Restoration: Christian Urban Fantasy

by D. M. Turner

  “Everything you said— It was all true.”

  “Yep.”

  So, had the rest been true as well? Could he make Max what he was? “Did you mean the rest? Do you really think you can save me?”

  “I don’t know.” The man sat beside Max’s prone form. “Some people... don’t survive the wolf. All I know is the wolf could give you a chance. Right now, you have no chance at all. You and I both know that.”

  Even the slimmest of chances was better than none, right? “What do I need to do?”

  Dakota cocked his head and studied Max for a moment. “Nothing, except don’t scream when I hurt you. You remember what I said about how the Turning occurs, don’t you?”

  Max nodded. “I have to be mauled nearly to death.” He tried to grin. “That shouldn’t be too hard. I’m nearly dead already.”

  “The pain is... bad.”

  “I can handle it.” Given everything he’d already endured, he had little doubt of that.

  His friend nodded and stripped off his shirt again. “Try to keep quiet. If there are other enemy patrols in the area, we don’t want to draw them here. I may get more than grazed by a bullet next time.” He turned to show the wound on his arm. Only an angry red welt remained.

  Max nodded weakly and half-grinned. “I’m a marine.” He wouldn’t betray their position.

  Dakota chuckled. “Yes, you are.” He went down on one knee and braced both hands on the ground. In moments, the wolf stood in his place.

  Gritting his teeth, Max choked back a yell when wolf teeth sank into the flesh of his upper arm.

  In moments, the world faded to black, taking away pain.

  * * *

  Breathing hurt. That was the first realization to penetrate Max’s brain as darkness slowly receded. The second, he could smell something cooking. Meat. Taking slow, shallow breaths, he opened his eyes and rolled his head to locate the source of the smell.

  Dakota knelt beside a tiny fire, cutting up an animal the size of a large dog.

  I really hope that’s not what it is. His stomach churned. People in Southeast Asia ate dogs. He’d discovered that not long after his arrival in Korea, but he couldn’t do it. No way.

  Dakota glanced up and smiled. “About time you woke up. I’ll have something for you to eat in a bit.”

  “What—?” Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.

  “I found a village not far from here occupied by the North Korean army and the Chinese.” He grinned. “They had goats. We need this one more than they do.” He sliced off a piece of the carcass he was butchering and popped it into his mouth.

  Relieved by the information yet disgusted by what he’d just witnessed, Max frowned. “Raw?”

  “I’m cooking yours, but I’ll take mine any way I can get it.” He chuckled. “The wolf doesn’t care either way. Food is food as far as he’s concerned.” He motioned to Max with the knife in his hand. “We need to get a lot of food into you if you’re to have any chance of survival. The Turning appears to have taken.”

  “How do you know? I don’t... feel any different.”

  “Your wounds are healing. That’s a good sign. We need to ply you with food so it continues.”

  Max raised a shaky hand. No change there. Cracked, blackened flesh still oozed pus and reeked even worse of infection than it had before. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. The injuries I inflicted have almost healed. If they hadn’t, you’d’ve bled out by now. The frostbite and gangrene will take more time.” Dakota frowned and pulled a chunk of meat spitted over the fire away from the flames. He prodded it, nodded, and crawled to Max’s side. “We have to figure out how to get you out of Korea and back to the States.”

  “Leave my unit?”

  “Yes. I don’t see how you can continue to serve in the military now. You don’t have the freedom to come and go with full moons like I do. Someone’s bound to notice if you disappear during sentry duty or something.” He pulled a piece of goat off the stick and offered it to Max. “Eat.”

  Max opened his mouth then chewed slowly. The meat wasn’t cooked completely, but it didn’t matter. Even if it was raw enough to make him sick, what was the worst it would do? Kill him? He restrained a laugh.

  He continued to eat as long as Dakota shoved food into his mouth. When the man crawled away to put another hunk of meat over the fire, Max closed his eyes. Sleep brought oblivion.

  Every time he opened his eyes thereafter, Dakota had meat ready and waiting for him. Some of it smelled and tasted strange. Took a while for him to figure out why. Organ meats, not muscle. He ate then fell asleep again, only to awaken and repeat the process.

  At some point, though he couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been a dream, Dakota leaned over him and said, “I have an idea. You’re really not gonna like it, but you need to trust me.”

  Chapter 3

  8076th MASH

  Hwach’on, South Korea

  TOO many smells and sounds tumbled over one another. The stench of antiseptic, bleach, blood, and diesel. Multiple voices, boots on a wood floor, metal clanging against metal. Moans, cries quickly silenced. Unwashed human bodies. Infection.

  Max groaned and stirred, seeking to escape the sensory overload.

  “Easy, Max.” Dakota’s voice. A gentle hand on Max’s shoulder stilled him. “Lie still and rest.”

  He opened his eyes. “Where are we?”

  “The eighty-seventy-sixth MASH.” Worry etched lines on the journalist’s face. He leaned closer and whispered, “I had to bring you here. It’s the only way I know to get you out of this country.”

  Movement at the foot of the bed drew his gaze. A pretty nurse in Army greens and lieutenant’s bars smiled. “How are you feeling, Corporal?”

  “Groggy. Pain.”

  She frowned slightly and moved to stand at Dakota’s side. “What hurts?”

  What didn’t? The worst pain though.... “Feet, hands.”

  She and Dakota shared a look, then she backed up a step. “I’ll get the doctor.” She hurried away.

  “Max, I need you to listen very carefully. There’s not much time.” Dakota leaned close to whisper. “The wolf is healing you, but it will take time. Your injuries are serious and extensive. They won’t heal overnight. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Lance Corporal Johnson.” A heavy-set man came to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Dakota. Weariness blended with compassion on his face. He hugged a clipboard to his chest. “I’m Dr. Welsh, the surgeon who dealt with your injuries.”

  Wait. Hadn’t Dakota said the wolf was healing those? Why had he needed surgery? “Surgery?”

  The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid there was nothing we could do to save your feet and part of your right hand.”

  Max scowled. What was the man talking about? His hands were healing. They would be fine. Dakota had said so. He lifted both hands, only to find both heavily bandaged. “I don’t understand.”

  “Due to severe frostbite and gangrene, we had to amputate three of the fingers on your right hand, as well as both feet, one at the ankle, the other about mid-calf. I’m sorry.”

  “No....” He shook his head. “No.”

  “Max, it’ll be okay.” Dakota’s hand on his shoulder tightened. “I won’t leave you alone to deal with this.”

  “You said—” Had his friend lied to him? He turned his head on the pillow to face away from Dakota and closed his eyes. “Leave me alone.”

  The hand slipped away. “Rest for now. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

  Better? When would he ever feel better?

  “Corporal, as soon as we’re sure you’re stable, we’re shipping you home. Mr. Gentry has offered to go with you, so you’re not alone.”

  Home. What was he supposed to do there? His parents didn’t need an invalid to take care of. They had enough responsibility without that. Why hadn’t Dakota just let him die?

  Chapter 4

  Seoul, South Korea

/>   “MAX?”

  He opened his eyes and looked up into his friend’s face. “What?”

  “We’ll get on the plane soon to fly home.” Dakota sat on the ground beside the stretcher and lifted a plate. “You need to eat a good bit so you’ll sleep during the trip. It’ll be less painful.”

  A cold wind blew over the tarmac as he lay on the stretcher next to an ambulance. Men scurried about, escorting wounded soldiers and marines onto an R5D-3 Skymaster. Most of the injured were ambulatory, but a few lay on stretchers like Max, waiting to be loaded like cargo.

  “What’s the point?” He scowled. “You lied to me.”

  “No, I didn’t.” The man glanced around then leaned close. “Like I said, the wolf will heal you, but it’ll take time. We need to get to the States before the doctors realize how fast you’re healing and to what extent.”

  “You let them cut off parts of my body.”

  “I had no choice. It was the only way I could think to be sure they flew you home before any of them realized what’s happening to you.” Dakota’s hand settled on his shoulder. “The parts of you they cut away were dead flesh and only increasing your need for food in a way that could’ve killed you. At least without that, you’ll heal better.”

  “I’ll never walk again.”

  “Yes, you will.” The journalist grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “The wolf will ensure it. You’ll see.”

  Max frowned in confusion. How was that possible?

  “Now, eat this real quick.” Dakota held up a chunk of something that smelled like ham.

  Max ate without further comment, downing the food as fast as Dakota offered it to him. When two orderlies came for the stretcher, he closed his eyes and let darkness come. A hand lingered on his shoulder as he drifted.

  Chapter 5

  Tokyo Army Hospital

  Tokyo, Japan

  AN unexpected silence surrounded him. Max opened his eyes, wincing as pain from all of his limbs ricocheted into and through his body.

  Dakota sat next to his stretcher, watching something across the room.

  Max took a slow, deep breath, pleased his lungs and ribs weren’t screaming. Something had improved anyway. “Where are we?”

  His friend turned to him and smiled. “Tokyo Army Hospital. The doctors were worried when you slept through the flight from Seoul to Tokyo.” He leaned down and whispered, “I couldn’t exactly tell them that’s normal for a werewolf who’s healing.”

  “I suppose not.” They might laugh it off at first, thinking Dakota was joking around, but if they kept Max more than a day or so and paid attention, they might realize it was no joke.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Bad pain in my hands and feet, but I can breathe now.”

  “Good.”

  Max grimaced. “I know I don’t have feet anymore, but I still feel them.”

  “Phantom limb pain.” A man in a white lab coat over Army greens stepped to Dakota’s side, tapping a clipboard against his thigh. “I’m Dr. Winslow. I want to be sure you’re stable before we fly you stateside.”

  “Other than pain, I’m okay. I’m alive, which is more than I expected when I was dragged out of that hellhole.”

  Dr. Winslow smiled. “I know you may not feel it right now, but you’re a very lucky man.”

  “You’re right.” Max raised his heavily bandaged right hand. “I don’t feel it.”

  “There will be adjustments. I won’t lie to you about that, but you’ll get through this.” The doctor nodded toward Dakota with a brief tilt of his head. “With a friend like him by your side, you can’t help but come through it.”

  “When am I going home?”

  “We’ll put you on a plane to Honolulu tomorrow morning.”

  Max nodded. “Thanks.”

  “If you need anything, holler for one of the nurses.” The man walked away.

  “You hungry?”

  Max glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him. “Will eating make me go comatose or whatever again and worry the doctor?” The beds either side of him were empty, and the few staff on duty were across the room.

  “Not if you eat small amounts. The more you consume in any single meal, the longer you’ll sleep while you’re healing from injuries this serious. If you eat in small increments, you’ll sleep in small increments.” Dakota stood. “I’ll get you something. Be right back.”

  Once he was alone, Max lowered his gaze to where his feet should be. The blanket lay flatter than it should at the end of the bed. How was it possible to feel limbs that were no longer there? Were prosthetics possible, or would he spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair?

  “Here you go.” Dakota returned and dropped into the chair beside the bed. A grin curved his lips. “It’s not goat, but it’ll have to do. Once we’re stateside, I’ll hunt for something even better. Ever had fresh venison or elk?”

  “Venison, yes. Elk, no.”

  “Wait until you try it. Wonderful stuff.” He lifted the tray a few inches. “In the meantime, I’m afraid you’re stuck with this.”

  “What is it?” Max tried to sit up but couldn’t manage it.

  Dakota set the tray on a small table against the wall and helped Max sit up. “Smells like chicken, so that’s probably what it is.” He retrieved the tray, set it on Max’s lap, and picked up the fork. He offered Max a bite of the probably-chicken. “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to being back in the States. They’ll fly us from Honolulu to the Naval Hospital in San Diego, California. My family’s in northern Arizona. Ever been there?”

  “No.” Hm... yeah, tasted like chicken.

  Max ate as Dakota offered bite after bite and told him about his family—mother, step-father, half and full siblings. Though it was doubtful Max would remember it all, he was grateful for Dakota filling the silence with non-threatening chatter. It kept him from thinking too hard about his own family and what they’d face in helping him live with new limitations.

  By the time most of the food on the tray was gone, weariness made Max waver slightly.

  Dakota set aside the tray. “Let’s lay you back down before you fall over and possibly out of bed.”

  Grateful to be flat and able to relax, Max closed his eyes. “Thanks for the food.”

  “You’re welcome.” Strong fingers squeezed his shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Get some sleep, marine.”

  Not a difficult order to follow.

  Chapter 6

  Naval Hospital

  San Diego, California

  “THE amputation sites are healing far more quickly than I expected.” The man who’d introduced himself as Dr. Feldman frowned and studied Max’s chart. “I’m not sure they noted the right date on here for the initial surgery.” He shook his head. “Regardless, we need to remove those sutures.”

  Max and Dakota shared a look but neither of them said anything. Most of Max’s other injuries, including his broken ribs and various aches through his torso had healed completely as far as he could tell. Dakota had said most of the bruises on his face and neck were gone, too. If they said nothing, perhaps the doctor would go on assuming Max’s injuries were older than his file said. Best to avoid suspicion.

  He gritted his teeth through the extraction of stitches. It added insult to injury, given the tremendous pain he was already in, but Dakota had warned him in Honolulu to hide the pain as best he could. If doctors looked too closely at his hand, they might realize his amputated fingers were re-growing.

  “Doctor, when can I get out of here?”

  The man’s brows rose to his hairline. “You need to stay until you’ve had physical therapy. I recommend counseling in cases like yours.”

  Max fidgeted. “I just want to go home.”

  “In due time. In due time.”

  “Doc, I think he needs to be outside in fresh air.” Dakota met the man’s gaze with steady determination. “You didn’t see the hole he was held in. I don’t think he can handle movi
ng from one prison to another.”

  The man frowned deeply. “He’s not a prisoner here.”

  “If you try to keep him against his will, you become just another captor.”

  The doctor looked at Max. “Is that how you feel?”

  “Yes, sir. I need to go home.” Eventually. Maybe. What had his family been told? Maybe Dakota knew.

  Dr. Feldman considered him for a moment then sighed. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do about getting you released. I’d strongly suggest you see a doctor back home for follow-up care.”

  “Yes, sir.” He could suggest anything he wanted. That didn’t mean Max had to do it.

  The doctor wrapped fresh bandages around the stubs of Max’s legs. “I’ll get your discharge papers.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as the doctor was gone, Max turned to Dakota. “Where do we go from here? I’m not ready to face my parents like this.” He motioned to his legs. “Do you happen to know what they were told, if anything?”

  “I know your CO notified them you were MIA, but I’m not sure if they’ve been told you were found or in what condition.”

  So his parents might be sitting at home, thinking him missing and possibly tortured. They’d be terrified. As soon as he could bring himself to face them, he had to go home. Alleviate their fears.

  “You’re originally from Eugene, Oregon, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you familiar with Klamath Falls?”

  “Sure. It’s at the southern tip of Upper Klamath Lake, a couple hundred miles from Eugene.”

  Dakota nodded. “Right before I shipped overseas, I bought an old cabin on the lake. It’s back in some trees and needs a good bit of work. I figure now’d be a good time to head up there.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “We need to get there before the next full moon.”