American Survival (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 5)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “You have four cracked ribs, none broken. No body cast or surgery for you, unless you do something stupid. Let me get a good look at your head wound now, and see if stitches would do you any good.” She moved close to him, and although she was a head shorter than Jack, her breasts were in his face as she leaned over him. She examined first his scalp wound, and then the side of his face.

  She moved away from him and said, “come over here under the table light, where I have a movable spotlight, with image enhancement.”

  Jack stood up. He saw her looking down at his obvious arousal. He shrugged. “Don’t take it personal, Doc. Like the kids said, I’ve been in the mountains for a long time, and I haven’t been near a woman who smelled like you do, in a very long time.”

  __

  Dr. Morrison smiled, but continued to look down at him. She raised her head to look at the man again. She figured him to be at least fifty, with the gray patches of chest hair. Despite the bruises, muscles rippled whenever he moved. His shoulders were broad, and hard muscled. He had what they called washboard abdominal muscles. The scarring on his face, combined with the wounded and bared scalp, combined to give him a most dangerous appearance.

  “No problem, you’re not the only soldier I’ve ever examined, who got aroused. Hard times breed hard men, I’ve noticed.”

  Jack laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Wait until my two brothers get down here.”

  “Are they in as bad of shape as you?”

  “Mitch has a nasty head wound, and Paul has a furrow up his back, but both of them are mobile. I’m sure they’re getting cleaned up.” Jack replied.

  He followed her over to a bench with an adjustable light and magnifier. She had him sit down at the bench while she examined the depth and severity of the wound. “How do you feel about stitches? It’s a little late, but you might not have as much of a scar.”

  “I would rather you just bandage it, if the bleedings under control. I’m too old to worry about the cosmetic part of it, and I’m allergic to almost every kind of stitch material or splice. I always get an infection.”

  She walked over to a table with rows of bottles set out, and chose one, which she readied for injection. “This has both an antibiotic, and a tetanus protection in it. Would you lower your pants please?”

  Jack stood, and lowered his pants, as he turned away from her. She could see he had not relaxed at all. She injected him and then turned towards the table, to throw away the bottle, and the syringe. She turned back to him, with some bandaging material in her hands, and set them on the bench. She closed the wound expertly with the fingers of one hand, as she put small adhesive staples across it, to hold the skin together with her other hand. With the antibiotic suave in place, she bandaged the wound tightly from one end to the other.

  “I’m going to leave your head unwrapped, unless you feel some throbbing.”

  “It feels great just like you have it.”

  “You’ll have to come back after you shower for the next bandaging. In a few days, you will be able to let it scab over. If it starts to bother you, soak the bandage with peroxide, and come back in to see me. Now, let’s get your ribs wrapped. I have some heat suave, if you can stand for me to lightly apply it.”

  Jack smiled. “I can stand it, if you can. Did you see anything on the x-ray, which would give me any trouble after the pain goes away?”

  “Look, I can’t tell you the cracked ribs will never bother you again. If you can keep from taking any blows there for a couple of months, you will probably be just like new.”

  “Fifty years new anyway. That’s good enough for me.”

  Chapter 14

  The Celebration Begins

  She massaged the ointment into Jack’s skin, around the area she knew to be the center of the damage. As she wrapped the bandage around Jack, his brothers, with Steve, and Peter in tow arrived. Peter had led them to the Medical Center, and through the outer office. They stood watching in silence, while the doctor finished bandaging Jack. When he lowered his arms, they applauded loudly, with whistles and catcalls. Dr. Morrison noticed Jack had relaxed somewhat in his thinking, as he stood without showing any of his former tense state. He put his shirt on slowly, too slowly it seemed. Mitch ran over to help him get his arm into the armhole, and then began to button his shirt for him. Jack pushed him away, and finished with his shirt buttons.

  “I see you all have taken advantage of the miracles of civilized living, and cleaned yourselves… very impressive, and without being told too. Jack walked over and hugged Peter. Peter tensed with apprehension, thinking Jack had some trick in mind. Jack stepped back, and grasped Peter’s hand strongly. “Thank you for getting the kids through safely. I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing Jack. You know that.”

  The men stepped away from one another, but their eyes stayed locked. Peter knew, whether he wanted it or not, he had Jack in his debt. He had grown up enough in the last few years, to know not to make light of it, or shrug it off. The simple statement told him it did not matter whether he had to lay down his life for Jack’s kids in reality, Jack recognized he would have. Between men with honor, nothing else need ever pass in the code developed since the fall of civilization.

  “You do look different, Jack, Mitch commented. “What goes on here? I got it. You look clean.”

  Jack nodded appreciatively. “I’m glad of it too. I’m also glad you bunch didn’t come down without a bath. My nose has grown accustomed to gentler aromas.”

  This brought laughter from all of them, which Dr. Morrison joined self-consciously. “I guess Peter knows the good doctor here, but for you three, may I present Dr. Morrison. She has refused to give me her first name, even under intense questioning.”

  The Doctor walked up to each of them, shaking their hands, and smiling at Peter, whom she knew. “My first name is Monica.” She paused as everyone in the room laughed, and she waited patiently as the laughter subsided. “Now you know why I don’t give out my first name easily.”

  Jack motioned for silence from his brothers and friends. “Okay Monica, you caught us by surprise on that one, and I will guarantee no Clinton jokes.”

  There were of course groans of disappointment at the outlawing of verbal abuse, just when it seemed to be starting. Monica motioned for Mitch to take Jack’s seat, as she looked over his head wound, and began to treat it. Steve smilingly brought out a bottle of Bushmills from behind his back, as Paul fished into his pockets, and came up with six shot glasses.

  Jack walked over, and quickly took the amber filled bottle gently from his friend, and held it up to the light. He broke the seal on the bottle, held his nose over the spout, and inhaled deeply. Jack set the bottle down on the bench near them, and took the shot glasses from Paul, which he lined up next to the bottle. He carefully poured to just below the rim on each glass, taking unusual pleasure in the simple act. He motioned for them all to be patient, as Dr. Morrison finished dressing Mitch’s head wound.

  They waited in silence until Mitch stood up, and walked over to the bench, lifting one of the shot glasses. Jack passed one to Paul, Steve, and Peter, and when she nodded her assent, Dr. Morrison. Jack lifted his shot glass up in toast, joined quickly by the others.

  “Freedom and liberty exist only through the blood of sacrifice, commitment, and honor. God Bless America, and may God bless each and every one of us. Salute.” They brought their glasses to clink gently together, and then drank solemnly.

  Dr. Morrison watched as the older men sighed in pleasure, and also wiped their eyes as well as their mouths. The sight even moved her a bit, although she wondered what any of this would mean six months from now. It seemed childish to her, to toast at unachieved results; but only time would tell, and she didn’t have the heart to spoil these men’s obvious happiness.

  She put her shot glass on the bench upside down, and motioned for Paul to come over to the chair. Paul, instead, picked up the bottle from the bench, and filled each of the men’s glasses once mor
e, lifting his, to be joined once again as the Doctor looked on.

  “To our honored dead, who knew not for which they died, nor the result their sacrifice would bring. God Bless America.” This time the men smiled, as they brought their glasses together again, and drank the toast.

  Dr. Morrison waited a moment, and then asked, “are you all done now? I don’t wish to interrupt the celebration.”

  In answer, Paul stripped off his shirt, and sat on the chair. Dr. Morrison treated, and bandaged the clean, uncovered wound, which oozed only slightly. She applied the same precision in bandaging Paul’s wound as she had done with Jack’s, trying to draw the wounded edges together, to cut down on the scarring. The shot she had downed with the men, she could tell, would make the rest of her shift difficult to finish.

  Once Paul was bandaged, they all stood looking expectantly at her. She smiled, and waved them away. With shot glasses and bottle in hand, the group waved as they exited the room, with only Jack meeting her eyes momentarily. He looked away finally, and followed his brothers and friends from the room.

  “It seems like sacrilege to have downed those like that,” Paul said wistfully.

  “Why don’t we go up, get the kids, and come down here for a little sipping party,” Jack suggested. “I bet I could spend an hour or so sipping a couple of more shots of this wonderful elixir.”

  “After so long without anything at all, this stuff really hits hard,” Steve cautioned. “Are you sure we’re safe here? They have what they want from us. What if they think of us as a liability now?”

  “Hey… let’s at least assume they won’t execute us before morning, Steve,” Jack replied. I think you’re even more paranoid than I am. Tom told me we would have a meeting tomorrow morning, and he would explain some of the missing pieces in this puzzle. He hinted at some idea of what we could do too.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what it must be like in the cities,” Mitch said. “It must be a hell of a lot worse than when we were down there.”

  “Jesus,” Paul snapped, “you guys are bringing me down. Just when I’m trying to enjoy the first few hours of relaxed living in years, you guys settle into paranoia village.”

  They walked on in silence, Steve’s caution haunting their thoughts. Jack tried to concentrate on where to turn, and what to do to get back to the room. He quickly lost track of the turns however, and just relaxed enough to let Peter lead the way back.

  As if sensing Jack’s confusion, Peter turned and smiled knowingly. “This place takes a little while to get used to. The kids and I finally figured it out, after wondering around for hours, while we waited for word on you guys. At least they put us next to each other.”

  “At least they didn’t take our equipment away from us,” Steve said. “I guess that means something. If they were planning something crazy, they would have confiscated the guns when we walked in. I’m probably way off worrying about a double cross here.”

  “I think it would be best if we held to the old instincts for a while. This won’t be any easier when we get out of here,” Jack replied. “What the hell though… Paul’s right, let’s get the kids, and go find a place somewhere we can sip a couple more, and get something to eat. How about it Peter? Do they have somewhere like that here?”

  “Sure, they do watches every four hours like the Navy. They keep the canteen open twenty-four hours, but they don’t have much after dinner, except what they call mid-rats. That means…”

  “Midnight watch rations,” Jack finished. “It’s been a long time since I heard that term. Hey, I recognize this hall Peter. We’re close, right?”

  “Yep.” Peter stopped in front of a door Jack recognized the number on. “We’re side by side with each other for the next four rooms. Get your kids, and we’ll meet out here in a couple of minutes.”

  Jack stepped through the door of the room Peter indicated, and knew in an instant something was terribly wrong. Too many khaki covered bodies near the doorway, and a military 9mm coming up under his chin, started a sequence Jack had practiced for many hours. He slapped hold of the arm with the weapon, twisting it clockwise. Jack then grasped the barrel of the weapon, and twisted counter clockwise, tearing the 9mm from its owner’s grasp, and reversing it into his own left hand. In a split second, he had the weapon under its owner’s chin, with the safety flipped off, and a round jacked into the chamber.

  “Don’t kill him Dad,” Sarah pleaded, coming up beside him. “It’s okay. They were here to check up on you, and take the weapons you brought in.”

  Jack didn’t move, as everything Steve had questioned, stood before him in reality. “At gun point,” he asked, while staring into the eyes of the man before him.

  “No Sir,” the man blurted out. “I should never have had my weapon out, Sir. I made a boot-camp mistake, turning with a weapon toward you. I didn’t want to alarm you, and I have done exactly the opposite. We were going to be quietly talking to your kids inside the room when you walked in, and explain everything to you. Captain Kardel ordered me to take all of your equipment, and scan it for bugs, or anything else, along with your ammo and gear. You surprised us by getting here faster than we expected.”

  Jake walked over to his Dad, and placed a hand over the one he held the 9mm with. “The Captain called, and told us they were coming. They found bugs on the equipment they brought in from the helicopter. He said there could still be rogue units out there, who might make things difficult around here, if they could find us. These guys all have the new issue automatics. The Sergeant was showing us his old one, that belonged to his father, when you walked in.”

  Jack looked into his son’s eyes, and relaxed his grip. He jacked the round out of the chamber, and locked it open with the safety on. He glanced down at the stripes on the soldier’s arm. “Sorry, Sergeant, my son’s right. I’ve been drinking, and didn’t think clearly.” Jack offered the weapon handle first to the soldier.

  Instead of taking it, the Sergeant took out two spare clips and offered them to Jack. “Please keep the weapon for now, Sir. I know you wouldn’t want to be unarmed, even here. The one you are holding belonged to my Father. I would be proud if you would hold on to it until I get your equipment back to you. My name is Juan Gonzalez, Sergeant, 101st Airborne. The weapons you and your family kept out of the hands of our enemies, helped many of us stay alive.”

  Jack smiled, and took the clips from him. He gave them to Jake, and offered his hand to the soldier. The Sergeant grinned, and grasped it in his own. “Nice to meet you Sergeant, and thank you for the loan of your Father’s weapon. I will take very good care of it. Thank you for understanding.”

  “No problem Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you. We will leave you alone now, and I hope to see you around the base. He gestured at his men, and they carried the equipment out. A corporal, carrying Jack’s sniper rifle, paused in front of Jack, and patted the case he carried it in.

  “I’ll bore sight this for you, and get you one so you can do it on your own. I’ll clean it up for you real nice. Great move Sir, Juan deserved to get shot for being so sloppy. I…”

  “Get moving Jenkins,” the Sergeant said as he shoved him through the door. “Good night Sir, have one for me, will you?”

  “I think I’ll need to after this. Good night, Sergeant.”

  Jack closed the door, and leaned against it, breathing a deep sigh. He frowned at the 9mm he carried, and closed it up with a new round in the chamber, and the safety on. He noticed his kids watching him with expectant looks. Wolf sat next to the kids, having risen from his perch on the couch.

  “I feel like a fool, and an old one at that,” Jack said. “I knew I should never have had anything to drink, at least not on this first night inside. If I had any sense at all, I would have looked for Wolf first. He would have been dead, or tearing bodies apart, if there had been anything wrong.”

  “You taught us never to carry an automatic with a shell jacked into the chamber, even with the safety on, except in combat situations.”
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br />   “Very true, Sarah, but your old man doesn’t feel right just now, so I think I’ll carry it like this for a time, until I feel better, okay?”

  “Sure Dad, did you see everyone down at the Center?”

  “That reminds me,” Jack said quickly, opening the door, “were we the last on their list, or the first?”

  “The last,” Jake answered. “They had already been to the others’ rooms.”

  “Come on, we were to meet everyone in the hallway.”

  Jack led them out into the hallway, after motioning for Wolf to follow along with them. He nearly ran into Steve and Peter, as he turned towards their room. He saw Paul, Mitch, and their kids filing out. Steve stood with his arms folded, staring at Jack with an ‘I told you so look’ on his face.

  “I see you still have a gun,” Steve said. “I guess that’s something. I haven’t been unarmed since I was sixteen, and it don’t feel too good.”

  “I know how this seems, Steve. Here… it has one in the chamber, and the safety is on. I want you to have it; because you thought of it, and no matter how it turns out, if things go bad, I want this baby in your hands.”

  Steve reached under his shirt, towards the back, and pulled out a 9mm Smith and Wesson. “Keep it Jack, I was only joking about not being armed, just to pull your chain.”

  Mitch and Paul, who had been listening attentively to their brother’s conversation, took out their own handguns, to wave at Jack. “I see I’m the only dummy to leave the room without a weapon. I have been armed by Juan Gonzalez, Sergeant, 101st Airborne. He armed me with the weapon his father carried. Let’s go have a drink, and something to eat, and we’ll get a few more glasses for the kids. If you can damn well kill for your country, you ought to be able to take a drink. I will defer to the other fathers as to their own.”