then soft yellow as the sun peeked over the horizon.
Lights blinked on up ahead. A nurse worked her way through the cabin and headed for the rear.
The wounded filled the space from the cockpit back to the seats where we sat, and then from behind us all the way to the rear. Nurses and Doctors moved from one space to another, getting patients ready to land.
It hit me how damn lucky I was, lucky to land, lucky to walk out of here on my own two feet. Lucky to have more than a will to live to guide me.
The nose of the plane dropped into a slow descent as the morning sun shone. This gift I had saved countless lives…over and over as well as mine. My heart picked up pace, thundering in my chest.
Guardian angel, freak, Marine…those things I knew how to be.
Now I’d need to be someone else…someone who hunted…
Someone who found…
Someone who protected.
We descended harder, the engines turning from a constant roar into a savage growl. Dimmed lights came on overhead, and the seatbelt sign flashed red.
Movement and voices filled the space. Excitement grew from a faint buzz to an energy I’d never felt before. The LAX tarmac below us was organized chaos. Planes took off in one direction, and descended in others. We navigated around them, a slow smooth ride all the way down.
I gripped the armrest and held on as the ground rose up beneath us. Wheels touched down hard, and my guts dropped. Brakes engaged, still we were hurtling toward the terminal.
I could feel the back thrust of the motor, and the mammoth Airbus’ response as it slowed, and then turned into position and came to a stop.
I glanced out of the window to the rush of ambulances backed end to end. They were faster than I thought, working with the kind of precision you almost took for granted in the military.
Stretcher after stretcher were carried through the massive openings on the side of the aircraft. We waited until a First Sergeant strode through the opening and gave one last order. “Grab your gear, boys and girls, and get the Hell off my bus!”
“Hell yeah!” someone called from the back.
I grabbed my pack and rucksack, took one look around me and rose.
“After you.” The Sergeant gripped his bags. “Sixth.”
Movement stopped, all heads turned. There was a murmur, and then a call. “Guardian.”
I saw him then, that young kid I saw only days before. He nodded as I met his gaze. “That’s him. That’s our Guardian Angel.”
“Welcome home, son,” the first Sergeant growled and nodded toward the stairs.
I met each gaze, just like I always did, and then I turned and made for the terminal.
Chapter Thirteen
Strangers clapped as I strode through the terminal gates.
They smiled, they cried, they held up signs that said Welcome Home, we love you!
But my family wasn’t here. It wasn’t their signs I stared at, it wasn’t their tears. Still, it didn’t stop me looking.
I speared my fingers into my pockets and pulled out a thin, dusty wallet as the crowd swarmed toward me and then parted.
I hadn’t looked at the wallet in years, and tried to think of the damn pin number as I speared my fingers into the crease and that tiny piece of paper where I wrote it down as Mom’s, Dad’s, husbands and wives swept around me.
Some clapped me on the back, others cried thank you for your service.
I smiled, nodded, and headed for the terminal’s help desk. My rucksack hit the floor with a thud, Afghany dust leaving a brown smear on the ground. “I need the fastest flight from here to…” Houston, the city came to me. “To Houston, today if you can.”
