"Oh, Frank, we did it." An exuberant Margaret declared as she ran her hands through the driver's hair. "We're really and truly going to be alone. Imagine how much fun we're going to have! You and me, alone…we can have candlelit dinners…long walks…and just think, no one to stick their nose in where it doesn't belong. Just you and me!"
"Just you and me. No Hawkeye or B.J.! You don't know how the thought of those two just burns my boils." he giggled. "I can hardly wait. Already the grass seems a little greener. The air seems a little cleaner. The flowers seem a little…flowery."
She frowned as she pulled away from him. "You sound more excited talking about those two than you do about me."
"Now, darling, don't be that way. It's just you know how those two gang up on me. They're so unfair. I can hardly relax with those two around. Now I have a chance to be myself. You get me, the great Frank Burns…isn't that what you've always dreamt about?"
"Well since you've put it that way….Let's not talk about those two anymore. I don't want anything to spoil this wonderful occasion." Margaret placed her hand on his knee and smiled contentedly.
"Now, dear, let's be reasonable. You know I get nervous with public displays of affection. My wife tried that one time. I got so excited that I drove ten miles in the wrong direction. That's one good thing about having two cars. I'm less of a temptation for her that way." Frank smirked. He didn't mean to come across as bragging. His insecurities got the better of him and caused him to put his foot in his mouth as usual. He rarely thought of Margaret's feelings, and it caused many disagreements between the two of them. However she was determined not to let anything ruin this weekend.
His wife. Just the very thought of her made Margaret sick. It was going to take every effort not to put Frank in his place. After all, she had really twisted Colonel Potter's arm to get this pass and she didn't want it to go to waste. But if he thought he would spend the whole time talking about his wife he had another thought coming to him.
"Thank you. I knew you'd understand." He said once she'd removed her hand. "You really do understand me. I wish my wife understood me."
Margaret beamed. "I do understand you. You're a complicated man with complicated needs. I don't know why anyone would give you a hard way to go. You're a great man, Frank Burns, and you're destined for great things. Be careful! They're shooting at us! They're going to kill us!" she screamed as gunfire rang out, narrowly missing their jeep.
Frank sped up, trying to avoid being shot. Margaret's screams did nothing to help his nerves. Finally the bullet hit its target, penetrating the rear tire. They were in serious trouble. They both felt the loss of control of the jeep, although Frank desperately gripped the steering wheel for dear life.
Margaret realized what people talked about when their lives flashed before their lives. It happened in slow motion, like a movie reel that was giving out. She quickly prayed that if death was going to happen, that it would happen quickly. She'd seen too much suffering in her years as a nurse for her to want to experience it herself. And then there was Frank. She was more frightened for him than she was for himself. She knew he was far too fragile to handle any pain. Her poor, poor Frank. She took one look at him and saw his head hit the steering wheel as he swore, louder than her own screams. She desperately looked for something to hold on to but found nothing and catapulted out of the jeep. The jeep continued to spin, miraculously veering off to the left of her body until it hit a nearby tree. Neither Margaret or Frank would ever forget the sound of crunching metal as long as they lived.
Even if they wanted to, they both realized they couldn't move until the shooting had stopped. On top of that, unbearable pain wracked through both of their bodies. Frank was sure that he was dying. What was that sound? Where was it coming from? There was a dull ache in his skull until he finally gave in to the pain. As a surgeon he knew the worst thing he could do was sleep but as a patient there was nothing he could do. The pain was terrible and overbearing. The last thing he remembered was calling out for Margaret but getting no answer.
Margaret however lay down in a pool of her own blood. She remained conscious, although she couldn't move. It was difficult for her to breathe, and she surmised that at least one of her ribs were broken.
"Frank." She whispered. "Frank."
It was no use. She had never been so frightened in her whole life.
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Henry, meanwhile, was watching the whole scene unfold. He cringed, knowing how dire the situation was. Margaret and Frank had to get immediate help, or they would die. The couple lay helpless and Henry could do nothing on his own. But there was another situation unfolding in the 4077 that could come into play. The only question is timing…would it be too late to save Margaret and Frank?