Warrior (First to Fight #1)(19)

Those of us in the following vehicles bail out, guns at the ready and eyes on the horizon. A group of us makes it to the heaping mass of metal and flames. I can hear the high-pitched screams from the men inside and my adrenaline shoots off the charts. I go to the other side, where the frame hasn’t collapsed and see Greene pinned with one leg under a thick piece of metal.

One of the other guys covers my back as I drop to my haunches to leverage the weight off of his pinned limb. The blast or the pain has knocked him unconscious—which is no doubt a good thing, considering the shape of his limb. I block that out and manage to get some breathing room.

“Hey, grab him,” I tell the guy behind me as I reach with my free hand to unbuckle the lap belt. The guy reaches up and manages to catch Greene as he falls. Even though he’s passed out his body jerks and his face contorts in pain.

I experience a rush of relief, my body going hot and cold with it, as we pull him free of the truck. I back up, lifting his limp body in my arms. The other guy brings his weapon up for cover, but it doesn’t matter.

The second RPG hits the convoy, but this time, it doesn’t just flip over one of the trucks. It explodes with deadly force. I’m thrown back against the first downed truck, my head striking against the metal. I manage to hold onto Greene by sheer will alone and we both crumple.

I glance up, my vision going dark, and the last image I see is a fiery inferno where my team used to be. There is barely anything left of the men I’ve spent the last few years with. What I can see, I wish I hadn’t.

As I lose consciousness myself, my last thought is that I don’t hear the other men inside the truck screaming anymore.




I hear the faint echo of a scream and my entire body jerks on the bed. The T.V. show I’d been attempting to watch mocks me from across the room. I glare at it ineffectively. Even though I can only hear a ghost of the sound, the sound of screams still sends a chill right through me. They remind me too much of the nightmares I can’t shake. I look around for a remote and then remember the room I’m in doesn’t even have one so I can’t chuck it at the screen.

I press the button for the nurse and throw myself back on the bed, grunting as the pain in my head makes itself known. Not that it’s dwindled any in the two days since I regained consciousness in a German hospital.

It’s not even the constant ringing or the never-ending headache that pisses me off. It’s the realization that this is one time they won’t be able to patch me up and send me back—if there is even anything to send me back to. My entire team is gone. Just…gone. And for what, I wonder.

I hear a hollow knock coming from the door and I sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Yeah?”

A nurse peeks her head in the door and says something that I don’t quite catch. I try to focus on her mouth to figure out her words, but f*ck, I haven’t learned to read lips yet and she’s talking to me while she’s looking backwards at someone in the hallway.

“What?” I ask, probably too loud, but I don’t care. The new ones sometimes forget they have to talk to my good side.

The nurse moves to my left side and says, “Sorry, sweetie. I asked what you needed.”

“Can you turn down the volume?” I nod at the T.V.

Her response is a little muffled, like she’s speaking through cotton. “Sure thing. Let me know if you—” and then she turns again, forgetting that the single-sided deafness I now have as a result of the blast makes it harder for me to hear when people are facing away from me.

I f*cking give up.

“…said she was your mother. Did you want us to get her on the phone for you?”

I sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

She gives me a pitying smile that I want to rip off her face. “A woman by the name of Sheila Hart called, said she was your mother. Did you want us to get her back on the phone for you?”

The sound of her name causes my hands to tremble underneath the stiff white bedsheets. I clench them against my legs and ignore the pulsing behind my eyes. “No, that’s okay. I’ve already spoken to her,” I lie. “Thanks.”

She takes a couple steps toward the door and then hesitates. “Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call for you? We have computers where you can video chat with your family or maybe a friend. I know they’ve got you on a flight home soon, but I figured I’d check.”

“I think I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

The nurse smiles again, checks the machines for what-the-f*ck-ever and leaves. Finally.

I should have known better than to try and sleep in a hospital because it feels like no time at all has passed when another knock comes at my door and the doctor steps in.

“How are we doing today?” he asks as he looks at his clipboard.

“Fine,” I answer. “What’s the verdict?”

“I’m afraid the single-sided deafness is permanent. When you get back stateside the doctors there will fit you with an appropriate hearing device. Depending on the one you choose an outpatient surgery may be required. Keep in mind there are several options. Like I said, the doctor will go over them with you.”

It takes a few minutes for me to compose my response. My thoughts aren’t as ordered and clear as they used to be. “And the memory loss? The seizures?”