by Dirk Patton
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe the day after. Or, it could be a week. That’s the thing with nerve trauma. There is no schedule. It either heals, or it doesn’t, and no two people are the same. But I’d say the odds are against you if at least some of your vision doesn’t start coming back within two days.”
“Anything else you can do?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“All we can do is wait. Best thing is for you to take it easy for a few days. Give your body a chance to rest and recover.”
I nodded, instantly regretting it when a sharp pain stabbed through my skull.
“While I’ve got you,” he said. “I have some questions that need to be answered for your records.”
“What kind of questions?” I asked.
“You know the military,” he said with a smile as he hooked a rolling stool with his foot and took a seat. “We have to document wounds. Besides, you’ve got enough relatively fresh scars to qualify for a Purple Heart. Probably with clusters.”
“Fuck that,” I said, ignoring the pain as I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t want one. Give it to somebody else!”
The doc looked at me in surprise, pen poised over my chart. It was open to a line diagram of the human body and I could see over a dozen spots that had been identified as injuries, blank lines leading to them that were waiting for an explanation.
“Why wouldn’t you want one?” he asked.
“Look, it’s hard to explain. Okay?”
“Try me,” he said, not backing down.
I stared back at him for a long moment, then sighed and shook my head.
“Don’t give a shit about medals,” I said. “Never have. Sure, people should be recognized when they do something special, but…”
“But what?” he prompted.
“Just because I may have gotten hurt as I tried to survive, doesn’t mean I deserve a medal. You wanna give some out, here’s some names of people who did way more than I did and didn’t make it out of CONUS. Colonel Jack Crawford, Army. Captain Jennifer Martinez, Air Force. Tech Sergeant Zach Scott, Air Force. Lieutenant David Anderson, Air National Guard. Shall I continue?”
“We’re talking about you,” he said.
“I really wish people would just take a breath,” I said in frustration. “I’m not this goddamn hero everyone keeps trying to make me out to be. I just did what had to be done.”
“Sounds like a hero to me,” the doctor said, quickly raising his hands to forestall any more protests from me. “Fine. But I still need to complete the record. You have my word I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Whatever,” I said after several seconds of silence. “Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“First is the puncture scar beneath your left nipple. Bullet?”
“Shotgun,” I said. “Same blast left the scar on my ribs and the two holes in my arm.”
He leaned forward for a closer look before scratching notes onto the chart.
“How’d you survive that? It looks significant enough to have involved the lung.”
“She saved me,” I said, tilting my head in Rachel’s direction.
He looked at her and she gave him an embarrassed grin before shrugging her shoulders. With a nod of respect, he turned back to face me.
“Okay, what about your hands?” he asked, pointing at the round, puckered scars on the back of each.
“I got crucified.”
“No, seriously,” he said, smiling at what he thought was a joke as I simply stared at him.
“Seriously,” I said.
The smile melted off his face and he set the chart aside to take my hands and closely examine them. Turning them over, he gently probed the scars in my palms.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed a moment later.
“Not really,” Rachel said. “But don’t encourage him. He’s already difficult enough to live with!”
I just shook my head, doing my best to ignore her.
“This is amazing! Never seen anything like it. Any loss of function?” the doc asked, releasing me and going back to furiously scribble notes in my file.
“Not much,” I said. “A little numbness, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night because they’re aching. Gets worse if its rainy or cold. Strength seems to be okay, though. For the most part.”
He shook his head and kept writing notes. I didn’t like doing this, but realized the man had a job to do. So, I tolerated the rest of his questions, answering as best I could. There were a couple of times my memory was a little fuzzy, Rachel filling in the blanks, and we finally wrapped it up after almost twenty minutes. By that time, I was starting to feel a little like an attraction at a freak show.
“I want to see you tomorrow. Make sure there’s no infection setting in or any other complications,” the doc said when he was finished, then turned to Rachel. “You’ll be with him?”
She nodded and he rattled off a series of post-operative instructions that she seemed to understand. I couldn’t tell anything more than he was speaking English.
Two hours later, we left the hospital for our quarters. Rachel was fussing over me like a mother hen, and I got a taste of what Igor was complaining about. She got me settled in the bed, then lifted the bandage to check my eye. Satisfied with what she saw, she stepped outside with Dog long enough for him to take care of his needs, then returned and pulled a chair around to sit next to the bed, facing me.
“Are you going to sit there and watch me heal?” I asked.
“No, I’m going to sit here until you explain why you didn’t tell me you’d decided to have the surgery this morning. I have to find out by overhearing two nurses talking about you? I’m not yelling right now, but I’m seriously pissed at you.”
She never raised her voice, but there was no doubt she was upset. I tried a smile that didn’t work. She wasn’t in the mood to be charmed or distracted, and I wasn’t going to squirm my way out of this conversation.
“What if I said it’s classified?” I asked, making a last-ditch effort.
A tear formed in her eye and slowly trickled down her face. She angrily wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I should have told you. It just kind of happened.”
Rachel glared at me, waiting for more.
“Keep talking,” she finally said.
So, I did. I told her everything. The coming blight. The plans to kill Barinov and rescue Irina’s uncle. The exodus to Arizona and what that meant for the future. I didn’t hold anything back. As I relayed the whole story, Rachel’s anger evaporated to be replaced by horror and despair. She’d already begun making plans for our future, and in only a very few minutes, I’d just dashed them to pieces.
“This can’t be happening,” Rachel said when I was done.
Tears were once again streaming down her face and she dashed into the bathroom to find a tissue. I could hear her blowing her nose, then she returned, eyes rimmed in red. I didn’t know what to say to comfort her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I finally said. “I saw how happy you were, and…”
“You’re an idiot!” she barked. “I was happy because we’re together. I don’t care where that is! That’s not why I’m crying.”
“What, then?”
I reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.
“Barinov!” she spat. “You just can’t stop! Your luck is going to run out. Isn’t it time to let someone else do the fighting?”
“Don’t think it’s going to be an issue,” I said, looking away. “If I can’t see, I won’t be the one going in.”
Rachel looked at me for close to a minute, then suddenly stood up.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Taking a walk,” she said, heading for the door and calling Dog. “I need to be away from you for a while before I say something I can’t take back!”
On her way out, she slammed the sliding door so hard I expected the glass to shatter and tumble t
o the floor. But somehow, it held together. With a sigh, I looked up at the ceiling and briefly thought about going after her. A lifetime of pissing off the women I care about had taught me to give space when it was obviously needed, so I closed my eye and tried to go to sleep.
12
Sometime later, I woke when the entire bed shook, then a wet nose against my ear warned me of the coming lick. I raised my hands to fend him off, but Dog managed to reach the undamaged side of my face. A light snapped on and Rachel hurried over. She scolded him, lightly smacking his ass several times until he grudgingly jumped to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Me too.”
She smiled, leaning down and kissing me where Dog had just licked.
“How does Dog slobber taste?” I asked with a grin.
Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“We’ve got company!”
She stepped away and I saw Irina and Igor standing in the bedroom door. Igor looked none the worse for wear, especially with Irina firmly holding his arm.
“How are you?” Irina asked, coming forward and taking my hand.
“Better,” I said, pointedly looking at Rachel.
“Able see?” Igor asked.
I reached for the bandage on my face, but Rachel slapped my hands away. Carefully, she removed it, warning me to open my eye slowly. I followed her advice, then shook my head a minute later when there was nothing but darkness. She gently put the gauze back in place, pressing the tape firmly against my skin.
“So, I told them everything,” Rachel said.
Reflexively, I sat straight up in bed.
“You did what?” I blurted in a loud voice.
“They have a right to know,” she said defensively. “They’ve been through too much with us to start keeping things from them.”
“Is there a chance anyone overheard your conversation?”
I wasn’t as concerned about Igor and Irina knowing what was coming as I was about word leaking out. If that happened, it was my fault for having told Rachel in the first place.
“We were alone,” Rachel said.
I glanced at Irina who, as a GRU officer, understood how to keep conversations private. She nodded, which made me feel a little better.
“I am surprised my uncle is alive,” she said, smiling. “I expected that he had been executed when his plot was discovered.”
“Will he be able to persuade the Russian military that it’s time to stop fighting and work together?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” Irina said. “If President Barinov and key members of his inner circle are removed.”
“That’s the plan,” I said, feeling Rachel’s eyes boring into me, but not looking at her.
“How we do this?” Igor asked.
“Still working on it,” I said.
“Hungry?” Rachel interrupted.
The thought of food made my stomach rumble.
“Starving.”
“Then get your ass out of bed and come out to the living room. We brought food.”
We ate, then talked for several hours. The food helped, and I was feeling much better by the time Igor and Irina said good night. While Rachel cleaned up the remains of our meal, I took a quick shower then slipped on a pair of sweats. Dog was sitting by the door, giving me the look, so I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and went outside with him.
We squeezed through the hedge and I let him sniff to his heart’s content as I lit a smoke. The hedge rustled behind me, then Rachel took the burning cigarette out of my hand.
“You don’t need the smoke in your eye,” she said, stepping away when I made a grab for it.
With a sigh, I lit another and ignored the look she gave me.
“Eye’s covered with a bandage,” I said.
She shook her head in resignation and moved close to me, circling her arm through mine as we watched Dog dash from tree to tree.
“I want you to come to Australia with me,” I said after a minute of companionable silence.
“Really?” she asked, sounding surprised.
“Really,” I said.
“You’re the one who keeps reminding me we’re back in the real world and can’t just do whatever we want anymore. How the hell are you going to bring me along? I can fight, but it’s not like I’m part of the team.”
“Leave that to me,” I said.
“When are we going?”
“Soon. A few days at the most.”
Rachel was quiet for a long time, the two of us waiting for Dog to find the right spot.
“How do I talk you out of this?” she asked softly.
“You don’t,” I finally said. “This is something I have to do, or at least be a part of. I’ve tried to let it go, but I can’t. Can’t fully move on until it’s taken care of.”
“Igor made me understand that this afternoon,” she said.
I looked at her in the moonlight, surprised. Well, he must not be too pissed at me.
Dog finally found an acceptable location for his deposit. While I cleaned it up, Rachel headed back inside. Leaving another ten-pound present in the trash can, I went inside and surprised myself when I fell asleep almost immediately.
The next morning, I kept my appointment with the doctor who proclaimed that there was no indication of infection. But neither was there any sign that my vision was coming back. Rachel had a shift at the hospital, so I left her there and headed out to find my driver.
“Your quarters, sir?” he asked as I walked up to the waiting Humvee.
“No,” I said, climbing in front. “I’ve got a meeting to attend.”
I spent the rest of the day with the small team working on the plans to assassinate Barinov and rescue Shevchenko. Feathers were ruffled, and a couple of times Captain West had to intervene. The way he was supporting me was a clear indicator that the Admiral had decided to go with my ideas. Not that I was wanting to do anything radically different, but it was time to get out of the conference room and into the field. We didn’t need to discuss every tiny detail, especially since there were so many things we didn’t know. Sometimes, you’ve just got to make it up as you go.
Late the following day, Rachel, Dog and I stood with Admiral Packard in a cavernous hangar at Hickam Field. The doors were closed to prevent any prying eyes from seeing the activity as a team of eight SEALS, Igor and Irina loaded their equipment aboard a stealth bomber.
This team was heading for Siberia. A tanker was already in the air, heading for a rendezvous point over northern Japan. The B-2 would refuel then fly over Chinese territory, continuing across Mongolia and entering Russian airspace. Giving the city of Irkutsk a wide berth, they would jump ten miles west of Camp 7 onto the frozen tundra.
From there, they would walk to the prison and Igor and Irina would infiltrate during a shift change at the factory while there were lots of prisoners out and moving. The SEALs would remain hidden outside the wire while Irina located her uncle. Here was where the timing became problematic.
Unless Admiral Shevchenko could be removed from the camp without any of the guards becoming aware of his absence, Irina and Igor would have to remain inside, waiting for my signal that the operation in Australia was successful. If they took him out too soon, or they were captured and their plan discovered, it could push Barinov to take the preemptive step of releasing the nerve gas.
On the flip side, if I took out Barinov and they hadn’t found Admiral Shevchenko, or were unable to get him out to begin contacting the senior Russian commanders, there was a strong probability that someone would step into the vacuum left by the President’s death. That would create an entirely new set of problems as we had no clue who that person might be, or what retaliatory actions they might take against either Hawaii or Australia.
These concerns had been debated hotly in the planning room. Captain West had finally silenced the conversation with a few terse words. Admiral Packard joined us as the meeting stretched into late evening, listening attentively as I outlined m
y proposal. When I was done, he’d taken the time to go around the room and ask for each man’s opinion.
The SEALs had come around to my way of thinking, though I knew they had some reservations. But the agent from Naval Intelligence wasn’t having anything to do with it. He was an analyst, not a field agent, and didn’t fully grasp how fluid operations are once you’re in the field. He made a compelling case for taking more time to gather intel. The Admiral had listened attentively, then pointed at me and informed the group that we were moving forward immediately with my plans.
Gear loaded, the SEAL team began climbing aboard the B-2 as Irina and Igor walked to where I was standing. Her formerly long, blonde hair had been chopped off and buzzed close to her skull, then died a color reminiscent of dirty dishwater. She was hardly recognizable as a woman, as long as you didn’t get a good look at her face in the light. Or see her without blocky clothing. Igor just looked like Igor. The big bastard would be right at home.
She had to blend in, and going into the all-male prison camp with flowing, golden locks wasn’t an option. Fortunately, it was winter in Siberia, so the heavy layers of bulky clothing that were common in the camp would disguise her very feminine curves. I was worried about her voice giving her away, or her being discovered while using a communal bathroom, but she dismissed my concerns. Igor would never be more than an arm’s length away, and she planned to let him do any talking that was necessary.
Embracing Rachel, she stepped in front of me and looked into my eye. With a sad smile, she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight.
“I will miss you,” she said in my ear.
“And I, you,” I said, hugging her tight. “Dasvidaniya, Irina.”
She gave me another squeeze before planting a kiss on my cheek and stepping away. With another smile, she turned and headed for the plane as Igor released Rachel and folded me into a spine cracking hug.
“Make bastard pig feel pain,” he said, slapping my back hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“Count on it!”
He stepped back, bent down to rub Dog’s head, then turned and ran after Irina. He helped her board the aircraft, turning and giving a final wave before disappearing inside. The big hangar doors trundled open, evening air flowing into the hangar. A large tug that was hooked to the B-2’s front landing gear started up with a belch of diesel smoke and slowly towed the bomber out to the tarmac.
