Gunny. Baldwin, I need a hand over here.”
Such a nice voice. Marines? Tess fought again to open her eyes. Who called the marines?
“Ma’am, hang in there. Can you open your eyes?”
Slowly, she opened them and focused on the ruggedly handsome face of the man bending over her. Feature by feature she took him in. His head was encased in a tan-and-brown digital-patterned helmet, so she couldn’t tell the color of his hair, but his eyes were an incredible azure blue, set in sun-kissed chiseled features that sported a day’s growth of beard. There was something in those eyes that made her feel safe, a relaxed self-assurance that whatever was happening, he had the situation under control.
“Ma’am,” he said with a comforting smile. “I’m Gunnery Sergeant Luke Barrett. You’re an American?”
Tess nodded, wincing with pain as she moved her head.
“Try not to move too quickly. You have quite a bump on your head. We’ll get you help as soon as we get out of this building. It’s not safe to stay here.” Looking over his shoulder, he nodded to someone behind him before turning back to her and saying, “Okay, put your arms around my neck.”
Her eyes never left his face as she lifted her arms slowly. She was afraid to look around, afraid of what she knew she’d see. It could not be good, not by any stretch of the imagination. Part of the ceiling was gone. The bright light was sunshine. That much she could tell. And she was cold, very cold. The smoke was gone and she could breathe, but each breath made her feel as if shards of broken glass were grating against each other inside her chest.
The marine gently lifted her out of the wreckage as though she weighed no more than a child. She felt the rough material of his camouflaged uniform and hard body armor beneath her cheek as she clasped her arms around his neck. Pain. Remarkably intense pain jabbed at her legs like a thousand hot needles piercing her flesh. She stifled a groan as, with a Herculean effort, she tightened her grip. He was her lifeline and she was determined not to let go, even for an instant. She noted a fleeting look of concern shadow his face as he felt her stiffen in response to the hurt. With grim determination and quiet confidence he began to move through the rubble of what this morning had been a building filled with the excited shouts of children as Tess and her coworkers arrived to set up their mobile medical unit. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Clarity washed over her with all the force of a massive tsunami. The children! The little girl she had held close after the first explosion. Was she all right? Tess looked back at the place she had been lying, her pain forgotten. The child had been right in front of her, had just left her arms. Desperately, Tess scanned what was left of the room. It was now nothing more than a twisted heap of concrete, glass and wooden beams. Impossible for anyone to have survived the carnage. She had no idea how she had survived. Then she caught sight of something that caused her heart to splinter. A small arm poked through the wreckage, palm open, revealing a piece of brightly wrapped candy.
Tears began to stream down Tess’s face. Shifting in the marine’s arms, she struggled to ask him to stop, to go back, but her voice refused to obey as deep physical and emotional pain combined, causing her to slip into unconsciousness once more.
Usually, the dream ended there—or worse, started over at the beginning, to play through again. But today she heard a familiar voice say some entirely unexpected things.
“I thought I heard someone come in. Groceries are all put away and the furniture is on the porch. Why did you use the front door?”
Tess heard the marine talking again, just as she had heard him in her dreams for endless nights since he had pulled her out of the wreckage. His voice was always deep and soothing as he assured her he would make certain she was safe. She would never forget his voice. Only this time he was talking about groceries and furniture. Well, that’s a twist on the same old nightmare, she thought in her dream state. Why in the world is he talking about groceries? Funny. Nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric, she fought to catch hold of the dream to see what he was talking about, not wanting to wake till she found out.
* * *
Luke stopped short as he entered the cozy living room, his voice trailing away. He had entered the room expecting to see one of the Salter sisters, back from whatever last-minute errands they’d undertaken to prepare the cottage for their guest. The woman he found instead stopped him in his tracks. Stunned, he stood there, looking at the sleeping woman as if he had seen a ghost. She was a ghost, really. He’d never thought she would survive her wounds, she had been so critically injured when he had found her in the remains of that charred, ruined Afghan orphanage.
For a moment he thought she might be someone else, that he had been mistaken. But no, the same auburn hair glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the window near where she slept. She had the same fine porcelain skin, small straight nose and full pink lips that he remembered so clearly. Luke knew that beneath the closed lids were eyes the color of deep green jade. He had memorized her face and it had haunted him day and night. As his eyes continued to trace her features, he stopped at the small scar on her left temple. It had bled so much, but she had made it. Despite all her injuries, and the huge odds stacked against her, she had lived. Thank You, Lord. The prayer was silent and heartfelt.
Luke’s mind tripped back to that day he had carried her out of the orphanage. It was as though it had happened yesterday.
Holding her securely in his arms, he knew that she had seen the child partially covered by the wreckage, but he had no intention of stopping or going back. It would do no good. His mission was to get her out and to safety. He could not help the dead, but he was determined to help the living. The pain on the woman’s face was something Luke knew he would never forget. Senseless death was difficult enough to witness, but the senseless death of children was intolerable. Concern and empathy touched him deeply as he glanced down at the dark auburn head lying against his shoulder, but he needed to get her out of there.
Looking around, he mentally calculated the safest path out and picked his way through the debris. As he stepped across a pile of concrete rubble into the cold, bright sunlight he noticed the woman wince, and he lifted a heavily gloved hand to shield her jade-green eyes from the glare of the sun. He quickly scanned the area for medical personnel and called for a corpsman.
“Doc, we need help. This patient’s bleeding pretty badly.”
Luke gently lowered the woman to the hard, arid ground as the medical officer made his way over to them. He stepped back as the corpsman knelt next to the injured female and began a cursory examination, starting with the wound on her head and working his way down to her lower extremities and then back up to her skull again. Luke noticed her grimace with pain as the medic probed the gash on her temple gently, trying to stop the bleeding.
“How bad is it, Doc?” Luke knew her situation was serious, but had no idea how grave it really was.
“Honestly, Gunny, it’s not good, but it’s not the head wound I’m most concerned about. There may be internal injuries, and her left leg has a pretty serious break. Femur. Not pretty, and she’s in a lot of pain. It’s what we can’t see that bothers me, though. I have no idea if she’s bleeding out.” He never looked up as he spoke, instead reaching into a medical kit and pulling out a bag, a battery-powered IV pump, tubing and needles.
“Can I help?” Luke lowered himself next to the corpsman, his eyes focused intently on the woman’s face.
“No, but someone’s going to have to carry her down this mountain to a safe zone. There is no way that a helo can land in this terrain.” The corpsman had already inserted a needle into the woman’s arm and attached tubing as he spoke. “Ringer’s lactate with a morphine push,” he explained to Luke as he worked next on immobilizing the broken leg.
“I’ll carry her.