Day 20
We continue to play, and I actually manage to forget about the necklace for a while. The light outside slowly turns from black into a smudgy kind of gray, and the people inside the cabin come to life. Jimmy straightens and stretches, never letting an eye off Micheals though. The agents on the floor start squirming uncomfortably. Bet they're pretty sore by now, sitting there tied-up for so long. Harless sits up on the cot, as do Sawyer and Roberts on the ones they are on. Micheals hasn't moved at all in the last few hours, he just got the constant staring-match going with Chief. If looks could kill!
Lancaster counts the pile of beer can tabs in front of him. "Well, Gentlemen, I come out just about even. Owe you a Dollar and a half, Chase." He gets up with a sigh, glancing around the room.
"Ain't worried about it, Sir. It was fun," I grin, knowing I don't need to count.
"Yeah," Cut thoughtfully weighs his last three tabs in the palm of his hand, "fun while it lasted. Well, at least I ain't gonna go home completely broke," he shrugs, pushing to his feet.
"Ah, don't worry about it, Cut," I smirk, patting his shoulder. "Look, it's all right here." I hold out a whole handful of tabs. "We'n just call it even, and you go get that bottle of Wild Turkey I owe Billy."
"Yeah! You owe him, and I get to pay for it," he grumbles sullenly.
"Well, Cut, that's what they call job-sharing," I tease, getting a grumpy look in return.
"Sergeant," Lancaster is back to military standards, "how long will it take for you guys to get your gear together?"
Well, almost back to standards anyways. "We can be ready in just a few minutes, Sir. We already packed most of the stuff up yesterday."
"Excellent! Now then, Harless, Roberts, are you Gentlemen ready?"
Two affirmative nods, and another from Sawyer even though nobody asked him.
"Fine!" Lancaster continues. "Agent," now he is looking at Sawyer, "help these others off the floor. We need to re-tie their hands in front so they can walk easier. This path is pretty steep in some places," he instructs, then turns to me again. "Sergeant, I want you and Reece in behind us. Have your weapons ready. At the slightest escape attempt, you have my full permission to fire. Is that clear?" He says it loud enough for everyone to hear him—except Chief of course, but he is looking over, and I know he got it too.
"Yes, Sir!" Cut and I answer simultaneously.
"Good! Where is your dog, Sergeant?" Lancaster glances around the room.
"I figure he's still outside. He hates crowds," I grin, placing my MPK on the table to have it at hand as soon as we are ready to leave.
"I'll go see, Chase," Cut volunteers, leaning his Bull-pup against the chair beside him.
Sawyer is just about finished re-tying the six Agents. He steps over to Micheals, and Jimmy moves aside to give him some room.
"He's out there curled-up under the bench." Cut returns with the information about Buck, and stops beside Chief, exchanging a few signs with him.
Everything is going smoothly, and I actually relax a little. Thank God, this is over with! Almost!
#####
I relax too soon. There is a scream from Sawyer, and a flash of movement, I catch in the corner of my eye. Shit! Spinning around and reaching for the MPK is one split-second move, but it simply doesn't happen fast enough. The H&K that is somehow in Micheals' hands goes off, spraying bullets across the room. Cut shoves Roberts out of the way, then hits the floor, rolling clear.
Harless, Lucas and two others of the tied-up agents go down before I am able to return fire, because Chief gets in the way when he tackles Lancaster to the ground. Something slams against my right thigh, but now I am clear to pull the trigger. Micheals still manages to get a couple more rounds off before he collapses. Then it is quiet. Dead quiet!
I am standing there, numb, trying to comprehend what just happened. How the hell could we fuck up like this! I feel something warm trickle down my leg and ignore it, knowing it could be just a flesh-wound since I have no trouble standing up.
Micheals is dead, I can see that. A glance at Harless, he has a hole in his forehead. Lucas is gut-shot and writhing in agony, while the other two agents lay motionless. Roberts is pale as a ghost, and Sawyer doesn't look much better, but other than that both of them seem okay. So does General Lancaster. He is slowly getting back to his feet.
"Chase!" Cut turns my attention. He squats beside Chief, and I don't feel so good all of the sudden.
Jimmy is down on his knees, holding his left hand tightly clutched against his profusely bleeding right arm.
I drop to a knee beside him. "Damn, Jimmy, let me see." I have to force his hand away because he is staring over to where Micheals lays instead of looking at me.
"Just went through his arm, didn't it?" Cut sounds worried.
Jimmy shudders when I turn his arm to get a closer look.
Shit! "Through his arm and into his side, Cut."
"Damn!"
"Jimmy, look at me…Jimmy!" I try to gain his attention, and finally manage to do so. "Forget about Micheals for a minute. He's dead! Come on, man, stay with me here. You gotta lay down…Damn it, Jimmy!" I get rougher than intended, forcing him to look at me rather than back over at Micheals again.
At last he relaxes a little, gasping for air.
"Damn it, Chase, do something!"
"Shut the fuck up, Cut!" I hiss hard, never taking my eyes off Chief. "Jimmy, lay down!"
"Sergeant?"
"Not now, General!" Damn it, why don't you all just stay the hell out of the way! He's gonna bleed to death right here on me, if I can't...Shit! "Cut!" I yell, when Jimmy collapses into my arms. But at least I can lay him back now. A dirt-floor isn't quite so good, but I have no choice.
"Chase...?" Cut's voice cracks.
"Go find that damn medical-kit! Hurry the fuck up, or he ain't gonna make it," I snap at him, slicing the side of Chief's shirt open with my pocket-knife.
He is breathing, I can hear that. Seems the bullet went through his biceps, slammed into the rib-cage, and luckily got stuck there. Right here. I'n feel it. Bet it bruised that lung, and if it slips... Damn! Ain't no way I'n take care of it up here. Just don't die on me, man. COME ON!
Then Cut is back, and I rip the medical-kit out of his hand. Shit!
There isn't much left—a ten-pack of gauze patches, some Band-Aids, and a roll of surgical tape, that is all.
"Cut, get on that radio and call us a helicopter. Move it, man!" I am still yelling, never looking up though, just working feverishly. The gauze and tape is barely enough to slow the bleeding on Chief's arm—at least for a while.
I need something ...anything...Shit! My green Army T-shirt is sweaty, muddy, and anything except suitable. But it is all I can get a hold of at the moment to plug up that hole in Jimmy's side. Pulling it over my head, it tangles up with the bear-claw necklace. Only now I remember. Oh, God! I'm wearing that damn thing and... oh, no! This can't be happening.
Jimmy winces when I press the shirt tightly against his ribs. He opens his eyes, and stares up at me kind of puzzled.
"Chase?" he whispers harshly, and I flinch.
"Man, be still. You gonna be alright. Just don't move." I try to sound convincing, but, judging by his expression, it doesn't work.
He turns his head, glancing around the room over at Micheals, then back at me, and I understand.
"I got 'im, Jimmy. He didn't get away with it this time."
"Everyone...okay?"
"Yeah! Now shut up. I'n never get you to talk when I want you to. Don't need to be doing it now with a bullet in your chest," I answer, getting a crooked grin in return. "Here," I take off the necklace, and place it into his left hand, "hold on to this. You gonna need it!"
He glances down, then back up at me with a smile that sends a cold shiver along my spine.
I have no time to think about it, because Cut hollers at me. "Damn, Chase, get over here a minute." He slams the radio handset. "This fuckin' jerk won't even talk to me."
"Shit! I can't! Just tell 'im..."
"I take care of it, Sergeant." General Lancaster grabs the receiver. "You just worry about your friend."
"Thanks, General!"
Cut kneels down beside me, and we exchange a quick glance. "Man, you sure know how to cause trouble," he says toward Chief, and I know him well enough. It is just his way of not wanting to admit that he is scared to death right now.
I guess Chief isn't fooled either, considering the look he gives him. It turns into a mask of pain however when he draws a deeper breath, and the ensuing cough leaves a trace of blood on his lips.
"Jesus Christ, Chase," Cut hisses, "that bullet hit a lung."
"No, it's stuck between his ribs..."
"Then you gotta get it out," he breaks in. "Before the damn thing slips through or somethin'."
"I can't, Cut, " I give back somber. "Not up here anyways. Got nothin' left to work with."
"Sergeant," General Lancaster bends down, handing me a green pouch, "the Medevac is on the way. Perhaps there is something in here you can use in the meantime. How bad is it?"
"Pretty damn bad, Sir," Cut answers for me since I am checking the contents of the kit.
Just about everything I'd need: Antiseptic, Field-dressing pack, surgical tweezers, sutures, everything, but...
"Chase, you have to!" Cut urges.
"Damn it, man, there ain't any kinda anesthetic," I argue.
"Chase..." Jimmy regains my attention. "Combat...Lifesavers Course...remember?" He smiles wearily, giving me another chill.
Damn! Practice sessions sure are different than the real thing. But there ain't no tellin' how much time that fuckin' helicopter's gonna take.
"It's...okay, Chase," Jimmy reassures me.
"Are you absolutely sure?" I inquire nevertheless.
A slow nod for an answer.
"Alright! Cut, you gonna have to help out. I need hot water, and anything you'n find that resembles a clean towel."
"Got it!" He is on his feet in a heartbeat.
"Jimmy, I have to get you up off the floor."
"Sergeant!" Lancaster steps beside me again, giving me a nod when I look up.
"Thanks!" I don't bother to uphold military standards, and he doesn't seem to mind.
Jimmy grits his teeth and tenses up, but this is all the reaction we get as we help him off the ground and over to a bunk. Man, if just that bullet stays put.
Cut returns within moments and hands me a couple of fresh face-towels.
"Hold 'im," I advise scarcely, not criticizing the lack of supplies.
He only responds with a tight nod, then firmly places his hands on Chief's shoulders.
"No!" Jimmy struggles against the restraint in obvious irritation.
"Never mind, Cut," I say. "Let go!"
He complies reluctantly, though without argument.
"Jimmy," I gain his attention after Cut pulls back, "just don't move, okay?"
"I won't," he gives back barely audible, but credible.
Fifteen minutes have passed by now, and there is still no indication of a helicopter coming in. Damn! I guess I got to.
Chief looks up when I touch his shoulder one more time, and his encouraging nod makes it feel like he is reading my mind.
Well, here it goes!...Shit, that's stuck in there tight!
Jimmy is staring straight up at the ceiling, his left hand in a death-grip around the bear-claw necklace. If he goes into shock, then... But other than every muscle in his body tightening up and sweat pouring off his brow, you can't tell. Just hold on, buddy!...Shit, I can't get a good hold of that thing!... Please...! There!...Got it!
A sharply exhaled breath from Chief, and then the distinctive chopping sound of Huey rotors outside the cabin. Now that damn medevac decides to show up. I hurry, taping a sterile field-dressing compress against Jimmy's side. They can't land here anyways.
Someone opens the door. I can feel the breeze coming in, but don't bother to look.
"Jimmy, are you okay?"
No response. He's out! But he is breathing easier, and the strong, steady pulse on his neck is a comforting sign.
I let out a sigh of relief, my hands only now starting to shake.
"Chase?" Cut sounds extremely worried.
"He's alright. Just gotta get him out of here and patched up a little better."
"Look, Chase, I..." He hesitates and I understand.
"You go with 'im. I'll see you down there later."
"Thanks, man!"
"It's okay!...Damn, Cut, I'm too old for shit like that."
"Know what you mean. Go sit down, smoke a cigarette. You look like you need it...oh, and Chase," he adds when I get up, "good job, man!"
"Thanks! Here," I toss the bloody bullet over to him, "hold on to the evidence."
The UH-1 Medevac helicopter is hovering above the camp, blowing sheets of rain into a swirling frenzy.
"Sergeant!" General Lancaster walks up beside me, a somber look on his face.
"Sir?" I don't really feel like talking right now.
"I would suggest, you take the ride down with your friend...I take care of things up here," he adds quickly when I pull an eyebrow up in surprise. "Look, Sergeant, I am deeply indebted to you and your men."
"Sir, we just..."
"No, Sergeant! You did more than your duty," he cuts me off with a rueful smile. "I would like to speak with you later, when matters are taken care of. For now, just tell your friend I said thanks. Go, get out of here. I'll take care of your dog if you don't mind, and meet you at the medical center after I get this shit here straightened out."
"Thank you, Sir!" I salute sharply.
"Chase, I gotta go!" Cut hollers from over by the door.
"I'm coming, too. Buck, stay!" I grab my duffel bag off the floor—Cut took his and Chief's along. Another nod toward the General, and a quick one for Roberts.
Buck whines, but sits down when Lancaster takes a hold of his collar.
Damn, hurry up with that winch! Then the rig is down and I signal "Go!" to the cockpit. Shit it's cold! The helicopter pulls up, and I am soaking wet by the time I get inside—well, at least my pants are since I don't even have a shirt on.
#####
"Little out of uniform, huh, Chase?" I get the greeting from one of the medics.
"Damn, Coleman, I didn't know you's up here," I grin at my old combat-buddy.
"Mean you wouldn't've come up if you had known? Man, d'you do that nice patch-up job here?" he asks, taping Jimmy's wrist to keep the IV needle in place.
"Didn't have much of a choice. Took you guys forever and a day to get here."
"Sorry, Chase," he sounds frustrated.
"Ah, it wasn't meant like that. I'm just a little on the edge."
"Knowin' you, you're more over than on it." At least I got him grinning again. "Looks like you could need a little patchin' up yourself," he says, indicating my bloody pants-leg. "What y'all do? Run into a war down there?"
"Somethin' like that. If you'n spare a wrapper, I'll patch myself up. You just take care of Jimmy for me."
"Looks like you done a pretty good job already," Coleman smirks, working on replacing the bandage on Jimmy's ribs. "What you do? Dig that bullet out with a KA-Bar?"
"Oh, kiss my ass! Think he'll be alright?"
"Yeah! Here." He tosses me a roll of gauze. "Sanner, I got this here under control. Go take care of the Sergeant's leg," Coleman instructs the other medic.
Cut doesn't say a single word during this whole conversation. Guess his nerves are pretty much shot.
Sanner comes over to help me with my leg. Nothing major, just a groove through the thigh-muscle, but it is still bleeding pretty bad. Doesn't really matter, I got blood all over me anyways. Look like I just slaughtered a hog. I glance back over at Jimmy, while Sanner cleans up the notch in my thigh. He is still out, but breathing pretty regular as far as I can tell.
"Coleman, how long's the flight-time?" I inquire.
" 'Bout twenty minutes. We're already halfway there, Chase...Don't worry, I got him stable here, he'll be fine," he adds because I flinch at given time-frame. He turns back to Chief who still has his bloody left hand clinging to the bear-claws.
I don't even think about it when he makes an attempt to get Jimmy's fingers off the necklace.
"Don't...!" is all Cut gets out, but by then Jimmy is already halfway up, grabbing on to Coleman's wrist.
I can't get up because Sanner is in the middle of bandaging my leg. Cut is over there immediately though, pushing Jimmy back down and forcing him to let go of the medic—good thing Chief can't use his right arm or that Bowie might have come into play.
"Shit!" Coleman lands on his rear.
"Everything okay back there?" The inquiry comes from the cockpit.
"Everything's cool! Just fly the fuckin' thing!" Cut hollers back, holding Chief down. "Damn it, relax, Jimmy! He was just gonna clean up your hand. Cool it!" he yells in Jimmy's face, with the result that he at least gets him to lay still again.
Now he is just breathing hard, and looking around with kind of a 'where-the-hell-am-I' expression.
"Look at me, Jimmy!" Cut holds him down with one hand, then signs with the other. "Look at me! It's okay! We're going home."
"Here you go, Sarge!" Sanner is finally finished wrapping my thigh.
"Thanks," I mutter, scooting off my seat and over beside Cut.
"Man," Coleman squints at me, "what the hell was that all about, Chase? What'd I do?"
"Don't worry 'bout it," I answer him. "You didn't know, and I didn't think of it in time. Jimmy is about them bear-claws, like you are about that ring you showed me when we's in Saudi."
"Oh," he muses thoughtfully, glancing at Chief. "I'm sorry!"
"It's alright," Cut now assures him. "Jimmy says he's sorry too…Here, Chase, take this." He tosses me the necklace, and Chief turns his head, looking back at me, then signs something left-handed.
"Says he didn't know you's here, Chase," Cut translates.
" 'Course I am. Gotta make sure these guys do their job right," I give back with a wink at Coleman, and Cut puts it into signs, getting at least a weary smirk out of Chief.
"Yo, Chase," Coleman rubs his ear—a sign that he is embarrassed. "I just thought of somethin'. We're gonna have a little problem."
"With what, damn it?" I snap, thinking, as if we haven't had enough of them already.
"Well, he ain't got no medical card, does he?" he inquires, indicating Jimmy who went back to sleep.
"No, he don't. He ain't military. But what's that got to do...oh, shit! Damn!" I suddenly get the point he is trying to make, and don't like it at all.
"What!" Cut grumbles.
"Man, we are gonna have a problem," I squint. "They gonna give us a whole bunch of hassle down there, 'bout taking care of 'im. You know how them jerks are. You'n come in with a hole in your head, and they won't even look at ya unless you got a damn medical card."
"Shit! I forgot all about that, Chase."
"I did too, Cut."
"So now what?"
"Hell, I don't know. Maybe we'n radio up to the camp and still catch Lancaster. He might be able to put in a word for us."
"Be the least he could do," Cut says hard. "Jimmy saved his ass for 'im."
"Chase," Coleman breaks in, "you gonna have to try and take care of that when we get down. We'll take him over to Emergency. You know where Admissions is?"
"Sure do. Been there a couple of times. That Captain...what's her name? Little short black girl, wears them goofy glasses with the gold-frame..."
"Oh, Meadows? Nah, she ain't there no more," Coleman informs. "Ask for Captain Rowe. Or if he ain't there, Staff Sergeant Kennedy might be able to help you out. He's a pretty good guy. Just do me one favor..."
"What's that?"
"Well, I know you, Chase," he grins ruefully. "Whatever you do, just don't punch nobody's lights out, okay?"
"You mean like that asshole down at Fort Hood, giving my wife a bunch of shit when she had the miscarriage?"
"Yeah," Coleman sighs. "Just keep cool, alright? I'll try to stall 'em until you'n get a hold of that General up there."
"If he hasn't left by the time we get down," I add somber, exchanging a concerned look with Cut.
"Oh, and Chase," Coleman starts again, "you might wanna put some clothes on."
"Might!" I pull up my duffel bag.
"Just wait. We gonna be down in a minute." Coleman motions to the window, where it is now possible to make out the vicinity of Fort Lewis through the fog and low-hanging clouds.
"Alright! Cut, you stay with Jimmy. I'll go try to get this shit straightened out. He got any kinda ID on 'im? I'm gonna need somethin'..."
"In the bag. Just gotta dig through it. Driver's license is in his wallet."
"Sure he won't mind?"
"Nah! Ain't got no money in it anyways, just about fifty pictures of his girl," Cut snickers, even though our situation is anything but cheery.