That voice, it was sweeter than honey.
I fought like hell to open my eyes so I could see her. I wanted to take her in; her silky, brown hair, flawless, girl-next-door face, and her kind brown eyes that, if she flashed my way, could get me to say yes to anything.
And the image of those few freckles, plastered across her cute button nose, along with her radiant smile that could warm you up on a frigid winter's day, had the need to see her pulsing through me even more.
When my heavy lids opened, disappointment sunk deep into my soul.
She wasn’t there.
A nurse was bustling around, fiddling with the bag of fluids that drained liquid through an IV into my arm and the truth crashed around me like a ship hitting an iceberg in an ocean full of rage.
“Well, hello. So nice to see you awake,” the chipper nurse said, flashing me a smile.
It wasn’t the smile I wanted to see.
“Is Patience your girl? You kept saying her name just now before you woke up.”
My heart ripped in two. She would always be my girl but could never be my girl.
Shit, I’m making no sense.
Head pounding, body aching, and my mouth as dry as the desert, I felt like shit. But it didn’t compare to the pain as the flashes of memories, of my buddies, of the torture, and why Patience could never be mine flooded through my body, drowning me with sorrow.
I pushed the thoughts down deep and let her question go unanswered.
With a scratchy voice that sounded as if I’d swallowed gravel, I asked, “Where am I?”
The woman—somewhere maybe early to mid-forties—paused what she was doing and gave me a tender smile as she picked up a cup from the bedside table next to me. “You’re at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Landstuhl, Germany.”
She brought the Styrofoam cup to my lips, holding the straw steady so I could get my mouth around it, and I managed to take a sip of water. The icy cold liquid moistened the inside of my mouth as it slid down my raw throat.
“How long have I been here?” I asked after she pulled the water away and placed it back down.
After some hesitation, she patted my hand and started toward the door. “Let me just grab your doctor and let them know you’re fully awake.” Just before she left, she called back over her shoulder, “I’m Officer Fischer by the way.” Giving me a little wink, she added, “But as long as no one else is around, you can call me Lina.”
Pulling in a deep breath, I winced at the discomfort in my chest that I realized was bound with a large bandage. I knewit was probably supposed to ease the pain, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.
When I tried closing my eyes, images once again began to flash behind my lids, and I snapped them open.
“O-Dusty,” I croaked.
Had she made it?
My pulse rose at the idea of her dying along with everyone else.
I noticed an MP on guard at the door as Officer Fischer walked back in with a gentleman. I tried sitting up, needing to find out what happened to Dusty during the extraction. I’d done my best to shield her, but she was in bad shape, and I’d blacked out. Everything from then on was fuzzy.
The nurse rushed to my side, clucking her tongue. “Now, now, lay back down,” she scolded but still able to sound soft and nurturing as she placed her hand behind me, guiding me back down toward the bed.
Once settled, she moved to the other side of the bed, and the major, judging by the insignia on his uniform, took up the position she’d vacated.
“It’s wonderful to see you awake and alert, Corporal Adams. I’m Major Altmann, your attending physician. I’ve been tending to you since you were brought in three days ago.” He looked down at the chart in his hands. “I’d like to check you out again and go over your prognosis.”
Before that, I had to know some things.
“Please tell me first what happened to Dusty.” I grimaced at the pain in my head, trying to gather my thoughts. “I mean, Corporal Baker, and if my family has been informed that I am here?”
With a sympathetic smile, the doctor stood next to my bed and told me what he could. “I can’t give you details pertaining to Corporal Baker, but I can tell you that she is here and stable.”
