Nadia was no psychologist but it was clear that he was having some sort of panic attack or traumatic episode. She didn’t know the man’s past but the close-cropped cut of his hair and the way he carried himself would suggest that he had some military training in his background.
A slow careful approach was the best course of action. She stood by his side. “Hey Mitch, everything okay?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve coming up to them, drinks in hand. Catching his attention she shook her head and canted it to the right to suggest that he should go back to the table. His eyes narrowed briefly as he looked between her and Mitch, before widening as realization struck that something was very wrong with the man she stood beside. He nodded and hurried out of her line of vision.
Mitch hadn’t responded to her, so she tried again, a little louder. “Mitch, you doing okay?”
This time he turned but looked right through her. “We’re losing the patient.”
Okay, it wasn’t unusual that a volunteer fire fighter was also a medic on the team, Eric was, but he’d never mentioned what Mitch did. In fact Eric never really talked about the man standing next to her.
Deciding that going along with whatever was happening in Mitch’s mind, instead of yanking him out of it, was the best way to continue to deal with the situation. “What do you need me to do? I’m here to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late, can’t you see his injuries? They’re too extensive.” The hand not holding his beer scraped down his face. “God, he’s barely old enough to shave. What the hell is he doing in this shithole? What the hell am I doing here?” He turned abruptly and strode away from her.
Nadia stood frozen to the spot for half a heartbeat watching him walk away from the crowd and head toward the far corner of the open space. Away from carnival rides. Away from everyone. The beer bottle hung from his fingers and she couldn’t help but think that he was unaware he still had a hold of it.
Should she follow or stay where she was?
Should she follow or get someone else to help him?
Should she follow and see if she could be the one to pull him from the nightmare he was in the middle of?
Follow him, that’s what she should do. Nadia hurried after his retreating figure, glad that she wore cowboy boots and she didn’t have to worry that she’d wreck her shoes traipsing over the grass.
“Mitch,” she called out. “Mitch, what about the other patients.” She was taking a huge risk by saying something like that, it could trigger him even more.
But it had the desired effect. He stopped, but he didn’t face her. His head and shoulders dropped. “There’s no point, I can’t do anything to help them anymore. It’s never ending.”
Why wasn’t anyone aware of the pain this man was going through?
Again she took her time approaching him, making sure that she didn’t make any sudden moves. She still didn’t have any idea if he would get violent or not. Somehow she didn’t think he would.
Carefully she laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’ve done a wonderful job. You’ve saved so many lives.”
“And lost a ton more. I can’t do this anymore.” He whispered again, the beer bottle slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a soft thump.
Her heart broke for the man. The pain and despair was in every action. In his every word.
How the hell was she going to break him out of it?
CHAPTER TWO
Mitch looked downat the blood on his hands. No matter how many times he scrubbed them the blood always stained. Always remained. Suddenly another set of hands grabbed his, stopping him from his constant wiping.
“Mitch, it’s okay. You did everything you could.” The voice was soft, feminine, caring even. He didn’t think it belonged to any of the army nurses he worked with. They were as cynical and as hard as he was.
“But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. Why the hell are we even fighting here? We’re creating more issues than we’re solving.” He looked around, seeing nothing but the heat haze and the tents of the compound where he was stationed. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
He went to tug his hands away but the stranger tightened her grip. “No stay here with me. You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The strangest sensation of comfort and caring washed over Mitch.
Was he dreaming?
Was it possible he wasn’t standing in the middle of butt-hot Afghanistan, where the stench of blood and death filled the air?That he didn’t have life giving liquid all over his hands. That there wasn’t a tent full of people injured or dying twenty feet away from him. He breathed deep and swore he could smell grilling meat. Swore he could hear the music of a country band.
Impossible.
