by Cliff Hedley
“Yeah, well. It’s done.” Chase stared off at the wall for a moment. “They tell me I can get some kind of robot hands. You going to get a cyborg leg or something?”
“That’s the word. I don’t think I’ll be able to surf in it but I kind of like the idea of clumping around like Robocop. Maybe they’ll let me have one of those pop-out holsters built into it as well.”
“Maybe,” Chase chuckled. “Are you left-handed?”
“No but I was thinking of using it more to sneak booze into sports venues. I think I’m done with guns.”
“Good idea. I guess I am too, unless they can find my trigger finger.”
Freeman laughed and Chase could tell that they were going to be able to share the same dark humour. It was good to meet someone going through something similar.
“What’s on?” Chase nodded at the TV.
“Nothing at all. Same crap they have in our rooms but I just like to get out once in a while.”
“I hear that. This is my first outing.”
“Well, congratulations. In that case I’m sure Nurse Simmons won’t let you stay too long but it was good to meet you.”
As if on cue, Simmons pushed her way back in the door to check on Chase. He raised an eyebrow at Freeman as if to ask how he knew and Freeman just smiled back.
“Chase, you haven’t passed out. Well done,” she said in mock congratulations. “It is time for you to get back, though.”
Chase groaned in response.
“Baby steps. We do this a couple of times, then I can let you start doing this on your own, for as long as you like. Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”
Chase grinned.
“To rest,” she said firmly.
***
The next few days were more or less the same routine. One of the nurses would come to collect him and help him as he made the trek down to the lounge. Each day he felt stronger, until finally he could get himself to the lounge without help. He had figured out how to open his door with his foot and given his already impeccable balance had not been lost, it wasn’t that difficult. Luckily, the doors all had large pull handles on them and no turning mechanism — they were pushed shut automatically by a gas stay. The nurses had walked along beside him but they let him open the doors and do as much as he could or wanted to do without their help.
It wasn’t long before Chase decided to up the ante. He reached a point where he no longer needed to tow his IV lines around and knew he could walk without exhausting himself. His arms were starting to heal nicely. Most of his burnt skin had been removed during surgery, so it was mainly the stiches and the odd spot burn that he had left, where smaller pieces of phosphor had arced out from the larger ones that had done most of the damage. He decided that today was the day he would practise some martial-arts footwork. He couldn’t do much about his missing hands but he could still perform his katas to the best of his ability. One of his former mentors had always told him that footwork was the most important thing in martial arts, so Chase rolled himself up in bed, determined to test whether he had the energy to perform anything.
As usual, he hooked his left foot around the door handle and pulled while balancing on his right. The door swung towards him and he flicked his foot to the outside of the door and dropped his weight forward to catch it before the gas stay shut it again. The motion was akin to a hook kick, something he had plenty of practice at. With one foot holding the door open, he pushed it open further with his knee and stepped out into the hallway.
Starting off slowly, he tried a couple of stances. First, a basic fighting stance with his left foot in front. He bobbed back and forth, his weight shifting between each leg and staying light on his feet with his heels off the ground. Not bad, he thought. Next, he tried a series of stances from a kata called Iron Horse; it gave him a number of positions to move into, from a strong standing position to deep stances with his feet spread wider apart. Each stance had a purpose and Chase was happy that he could still move fairly fluidly between them. He did notice, however, that the deeper stances quickly made his thighs burn. Damn, that didn’t take long. Just like a newbie. Normally, he wouldn’t have felt that kind of burning in his legs until after an hour or so of training like this, so he was a long way from full fitness.
Looking down at his bandaged arms, he was pleased to see that there was no blood coming through the white folds. He had been slightly worried about bursting a stitch or reopening freshly healed wounds where the skin was still thin. Given how quickly he had tired with his legwork, he figured he would give the arm movements a miss for today and just focus on his feet. Fifteen minutes later, with sweat beading on his forehead, he’d had enough. Down the hallway was a water fountain, and he padded along the corridor towards it. Simmons had pointed out on one of their previous trips to the lounge that it had a foot pedal as well as the usual button up top to start the water, so he could use it without help. The Army has thought of everything. He eagerly stomped on the pedal to start the water flow and gulped down a few mouthfuls.
Satisfied, he rubbed his chin on his chest to catch a couple of drips that had escaped his lips and headed off towards the lounge. As Freeman had said, it was somewhere to go to get out of the room for a change.
“Hey, Chase.” Speak of the devil. Freeman looked over as Chase pushed through the door.
“Hey, Freeman. How’s things?”
“Same shit, different day. You?”
“Same-same. I think I’m getting around a little better now though.”
“I figured. I think this is the first time you showed up without a date.”
“Huh, true.” Chase hadn’t considered that. He had felt fine, so just decided to head out himself. The nurses had only acted as his shadow the past few days and he was glad of his small leap in independence.
“Was that you making all that huffing and puffing noise outside?”
“Uh, yeah,” Chase sheepishly admitted. “Just testing the legs out, really. I thought I’d take it up a level and do a little exercise.”
“I hear you, man. I’ve started to go for a good long roll each day myself. It’s nice to get some air in the lungs and the heart pumping again. I don’t think soldiers make very good couch potatoes.”
“Good point. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without doing some kind of training.”
Chase took a seat in his usual brown armchair and put his feet up on the empty coffee table in front. Moments later Simmons poked her head in the door.
“I thought I might find you here, Chase. You couldn’t wait for me?”
“Well, as much as I enjoy your company, I felt like getting out.”
“As long as you take it easy.” Freeman was mouthing her lines in unison as she said them. It was the same resigned catchphrase she used with every recovering soldier in the ward, once she realised she had to let their leash out a little. She saw it too and lightly slapped the back of Freeman’s head — hard enough to show that she had noticed and light enough to express her genuine concern as their caregiver.
“Let me know if you need—”
Boom!
Simmons was cut off mid-sentence by a loud percussive rumble that shook the room. Chase felt it in his chest, like the pressure from standing in front of a bass amp at a rock concert. He knew instantly what it was.
“Mortar fire.” Freeman nodded in agreement as they shared a knowing look.
“Stay here. Let me check it out… and stay away from the window.” With that, Simmons hustled out of the lounge. They could hear the slap-slap of her shoes on the linoleum hallway as she ran off. Chase rocked himself forward in his seat into a standing position and moments later was doing exactly the opposite of her instruction.
“Can you see anything?” Freeman asked.
“No. My guess, they’ve set up outside the perimeter somewhere from a rooftop, vehicle or berm the
y’re using for cover. I can’t even see the fence from here, so I’d say we are a way off from it.”
Boom!
Another round hit and again shook the building. The rumble in Chase’s chest felt more intense this time, which could only mean the round had landed somewhere closer. He peered outside again but was still unable to see anything. He decided to heed Simmons’ advice and move away from the window. It was safety glass, the criss-cross reinforced kind but that didn’t mean it was impossible to blow a hole in it with something powerful enough, or send pieces of it flying like shrapnel. He returned to his chair next to Freeman. Despite the incoming rounds, Freeman had a less concerned look in his eyes, as if he already knew something Chase was yet to learn. He almost seemed to be reading Chase’s thoughts.
“We can’t do shit, man. I hate to say it but all we can do is sit and wait.”
“I’m not used to feeling this helpless.”
“Something you might have to get used to, Chase.”
Chase nodded a response. It was acceptance that he saw in Freeman and with it a kind of calm. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but he understood the significance.
Boom!
Again, the room shook and a small cloud of dust shook loose from the corner of the ceiling. Apart from that, it hadn’t been as close as the second shot. Chase wondered what they were aiming for. Moments later, a response came from the base’s own security. He could hear the crackle of automatic rifle fire and the deeper rumble of fifty-cals backing it up.
“Sounds like the cavalry has arrived,” he grinned.
The door swung back open and a relieved Nurse Simmons stood panting in the doorway. She took a moment to catch her breath, and Chase could see the tension lift in her shoulders once she realised that he and Freeman were OK.
“Good. You two are still in as many pieces as I left you. One of those shots was close.”
“Yeah, we felt that,” Freeman offered.
Chase looked at him quizzically, still struggling to understand how he could be so calm when they were both so helpless.
“Any idea what they were after?” Chase queried.
“Hard to say. It could be they were after the fuel and ammo bunkers, the barracks, or even the hospital as an intimidation tactic. Maybe even just trying to damage the runway so we can’t get flights in or out. Either way, they’ve been chased off for now.”
“Could be bad aim, too,” Chase suggested. “Some of those old mortar rigs are pretty dated and in a poor state of repair now. There’s a lot of old Soviet-era gear still floating around — a lot of those shells get converted for use as IEDs. Hell, I’d be scared to use them. They’re just as likely to blow themselves up as they are to hit us.”
Simmons nodded. “You both OK to hang out here?”
“All good with me,” Freeman answered.
“All good,” said Chase.
Simmons swept out of the room to continue her rounds and Chase turned to Freeman.
“I’m not sure I am all good. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. Normally I’d run towards that action with a weapon in my hands and now all I can do is sit on my ass and hope for the best. How the hell do you look so calm?”
Freeman chuckled. “That’s it exactly, my friend.”
“What?”
“It’s like I said before. There is nothing you can do. Don’t forget, you’re still going through a grieving process. Part of that is acceptance. I’ve had some long conversations with the shrink about that but I tend to agree with what he said pretty early on. You’ve got a bunch of people all around you to protect you, just like you already did your duty protecting them. Now you can’t do anything for them but focus on healing. So I sit my ass here every day, watching the crappy shows on TV and try to realise it’s time to move on. Once the doc says I’m good to go, I’ll be on a plane home to carry on with my rehab. Maybe even get a titanium leg and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.”
Chase looked at his bandaged arms and knew that there wasn’t a lot he could do other than sit and heal.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The two sat without speaking for a while longer, while a home renovation show played on the TV. Chase had always been good with his hands — with tools, with martial arts — and now he would have to adapt and accept. In his karate training, they had always talked about using all eight weapons — hands, elbows, knees and legs. He figured he still had six of those and let out a barely audible “Hmm”. It was a shame he had lost his two most useful weapons but at the same time he wondered how good his new mechanical ones might be. He felt a new wave of serenity come over him as he realised that, like a kid looking forward to Christmas, he would just have to wait and see.
For better or worse, Chase had found his acceptance.
***
The next few days started to blur into each other. Chase still wandered down to the lounge to chat with Freeman and watch TV every day. Other soldiers would come and go but they carried only minor contusions or had broken bones put into casts before being moved on. They would normally be gone within a few days and tended to give the amputees their space. Perhaps, Chase figured, out of guilt that they got off lighter. Freeman was the constant, like Chase, needing a longer recovery.
Chase meanwhile continued to practise his footwork. As he felt more confident, he started to add in his arm movements to his katas as best he could. Little by little, it started to feel as if his body was working in harmony again; everything began to flow and as he got stronger the pain subsided further.
He was in the middle of his daily practice in the hallway when Simmons caught him mid-kata.
“Busted! That hardly looks like resting to me.”
“I’ve rested enough. This is actually helping, I think. It’s good to get the blood flowing.”
He caught her looking at his arms. “Only where it should be,” he added.
Simmons rolled her eyes. “You’re only going to listen to me when it suits you?”
“I always take your comments under advisement.”
“All right. You seem to know what works for you. I’ll listen out for a thud, though, just in case you hit the floor.”
Chase chuckled in response.
“I think you’ll be heading home soon. A new flight is booked to head out and you’ll be on it as long as you don’t do anything stupid in the next day or so. Doctor Renfrew will stop by to look you over but I’d say you should be stable enough to sit on a plane if you can do . . . whatever you call this.” She waved her arms in the air to mimic him. It wasn’t a good impression.
“Kata. And thank you, Nurse Simmons. I appreciate it.”
She carried on down the hall while he finished off his last kata. He was panting a little and wiped the sweat from his forehead into his bicep. Then he stood, stretched, and went to find Freeman. It didn’t take long. He was in his usual spot in the lounge, watching a cooking show.
“You look happy, Chase. Let me guess — Simmons just told you you’re on the next bird out of here.”
“Yep, pending the doc’s approval.”
“You too then?”
“Yeah. Feels good, don’t it?”
“Yes, it does.”
Chase flopped down in his usual spot and about half an hour later Renfrew walked in. He didn’t need to utter a word.
Chase looked up with a smile. “After you, Freeman.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.”
Renfrew held the door open for Freeman, who wheeled out past him. “I’ll be back to see you in about ten minutes, Chase, so don’t go too far.”
Chase felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of going home. His green, white and grey world was about to get a whole lot more interesting. He tried to relax back into his seat and put his feet up on the coffee table. The TV was showi
ng a pork belly being presented for inspection and he felt his mouth begin to water. He realised that he hadn’t had a good restaurant meal in several months, so he added that to his to-do list for when he got back. After a few more contestants had presented their dishes to the judging panel, the door swung open and Freeman, all smiles, wheeled his way in after Renfrew.
“I’m good to go, Chase. You’re up.”
Renfrew led him down the corridor to an examination room where he started with a series of tests, not unlike the ones that Simmons performed every day — blood pressure, heart rate, the usual. Then he carefully removed the bandages to inspect Chase’s wounds.
The skin was still angry and swollen but nowhere near as badly as it had been. There were scars where they had cut him during the surgery and others where they had repaired burns. There were still minor patches of scabbing where the smaller spots of phosphor had burned him. He would not win any beauty pageants with the new look but it was a hell of a lot better than it had been.
Renfrew carefully turned his arms, holding them gently and cocking his head to the side as he examined each one. Eventually he reached for a fresh set of bandages.
“You’ve healed well, Chase.”
“So I can go home?”
Renfrew smiled. “Yes, you can go home.”
Chase couldn’t help but grin. He could almost taste the pork belly.
“You still need some more recovery time and obviously you’re going to need help. We need to talk about where to send you. How would you feel about spending some time at the VA hospital in New York?”
“Really? Yeah. But why?”
“Remember our discussion about your new prosthetic arms?”
“Of course.”
“Well, there is a new study being undertaken by a team there. You can go anywhere you like and the VA hospitals will take care of you but I thought you might be interested in this programme.”
“I’m listening.”
“As I told you, I thought your nerve damage was minimal, all things considered. I’ve recommended you — if you’re interested — to go to New York and be a guinea pig.”