Stark Resolution (Stark Trilogy Book 3)

by C. D. Bradley

  She frowned at him. “I don’t know if he even wants me to.”

  “Maybe talk with Dr. Meadows about it today. If you have something unresolved with him, maybe you should take care of that before we have to go.” He offered her a hand, “Come on, let’s go get you ready for PT.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?” Kira asked eyeing him. Somedays she couldn’t figure him out. He seemed to be blindly in love one minute, but then like an old friend the next.

  “Of course, I care about you deeply. But I want to love all of you, not just the parts he left behind.” He helped her up and handed her a blue and black Athleta jogger set. “If you need to work through this with him, then you should do it.”

  Kira took the suit and headed toward the bathroom. Am I just an insensitive bitch who is pissing away the chance at real happiness, chasing a ghost? In two days, they would be on a plane heading back to Colorado. Her life would be returning to normal … or, her new normal. Owen Stark had pretty much told her to fuck off, and Liam Holt was waiting to take her home.

  She changed and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She studied the woman who looked back at her. She still had such a long way to go. The sky was the limit, but she couldn’t let go of the past that had brought her here. She imagined her life with Holt and giggled. It would be cookie cutter. The perfect house, designer things, 2.5 children and a miniature non- shedding dog of some kind. It would be flawless, like Holt. Their kids would be beautiful and happy, probably well-adjusted and very loved. There would be parties and social circles. He would be medical director of a hospital; She would spend time with their children and volunteering in a clinic. Perfection.

  He was the kind of man who worked hard and came home early. He would be there for all the birthday parties and anniversaries. He got muffins when she seemed blue. He would hold her and love her and make her the center of his life. It would be perfect … except for the cancer of the soldier, the love she left behind, that would eat at her every day until there was nothing left but a hollow shell. Holt knew this. She knew this. Fuck. She couldn’t look in his eyes every morning knowing she still loved another man.

  Kira fixed her hair into a military style bun and came out of the bathroom ready to face the rest of her flawed, difficult life, head on. “You’re right ya know,” she said, and nodded at Holt. “I’ll talk to Dr. Meadows, and take it from there.”

  “I know,” he said, and looked out the window. She thought she could see tears in his eyes. His dreams had just gone up in flames. “I won’t be far though, dear. Let’s get you to PT.”

  They left for her final PT eval walking hand in hand down the hall. In two days, he would be getting on a plane to go back to Colorado, and they both knew she wasn’t going with him.

  KIRA SAT STARING at the carpet while Dr. Meadows made notes about her mental state. She wasn’t sure which was worse, having night terrors or having to discuss them with someone who had no real idea what she was talking about. Sure, Dr. Meadows had probably dealt with hundreds of PTSD patients. She was used to hearing their stories. Kira had been in that boat once. When she first started on base, she honestly thought the PTSD training they were given had prepared her to help these soldiers. She laughed at herself now. She realized she didn’t have a clue.

  Dr. Meadows might have read about PTSD, but she hadn’t lived it. She didn’t wake at night screaming in a pool of sweat. She didn’t leave a light on so that she could get her bearings quicker when she woke up.

  “So, about the memories of your mission,” Dr. Meadows began, “what can you tell me?”

  “I remember collecting samples along the Amazon River. I know at one point we took blood samples from some cows but I can’t remember exactly why. Do you think it’s possible for me to read our debriefing transcripts?” Kira asked.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Dr. Meadows asked. She stopped writing for a moment and looked up at Kira.

  “I was just thinking maybe it would jog my memory. There is still so much from that whole time I can’t remember. I just keep thinking there was something more to it than collecting bugs and being kidnapped.” Kira drummed her fingers on the edge of the oversized chair. She wondered who did the interior decorating. She knew the chairs had to accommodate all body types but she felt like Lily Tomlin. She resisted the urge to swing her feet back and forth.

  “Is there anything in particular that is bothering you?” Dr. Meadows sat with pen poised to capture her response.

  Kira studied the beige walls. One side was adorned with a gold frame containing a woodland scene. Kira wondered if that was supposed to feel calming. It seemed generic and cliché. Off to the right of it was a much more interesting pen and ink drawing of a sphere being held by a hand. The bulk of the picture was actually the reflection in the ball. Ah, the complexity of self-reflection. Clever.

  “Is everything I say confidential?” Kira asked. She had to be able to trust her psychiatrist, right? Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she?

  “Of course,” the doctor responded.

  “The night we were kidnapped. I don't think Holt and I were going to a club.” Kira fidgeted with the zipper on her hoodie. Zip up … zip down … up … down ...

  After a few moments, Dr. Meadows urged her to go on.

  “Last night I couldn’t sleep. I had another one of the nightmares about being kidnapped. I woke up and needed to take a walk. I just had to get out for a bit.” Up … down … up. “I put on my tennis shoes quietly so I wouldn’t disturb anyone, and it made me remember the night I left the barrack in Iquitos. I snuck out. I was trying to quietly meet someone. I don’t know who, or why. Holt had caught up with me when we were taken. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “So, you were leaving AWOL to go meet someone, and you ended up at a drug lord’s house?” She paused, raising an eyebrow.

  “I know that I wouldn’t have done anything illegal. I strongly feel like I was supposed to meet someone, but never made it. We were taken off the street.” Kira wrung her hands. It was so frustrating, like the answer was just beyond her reach.

  “Kira, as you may know, kidnappings happen frequently in that part of the world. That’s why the military has to tag all assets with a tracker. If it wasn’t for that, they might have never found you two.

  “I guess so. It just feels like there should be something more to it,” Kira said, shaking her head.

  “Senseless violence is sometimes the hardest to deal with. Bad luck and bad timing are much harder to accept than something premeditated,” Dr. Meadows offered.

  “I guess it makes more sense if there was a reason. A purpose,” she said, shaking her head. Kira knew the doctor was right. If she could just remember, then maybe, just maybe, she could make the pieces fit.

  “So, you are preparing to go home in a couple of days. How do you feel about that?” Dr. Meadows asked.

  “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath and kicked at the carpet. Should I tell this woman about Stark? Fuck, why not.

  “You don’t seem very happy about leaving. Are you nervous?’

  “Captain Holt has been amazing. He has been here with me every step of the way. He is very excited about getting back to our regular life at home,” Kira stopped, and sighed.

  “But you’re not? You seem anxious about that,” Dr. Meadows observed.

  “I …” Kira hesitated and bit her lip. “I ran into an old friend last night,” she began. “He is on the surgery floor. He was injured and lost his leg. I wanted to talk to him, to help him in some way, but he ran me off. He didn’t even want to tell me what happened.”

  “He may not be ready to deal with his injury himself yet. So, it would be very hard to let someone else in. What is your friend’s name?” she asked, as she wrote.

  “Owen Stark,” Kira replied, and Dr. Meadows dropped her pen on the floor.

  Dr. Meadows scrambled to pick up her pen, and in doing so dropped her clipboard.

  “Are you ok?” Kira as
ked, surprised by the doctor’s strong reaction.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Please continue. How long have you known Sergeant Stark?” Dr. Meadows asked as she straightened her paperwork.

  “Almost two years,” Kira replied with a half grin. She hadn’t mentioned that he was a sergeant.

  “Are you two very close?” the Dr. asked.

  “This is confidential, right?” Kira asked. She feared incriminating Stark or herself for fraternization.

  “Yes, go on.” The doctor replied, and leaned in.

  “We were. When I first woke up there were big holes in my memory but over the last several days, details have started to resurface. At one point, we were very close.” Kira shifted in her seat and looked around for tissues just in case. “Not so much anymore. He acted like he didn’t even want to look at me. Have you ever loved someone so much it hurt, and they just pushed you away?”

  “Like you and Dr. Holt?” she asked.

  “Shit,” Kira muttered quietly. “Yeah, I guess kinda like that. I’m a terrible person. Liam Holt risked his life to save mine. He has been here for me every step of the way.”

  STARK WANDERED THE hallways of the Heroes Zone. Sitting here surrounded by the crowd he was invisible. People passed by on their way to busy lives, moving to and fro. There was no time to stop, no time to see the man in the chair. Everyone had somewhere to go. They had a “normal life.” What does that even mean? The only one who could see him was Colin. He stood staring at him from the reflection in the memorial wall. I’m so sorry I let you down buddy.

  Stark felt like he had a cloud around him. The mountain of doubt was more than he could bear. He saw a plaque on the wall: Dreams Never Die. What the fuck did they know? They never held their hand to the fire. All the slogans didn’t mean jack anymore. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around to see it fall. He felt like the captain of a worn-out boat on a dried-up sea.

  He was supposed to report to the basement of the America Zone in building nineteen, The Amputee Center, MATC. In a daze, he rolled down the hall to the entrance. He sat looking at the sign. He could go in … They all wanted him to. What would it matter? He had already let down the only people in his life that he cared about. Who did these fuckers think they were? They could make a bionic leg but they couldn't make a bionic soul or mind. Owen Stark was dead. They were trying to raise a corpse. Every single time they called his name, he slipped further away.

  The major kept talking about coming back. If he just got his prosthetic, he could train again. He could be whole again and rejoin his team. Did the major not realize that he wasn’t enough when he had two legs? How am I ever going to be good enough now? I let my team down. I lost my brother. What did they expect? Am I supposed to pick up the fucking pieces of my life and start over? His stump was finally healing. They wanted to fit him for a prosthetic. What am I supposed to do with a plastic leg? Yes, he knew the stories of men and women who had come back to do great things. He heard all the talk they spouted at him. He looked up at the sign: Amputee Center. Those guys needed help more than him. He didn’t need to suck up time and resources. These guys were young with so much ahead of them. For Stark, there was nothing left.

  A woman in gray scrubs hurried past him on her way in. So many places to go. She opened the door and rushed in. She never even noticed him. He was a rock in the river, the water wearing him away, slowly, until nothing would be left. The door swung closed and Colin sat there in the glass staring at him. Stark nodded to his brother and turned around.

  He couldn’t believe that Kira was gone. He rolled past her room in a pathetic moment of … fuck, he didn’t know, desperation maybe. He didn’t know what he wanted. How could she look at him like he was the same man he was before? She hadn’t even done that. The look of horror in her eyes, he would never be able to get out of his head. He knew it was going to be a mess. He just wanted to try to explain. He knew she had lost her hope in him. He just wanted to … but it didn’t matter … she was gone. The room had been cleaned and the nurses said they were preparing for the next broken soul.

  He felt bad for the way he treated her, but she was better off without him anyway. He couldn’t very well explain how he lost his leg to her. He couldn’t tell her it was his fault she got shot, or that he endangered his entire team and failed to save Sergeant Colin. He was obligated to keep his mouth shut. The silence was deafening. He was condemned to solitary confinement, destined to live out his death row sentence alone. No, it was better this way. Her life would be better without him dragging her down. She could live happily ever after once he faded to somebody she used to know.

  How many of my men are dying for nothing? He couldn’t protect them. He had been a warrior. Not that it mattered here. It didn’t change the way people looked at him, like he was just trying to get a fucking check. He didn’t need their shit. He could still hear the spindly civilian prick during his therapy that morning.

  “You’re going to have to work harder than that. You need to retrain to do something productive. I hope you’re not planning to just sit and draw a check for the rest of your life,” the nasally bastard spouted, while encouraging him to work a fucking puzzle. For fuck’s sake, I used to kill people for a living. He felt like a beast in a cage, filled with rage he could never let free. Stark had resisted the urge to grab him by the fucking necktie and bash his skull repeatedly into the workstation. He realized it was a good fucking thing they wouldn’t let him have his sidearm in here. He saw Colin in the elevator door shaking his head in disapproval.

  Fuck this. He was just going to go back to his room. He didn’t need this shit. He could just fucking check out and head home. At least there, he was in control of his own destiny. He started back up the hallway. Families, soldiers, the wounded, the sick … he rolled past them all. He didn’t give two fucks about any of it anymore. All of this for what? For what did they give best part of their lives?

  He rolled past a marble wall and saw Sergeant Colin staring back at him. The reflection took his breath. He was standing in full dress uniform. His salute tore through Stark. He could feel him with him more and more. Stark looked away and shook his head. He was starting to lose his mind. He rolled back to his floor. It was time to down the next round of his combat cocktail: Promethazine, zolpidem, nortriptyline, morphine, divalproex, ibuprofen, diazepam, meperidine, trazodone, and hydromorphone for breakthrough pain. He hated taking the meds. He felt like a fucking drug addict. At least the pills kept the demons and Sergeant Colin at bay. He was on enough medication to revive Michael Jackson, and kill him again.

  He got off the elevator and rolled toward his room. Jamie was waiting for him outside the nurse’s station.

  Blah, blah, blah. She was already starting her shit about him not showing up for his appointment. He knew he should go, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment.

  “And where were you today?” she harped.

  “Around,” he muttered. She was always trying to push his damn buttons. Push, push, push. She walks around like she built the damn surgery floor.

  Fuck. That’s not true. He knew she was just trying to help. His thoughts were disjointed.

  “We just want to help you, but you have to want to help yourself,” she huffed. “Have you hooked up your computer? That might give you something constructive to work on. I can help if you want.”

  “Sure,” was all he cared to say.

  “Ok, hang on there a second, and I’ll get your meds. You should have taken them an hour ago,” She scurried into the locked med room. After a moment, she came back carrying nine bottles. Nine! He had never taken anything except the occasional ibuprofen. Now every time he opened his mouth they were shoving in another pill. It was like a chemical prison and he was stuck in solitary confinement.

  Stark said nothing as he held out his hand for the next installment of “The Drug is Right.” How much shit will it take him to numb the fuck up today? The pain in his missing leg was only a fraction of the problem with the dizziness, debilit
ating headaches, and the fucking memories, which made him want to roll into a dark corner and hide. He hated being stuck in this hell hole. He hated being stuck anywhere.

  He took the meds and swallowed them down with stale water in a plastic cup. He wished he had some Jameson to chase it. He rolled back to his room with Jamie on his heels, or wheels as it were, he thought with a sick chuckle. There was still a bit of humor in him, at least. He watched her set up the laptop and turn it on. Within a few minutes, she had the Internet up and running.

  “There now. You can surf around, or get on Facebook, whatever you want. I’ve got some patients to check on. I’ll be back ok? Then maybe we can go to the center together.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he said giving her a little smile. He turned to the small desk and looked at the laptop. He didn’t even know where to start. He opened an Internet browser and checked his email. Holy shit, there were a bunch of messages, at least half of them from Simone. He was going to have to call her at some point. Just the thought of her smug voice made his skin crawl. There was one from Colin’s mom.

  Owen,

  My darling boy, I have tried calling you but you aren’t answering your phone. I just wanted to say thank you so much. I don’t even begin to know what to say. You are the most generous soul. Chip would be so proud of you, and I know he would be so grateful.

  I want you to know the door is always open my boy, if you ever want to come home. I will be here. I love you, my sweet boy. Whatever you are going through right now, please know you are not alone.

  Love,

  Mamma Colin

  P.S. (Can you post script in an email?) I hope your little treasure was all you hoped it would be.

  He sat back. His lawyer must have already been in contact with her. Good. The trust would be enough to take care of her very comfortably. He didn’t want her to ever have to worry about anything, especially money. He wondered what little treasure she was … The USB drive! How could he have forgotten? How many days, how many damn drugs had he ingested since coming back from Ohio? Every day here blended into the next.