I'll Be Waiting (The Vault Book 2)

by A. M. Hargrove

  Thompson looked at the doctor and said, “Last chance to come with us.”

  He shook his head, got out of the back, and walked around to the driver’s side. That was the last we saw of him.

  “Do you think they’ll execute him?” I asked Thompson.

  “Don’t know. He helped us, but you never know what those people will do.”

  The bird took off and we safely landed as we all decompressed.

  “Man, glad that one’s over,” Wilson said.

  “Hey, good job driving. You must’ve had a van in your previous life,” I said, fist bumping him.

  “Yeah. My wife’s. I have three kids, dumbass.”

  “I have van envy now.” I waggled my brows.

  “You’re such a dick.” He laughed.

  Chapter Three

  Lee

  * * *

  The plane ride to Germany was shitty. But what could I expect? I was strapped to a bed, my arms loaded with IV’s, oxygen running into my nose, and my missing ankle and calf were fucking killing me. What was the point of complaining though? It wasn’t like they could give me anything for pain. How did you treat something that didn’t actually exist?

  “Corporal, is everything okay?”

  Now why the fuck would anybody ask me that? What did they expect me to say? Oh yeah, all is fantastic over here. I’m just all fiddle-dee-fucking-doo. I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I gave the guy a thumbs up, saving him from my sarcastic reply. It wasn’t his fault I was here. And he was only doing his job. I would seriously have to do my best to hold in my asshole remarks.

  Too bad we hit every damn bit of turbulence in the air that night. If someone had asked me if I wanted a hammer to the head, I would’ve gladly taken it. Put me out of my misery. My hearing had been damaged by the blast. But the noise inside this metal tube was making me batshit psycho. Clanking, beeping, grinding, wheezing, whining, and the list went on and on. I was ready to jump out of my skin.

  “Corporal, I’m going to give you a push of something in your IV to relax you.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “It’s common on these flights,” was the response.

  “The noise. It’s …” I shook my head.

  “Yeah. Bad, I know. You get used to it after awhile.” The medic smiled at me. At least someone had something to grin about.

  A few minutes later, my nerves evened out. Whatever he gave me worked super fast and it was a good thing. Psychotic Lee was gone for now.

  “Corporal Marston?”

  “Yeah. That’s me.”

  “Feeling any better?”

  Nodding, I added, “Call me Lee. I figure if you’re nice enough to give me some liquid harmony, we might as well be on a first name basis. What’s yours?”

  “Jerry. Good to meet you, except I honestly wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “Makes two of us. But you just did me a solid, Jerry, and I appreciate that.”

  “Just trying to be good at my job and keeping an eye on my patients is one of them. And talk about a solid—what you did for your guys out there was really something. And sorry, but it’s in your record here. I want you to know how proud I am to know you.” He actually saluted me even though I’m pretty sure he outranked me.

  I tipped my head and half-smiled.

  “So, Lee, where’s home?”

  “Ah, it’s a small town in the south. I doubt you’ve ever heard of it.”

  “Try me,” he prodded.

  “You asked. Drummond. You guess the state.” Whatever he gave me was making me so sleepy, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  “Liquid harmony getting to you, huh?”

  “Uh huh. Sorry to conk out on you, man, but I’m gonna take a little snooze.” And I didn’t wake up until Jerry shook me.

  “Hey Lee, we landed and we’re going to wheel you off momentarily. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “What’d you give me? That stuff was a miracle worker.”

  He grinned and said, “It’s my special cocktail for anxious patients.” Then he patted my shoulder. “And I want to tell you, even though you don’t believe it, things are going to work out just fine for you. Keep your chin up, my friend.”

  “Will do.” But what I really wanted to say was—I’ll believe you when damn pigs can fly. “Oh, Virginia.”

  “What?”

  “Drummond, Virginia. My home.”

  “Ha. Gotcha.”

  Jerry unlocked the mechanisms that held the gurney in place during flight and two servicemen came to wheel me down the ramp in the back of the plane. It was a dismal day here in Germany, not a very welcoming sight. But what did it matter? I would be stuck inside for days, if not weeks. I’d heard about what other people went through after these types of injuries. Months of rehab and the PTSD to deal with. But hey, I was alive, wasn’t I? Ooo-fucking-rah for me.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on better days. Family always made me smile, especially my little brother and his constant barrage of questions whenever we Skyped. God, I loved that kid. He was going to be crushed by this. I had to stay positive just for him.

  My bumpy gurney ride finally ended when I was transferred to a normal sized hospital bed, complete with all the bells and whistles. The first thing I did was raise the head and push down the blankets. I’m not sure what I expected—a furry bunny to hop out with a smile and a bouquet of daisies that included a get-well card? What I got instead was stark reality—a leg minus a foot and ankle that ended at mid-calf. The huge bandage wrapped around my knee and extended to the end of what used to be the rest of my leg. But what shocked me just as much was my right leg. It was wrapped in gauze that was seeped with blood. Not just on the lower part but almost up to my groin. I hadn’t thought how severe this could be. Was there a possibility of losing this leg too?

  I wanted to run far, far away. But wasn’t that the joke? I couldn’t even walk. And all of this because of a stupid Coke can. I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. Jesus C, I was losing it. Deep breaths, Lee.

  One, two, three, four, five, six. Exhale slowly. Repeat.

  And then it hit. A full-blown anxiety attack. Jerry’s mystery cocktail must’ve worn off because I was crawling out of my skin, hyperventilating, my face going numb. I couldn’t process a solitary thought and the worst part of it all—I was alone. My pharynx was closing off, and the more I tried to suck in air, the tighter it got. My ears were buzzing like a fucking hive of angry hornets as my vision grew spotty.

  A nurse walked into my room, and she must’ve figured out what was happening. Was this an everyday event here? She ran out and came back with someone else and something was pushed into my IV. It didn’t take long for it to calm me down. Maybe Jerry’s cocktail? I didn’t care by then; I was just happy it worked.

  The doctor, or at least that’s who I thought it was said, “Keep her on two milligrams of lorazepam.” Then he turned to me and said, “Corporal Marston, I’m Dr. Wyatt. Do you mind if I call you Lilou?”

  I was still a bit addled and regaining my composure. “Lee. Call me Lee,” I said, still breathless. “No one calls me Lilou except my family.”

  He made a harrumph sound for whatever reason, I don’t know. “Lee it is. So, then, we’re scheduling you for surgery to get your right leg fixed up then. I’m reviewing everything, and we want to get an MRI and maybe a CT if necessary. We have all the X-rays and tests from Bagram. But our equipment is much better. I also want to look at your left leg just to make sure everything looks good there.”

  “I thought I didn’t have a left leg.”

  “You have quite a bit of a left leg, Lee. From what I read, you’re very lucky. And what you did for your fellow soldiers. You saved your fellow soldiers’ lives, you know. No one even saw the IED but you.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “It’s right here.”

  He held up my chart, so it must’ve been noted there.

  “Lee, we get a lot of
wounded warriors in here, as I’m sure you can imagine, so when someone like yourself comes in, we find out everything we can about him or her. We owe it to soldiers such as you. You’re out there risking your lives for your fellow man and you proved that by what you did. That takes more than courage. It takes a heart of gold and the soul of a warrior. That’s what you are, Lee. Now rest easy. We’re going to do our very best to get you out of here and on your way stateside to recuperate. But we want to get you back there in the best shape we can. We’re going to do you right. You understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He gently squeezed my shoulder and walked out of the room. The nurse told me to press the button any time if I needed anything.

  The next week was muddled in my head. It was filled with scans and surgery. Not one, but three. One on the left leg to complete what had been started in the mobile hospital and two on the right. After four weeks at Ramstein, I was transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland.

  My parents met me there. Mom cried and cried and Dad did too. I was too numb to do anything. They stayed for a week and returned to Drummond while I endured yet another surgery on my right leg. The IED had done extensive damage to my femur and quad so a lot of repair was necessary, but I got to keep my right leg. After the final surgery, I had to go through rehab and learn to walk again. Both legs had atrophied from being in bed for all those weeks, so I had a tough road ahead and wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Chapter Four

  Rusty

  * * *

  “You open your mouth, kid, and I’ll beat your ass till you can’t ever walk again. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.” I hated him. I hated him more than anything. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and knock every tooth in his head out. But I didn’t stand a chance. I was nothing but a scrawny kid.

  Velvet came out of her room, all scrunched up like. She wore that thin looking sweater, the one with the buttons on it. She wore it a lot, even when it was scorching hot outside. I knew why. It was so the kids at school didn’t see all the bruises on her arms. I heard what he did to her every night. I could hear her screams. Mom heard it too. It’s why she was drunk all the time. I couldn’t stand to hug her anymore. Even in the mornings, she smelled like beer or whiskey.

  “Get a move on. The train’s leavin’.” Dad walked out the door and we followed like robots. If we didn’t, he’d beat us before we got in the car. One morning, I left my school binder on my bed. I made the mistake of telling him. He popped me right on the cheek. I lied to my teacher and said I fell down. If I told the truth, Dad would kill me for real.

  It was Velvet’s sixteenth birthday today. I made a card for her and stuck it in her backpack when she was in the bathroom. I wished there was some pretty present I could buy her, but I didn’t have any money to spend. After school, we waited for Mom to pick us up.

  “I’m sorry about my dad.”

  “Not your fault, Rusty.”

  “Just the same, I’m sorry. Wish there was something I could do.”

  She gave me the saddest smile I’d ever seen. “I wish my mom was still alive.”

  “Me too.”

  Mom pulled up and we got in the car. She stunk something awful. She shouldn’t be driving so I watched the road real close to be safe. Only I wasn’t so sure what I’d do from the passenger’s side. We made it home safe and sound.

  That night, I was in my room, lying in bed, and I heard Dad go into Velvet’s room. I was thinking he was going to beat her like usual. Only this time something different happened. He did something worse, something uglier. I wanted to help. I wanted it to stop. For the first time since I was a little kid, I cried. Holding my hands over my ears, I lay in the bed and prayed. I asked God to kill my dad for me. I wanted him to die for what he was doing to Velvet.

  The next morning, I saw him. He knew I knew what happened. He pulled me outside by my shirt collar.

  “You’d better keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.” Then he pushed me down on the ground and kicked my leg so hard, it took two weeks before I could walk without it hurting.

  Was it a sin to want someone to die, because I prayed for his death every single night of my life?

  Chapter Five

  Lee

  * * *

  Two men held me up with the belt around my waist and ropes that were attached to rings on it. I held onto parallel bars to support myself. My leg that had been amputated was propped up on a knee walker and the other one was shaking as I supported myself on it.

  “Shit! I can’t believe I used to run half marathons. This is ridiculous.”

  “You’ve been in bed for weeks, Lee. What do you expect?” It was JB that spoke.

  “Yeah. You’re not Supergirl,” Danny said.

  “Shut up. Just don’t say anything else. Neither of you needs to remind me of where I’ve been. Ugh.” One more step and I was groaning. “Fuck me. This is brutal.”

  “You sure cuss a lot for a girl,” JB chastised me.

  “You sound like my mother,” I retorted.

  “Well, you do. Wait. I take that back. You cuss a lot, period.”

  “If I didn’t need to hang onto to these damn bars for dear life, I would so flip you off.”

  Danny moved in front of me, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Idle threats. Take it like a woman why don’t you?”

  “One of these days, I’m going to kick that skinny ass of yours, you little shit.” And right now, I wasn’t even close to joking.

  JB looked at me and then at Danny. “Dude, I don’t think she’s kidding. I’d back down if I were you.”

  “Seriously?” Danny asked JB.

  “As a heart attack, dude. Look at her. Smoke is about to shoot out of her nostrils.”

  “Good thing she can’t catch me then, huh?”

  “Why you little sonofabitch. One day I’m going to clean your clock and shove my foot up your ass so far …”

  “Hey, hey, hey, calm it down Mike Tyson.” JB was waving the peace sign at me. But I was so pissed I took about five steps right toward Danny.

  “And would you look at that.” Danny had a smug look on his face. “I knew I could get her pissed off enough to forget about everything and do the dirty.”

  “The dirty?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Walk. You’ve been saying how hard it was. And how weak you were. I only took your mind off it and put it somewhere else. Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

  He walked behind me and then gave my ass a good hard slap.

  “You’re trying your damnedest to piss me off, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight I am. You’re so hard headed it’s the best way to get you going. Now move it, grunt.” Danny laughed.

  “Hey, that was really low. I might be a jarhead with half a leg, but I’m no grunt.”

  Danny couldn’t let it go. “No, but your head is as soft as a grunt.”

  JB, who had been silently watching our exchange up to this point finally said, “Are you two sure you’re not brother and sister?”

  “Ew,” I groaned. “That’s just gross.”

  “My own sentiments.” Danny looked equally as repulsed.

  “Wait a damn minute. What’s wrong with being my brother?” I asked.

  “Because you sound like you’ve been laying in the gutter for years, trash mouth. No sister of mine would ever talk like that.”

  My mouth clamped shut so hard my teeth rattled. What the fuck? Was I that bad? Did I need to rein it in?

  I was considering my vermin vocabulary when JB said, “You are golden. Congrats, girl. You have reached a new level!” I looked down to see that I had made it to the end.

  “I’ve never done this before.” Both guys put their fists out and I bumped them. “Do you really think I’m a trash mouth?”

  They both stared without answering.

  “Oh, come on guys.”

  JB’s brows lifted and Danny shrugged. But that was it. JB grabbed my wheelcha
ir while Danny unbuckled the belt.

  “Princess, your carriage has arrived. Don’t forget to do your leg lifts, your majesty, and we shall see you tomorrow. Your ride back to the palace awaits.”

  I stuck my tongue out at them as I sat on my wheels and headed home for the day. Trash mouth. Maybe I needed to clean up my act. Or at least tone it down. I hadn’t used a filter much ever since the accident. Accident, my ass. The fucking bomb that those ratfaced bastards had intentionally left for us to stumble upon. Lucky for us I spotted the thing. Or we all would have been strumming harps right now. Well, maybe some of us. I probably would’ve been stoking the fires with coal.

  “Marston, you up for some chess?”

  Looking across the room, I noticed a fellow amputee who I regularly matched up with begging for a game.

  “Nah, not right now. I’m tired from PT. Maybe later.”

  “Pussy.”

  I flipped him off and kept on rolling. The truth was, I wasn’t in the mood for company. Even though I spent more time with JB and Danny than anyone else here, they had gotten the best out of me, and now I wanted the rest of the day to myself. Only problem was, every time I closed my door, I heard the blast. And then the screaming. The question I had no answer for was—who was screaming? A voice in the back of my head always answered me. It’s you, dumbass. I was the one screaming in pain. Yelling out in agony. Then I would sit alone in my room for hours and shake.

  My parents came out to visit as often as they could, but I was about four hours away from them and they both worked. I put on my happy face when they were here, but even though I hated to say it, I was glad to see them leave each visit.

  One day after a particularly nasty session with my resident torturers, JB and Danny, there was a knock on my door and I told whoever dared to disturb my quiet time that they better have a damn good reason for doing so.