Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
BYRON
Livvy,
These past few months writing to you have been the happiest of my life. I’ll admit to being a little offended when I very first read the reason for your original letter to me. No one wants to be a project. But that feeling went away before I ever responded.
Getting to know you like this is both amazing and frustrating. The weeks between your letters are difficult and getting harder with each missive. You’re very special to me. And I hope that when I get back to America, I can get to know you better.
I’ve only got a few months left, though in war time they can extend my enlistment as long as they want, so I can’t promise a return date just yet. But know that when I am discharged, you and I—
An explosion rocked the barracks around me, and I jumped to my feet, running out of my office with the emergency command walkie in my hand. The men were already pulling on their gear, and I followed suit.
“Intel?” I yelled over the sound of another explosion.
“Nothing!” Carlos insisted. “No warning from Out Watch.”
The emergency radio finally squawked, and I picked it up from where I’d dropped it on the bed.
“Johnson!” I barked into it, hoping command had something to tell me before I sent my men out blind into an oncoming attack.
“Initial report is about a hundred troops. They’re disorganized but headed straight for your camp. First attack was rocket launch, which they stole from our stores, and we believe they’re out of projectiles. But they’ve got handheld explosive devices and AR-15s. We’re scrambling help and should be able to drop additional forces to you in ten.”
I closed my eyes and fought a sigh. In ten minutes, the eight of us could be dead. Shot by the guns our government had sold these assholes in the first place.
When I opened my eyes, I saw seven scared but determined faces staring back at me.
“Well,” I said, snatching my own rifle from the open wall safe by my bed. “You heard ‘em. One hundred pissed off locals are headed over to party, and the parents won’t be home for hours.” I smiled coldly and turned to look at Tony. “Looks like a nice night to dance on the ceiling.”
My second-in-command nodded at me then snagged the other two best marksmen and motioned for them to follow him up to the roof. They’d be able to snipe dozens of the opposition before they ever broke onto base.
“You four, get armed to the teeth and say your prayers.” I nodded at Carlos who grinned back at me, then he started pulling grenades out of a steel box at the end of his bed.
“Where the hell did you get those?” I asked him, reaching up to catch one of the explosives as he tossed it to me.
“A girl always comes prepared,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t be shy. There’s enough for everyone.”
“Five minutes out,” the man on the radio chirped just as gunfire started to sound outside.
“Well, this is it,” I said to the men who had all turned to face me again. “Don’t get dead out there.”
I walked to the door and swung it open, stepping outside with my head high and no clue if I’d come back to finish my letter to Livvy. I hoped that wherever she was, she knew that I loved her. And I said a silent prayer that I’d still get to go home to her soon.
* * * *
I woke up, staring at a bright fluorescent light hanging over my bed. It took a moment to recognize the strange beeps and whirring sounds around me where actually hospital monitors.
Turning to look around, a wave of nausea washed over me, and I had to close my eyes again and breathe through the urge to vomit. When I opened them again, I saw a woman smiling down at me.
“Good morning,” she said softly. “I’m Major Hollingston. How are you feeling?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. My throat was sore, and the words felt and sounded grainy as I said them.
“That’s to be expected,” she assured me. “We’ve got you on some industrial pain killers. But I’d imagine some discomfort is still getting through.”
“What happened?” I asked her as I tried to sit up.
“No, no.” She put a hand to my chest, firmly pressing me back against the mattress. “You’ll rip a stitch, and the nurses will be pissed.” She picked up my chart and started flipping through it. “You were airlifted here two days ago with a gunshot wound to the thigh. It nicked the bone, but surgery went well.”
“Landstuhl?” I asked, closing my eyes as the lights started to give me a headache.
“Affirmative,” she agreed. “You’ll be here a few more days then you can go home.”
“Home?” I blinked at her.
“Home.” She smiled again. “We’ll have someone come in tomorrow to talk about discharge and where you’ll go from here.”
My heart started racing, and the monitors beeped incessantly.
“You okay there, soldier?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.
I nodded, unable to speak around the lump that had formed in my throat.
Home. Back to the U.S. To Livvy.
“What about my men?” I asked, suddenly remembering how I’d been shot in the first place. There had been a battle. I could recall gunfire, the whirring of helicopters as backup had arrived, then a searing pain in my leg. But everything was still fuzzy around the edges. And I couldn’t picture any of my guys. Were they okay? Had anyone else been injured…or worse?
“I’m sorry,” she said and actually sounded it. “I don’t know. But I’ll get someone to report to you as quickly as I can.”
I nodded, grateful that she’d do that for me. She certainly didn’t have to, but I believed she would.
“Rest now,” she insisted, setting the clipboard back at the end of my bed. “You won’t help anyone by refusing to recover.”
I wanted to ask for more information. Ask for paper and pen to write to Livvy and let her know that I was okay. But exhaustion washed over me, and I let myself slide into sleep again.
If I really was being discharged, then I had all the time in the world to tell her that I loved her. To show it to her each and every day that she’d let me.