Chapter Two: Zero Hour
Ace dropped his passengers off at their chosen location shortly after daybreak the following day. So far they were right on schedule but getting there was the easy part. Mathias and Harper led the way, keeping a close eye out for bombs and booby traps in the heavily wooded area. Weston and Lake brought up the rear, listening closely to enemy chatter.
Every time they left camp the enemy watched them closely. Things could easily turn deadly if their communications specialist wasn't on top of his game; listening carefully to where the enemy was and what they were up to. It was Weston's job to remain alert and learn the patterns of the Taliban so countermeasures could be taken to prevent walking into their trap.
"How we doin', Weston?" Gibbs asked quietly as they trekked through the forest.
"Okay for now, Sir," Weston replied. "They're watching; they know we're here but they're guessing we're just coming to see the Americans."
"Are we gonna have a problem when we take 'em outta here?" Tony asked.
"We shouldn't," Lake, the corpsman, said. "They know the Americans are pulling out and they're obviously happy about that but I wouldn't put it past them to try to kill a few more just for shits and giggles."
"Hold up," Mathias said, stopping dead in his tracks. "Trip wire." He followed it visually into a bush and decided it was better to just avoid it completely. They were in a time crunch and disarming whatever trap the enemy had set would eat up valuable time they didn't have. He took note of where it was so they wouldn't set it off on their way back then they went around it.
"Ace, how we lookin' up there?" Gibbs asked into the microphone attached to his sleeve.
"Nice and quiet," Ace replied. He was circling them in the helicopter, ready to provide air support if they needed it. It was safer for him to be in the air than be a sitting duck on the ground and it allowed him to take part in the mission which thrilled the former Army pilot to no end.
Stressed out didn't even begin to describe how Arizona native Lauren Braddock felt. The twenty year old paramedic was a recent college graduate and ready to conquer the world. She'd signed up for the humanitarian aid mission the day after being notified she'd passed her NREMT-P tests, wanting to jump in with both feet and also hoping the experience would help her land a job when she returned to the states.
All throughout school Lauren had thrived on the pressure of being first on the scene, on making the decisions that would lead to life or could end in death. She was the youngest student in her class but she never let that hold her back and never let the others look down on her because of it. But that was in America. Afghanistan was so unbelievably different it couldn't even be put into words.
Lauren and the other missionaries had witnessed firsthand what it looked like and felt like to live in a war-torn country. They'd seen the oppression of the Afghan women; the children roaming the streets, hungry, uneducated and wearing rags for clothes. They'd both seen and felt what it was like to live in fear and witnessed the true power terrorism had over the weak and innocent. America, with all her flaws and problems, was light years ahead of Afghanistan.
The short videos and training sessions they'd gone through before their departure didn't even scratch the surface of the poverty, oppression and violence they witnessed on a daily basis. Even still, all of them, including Lauren, had coped well in their new environment until two days prior when the war had been brought to the tiny shack they were living in.
A few members of the Taliban had brought the Americans one of their wounded. Lauren reluctantly stepped in to help the man, despite having assault rifles waved in her face and shoved into her back and chest. The fear of being shot combined with the pressure of trying to save a man who needed a lot more than the minimal care she was capable of providing had changed Lauren. Her anxiety level skyrocketed. She couldn't eat and wouldn't sleep and nothing anybody said or did was helping.
She edged back the window covering and peeked out for what must've been the fiftieth time since dawn had broke less than an hour earlier. She knew people were coming to get them but she had no idea when. All she could do was hope it would be soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stay in that place. She was already starting to feel like she was losing her grip on reality. Sanity seemed to be slipping through her fingers.
Just as she was getting ready to cover the window again something caught her eye, movement in the tree line. She quickly ducked down, only her eyes and the top of her head visible. It could be the enemy returning to kill them, it could be the Americans coming to rescue them or it could be nothing more than a mirage, her mind playing tricks on her.
She looked a little closer and was pretty sure it wasn't a trick. The men were wearing desert camos and they had guns—big guns. There was no doubt in her mind that they were the American military. She was finally being rescued. Happy tears gathered in her eyes as relief washed over her. She flung the door open and raced to the men, throwing her arms around the first soldier she came to.
"Are you here to rescue us?" she asked in hopeful disbelief.
"Yeah," Tony said. "Where are the others?"
"They're inside, asleep," Lauren said as Keenan finally managed to free himself from her grasp.
"We need you to get your things," Keenan said with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll get the others up."
The soldiers along with Gibbs and Tony fanned out and got the five who were still sleeping up and moving. The pace was hurried but everyone seemed to understand the urgency and all of them were anxious to go somewhere a little bit safer than the little shack. Seven minutes after their arrival, they were walking out the front door.
"Walk where we walk and keep your eyes open for anything that doesn't look right," Mathias instructed the civilians.
"Be fast. Be alert. Be safe," Tony said. "Helicopter'll pick us up on the other side of these woods."
The civilians were staggered between the soldiers and the group walked in a straight line, heading back the way they'd come. Gibbs radioed Ace to tell him they were a couple minutes behind schedule and get a report on how things were looking from the sky. So far everything was quiet and the trip had been uneventful and they all hoped to keep it that way.
"We're getting close," Mathias called back softly. They could hear the helicopter off in the distance and Ace was still reporting all as being good. Excitement was really starting to build. "Fifty feet and we'll be there."
Owen, one of the civilian paramedics, was walking towards the end of the line when he stumbled. Lake tried to grab him to steady him but couldn't. Tony heard the click as soon as Owen fell onto the makeshift pressure plate beside the path but had little time to react before he saw what looked like a piece of PVC pipe swinging through the air dropping hand grenades on them.
"Hit the deck!" Tony yelled.
The Marines jumped on the civilians, trying to shield them from the blasts and shrapnel. Most of them were unsure of what exactly was happening but they all had quick reflexes and immediately obeyed Tony's command. When it grew quiet again, Gibbs poked his head up to take surveillance of the situation. He saw the piece of pipe swinging above their heads and quickly realized it was a booby trap, they weren't actually under attack.
Panic led to chaos among the civilians who were neither trained nor prepared for the situation but the Marines knew exactly what to do. Mathias and Harper got the civilians who could walk to the chopper. Lake, the corpsman, quickly assessed the wounded. Owen was dead. The entire front of his body was charred and shredded almost beyond recognition. Keenan grabbed him and headed for the chopper. Civilian or military, they didn't leave people behind.
Weston, the communications specialist, was injured but it was impossible to tell how badly. He had severe burns to his face and was losing a lot of blood from his leg. Lake got a pressure bandage on the wound to stop the bleeding enough they could get him to the chopper.
The force of the blast had thrown Tony a short distance. He was lying on his side next to a tree, unconscious. There was shrapnel embedded in his chest but beyond that the damage appeared to be internal. Adrenaline and top notch training provided the means and know how to get the injured to safety and once they were on board Ace took off in a hurry.
"The hell happened down there?" Ace asked into his headset. He needed to know if they were under attack.
"Booby trap," Gibbs called back as he attended to Tony.
"How much fuel do we have, Ace?" Lake asked as he quickly stripped Weston out of his gear and clothes.
"Hundred and forty miles," Ace answered.
"Can you get us to the Combat Hospital at Kandahar Airfield?"
"We're gonna be pushing it," Ace said after checking his map. "By my calculations, we'll make it with about ten minutes of fuel remaining as long as nothing goes amiss."
"Get us there, Ace!" Gibbs demanded.
"On it!" Ace replied.
Lake rested his bloodied hands on Lauren's shoulders and shook her to get her attention. "I need you to take care of DiNozzo so I can take care of Weston," he said. "Can you do that?" The girl was obviously in shock but Lake couldn't take care of both the wounded.
Lauren swallowed the bile threatening to explode from her mouth and hesitantly nodded her head as she stared at the wounded.
Lake rested his hands against her cheeks and moved her face so he could look her in the eyes. "Breathe, you can do this!" Situations like their current one were nothing new to him but he realized it was probably the most intense thing Lauren had ever experienced in her young life. He hoped a vote of confidence would allow her to relax and let her training take over so she could do what she'd been trained to do.
Lauren took a deep breath as she dropped to her knees next to Tony and looked him over. Gibbs had his shirt cut open revealing a chest spattered with shards of metal. It would be far too dangerous to take them out on the chopper. They needed to wait until they could control any possible bleeding.
Gibbs used his pocket knife to cut Tony's pants off of him. The younger man's legs were fine minus a few cuts and scrapes. A peek in his boxers showed all was fine there too. While Gibbs got Tony out of his clothes and gear, Lauren felt for his pulse and was relieved to find it strong and steady. She watched his chest rise and fall as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff Lake had tossed over around Tony's arm. Once she started working her training took over and it was almost as if she were functioning on autopilot.
"Can you help me roll him on his side to check for injuries to his back?" Lauren asked once she'd gotten a healthy blood pressure reading.
"Just show me what to do," Gibbs said.
"I'll hold his head steady and keep his neck in line," Lauren said. "You grab him under his arm and by his hip and we'll roll him towards you on the count of three."
The two rolled Tony and with the exception of some bruises and abrasions, his back was free from serious injury and it felt like his spine was in line. Tony moaned as they rolled him onto his back again.
"Tony," Gibbs yelled getting right in his face. The noise from the chopper was overpowering. "Are you with us? How do you feel?"
It took a moment before Tony's eyes found Gibbs' face and he managed to focus. He was confused and in a lot of pain. "I hurt," he groaned.
"Where do you hurt, Tony?" Lauren asked.
"LJ, am I naked?" Tony asked, momentarily ignoring the medic.
One corner of Gibbs' mouth curled into the slightest smile as he rested his hand against his partner's cheek. "We left your boxers on. It's a good thing you decided to wear underwear today."
Tony's eyes started rolling back into his head and his eyelids fell closed until Gibbs roughly patted his cheek to bring him around again. "Stay with us, Tony," he said. "I don't want you going to sleep again."
Tony licked his dry lips as he opened his eyes and looked up at Gibbs again. "Everywhere," he mumbled.
Gibbs cocked his head in confusion, not understanding what Tony meant.
"I hurt everywhere."
Gibbs brushed his thumb over the side of Tony's face and tried to smile down at him. "We're getting' you some help."
While Gibbs talked to Tony and kept him awake, Lauren used the supplies they had available to them to create makeshift blocks to hold Tony's head in place. She didn't suspect any neck or spinal cord injury and Gibbs had already carried him out of the woods on his back but there was no reason not to take every precaution. As they tended to Tony, they could hear Lake starting CPR on Weston right next to them.
"If you'll stay with him and keep him awake, I'm gonna try to help them," Lauren said. Her patient was stable and she knew how exhausting it was to do CPR on someone.
Gibbs nodded, glancing behind Lauren and watching as the corpsman blew air into his buddy's lungs. He lifted Tony's hand into his and squeezed.
"How're the others?" Tony asked. Every word was a challenge to get out and he was exhausted but he knew he needed to stay awake.
"Let's not worry about that right now," Gibbs said not wanting to upset Tony. "Do you know what happened?"
"Owen," Tony said, "Owen tripped. He fell on a pressure plate. I don't remember anything else. Is Owen here?"
Gibbs looked over at the lifeless body of the young civilian paramedic. They didn't even have anything to cover him up with so his battered and broken body was on display for all to see. "He's— in the chopper." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth. It seemed to satisfy Tony though.
"The others?" Tony asked.
"Weston's hurt, they're working on him," Gibbs said stealing a glance at the communications expert. They'd stopped CRP. It appeared Weston's body was working on its own again. "The others are pretty shaken up, a few minor shrapnel wounds but they'll be okay."
"I'm thirsty," Tony said licking his dry lips again.
"There's an IV in your arm making sure you don't get dehydrated," Gibbs said. "We don't wanna give you anything orally because we don't want you puking."
"I hate needles, LJ," Tony moaned.
"It's already in," Gibbs said rubbing Tony's forehead, "you didn't even feel it."
As soon as Colonel Marks received word about the incoming injured and got an ETA, he gathered his teams, gave them a brief rundown of known injuries then they headed out to the landing pad to wait. Weston was closest to the door and was pulled out first, followed quickly by Tony. Both men were rushed inside to the trauma bays that had been prepared while a couple other medical personnel helped the others off the chopper and got them inside as well.
There wasn't much of a waiting room in the tiny hospital so those that could walk under their own power were split up between available rooms to be examined, have any shrapnel removed and be stitched up as needed. Gibbs refused to be looked at until he got word on Tony. The small workspace in the trauma bays left no room for bystanders forcing him to wait outside.
As hard as he tried he couldn't catch a glimpse of Tony with so many people gathered around working on him. Not long after he'd been brought in, the doors were swinging open again and they were pushing him out.
"Where are you taking him?" Gibbs asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. When he didn't get an answer, he got angry. "Where are you taking him?!" he demanded.
"You must be Gibbs," a middle aged, balding doctor said.
Gibbs looked the man up and down and recognized him as one of the ones who'd met them when they landed. Unlike most of the others running around there he was wearing a bright red scrub top with his desert camo bottoms and he had a gun strapped to his thigh. He was obviously in charge or close to the top of the pyramid at least.
"I'm Colonel Marks," the man said as he reached out to shake Gibbs' hand. "Tony's gonna be okay. Let's uh," the man looked around and noticed the small hospital bustling with activity, "let's go to my office and talk."
"Where are they taking him?" Gibbs asked as he walked with the man.
"Surgery," Marks said. "He has a piece of shrapnel embedded in his chest, near his heart. It's too deep and big and oddly shaped to get it out any other way. Right through here," he said opening the door to his office for Gibbs. "Have a seat."
Gibbs sat and tried to let himself relax. He wanted nothing more to be with Tony but knew he wasn't allowed in the operating room. "How long will the surgery take?"
"Depends on what they find when they get in there," Marks said.
His calm, laidback demeanor bothered Gibbs slightly but he knew it wouldn't do anybody any good if the Colonel was all worked up. As much as he hated it, the calm was what he needed.
"I know this doesn't look like much," Marks continued. "We're small and we have limited resources but what we lack in cozy atmosphere, we make up for with talent. Your boy's in good hands. We have some of the finest doctors the military has to offer here. Now, have you been looked at?"
"No," Gibbs said. "Not till I know Tony's okay."
"I just told you Tony's okay," Marks said. "He's got a grade three concussion which, as you know, is the most severe. His ankle is severely sprained and there're a few torn ligaments in there. He'll be in an air cast for about a month and we're cleaning the shrapnel out of his chest. Because of his concussion they're not even going to knock him out all the way. He'll be put under just enough to make him ridiculously happy, they'll do their thing and he'll be all set. Why don't you let me go ahead and have a look at you so when he gets out you can stay with him?"
Gibbs quietly absorbed the information and let himself relax at the good news. He gave an unenthusiastic nod of his head, agreeing to let Marks take a look at him. "How's Weston, the other guy who was brought in on a stretcher?"
"All I know is he's been taken back to surgery as well," Marks said, "I'll check and as soon as I know something, you'll know. Shirt off."
Gibbs pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it into the chair next to the one he'd been sitting in. He took deep breaths while Marks listened to his heart and lungs and was patient while his blood pressure and temperature were taken.
"You've got some shrapnel in your shoulder and your lower back but it's nothing serious," Marks said. "I'll get you patched up in no time. You shouldn't even need stitches but I do want a CAT scan."
"Come on, Doc, really?" Gibbs asked. "I feel fine. It wasn't a very big explosion, nothing like Hollywood portrays in their movies."
"The funny thing about explosions is they can shake up your insides and you don't even know it," Marks said. "Your organs can end up bruised or nicked and you don't realize it until you wake up dead one morning. At the very least it'll keep you busy while Tony's in surgery."
"Fine," Gibbs agreed with a heavy sigh.
He was as patient as he could be while Marks removed the shrapnel from of his body, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Staying still for the CAT scan proved to be a little bit harder but he knew if he moved around it would just take longer. Once the CAT scan was over, Gibbs got redressed while Marks looked over the images.
"Everything looks good, Gibbs," he said after he'd gone over all the film.
"I tried to tell ya, Doc," Gibbs said a hint of cockiness in his tone.
"I know, I know," Marks said, "but better safe than dead."
"How's Tony?" Ace asked once Gibbs reappeared after being examined by Marks.
"Just getting out of surgery," Gibbs answered. "He'll be alright."
"And you?"
"I'm fine," Gibbs said. "Few cuts, no big deal. How're you?"
"Nothin' I haven't been through before," Ace said. "I'm gonna take the troops back to Fort Savage and pick up our plane. I'll be back in a couple hours. JT's coming with me. The civilians are talking to the shrink."
"Be safe out there," Gibbs said.
"Always," Ace replied.
Gibbs sat by Tony's bedside watching his every movement closely. When Colonel Marks said they were going to make Tony ridiculously happy, he wasn't kidding. The young man was pointing at nonexistent objects, giggling at everything and nothing and babbling on and on about Gibbs didn't even know what.
"Welp, time for me to go," Tony said starting to swing his legs over the side of the bed.
"Whoa there, Tony," Gibbs said pushing his legs back into the bed. "Where ya goin'?"
Tony looked at Gibbs as if he'd never seen the man before in his life then a big smile crept on his face. "I don't know," he said. "I dunno." He sang it the second time. "I don't know! He doesn't know! He does not know. Does not know! I do not know-ow-ow-ow-ooooww."
Gibbs shook his head at Tony's singing as he sat back down.
"Psst," Tony whispered. When Gibbs raised his eyebrows at him, Tony crooked his finger at the older man.
"What do need, Tony?" Gibbs asked.
"I have to go," Tony whispered.
"Where?" Gibbs asked.
Tony looked around the room to see if anyone was in there with them then wrapped his hand around Gibbs' shoulder and pulled him closer to his level. "I have to pee," he whispered loudly into Gibbs' ear.
Gibbs smiled and moved his mouth closer to Tony's ear. "That's what the tube in your bladder's for," he whispered back.
Tony's eyes widened and he started reaching down to feel for it but Gibbs grabbed his hand and stopped him.
"Ya pull it out, they're just gonna come in here and put it back in and I can guarantee you won't like that," Gibbs said.
"Did you see the purple grasshoppers in the soup last night?" Tony asked.
"Uh, I guess I must've missed those," Gibbs answered. "Mine just had elephant toes in it."
"Oooh yum," Tony said his eyes sparkling. "Maybe I'll get some of those tonight."
"Maybe," Gibbs said.
"LJ, I need to tell you something," Tony said.
"Hmm?" Gibbs had no idea if it was something serious or goofy.
"I don't feel good and I'm not very happy but I can't stop laughing," Tony said. The pain in his eyes offset the cheerful smile on his face. "What's the matter with me?"
"Apparently you don't handle pain meds very well," Gibbs said running his hand over Tony's forehead. "Just try to calm down; take deep breaths and relax."
Tony was still for a little while, relaxing under Gibbs' soothing touch. It almost appeared as if he were going to go to sleep. Gibbs moved the blankets back so he could look at Tony's chest. They'd shaved him so they could clean and dress his wounds. His muscles were even more defined without the hair to behind. There were nine stitches in his upper chest where they'd removed the biggest piece of shrapnel and small bandages covering other areas.
"LJ," Tony mumbled, his eyes closed and a pained look on his face, "there's a tube in my dick."
"It's not so bad," Gibbs said even though he couldn't help but feel like he was lying. He wouldn't want a catheter in any more than Tony did but he was trying to be positive. "Just be thankful you weren't awake when they put it in." He ran his fingers through Tony's hair and brushed his thumb across his forehead until Tony finally relaxed into a restless sleep.
The surgeons were thirty minutes into Weston's surgery and things weren't looking good at all. Their patient had coded not long after they'd put him under and they were working feverishly to get him back as well as stop the bleeding in his shredded leg.
"How we lookin' down there, Simon?" Dr. Trang asked as he delivered chest compressions.
"Every time I get one artery clamped blood starts pouring out of another," Simon said angrily. He was arrogantly confident and didn't cope well when things weren't going his way. "There's no way we're gonna be able to save his leg."
"Right now I'd settle for just saving him," Trang said.
Colonel Marks watched through the window as his doctors worked feverishly to save the life of their patient. After a half an hour of chest compressions they hadn't even been able to get a shockable rhythm. He was losing blood faster than they could pump it into him and after exhausting all their resources he was just as bad if not worse than when they'd started.
Marks knew what he had to do. It was the part of his job he hated most but it was unavoidable. He grabbed a mask and held it over his mouth and nose then stepped into the operating room. "Stop," he said.
"We can still save him!" Simon insisted.
"He's been down over a half an hour and this is the second time we've lost him," Marks said. "We're running low on blood. We just don't have the resources to continue here. He's gone." He hated the words coming out of his mouth but it was a harsh reality in the combat hospital.
The nurse stopped pumping oxygenated air into Weston's lungs and Dr. Trang stopped doing chest compressions. Once he saw the others had given up, Simon finally stopped working as well but showed his displeasure at the situation by smacking the tray holding his tools. The group stood and looked at the young Marine, observing a moment of silence in his honor. No matter how many times they went through it, it never got any easier.
Author's Note: The characters in the Combat Hospital as well as the hospital itself are from the short lived TV show [Combat Hospital] that was on ABC in 2011.