“What are you doing?” Megan hissed when Wyatt started to climb the small hill up to the road.
“I want to see who these guys are. We need to know what we may be dealing with soon. Maybe we can find some information in the jeeps. I think if someone was around, they’d have made their presence known by now,” he said.
Chase quickly followed, leaving Megan no other option. She scrambled up the hill, thankful to be out of the tall grass.
“That is some nice Kevlar,” Chase said looking at the dead soldier, envying the body armor that was meant to protect him from bullets and shrapnel.
Megan couldn't stop herself. “Should we take it?”
Wyatt looked at her with surprise. “What?”
She shrugged. “Well, he isn't going to need it and who knows what we may encounter later.”
Chase agreed before kneeling next to the dead man. “She's right. We need the armor and we could use the weapons. Check the jeeps for ammo,” he instructed. “I'll take care of this part.”
“Thank you,” Megan said.
Although she wanted the armor, she didn't want to be the one to strip it from the dead man. It felt wrong, even though she knew it was the right thing to do. To keep surviving in this increasingly violent world, she had to shuck those social niceties. It was all about doing whatever it took to get home to her daughter and sometimes that meant doing things that went against every moral value she’d ever held.
“There's nothing in this one,” Megan said after rummaging around in the overturned jeep. “The hood is still warm. I don't think it's from the sun either. This looks to have happened recently.”
“Watch your back,” Chase commanded. “The body's still warm. We need to go!” Chase jumped up, pulling the vest off the man.
“Uh, guys?” Wyatt said, staring at the other jeep.
“What's up?” Megan said jogging the short distance to him.
“This one's still alive,” he said flatly.
“What!” Megan called out, flinching at how loud her voice was while picking up her pace.
When she got closer, she could hear moaning. Wyatt was standing at the open passenger side door, his gun aimed at the guy.
“Wyatt, what are you doing?” she asked.
“We don't know who he is.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, we know he’s hurt badly judging by how pale he is and the amount of blood on the seat,” she said pointing at the evidence.
“Help me,” the man moaned. His eyes fluttered, but didn't fully open.
“Who are you?” Wyatt asked.
The man moaned and turned his head. He stopped moving.
Megan reached out and put two fingers to his neck.
“He's still alive.”
“What's in his hand?” Chase asked, coming around from the other side.
Megan looked and saw a small silver box.
“I don't know, there's no markings.”
She reached forward, the man's eyes opened and he looked her straight in the eye. “Help me, please.”
Megan looked at Wyatt and Chase. They exchanged a look before Wyatt gave a quick nod.
“We're going to help you,” she said softly. “We need to get you out of here.”
The man pulled his hands closer to his chest, clutching the box tighter. He appeared weak, but whatever was in the box was clearly very important to him.
“My friend is going to help you out of the jeep,” Megan said.
The man muttered something before closing his eyes again. She stepped out of the way to make room for Chase who immediately reached out to grab the box.
Before any of them could react, the injured man's right hand released the grip on the box and swung out, hitting Chase square in the jaw.
“Ow!” he yelled jumping back. “What the hell, man? I'm trying to help you!”
Megan pushed Chase out of the way and leaned back into the jeep. “Sir, if you want us to help you, we have to get you out of this jeep. Punching my friends isn't going to do you any good. Be nice,” she scolded.
The man started mumbling and limply tried to push her away.
“Get back, Megan. If he hits you, I'm gonna shoot him,” Wyatt growled.
“You aren't going to hit me, are you?” she said to the man, who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.
The man mumbled something that sounded like no.
“Okay, good. Now, Chase is going to get you out of there. Don't try to fight him, do you hear me?” she said in an authoritative voice.
She turned to Chase. “Don't touch the box. Obviously, it's something he values. Let's get him out of there and figure out what we’re dealing with.”
“Fine, but if he swings at me again, I'm hitting back,” Chase grumbled.
Chase pulled the man out of the rig, with his upper body pressed into his shoulder. He dragged him back a few feet before gently placing him on the hot pavement.
Megan quickly looked the man over. “We need to get him to Brenda. She can fix him up.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea, Megan,” Wyatt cautioned.
“We can't leave him here. He’s one of ours, Wyatt. He's Army,” she pleaded.
“I'll make a stretcher,” Chase said, before turning to Wyatt, “Keep your gun on him in case he’s faking it.”
Megan rummaged through the jeep and found a first aid kit. Chase quickly put together a stretcher with one of the blankets found in the jeep. There was no point in trying to tend to the guy's wounds right here. The person or people who shot up the convoy could be back at any second.
The three of them tugged the unconscious man onto the stretcher. None of them tried to touch the box, which he still managed to hold tightly. It was the least of their worries.
“Let's go,” Chase said.
The three of them took turns dragging the stretcher through the woods and up the hill. It was an arduous climb, made worse by the cloying heat. The soldier moaned and mumbled, but never said a coherent word.
“He better be a good guy,” Wyatt grumbled when they got close to the lodge. “I won’t hesitate to shoot him if there’s even the slightest hint he isn't what he appears to be.”
“And I will hand you the gun,” Megan replied. “Until then, we wait to pass judgment.”
3
“Megan, you should probably go on ahead and let Brenda know we’re coming in with an injured soldier. Maybe she can use some of that medicine we found,” Wyatt instructed.
“Okay, I'll see you at the lodge,” she said, picking up the pace.
She was anxious to get back to JJ. It’d been a rough few weeks. Willow was struggling. They were all on edge and unsure how to help. Brenda had been pouring over the same books repeatedly, making notes and trying to figure out how to help the baby. Rosie had tried every herbal medicine she knew and nothing was working.
Megan imagined the patient they were about to bring her would be a welcome distraction. His injuries were plain to see and so long as he didn’t bleed out or develop a life-threatening infection, she could fix this man.
“Hey,” Albert called out from his seat high up in the tree stand.
“Hey, Albert. Wyatt and Chase are bringing in an injured soldier,” she said, knowing it’d illicit a strong reaction from the man.
“What? Haven’t you guys learned your lesson yet? How many times do we have to get nearly killed by some outsider before you guys figure it out,” he grumbled.
Megan smiled. It was the exact reaction she’d expected. Despite his objections, she knew he’d never turn away an injured soldier. The man was loyal to his country and would do about anything to defend it.
“Who is he?” Albert asked once he touched ground.
“I’ve no idea. He's in bad shape and isn't talking. He does have a box that he’s protective over. I need to let Brenda know. The others will be right behind me,” she said, heading off to cross the stream.
When she got close to the house, she could hear Caitlin's laughter.
It always made her smile when she heard her little girl’s joyful chatter.
“Where's Brenda?” she asked Caitlin who was stacking some old tires while the goats waited patiently. It was the same game they’d been playing every day for months. Caitlin, Ryland, Frankie and Amy created various obstacle courses for the goats. Then they laughed with glee as the goats did tricks while jumping from one obstacle to the next.
“I think she was cleaning her guns, again,” Caitlin said.
“Okay, be careful and have fun,” she said before making her way up to the house.
She didn't hear the baby crying. Hopefully, Willow was getting some sweet relief. No one had slept well since little JJ had come into the world six weeks ago. His birth had been a bit of a surprise. They’d all thought they had another month to prepare, but JJ had other plans.
Megan slowly opened the door. Somehow, in her mind that made her entry quieter. She didn’t want to disturb the baby or Willow if she happened to be getting some sleep.
Rosie was in the kitchen, crumbling up what could only be dried mint leaves. The aroma was intoxicating and soothing at the same time.
“Hi,” Megan whispered.
Rosie smiled. “They’re both awake and enjoying some mother and son time. He’s doing much better today, which means momma is doing much better.”
“Oh, thank god,” Megan breathed. “So, I don't want to interrupt this very peaceful moment, but things are about to get chaotic.”
Rosie's smile faded. “What happened? Who's hurt?”
Megan held up a hand. “No, no. It isn't like that. Wyatt and Chase are fine, but we did pick up an injured man.”
Brenda materialized at the top of the stairs. “I'll get my gear. I want him on that table. Rosie, I'll need hot water.”
Megan looked at Rosie, gauging her reaction to being ordered about in her own house.
Rosie smiled. “And just like that, here we go. You clear the table and I'll get some water going. It’s so dang hot; the last thing I want to do is start a fire, but I guess I must.”
Megan rushed to the kitchen table that doubled as their surgical table. It wasn't very sanitary, but there was no other surface large enough to accommodate a human. Brenda rushed down the stairs carrying a suitcase. Over the months, she’d been adding to her emergency first aid kit. It was a full-blown surgical center now.
She threw a tarp and a sheet at Megan. “Put those down. It will help save on cleanup.”
Megan spread out the tarp and then the sheet smoothing out the wrinkles. It was a habit. Obviously, the injured man wouldn't care if the sheet were wrinkled. She moved the chairs away from the table, making room for Brenda to move easily around her patient.
“Tell me what you know,” Brenda said all business as she opened the case on the center island.
Megan shrugged, she didn't really know anything. “Well, I think he’s a soldier. It looked like he had a gunshot wound to his stomach or maybe chest area. We didn't look. He was combative,” she explained.
Brenda nodded her head. “Go on. Age? Conscious?”
“He was kind of in and out of it. I’d guess he’s mid-thirties. He had a heck of a grip on a metal box. When Chase tried to take it from him, he punched him.”
Brenda raised an eyebrow. “So, he is conscious?”
Megan shook her head. “Only for a moment. He was out when I left them to come here. He did look like he had a bruise on his face. Maybe he got hit?”
“Here, rub this on your hands all the way up to your elbows,” Brenda said squirting some hand sanitizer on her hands.
“The guy was in a jeep, which looked to be part of a convoy. The other vehicles were wrecked in one way or another. He may also have injuries from a collision. He was in the front passenger seat, not wearing a seat belt. The other men had on bulletproof vests. Our guy doesn't,” Megan said, realizing how odd that was.
“Other men?” Brenda perked up.
“They were dead when we got there. It was a gruesome scene. I'm not sure how this guy managed to live through it. Whoever attacked didn’t hold back.”
“Oh no, not again,” Willow said from upstairs.
“It's okay, Willow. It's only one guy and we’ll take every precaution. I don't think we have anything to worry about,” Megan said, hoping to assure her.
She didn't have time to say much more. Wyatt and Chase pushed through the door, dragging the makeshift stretcher behind them.
“Get him up here,” Brenda demanded.
Evan and Bryan rushed in behind them and quickly helped lift the man onto the table. As they did so, the box dropped to the floor and Albert swooped in to pick it up.
“Albert, we don’t know what that is yet,” Wyatt warned.
“Well, best way to find out is open it,” Albert shot back flipping the box over to look at it. “It’s metal but doesn’t appear to have any sort of latch.” Sliding his thumbnail along the crease, he tried to pop the box open but it didn’t budge. “Dang it!”
“Albert,” Rosie admonished, frowning at him.
Megan reached out to pluck the box from Albert’s outstretched hands. It reminded her of a jewelry box her grandmother had given her as a child. Holding it in the palm of her hand, she didn’t think it weighed more than a half a pound.
“Rosie, I need some scissors, please,” Brenda barked interrupting her inspection. Rosie placed them in Brenda's outstretched hand, as a trained nurse would do.
Megan set the box on the island deciding they would talk to their new guest about it after he regained consciousness. Stepping over to stand by Wyatt, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders pulling her against him. They all stood around watching, as Brenda worked to save the man's life. She was calm and methodical as she cut away clothing. His chest was laid bare. She grabbed the stethoscope and listened to his chest.
“Clear,” she said to no one in particular.
Instead of cutting his pants off, she ran her hands up each leg, feeling for broken bones. There wasn't any blood or obvious injuries.
“It seems to be isolated to this one bullet wound. These other cuts appear to be shrapnel. Maybe from whatever he was behind when he was shot at?”
Megan shrugged. “I don't know. Wyatt found him sitting in the lead jeep. Well, I think it was the lead jeep. I guess there could have been others ahead that managed to escape whatever it was that happened on that stretch of road.”
Brenda asked for tweezers and went about carefully removing the shrapnel that peppered his torso.
“He's lost a fair amount of blood, judging by his blood pressure, but his wound is clotting. I'll clean and stitch it and this one cut on his arm. He has a good size bump on his head,” Brenda said, not taking her eyes off her patient.
She asked for her penlight and quickly opened one of the man's eyes and then the other. “Concussion. We'll have to monitor him closely,” she said before turning her attention back to the wound on his torso. “It's a through and through. I don't know how he managed to get so lucky based on the scene you described.”
Megan and Wyatt exchanged a look. “We don't know either. Maybe he’s a high-ranking officer and was well protected?”
“He doesn’t have any patches or badges indicating rank, which was probably smart. I guess we'll have to wait to ask him when he comes to,” Brenda said.
After carefully cleaning and stitching the stranger up, she placed a bandage over the bullet wound and patted the man's chest.
“He'll be fine. We'll let him rest here so I can keep an eye on him,” Brenda declared.
“Let us know the minute he wakes up,” Chase told her. “He isn't to be trusted, yet,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
Megan had to hold back a giggle. Wyatt wasn't quite as nice. “You got clocked by a nearly unconscious dude who couldn't even open his eyes,” he laughed.
Chase glared at him. “I didn't see you putting your head in there.”
“You looked like you were handling it fine,” Wyatt grinned.
; Brenda interrupted their ribbing. “Did you find anything else?” she asked all business.
Megan knew she was referring to medicine for JJ.
“We found a lot, but whether any of it is going to do any good is hard to say.”
Megan picked up all three backpacks and took them to the center island. She unpacked hers first. Brenda picked up each bottle read the label, made a few noises and pushed them to the side.
Willow came downstairs and watched with anticipation as Brenda went through the second and finally the third bag.
“Well?” she asked.
Brenda sighed. “I don't see anything that’d really do him much good, but I need to hit the books again. I'm not going to give up, Willow. No one is. We'll get him all fixed up,” she said with more feeling than she’d ever displayed in the past.
Megan looked at the baby asleep on his mother's shoulder. He was resting peacefully, but it was evident he wasn't healthy. The gray pallor and shallow breaths had been the first signs something was wrong. When he cried, he’d occasionally turn blue and had passed out on more than one occasion.
Brenda had guessed he had a heart murmur, but she didn't want to give an official diagnosis. Her medical expertise was geared toward adults in combat zones. She’d fought against treating JJ, claiming she had zero experience with babies. It wasn't until the second episode she was forced to jump in. She was nervous around JJ, but in the high-stress, life or death situations, she was the best. She was cool, calm and very collected and had revived the baby with a few pumps to his chest.
“Do you want me to hold him while you take a nap or go for a walk?” Tara asked.
Willow smiled. “It's okay. He's sleeping so soundly I don't want to disturb him. It’s these moments I want to cherish.”
Brenda and Rosie had exhausted all of their knowledge trying to find a quick fix. At first, they’d thought he had a cold, but the symptoms worsened. They assumed it was pneumonia and did what they could to treat that, but it only got worse. JJ's precarious health had left them all extremely stressed. Willow hadn’t been able to get a good night's rest since little Jack Junior was born.
Her labor and delivery had gone remarkably well, which had been a huge relief. The first few days had been complete bliss. JJ appeared to be healthy and happy. When things took a turn for the worse, it stunned them and left them all in a state of disbelief, thinking they were overreacting. They hadn't anticipated the baby being unhealthy. When it became obvious something was seriously wrong, the entire group had gone through a rough time.
EMP Lodge Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 80
