Picking Up The Pieces

by Brenda Adcock

  Athon cleaned her hands with a mechanic’s abrasive gel and removed her coveralls, revealing her rank insignia. She took a deep breath and walked toward her office. She sat down heavily behind her desk. “You’re indoors, Ortega. Remove the shades,” she ordered sharply.

  Ortega jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. It clattered on the concrete floor as he jerked his sunglasses off and saluted her crisply.

  “I wasn’t told you were a woman, sir...er...ma’am,” Ortega stammered, his eyes shifting around as if searching for words.

  “At ease, Chief,” she said, returning the salute and holding her hand out. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, handing her his orders.

  She thumbed through the paperwork while he continued to stand in front of her, his legs spread slightly and hand behind his back.

  “First, never assume,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. “I began my career as a helicopter mechanic and then decided I’d like to fly them. Fortune smiled on me and here I am. Second, you will never treat the people who make sure we don’t crash and burn with anything other than the utmost respect. Third, if you ever call me ‘blondie’ again, I’ll make it my goal in life to bust you down to the enlisted ranks again. Are we clear, Chief?”

  “Crystal, ma’am.”

  “You already checked into your quarters?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Married?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Texas, ma’am. San Antonio.”

  “We’re scheduled for a night flight at zero one hundred tonight. I assume you’re experienced with night vision goggles.”

  “I’ve used them, ma’am.”

  “Have you flown in a real desert while wearing them?”

  “Two practice missions at NTC, ma’am.”

  “I’ll schedule more night flights. We’re next on the rotation schedule so you’ll need to learn quickly.”

  “Where are we going, if I might ask, ma’am?”

  “Someplace unpronounceable in Afghanistan. Any other questions?”

  “Not at the moment, ma’am.”

  “I don’t deal with crap on my chopper, Chief. Stow any you brought and don’t ever bring it onto the bird with you. I have a good team, the best in the unit. Anything or anyone that disrupts that won’t be here long. Never doubt that I’m in charge of this crew. If you have a problem taking orders from a woman, request a transfer and I’ll sign it. Bullshit macho complexes don’t have a place on my crew, so if you have it, lose it. When we’re working there are no ranks. Listen to what the crew tells you. They’ve been with me a long time and I trust them with my life every time we leave the ground. They’re all professionals and know what they’re doing. They expect us to get them to a site unharmed and return them the same way. Report to the pad at midnight to go through pre-flight. That’s all,” she said dismissively as she pulled the first papers in the stack on her desk in front of her. Without looking up again, she added, “I suggest you spend a little time getting acquainted with our crew.” Giving the usual lecture to Ortega turned out to be the first in a series of events that shot the day to hell.

  LAUREN HAD DINNER simmering on the stove and was grading papers at the kitchen table when she heard the front door open and slam shut again hard enough to jar pictures on the walls. The sound of Athon’s boots retreated to the small room they had converted into a study and computer room. She hadn’t paused to greet Lauren, which was usually a sign that something was wrong or it had been a bitchin’ FUBAR day, as Athon called it. Nearly an hour later Athon reappeared, still in her uniform, but only her BDU pants and a white t-shirt. She followed her nose into the kitchen. Lauren was putting the finishing touches on something on the stove. Athon walked up behind her and slowly slid her arms around her, pulling her tightly against her.

  “Whatcha makin’?” she asked.

  “Mandy gave me this recipe for beef and vegetable soup with barley. As soon as the cornbread’s done we can eat.”

  “Smells good,” Athon said as she lowered her lips to the back of Lauren’s neck. She took a deep breath. “But not as good as you.”

  Lauren backed up enough to open the oven door and wiggled her butt playfully against Athon’s crotch as she slid the skillet inside. Athon ran her hands over Lauren’s ass. “I love cornbread,” she rasped.

  Lauren set her spoon down and turned in Athon’s arms. “Is something wrong, honey? You look like you lost your dog.”

  Athon smiled. “We don’t have a dog. Maybe someday when we settle someplace permanently.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Orders came down today. We’re rotating to Afghanistan in November.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened. “That’s in six months! I thought—”

  “They changed the rotation order,” Athon interrupted. “One of our units is being diverted to Iraq and we have to cover part of their rotation. As a result, we’ve been extended.”

  “What does that mean, honey? I’m new to the Army.”

  Athon frowned and tried not to let her anger show in her voice. “It means we’ll do our regular rotation, plus eight additional months.”

  “You’ll be gone over a year,” Lauren said, shaking her head.

  “About fifteen months probably. We’ll spend most of October getting our equipment ready. The week we leave we’ll be on lockdown in barracks at Ramstein.”

  When she saw the look on Lauren’s face she took her in her arms. “I’m sorry I’ll have to leave you here alone so soon, honey,” she said, resting her chin on Lauren’s shoulder.

  “Mandy’s staying, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah. Command will set up satellite conferences for spouses once a month, or so, on base. I won’t be able to call you using my satellite phone. The enemy might be smart enough to intercept it and pinpoint our location.”

  Lauren’s eyes sparkled with moisture. “I’m not your spouse, sweetie.”

  “Command knows I’m not married and don’t have any family. I put your name on the contact list. I listed you as my beneficiary and before we leave I’ll give you my power of attorney. It’s just in case—”

  Lauren jerked herself out of Athon’s arms. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Do you understand me, Major?”

  Athon playfully saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Washington, D.C. January 2010

  LAUREN FELT SURPRISINGLY refreshed as she gathered her things from around and under her seat on the commercial flight from Frankfurt to Washington, D.C. She had fallen asleep not long after take-off and slept until the stewardess awakened her to tell her the plane would be landing within the hour. It was the first time she had slept more than three or four hours since Athon’s last mission. Four days of emotional and mental hell, accompanied by prayers that begged, pleaded, demanded her lover’s safe return. As she watched the ground grow closer, she wondered where Athon and the other injured soldiers were, whether they had already departed from Greenland.

  She waited until the line of passengers finally began moving down the aisle of the plane before standing up. She had gone online before she left Frankfurt and made a reservation at a hotel close to Walter Reed. Once she was settled in she would make her way to the receiving hospital and attempt to locate Colonel Beverly Campbell. After Mandy reminded her about the paperwork Athon had signed giving Lauren both a medical and financial power of attorney before her deployment, she was certain she wouldn’t have a problem. She rented a car at the airport and thanks to the GPS included in the vehicle she found her hotel within a relatively short time. She was certain she’d driven within viewing distance of the Capitol Building and other famous landmarks, but she wasn’t in the nation’s capital as a tourist.

  She checked in and tried to settle into her new home away from home. She called the information officer at Walter Reed and was transferred five times before losing her
temper with a man who sounded like a teenager. She knew the length of the red tape the government spun was unwieldy and implacable. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and waited until the young man returned to the phone. The best he could do was tell her that the medical flight had left Greenland at the designated departure time and was en route to Andrews Air Force Base. Since she didn’t know the designated flight departure time, she grabbed the keys to her vehicle and decided to drive to the air force base in Maryland and wait. The drive was relatively short, but the wait would be much longer. It took her half an hour to get through the main gate of the base after producing every possible piece of paper she had in her possession. She was able to acquire a temporary visitor’s pass for the car and followed the gate guard’s directions to the main terminal. She stopped military personnel in various areas to inquire about the arrival time of the flight. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see Athon, but knowing she was safely back in the United States would make her feel better. There was nothing for her to do but find a place to watch incoming flights descend onto the tarmac.

  She located a seat that gave her a relatively unobstructed view of the runways and sat down. She rubbed her eyes. Even though she had slept well on the plane they felt like someone had poured sand behind her eyelids.

  “Ma’am? Can I assist you?” a young woman in uniform asked.

  “I’m waiting for a flight to arrive,” Lauren answered.

  “Which flight are you here for? There are two scheduled to arrive in about twenty minutes.”

  “Is one of them coming in from Greenland?”

  The woman flipped through the pages on her clipboard and nodded. “That flight will land immediately after a flight from Dover. This is as good a place as any to see them. You know, of course, that you won’t be allowed near them. Do you have a loved one on the Greenland flight?”

  “Yes. I plan to drive to Walter Reed as soon as I know it has arrived.”

  “Would it be all right if I waited here with you, ma’am?”

  “Of course. My name is Lauren Shelton,” she answered as she offered her hand.

  “Airman Gail Connors, ma’am,” the woman said as she took Lauren’s hand. “I hope your loved one will be okay.”

  “I’m sure she will be, Airman Connors.”

  Connors squinted into the sky and pointed. “There they are. It won’t be long now.”

  Lauren stood and watched two large cargo transports touch down. A flurry of activity followed on the ground as ambulances prepared to make their way to the cargo ramp behind the second plane and three shiny black hearses awaited the first. Lauren’s hand went to her mouth as she watched uniformed personnel march toward the black vehicles. When both planes were completely stopped, the back cargo doors lowered to the ground. Medics came quickly down the ramp of one plane, bringing their patients with them. A line of men and women walked up the second ramp and slowly began carrying a flag-draped coffin back down and toward the open back doors of the first hearse. Lauren was momentarily startled when Airman Connors snapped to attention and brought her hand up slowly in a salute to a fallen comrade being brought home to his or her family. The dichotomy of the scene was heart-wrenching as the fallen who had not survived were removed in such close proximity to those still fighting to live. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek as the last of the injured troops was placed in an ambulance. She turned and hugged Connors before walking back toward her car, hoping she would see Athon again soon.

  THE WAITING AREA at Walter Reed was much busier than the airport had been. In fact, to Lauren it bordered on chaotic. She asked at the information desk if Athon had arrived and was met with a chilly response. Once again she pulled out the paperwork she hoped would manage to work a miracle. Finally, she asked to speak to Colonel Beverly Campbell. That anyone even knew the name of the doctor who was the head of the Emergency Department seemed to surprise the civilian seated at the reception desk. After a lengthy telephone conversation, the woman at the desk explained that casualties from a war zone had only arrived recently and that Colonel Campbell was extremely busy.

  “I’ll wait,” Lauren said as she gathered her papers.

  “It could be a very long one,” the woman said. “Perhaps if you left a phone number...”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Nearly two hours later a dignified woman with short graying hair stepped up to the reception desk. Lauren saw the receptionist point in her direction and stood. The older woman looked exhausted as she approached Lauren.

  “Lauren Shelton?” she asked.

  “Colonel Campbell?”

  “I am,” Campbell nodded. “My feet are killing me. Would you mind if we sat?” she asked with a smile.

  “Of course. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  Campbell reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a small piece of paper. “You’re here about Major Dailey, is that correct?”

  “Yes. Can you tell me anything about her condition? I have a medical power of attorney if you need to see it.”

  “I have better than that. I have a directive from Doctor Stephens at Landstuhl. Wouldn’t want to make Karen mad or she’ll never speak to me again. Okay, I’ve examined Major Dailey and have scheduled a series of tests. At the very least she has suffered multiple serious head traumas. From what the people at Landstuhl were able to piece together, it’s probably one concussion on top of another one. We won’t know the extent of the damage caused by that until we run more tests.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “Not at the moment. She suffered a seizure before being transported here and they gave her enough medication to hopefully prevent a reoccurrence. She suffered a gunshot wound to her left side that was left untreated a number of days, but while she does have an infection it didn’t appear to damage anything vital. When I know she’s fully stabilized, I’ll deal with an assortment of painful, but relatively minor injuries, specifically to her feet. They were exposed to very low temperatures. At this time I don’t believe any of her toes will need to be amputated, but we’ll keep an eye on them to make sure her circulation wasn’t compromised.” Campbell cleared her throat. “When you see her, don’t be shocked. They didn’t take it easy on her, Ms. Shelton. There may not be more than an inch of her body that isn’t bruised and damaged. The bruises on her back and abdomen are quite severe, but it’s her head injuries I’m most concerned about. From the report that came with her, she may have suffered a minor concussion from exploding ordnance. At some time, subsequent to that, it appears her head suffered additional blows that may have been severe enough to renderd her unconscious for a period of time. She was awake and listed as semi-alert when she was taken to the hospital in Kandahar. She apparently told the staff there that she had drowned. She may be able to clarify that once she’s awake.” Campbell shrugged. “Or it could have referred to something totally unrelated to her capture. I don’t want to frighten you, but we’ll be watching her very closely while we gradually wean her off the medication she’s receiving. For now she’s essentially in an induced coma. We need to bring her out of that before we can attempt anything else. Until she’s fully awake it’s difficult to give you a long-term prognosis. At the moment her condition is listed as guarded.”

  “Could she—”

  “We’ll do everything we can for her,” Campbell said as she patted Lauren’s arm. “We’ve placed her in ICU for tonight. Would you like to see her?”

  “Can I?”

  “For a few minutes.”

  Lauren drew a hospital gown over her clothes and placed a mask over her mouth and nose before being led into the ICU. She could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes and blinked them away as she followed a nurse inside. Athon lay on a hospital bed near the back of the large room. The bandages on her head had been changed and a shiny substance almost glowed on the bruised skin of her face. Round gauze pads covered her eyes and IV lines ran into both arms. As Campbell had warned her, bruises covered her arms and legs, the red and angr
y looking marks around her raw wrists and ankles clearly showing she had been restrained. The sheeting over the lower portion of Athon’s body was raised to prevent it from chafing against her damaged feet.

  “Can she hear me?” Lauren asked quietly.

  “We don’t really know,” the nurse answered. “We’d like to think so on some level.”

  “The bandages over her eyes?”

  “They keep her eyes moist and block out the fluorescents in here.”

  “May I touch her?”

  “Very gently. You only have fifteen minutes. I’ll be back,” the nurse said.

  When Lauren was finally alone with Athon, she took her hand and squeezed it lightly. She leaned down close to Athon’s ear and whispered. “I’m here, baby. I promised I would be. You need to fight to come back to me. I want to hear your voice and see those beautiful blue eyes again.” Lauren covered her face with her free hand to stifle a sob. “I miss you so much. I love you more than you will ever know. I’ll be here to pester you until you come back.”

  In all too short a time the nurse told Lauren her time was up. “Get some sleep tonight if you can. We wouldn’t want another patient on our hands.”

  THE NEXT SIX days were agonizingly long and slow for Lauren. She was allowed to see Athon for no more than fifteen minutes each hour and began to develop a routine. She spent her first visit telling Athon how much she loved and missed her. Occasionally she expressed her desires for the future once Athon was awake. She read newspaper articles she thought Athon would be interested in. She read cards Athon received, especially from Frank, who also sent a recorded message telling her the trials and tribulations of being waited on hand and foot by his wife and suggesting she try for the same treatment from Lauren.

  As Lauren prepared to re-enter the ICU for her next fifteen minute visit, she saw Colonel Campbell stepping off the elevator.

  “Could I speak to you for a minute, Colonel Campbell?”