“SemperGumby, Jerry,” Osbourne breathed before he got to work.Stay flexible.
Shock dulled the pain—he didn’t feel Osbourne’s clamp, just a vague, uncomfortable pressure.Orders crackled from Norton, but it all came through his earpiece as if from a hazy distance.
“Are you kidding me?Come here!”Calvin “Hobbes” Brock screamed over the comms.Jerry looked up in time to see Brock rip the M16 rifle right out of the hands of the DHS “observer” who stood in front of the recently arrived Humvee firing into the tree, then grapple the man to the ground.
“Oh, man.That is not going to end well,” Osbourne said.Jerry and Osbourne watched Hobbes, wearing armored gloves, calmly punch the downed man in the face with a timed precision that echoed his boxing days as a youth in the Bronx.“Oh, that will definitely leave a mark.”
Norton transmitted again, “Doc.Sitrep?Over.”
Osbourne replied, “Hit an artery.Gonna need medevac most ricky-tick, Boss.Over.”
After a brief moment of silence over the comms during which Jerry felt certain Captain Norton had just verbally expressed his true and sincere feelings on the matter, he transmitted, “Roger.Stay on Bravo Four.I’ll call it in.Out.”
Jerry said, “You cannot be serious.Did that Five Eleven Tactical fashion model actually fire his weapon?And hit me?I got shot by a brown shirt?”
“Just the usual friendly inter-agency rivalry.”Osbourne keyed his microphone.“Daddy?I do believe Hobbes found the shooter.Want me to call him off?Over.”
After a brief pause, Norton replied, “I have no idea what you mean, Ozzy.I don’t see a thing.”
“Roger that, Six,” Osbourne grinned.“I will render aid once our highly skilled and properly trained DHS partner finishes accidentally falling out of his vehicle.”
“Negative, Doc.Stay on Jerry.They can clean up their own mess,” Norton replied.Then he ordered, “Hobbes, check his ID before you scramble his face too much.Over.”
Through blurred eyes, he saw Osbourne rip the cap off a hypodermic needle, felt the cool swab to his right arm just before a tiny prick.“Bird’s on the way.Stay conscious, and try not to bleed so much.Your dry-cleaning bill is going to be massive.”
“Shot by DHS about 8,000 miles from their nearest legitimate jurisdiction,” Jerry said.“Imagine that.”
Osbourne said, “Stranger things have happened.”
“I’m sure,” Jerry quipped.“Just not to me and not today.”
Uncomfortable burning from the injection site finally reached his heart.The first heartbeat transformed the burning sensation into a warmth that spread through his entire body, flooding his veins, easing the fight in his chest.“Maybe tell me a joke to keep me entertained while I wait.”
Osbourne chuckled.“What do you call a sniper who gets himself sniped?”
Jerry grinned.“A liability?”
Osbourne mocked disappointment.“Aw.You heard this one already.”
Jerry closed his eyes, a silent prayer that he would open them again flickering in the back of his mind.
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center,
Landstuhl Army Base, Germany
As she scrubbed out at the big metal sink, First Lieutenant Olivia “Olive” Duncan bopped her head to the beat of the music coming from her earbuds.She’d just assisted on a chest wound.Shrapnel from an IED lodged into the thoracic cavity of a barely twenty-year-old private while fighting in an undisclosed location.They’d had to work fast, combating the loss of blood in the field and the time it took to get him to Germany.
She smiled, thinking of the private lying in recovery.He would have some scars to show off and a story or two to tell if he were permitted and felt so inclined.
For two years, she’d worked as a surgical nurse in Landstuhl, catching patients from Europe and Asia’s hotspots.She couldn’t have imagined this life back in her Auburn University ROTC days.Living in Germany gave her easy access to so much of Europe, and she spent every single day off traveling to the next place on her bucket list, including the Brandenburg Gate and Neuschwanstein Castle.She would miss living here when her time ended.
She dried her hands with coarse paper towels, glancing at the clock—1400 hours, aka 2:00 PM Central European Time.She had two hours left on her shift.Through the glass window, she could see the surgical board and scanned it while tossing the used towels into the trash.She could spare five minutes for a vending machine sandwich.
She tugged off her surgical cap and unwound her long braid, letting the red plait fall down her back.She rolled her shoulders to loosen the tight muscles and rolled her head on her neck, already imagining the salty bite of processed turkey on that vending machine sandwich.She wouldn’t even read the list of ingredients this time.
Hand on the door, she paused as Captain Nathan Adams called from behind her, “Good work in there, Lieutenant.”
She popped her earbuds out, and he repeated himself.“Thanks,” she said, half-turning.“You too.”
