Don't Go (16 page)

“Great.” Mike could hear jostling over the microphone as Bob wedged his way into the screen. He had on a white turtleneck with a navy blazer with shiny gold buttons.

Bob grinned. “Happy New Year!”

“Back at you, buddy. Did you guys go out?”

Danielle answered, “No, too many drunks on the road. We had some people over, Bob’s clients and the neighbors. We let Emily stay up late, saying hi to everybody. You should have seen her work the room.”

“Aw, what a good girl.” Mike felt a deep pang, dreading not seeing her for a full year. Meanwhile, he wondered why Emily would go to everyone but him. “How is she?”

“Adorable,” Danielle answered. “How are you? Are you safe?”

No.
“Yes.”

Bob nudged Danielle. “He can’t answer that, dear.”

“Sorry.” Danielle turned to Mike. “You look so tired. How are you feeling? You can tell us that much, can’t you?”

I’m awful.
“I’m fine.”

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

Of course not.
“Yes, sure.”

“Are you eating well?”

“Yes.” Mike held up the nut raisin mix that came in the MRE. “Snacks aplenty.”

Danielle brightened. “And is that Red Bull? I didn’t know you had Red Bull.”

“Yes.” Mike hoisted it like a glass of beer. He didn’t want them to worry. “All the comforts of home.”

Bob smiled. “Hoo-ah!”

Mike braced himself to pose the question. “I‘m calling for a reason, and it’s going to come as a surprise. I’ve been asked to volunteer for a year here. I wanted to know if that was even possible, and if you could take care of the baby.”

“Of course we could!” Danielle’s eyes lit up, but Bob frowned.

“Mike, if you’re asking that, the powers-that-be better have a damn good reason.”

“I can’t explain more. I haven’t made up my mind, but I have to decide soon. I wanted to know what you thought about Emily, and your job.”

“She’ll be fine!” Danielle gestured so excitedly her fingers blurred the webcam. “I’d be happy to keep her for as long as it takes. I
love
having her, and I love being home with her. We can work it out at the office. No problem.”

Bob was still frowning. “You’d stay until a year from now?”

“Yes.” Mike’s heart ached. “I’d miss her first steps.”

Danielle waved him off, blurry again. “Aw, don’t worry, Mike. I’ll film it all for you. I bought a new digital camera and it has a video function. I’ve been taking movies like crazy.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “She thinks she’s Steven Spielberg.”

Mike thought of the other firsts he’d be missing. First words. First … whatever else. He didn’t even know what the other firsts were, that’s how bad a father he was. “Bob, can you really do without Danielle at the office for a year?”

“Yes, I’ll figure it out.” Bob shifted forward, leaning on his elbows. “I don’t know why the Army still needs you, but if it does, then I say, God bless.”

Danielle nodded. “I’ll keep praying for you. But the one thing you won’t have to worry about is Emily. We’d love to keep her.”

Mike swallowed hard. It was wonderful, and awful, to hear. “If I do stay, I’ll figure out how to wire you money for her expenses.”

Bob waved him off, his hand blurring. “Don’t worry about it. We can settle it when you come home. It’s not like we’re paying college tuition.”

“And the cat, you know, we’ll have to decide about him.”

“What cat?”

“Our cat, remember? Jake.” Mike didn’t know why nobody counted the cat. He loved that damn cat. “If the boys want to keep him, they can. Sara said they loved him, and I won’t ask for him back. Thank her and Don for me.”

“Will do. Oh, and guess what, we might be getting an offer on your house. Somebody who lives around the block from you wants to buy it for their daughter.”

“Sell it.” Mike didn’t care about the house. He was preoccupied with Emily and his decision.

“The Realtor’s asking 425. The comps are 420. I wouldn’t go below that. I can handle it for you. The power of attorney covers it.”

“Handle it, thanks. 420 is great.”

“What about the cars? Want me to try and sell Chloe’s?”

“Yes, fine.” Mike didn’t know how he’d get back into Emily’s life, a year from now. “Danielle, do you think that Emily will forget about me if I stay? Or do you think she’ll, maybe, like me better when she’s older?”

“She’ll love you whenever you come home.” Danielle smiled, sympathetically. “Mike, do what you need to do, and we’ll take care of her for you. We love her and we love you.”

Mike felt the words touch his heart, already tender. The memorial service, the deaths, Chloe, it was all too much, which told him it was time to sign off. “Thanks, I’d better go. I’ll stay in touch and let you know what I decide.”

“Yes, of course. Be safe, Mike.”

Bob put his arm around Danielle. “Right, take care.”

“Bye, thanks.” Mike hit the
END SESSION
button, and the laptop screen turned black. Suddenly, his radio/walkie-talkie started to crackle at his waist, alerting they had incoming casualties. He heard shouting outside, and a frantic Joe Segundo ducked into the Tactical Operations Center.

“Doc! Davy’s brigade hit an IED on the way back, and they took fire. Four wounded. They have no medic, so we don’t know how many urgent. The bird’s already in the air. We got customers!”

Mike leapt to his feet, his adrenaline surging. It was a worst-case scenario come true. The Taliban was kicking them when they were down. “Two docs and four wounded. I don’t like those odds.”

“Me, neither.”

Chapter Thirty

Mike and Chatty triaged the casualties, then hustled to the sink to scrub up, where Chatty turned to Mike, his long red scratches distorting his cheeks.

“Scholl’s, what’d your in-laws say?”

“They’re fine with the baby.” Mike scrubbed up. “Now’s not the time to discuss it, right?”

“Fair enough, let’s review. The first urgent is the gunner and he’s the most critical.” Chatty finished scrubbing up and dried his hands. “Gunshot to the chest, entrance through the armpit, transmediastinal. Losing blood fast.”

“Got it.” Mike dried his hands and grabbed a packaged gown, his thoughts racing. A soldier with a transmediastinal gunshot wound, or TMGSW, was shot through the chest, crosswise. The bullet would have done grievous damage, and the IED blast was a double whammy, because it sent shockwaves that rattled brains, shattered bones, and caused internal bleeding.

“The second urgent is a driver. Neck and face wounds, and his left arm is severely injured but still intact.”

“Right.” Mike gowned up with the help of a nurse who came over, assisting him silently. He knew that the driver’s neck and arm would have glass and metal fragments from the explosion. Humvees had armored windows, but they couldn’t withstand an IED blast within ten feet.

“The third urgent is Davy’s aide.” Chatty gowned up with an assist from the same nurse, who left when she was finished. “Soft-tissue damage in the right thigh from fragments or bullets.”

Mike grabbed a package of gloves and opened it, remembering Davy’s aide, who had just set up his videochat. He didn’t know which one got wounded.

“I’m happy Davy wasn’t hit. Nobody takes him out but me.” Chatty flashed a wicked grin, and Mike cheered to see a glimmer of his old self.

“Number four is a GSW to his right foot and leg. He’s calling my name.”

“Right, so what’s the game plan?” Chatty gloved up. “How do we run an offense with only two of us?”

Michael blinked. Chatty had never asked him for a game plan before, and he felt the relationship turn topsy-turvy. “You’re going to need me to assist on the gunner, so I say you start on him while I start on the driver. Once the driver’s started, I move on to the aide, and we put the sarge on ice.”

“I’m worried about the gunner. His color’s bad.” Chatty’s face fell. “He shoulda gone to Bagram, but we’re closer. They coulda worked him up, they have the toys.”

Mike knew the old Chatty never would have said anything like that. “We can get it done. Our DOW rate’s as good as theirs.”

“You don’t realize what a monster that case is gonna be.” Chatty shook his head. “If we miss any bleeders in his chest, he’s a goner.”

“We won’t miss any.” Mike tried to convey confidence to Chatty, which was backwards. They had to get going. “We’re gonna need fresh whole, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s get Joe started.” The 556th had a pre-screened blood-donor system to get fresh whole blood from the nurses, staff, and brigade. It was an order Chatty would have given, but Mike spotted Joe and motioned him over. “Are we good to go on the walking blood drive?”

“Sure. We got the Form 572s and lab confirmations of blood type. You want me to tell the nurses to start drawing?” Joe looked from Mike to Chatty and back again, awaiting instructions.

“Yes,” Mike answered. “Tell them to get ready to transfuse it, too. How are we fixed for plasma?”

“We got four units, fresh frozen.”

“Thaw it out.”

“Will do.” Joe turned around and took off.

“We’re back in business, Chatty.” Mike clapped him on the arm. “Let’s do this. You’re still Batman.”

“No, I’m not.” Chatty didn’t move. “He doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Yes he does. Ever see Catwoman? He shoulda put a ring on it.”

Chatty emitted a burst of laughter, but it sounded hollow, then he leaned over. “I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t believe they’re gone. They should be here. They would want to be here.”

“They wouldn’t want us to get distracted, not now. Why don’t we get this done, for them? We’ll dedicate it to them. Let’s go!”

The next few hours were a bloody blur, as he and Chatty swung into action. Chatty and his team got busy on the gunner, and Mike took the driver. He said his homemade prayer, staunched the bleeding, and extracted fragments at speed, then left Linda to finish. The driver became The First Guy After Phil And Oldstein.

Mike changed his blood-soaked gloves and gown, then rushed over to the aide, whose femur had been shattered, so he’d have to use binders, which would take longer than he’d expected. “How you doing, Chatty?” Mike called out. “I’m gonna be a little late.”

“No worries, honey. Dinner will be ready.”

“Keep it warm.” Mike felt reassured by Chatty’s joking, so he sent up another prayer, cleaned out the bone splinters, and finished with The Second Guy After DeMaria And Goldstein. He sent Joe to call them a transport, then checked Chatty’s bay. “Chatty, I’m free. You need me?”

“I love you, Scholl’s, but I don’t need you,” Chatty called back, and a few of the nurses smiled.

“Okay.” Mike hustled to the sergeant, whose left foot needed a few pins.

“Scholl’s, which little piggy went to market?” Chatty called out, to some chuckling.

“
This
one!” Mike called back, and everybody laughed. He shifted into another gear, finished The Third Guy After Phil And Oldstein, changed his gown and gloves, and hurried to Chatty’s bay, which was crowded with nurses who parted for him, revealing a sight that required a strong stomach. The gunner’s chest cavity showed a massive incision from left to right, splitting the torso like a huge and bloody grin.

“Don’t barf, Scholl’s.” Chatty sutured a bleeder, his fingers nimble and his technique flawless. “To catch you up, the bullet entered the left chest along the anterior axillary line just above the nipple. The bullet exited the torso through the right midaxillary line, at the nipple. It was a 7.62 mm round, not deformed.”

Mike glanced at the bullet, which lay bloodied on the side tray, a coppery missile as long as a dog tag. The fact that it wasn’t deformed meant that it hadn’t damaged as much tissue as it tore across the gunner’s chest.

“I performed a bilateral tube thoracostomy and evacuated a large hemopneumothorax from the left chest.” Chatty kept working. “I found a large laceration of the upper lobe, hemorrhaging from segmental pulmonary vessels…”

Mike translated. The gunner had been a living hemorrhage, and the evidence was everywhere. Blood drenched Chatty’s gown, gloves, and Kerlix bandages on the tray. Empty bags of PRBCs and plasma lay on the floor. “So what do I do?”

“Make sure I didn’t miss any bleeders.”

“In other words, he’s good to go?” Mike asked, code for
is he going to live
?

“Sure as you’re born, Scholl’s.” Chatty smiled behind his mask, his bloodshot eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Four up and four down. We did it. Way to go, everybody. I think we made them proud today.” He acknowledged everyone with a nod, and there were wet eyes around the table, because they were all thinking of Phil and Oldstein.

Mike’s smile faded when he noticed Davy in the triage bay, supporting his men or waiting for Mike’s answer.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Mike had made his decision.

Chapter Thirty-one

Mike felt satisfied with his decision, which he’d told Davy when they had a private moment, and he stood with the others in the blowing snow, watching the helicopter take off with the last cases, tilting forward like a top-heavy firefly. Davy, Chatty, Joe, and the soldiers ducked to clear the rotors, then the soldiers piled into the Humvees, closing the doors behind them.

He watched the Humvees turn, fall into a line, and drive off. Even that was dangerous because the brigade didn’t have any of the new MAPS, or Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicles, which withstood IEDs better than the older Humvees. Mike couldn’t help feeling that combat infantrymen never got the respect they deserved. They were called grunts, but there had to be a better word for somebody driving a vehicle that could be blown up, to an outpost directly in harm’s way, to serve his country and protect each other. A better word would be
hero
.

Mike wondered if he could have been one of them, living in utmost danger, protected only by Heskos, walls of lined wire baskets about eight feet high, made by the soldiers themselves, who filled them up with rocks and sand. They’d shape their Heskos like a U or a hook, facing the enemy, and they’d use plywood and sandbags to build bunkers. They’d name their outpost whether the Army liked it or not, scrawling slogans on the sides, making it their own, a home.