The Long Way Home

by Roslyn Bane

  The Long Way Home

  By Roslyn Bane

  ©2017 Roslyn Bane

  ISBN-(book) 9781942976516

  ISBN-(epub) 9781942976523

  ISBN (pdf) 9781942976530

  This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main St, Suite 220

  Watsonville, CA 95076

  www.desertpalmpress.com

  Editor: Mary Hettel

  Cover Design: eebooWORX

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition—July 2017

  Blurb

  Major Samantha Davies is a warrior. After being abandoned by her father and raised in a foster home, she has made the Marine Corps her life. As a helicopter pilot she has excelled under the demands of her career. Always a fierce competitor, she now faces her toughest challenge…living with a disability that threatens her career and dealing with survivor’s guilt that threatens her emotional stability.

  Lieutenant Commander Kristine Matthews is a highly skilled, combat experienced Navy Surgeon well accustomed to handling the worst destruction war can do to a person.

  One fateful afternoon their paths cross and their lives change forever.

  In a world where independence and strength are as valued as teamwork, and these two women struggle through rehabilitation, will they heal enough to live again and find happiness? Or will their shared experience destroy them?

  Acknowledgments

  This book would not have been possible without assistance from others. Thanks for your support and ideas. Thank you to my beta readers; Brenda, Judy C., Danielle Z., and Anya. Your feedback was invaluable.

  Special thanks to: Sarah W. at Ability Prosthetics, Linda at Drayer Physical Therapy, Adam H. at Wellspan Physical Therapy, Heather H. and ‘Doc’ Morales at Wellspan Orthopedics. Your knowledge is incredible and you serve your patients well. It was a pleasure to work with you.

  To the instructors at the Golden Crown Literary Society (GCLS) Writing Academy, my classmates, and mentor Catherine, thanks for an incredible year of guidance and fellowship.

  Thank you to Jan who took infinite care and skill, to help refine this story. Thanks for taking on what Sister Mary Joseph gave up on.

  Thanks to Mary, my editor at Desert Palm Press, who helped polish it, and Michelle Brodeur for the cover. Thanks Lee for taking a chance with this book.

  Thank you to the folks at Wounded Warrior Project who help our wounded veterans and their families on their journey of healing and to the many wounded veterans who shared their stories with me, this book could not have been written without your input. Thank you for your service.

  Finally, to my family; thank you for your support. Bonum possit venire de rerum mutatione.

  Dedication

  To Female Veterans who have served their country with honor, and integrity.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  About Roslyn Bane

  Chapter One

  “KEEP YOUR LOOKOUT SHARP, there’s been fighting on that second ridge all morning.” Major Samantha “Sam” Davies interrupted the easy conversation of her flight crew to redirect their attention to the mountains outside their helicopter.

  “Roger that, Major. Heads up, guys. Watch your sectors. Let’s get this bird back in time for some hot chow today.”

  As the crew chief called out instructions to the young Marines manning the guns, Sam provided coordinates to her copilot. Alternating her scan from the instrument panel to the terrain outside, she watched for unfriendlies and other hazards to her team. They had just finished a resupply mission to a forward operating base and were heading back to camp. The weather was typical for Afghanistan, hot and dry. There had been no rain for weeks, and the wind blew up clouds of dust that could quickly cause brownout conditions. Sam licked her cracked lips, her eyes constantly in motion, watching as the copilot, a young first lieutenant, handled the big helo. Did he realize it was easy for the enemy to hide behind the craggy rocks, and in deep ravines? That they popped up like woodchucks but weren’t nearly as friendly. Here, in this god-forsaken land, death bloomed. Death thrived. And Death was always hungry. Her gaze swept across the instrument cluster and noticed the altitude. “Bring us up, Lieutenant. Remember your scan pattern, outside and inside. With all this brownout here and with so few trees, you’ll start to lose some of your depth perception.”

  “Yes, Major.”

  Over the intercom, the crew chief shouted, “Got something. Two o’clock.” A loud bang on the airframe behind her head and the high-pitched squeal of metal tearing overpowered the noise of the rotors. Her stomach lurched, and sweat dripped down her back. Adrenalin kicked in and her vision sharpened, and reflexes tuned to precision, she started calling out instructions.

  Sam shouted “Left,” even as she took the controls and pushed the helo left, “Chief, what have we got?”

  “They’re on the ridge,” the chief shouted as she continued to bank the big helicopter to the left, moving them away from the gunfire.

  The helo echoed with the distinct bwap, bwap, bwap, bwap as her crew unleashed bursts of gunfire. Th
e smell of gunpowder tinged the air. Her crew shouted to each other.

  “I saw a flash.”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “I got one at four o’clock.”

  “Shit! They’ve got something big! It’s going high, down, Major, down!”

  Sam lowered the collective to bring the helo lower, and the chopper dropped two hundred feet and continued to bank left.

  “Muzzle flash, oh shit! It’s coming right for us.” The shriek of metal tearing, the instant beeping and buzzing of multiple alarms, filled her ears. Warning lights flashed on the instrument panel, and circuit breakers popped in the cockpit. “We’re hit! We’re hit!” the crew chief yelled.

  The helicopter started a slow spin, and Sam shouted over the intercom, “We lost the tail rotor. Hang on. We’re going to land it. It’s going to be fast.” She lowered the collective all the way down and pushed on the right rudder pedal to adjust for the loss of torque.

  The first lieutenant was on the radio “Mayday! Mayday! This is sierra foxtrot two four seven we’re going down, grid five four seven two Echo. Mayday! Mayday this is sierra foxtrot two four seven.”

  The crew chief yelled over the shouts of the crewmen to hook their restraints. The console was an array of flashing lights, alerting Sam to catastrophic failure. Buzzers and beeps, the engine winding down and the wind all combined to form layers of sound. Get away from the ridge, find a clearing. It’s gonna be tight, watch the boulders. She spotted a potential landing zone.

  “We’re dropping fast. This is going to be rough. Brace for impact!” The helo spun faster and faster. Sam pulled the cyclic backward to raise the nose, adding more right rudder. Her stomach lifted with the negative g-forces as the helo dropped. She focused on the landing zone as the chopper spiraled down faster and faster. Her vision narrowed as she fought against the blurring. She checked the altimeter, and pulled the collective up hard to slow the speed of descent and pulled the cyclic aft. The nose came up, as the wheels impacted the ground, even as the spin continued. Screams filled the air as the main rotor blades struck several large boulders on the side of the mountain, splintering on impact. The chopper rolled to the left flipping several times. The deafening sound of metal twisting and glass popping filled the air and darkness descended.

  ***

  Sharp daggers of pain penetrated her legs, and her head throbbed. Sam became aware of a faint beeping and her name being called from behind and below her. Dry, hot wind blew against her face, and the smell of jet fuel was thick on the air. She struggled to open her eyes and shook her head to clear it. Knifelike pain sliced through her ribs and she gasped. She wiped a gloved hand over her eyes and bewildered, looked at the blood on her glove. Her vision blurred and she wiped again. Sam heard her name again, and she tried to speak. She tasted blood and grit in her mouth. Turning her head to the left, she realized the helicopter was leaning to its left side.

  “Major, wake up. Come on we’ve got to get out of here.” It was Martinez, her gunner. “Let’s go.”

  She looked at him, and then beyond to where the lieutenant sat motionless, crumpled against the airframe his head at an unusual angle, blood trickling from his mouth and from under his helmet. His eyes were open, dark and unfocused. Oh God, he’s dead. Martinez’ face was covered with dirt and sweat, his nose was angled to the side, and a jagged cut ran the length of his jaw.

  As Sam reached for her harness, pain ripped through her side, and she hissed in agony. Staring at her legs, she watched as blood slowly spread across her flight suit. She pulled her legs back and groaned as pain ripped through her right leg. “Fuck.” Her stomach clenched tight, Oh shit, it’s stuck. Get it out, get it out. She leaned forward to push on the console and pain exploded again.

  “Wait, let me see.” Martinez crawled over to her. “It’s stuck. I’m gonna push, you’re going to have to pull it out. Ready? Go.”

  Sam braced her left foot on the deck and pushed down. Bones shifted, their ends grinding past each other making a sound like dry wood splintering and cracking. White hot bolts of pain shot deep within her and waves of nausea roiled through her gut. An animal-like howl escaped from deep within her, and her focus dimmed. Oh fuck. Sweat poured down her face, and she squeezed her eyes tight against the pain. With her pulse pounding in her ears she pulled again, using her hands to yank at her thigh.

  “Stop, Major.” Martinez reached his hand down into the small gap, and she shuddered as his hand gripped her leg. She flinched as his fingers sank into her flesh. He jerked and pulled his hand back. It was covered in blood. “I’ll get a tourney on, Major.” He reached up to his left shoulder and pulled off the combat application tourniquet from his shoulder strap. “Hold on.”

  Heart racing, she gritted her teeth as he positioned the tourniquet mid-calf and started to tighten the windlass. She groaned as the band squeezed tighter around her leg. Leaning her head back, Sam clenched her teeth and held her breath against the pain until it lifeless body of the lieutenant burst free in a huge gasp. “That’s good. Stop! Uh, it’s tight.” She grabbed his hand, restricting his movement.

  He reached down to her leg again, ran his fingers along it, before pulling back his hand. “It’s not bleeding now. Major, you don’t look too good.”

  She panted against the intense pain. “Corpsman?” she grunted.

  Martinez shook his head. “I’ll get his stuff. He’s got morphine. I’ll be back.”

  Sam gripped the cyclic between her knees and stared blankly at the instrument panel, and the cracked and buckled gauges. Licking her lips, she panted out small breaths to minimize her chest movement. Her vision narrowed, and nausea returned. She focused on the sound of Martinez as he cursed and threw gear to the side. It thudded heavily onto the floor, echoing in the metal frame. Gotta get help. Radio. A prick in her thigh caused her to look down, and she saw Martinez pull back with the auto injector in his hand.

  “It’s the morphine, Major. It’ll help.”

  Sam clutched at his arm, “Who’s here?”

  “Mitchell’s gone, Roberts too. The LT. Jakes is outside with a gun.” Sam closed her eyes tightly as heaviness settled into her chest. She shook her head slightly and swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat. Damn. Three of my men. And I’m sitting here stuck. She ground her teeth and pulled her leg again, her vision fading with the effort.

  “Major, I gotta get outside and get the radio going.”

  Sam let go of his arm and wiped the sweat from her face. Stomach clenching, she stared at the lifeless body of the lieutenant. A few moments later she recognized Martinez’ voice as he called over the radio. Her brain was fuzzy, and her pain subsided, as thick gray fog replaced the desert brown. Silence descended.

  ***

  Sam awakened slowly to the sound of gunfire. Where is it? How many? She couldn’t make sense of it. Everything was heavy and slow moving. After several more minutes of sporadic gunfire, it grew quiet. Her hair stood on end as boots scraped along the floor behind her. Someone crawled through the chopper toward her, their breath harsh in the silence. Who is it? Who’s left? Don’t let them take you. Not like this. Hell no. Her breathing slowed, her muscles tightened, a drop of sweat fell into her eyes and was blinked away. Barely breathing she slowly and quietly drew her sidearm from the holster on her chest. Can’t miss from here. Soon as they come around the corner.

  “Major, it’s me, Martinez.”

  She lowered the handgun onto her lap, and let out a huff of air. Martinez looked at her, “Good, you’re awake. And you’ve got your weapon. We got ‘em, Major. I don’t know how long it will be till more come. You stay quiet in here. Stay still. Don’t let them know you’re alive. Save your ammo.”

  “Radio?” She shook her head to clear the fuzziness, but the pounding in her head intensified.

  “Radio’s busted. Jakes is trying to fix his comms.”

  “Outside…keep watch.” She gasped as breathing became more difficult.

  “Roger that.”

>   As he retreated, she pushed with her left foot against the metal again, her attempts intensifying her pain. Her hands trembled as her right leg still wouldn’t budge.

  ***

  A few minutes, or was it hours later, she heard someone approach. “Major, listen to me.” It was Martinez, “We got five unfriendlies coming up the ridge. We gotta let them get in close so we can get them. Stay quiet in here. I’ll be behind. Jakes is in front.” He pressed her weapon into her hand, “Don’t shoot unless someone comes inside. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, or she thought she did, and heard Martinez move away. The wind through the shattered windscreen blew grit across her face, and sweat and blood ran down her neck and back. The heat in the chopper intensified as the sun continued to bake down. Every breath hurt, but she stayed quiet. The sound of gunfire erupted around her and pinged against the helicopter. Heart racing she remained still. Her eyes were heavy, so she closed them and listened closely. Someone’s out there, watching. Waiting. Looking. Uneasiness washed over her, and she opened her eyes. Her stomach tightened in surprise as a shadow crossed to the left in front of the chopper. The figure ignored her and crept along moving slowly forward. She shifted her eyes and saw that Jakes was looking the opposite way. Jakes, turn around. Turn around. Hell no, not one more. Raising her weapon, she aimed at the shadowy figure, fired and missed. The man spun to face her, their eyes locked, and they both raised their weapons. A sharp crack sounded, and the man dropped suddenly as Jakes turned and fired. After several seconds it was quiet.