“Hey there, stud, you looking for sympathy from the pretty nurses with all your bandages and shit?”
Zak held up his three finger salute.
“So that answers that question.”
“What question, asshole?” Zak was surprised even the sight of Alex didn’t cheer him up.
“Well, see, there’s two kinds of patients. There are good patients who do everything the doctors tell him to do. They get better, make everyone around them feel better, and no one likes to see them go. And then there are nasty patients, and a lot of men are this way. When they go—”
“You seen what my face looks like?” Zak interrupted.
“Of course not. You’re into show and tell now? What am I supposed to do, Zak? I came by here to pay my respects.”
“I’m not dying.”
“You sure?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Why didn’t I see this before? You were never this ornery. Or were you?”
“I never looked like a freak. Maybe I’m just matching my insides with my outsides.”
“Your choice, man.”
Zak wished he could sit up. “Look, Alex. Thanks for coming. I’m not very good company. They won’t even let me sit up yet. I can’t do anything but lie here.”
“Read a good book. You want me to get some of those raunchy German flesh magazines?”
“Read. With one eye?”
Alex sat down, letting out a puff of air. “Zak, you don’t know you’re going to lose the eye. At least you haven’t lost your legs or hands. At least you don’t shit in a colostomy bag every day because your guts were all blown up. You’re not in a wheelchair for Chrissakes.”
Zak’s ego couldn’t stand any more of it. He ripped the tape off his facial bandage, flung it to the floor and sat up, despite the warnings not to. “I could get a job in Hollywood with this fuckin’ face!”
Alex stood up, swallowing, trying to hide his shock. It was something Zak knew was impossible to do.
“So you tell me now I should be grateful I survived. Go ahead. Give me that stupid ‘oh, it could have been worse’ shit.”
“Dayam, Jell-O. I think you’re right. You’d be perfect for a zombie movie. To hell with the SEALs. You do have a new career ahead of you.”
Zak reached for his water pitcher and threw it at Alex, missing. The plastic container hit the wall next to the open doorway, water splashing all over the floor and out into the hallway.
“Now get the fuck out and leave me alone.”
Nurses began to enter the room. They summoned housekeeping and began scolding Zak about his removal of the bandage. He lay back, closed his one eye, and listened for Alex’s departure.
At noon, they allowed him to sit up to eat a soft meal of cottage cheese and applesauce. He got his choice of custard or ice cream for dessert and asked for both. Nothing wrong with my appetite.
Shortly after lunch, a brown package arrived with four Playboys and two Hustler magazines, without a note attached.
Zak stopped asking for the chance to call Amy. He’d even stopped asking where his cell phone was located. Days passed, and although he did think about what Amy must have been told, he stopped wanting to talk to her. He told himself it was so he could gather his thoughts. How could he talk to her? Say ‘I’m coming home soon but brace yourself, I’m a fuckin’ Cyclops. A freak.’
I’ll call her after we know about the eye.
It was a waiting game. Each day the same, mostly taken up with rest. He was allowed more movement gradually and celebrated the day he could take a shower with the help of a male aide. He avoided mirrors, even though his face was bandaged.
He had lots of time to think about the choices he’d made. Maybe he should have expected the shooter in that room. Why didn’t he pay more attention to the light he saw on the telephone? That told him someone else was in the house. It could have been the help, but it could have also been the shooter, giving directions.
Hell, they could have all been killed with that kind of lapse. He fisted his hand and banged his thigh, forgetting about the stitches and the healing bone underneath, and it hurt like a son of a gun.
If he’d only searched the balcony first, perhaps he’d have found footprints just like the cat’s. Maybe noticed the lack of a light coming from under the door. If he had crouched, sheltered before he opened the door, they would have missed him all together.
No, it was his fate to be the one Kyle chose. Would someone else have done it differently? The lump in his throat was difficult to swallow, and he was ashamed to wish his injury on any other of his team. Perhaps someone else wouldn’t have been so lucky. It could have been fatal.
Over the next few days, he could tell the healing was happening. The skin was less hot and puffy. His lips were able to touch in a straight line. The headaches had stopped, and he prayed that meant the pressure on his right eye was lessened. Tiny rays of hope began to creep into his daily daydreams. Instead of causing pain, reliving some of the nice moments of his life made him feel better. He recalled the wedding and the way Amy kept her wits about her with the terrorist attack in San Francisco. He thought about his team and the Brotherhood. Happier times when he and the guys would play some trick on each other or get into one of those not-so-politically-correct conversations, the smacktalk that both irritated and strengthened them. He worried about his parents.
Zak read the SEAL prayer every morning, clinging to the belief he could somehow stay on the Team. After all, Joel had done it.
But there were also days when these visions were not helping. In fact, they made him feel worse. He never knew which it would be, and that irritated him, too.
A few days later, over a week after the accident, Kyle walked into the room. Zak was in sitting position, reviewing one of the magazines Alex had dropped off. His mood was black today but he worked to try not to show it.
“I hear you’re a real asshole as a patient.”
“Afraid so.” Zak returned his focus back to the magazine.
“Why the hell are you being so difficult? You’re not cooperating with the people here who only want you well. You think that’s gonna make you heal any faster?”
“Nah. Just trying to deal with it. I think I’m settling down a bit. Been two days since I threw something.”
“You talk to Amy yet?”
“Um—” He quickly glanced around for one of the staff. “My cell phone seems to be missing, and I’ve not asked for a couple of days now. They told me no at first. But now they’re letting me sit up a bit.”
“Which reminds me, we got your Sig Sauer and your M4. I’ll bring them stateside when we leave. But I don’t remember seeing a cell phone.”
“That day I left it in to charge.”
“Sorry, there was a lot going on. I’m guessing the Canary Civil Guard has it.”
“Right.” Zak was watching Kyle’s every movement, watching for signs he had been asked to “have that talk” with him about his future on the Teams.
Kyle paced back and forth, stopped, and said, “I’ve talked to her.”
Zak’s stomach lurched. The razor cut a male aide made this morning while shaving him hurt all of a sudden. “How much does she know?”
“Everything I knew at the time. I think the doctors are calling her. Christy and Gina have been in touch. I guess I should tell you her father had a heart attack.”
“Really? Oh, I’m sorry.” He knew she must be hurting, but he couldn’t feel anything. His capacity to hear about more pain and suffering had been depleted. It concerned him. “That didn’t come out right. Tell her for me I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to call. And I’m sorry about her dad, too. Is he okay?”
“He is. I think she’s ready to come back to San Diego, or might be there now. Christy says she’s coping with everything like a champ. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
He did, but wasn’t going to admit it. He tossed the magazine onto a chair to his left. “So the old man’s going to recover?”<
br />
“Yes. He has to slow down. They’re trying to convince him he should retire. I hear that’s a hot topic with him.”
“Know how he feels.” He regretted saying it the instant it left his mouth. He glanced up at Kyle immediately. Kyle was looking away.
It was dangerous to bring it up, but the big elephant in the room was the fact that perhaps Zak would be medically discharged from the Teams. He wondered if that meant he had to go serve out the rest of his time in the regular Navy. He didn’t want that news.
“We wait and see what happens with your eye. I have to tell you, Zak, a one-eyed sharpshooter is very rare.”
“So I become a medic. Or I work the radio, do explosives.”
“Well, we’ll talk. You’re an asset to the Teams, no doubt about that. Tough break to get it on your first round. Most of this decision is up to the Navy, sorry to say, but we’ll think positive. That always helps in times like these.”
“Roger that.” Zak knew Kyle had reservations about him being able to continue. He was sorry he steered the conversation in that direction. “So never did hear how the mission went. Did everyone get out alive?”
“There are a couple of Moroccan’s who were returned to the source. Amir is lying low. The Secretary is convinced he wasn’t as innocent as he came across, or at least made some side deals with someone who couldn’t be trusted. The Canary Island Civil guards were hardasses and wanted a full report before they’d let any of us leave the island. Get this—they even detained the Secretary of the United States!”
“No shit?”
“They didn’t call it that, of course. State got to deal with them since it was their crazy idea.”
“Give peace a chance?”
“My ass. Anyway, you’ll get a commendation you won’t read about anywhere since we were never there. But the Secretary wanted me to extend his gratitude on behalf of both he and Amir.”
“Well, that’s something, then.”
“Zak, you do know you took the bullet that was meant for Amir, right?”
“I kinda thought so.”
“Without your sacrifice, this could have been a real international incident.”
“It’s an incident all right. Just praying, Kyle, that my eye comes back.”
Kyle was fidgeting with the weave on the blanket covering Zak. “There is one other thing I need to discuss with you.”
Zak braced himself.
“In cases like this, where you’ll need another surgery, perhaps before they release you, they do fly in the spouses. I think Amy wants to come. Should I arrange that, Zak?”
“Let’s hold off a while on that.”
“You should call her.”
“I know it. When I’m ready. They haven’t given me the green light for that, and don’t you tell her if they do. I want to be ready.”
“You need to share it with her. She’s the one who is going to be there right beside you. She’s strong. Amy’s a strong woman. You’re lucky, Zak.”
Zak flipped up the bandage that had loosened at the bottom edge from him scratching his stitches with his left forefinger. “You still think I’m lucky?” he said as he watched Kyle take a step back. “Would you show this to Christy?”
Kyle cleared his throat and then forced down a swallow, but didn’t take his eyes off Zak’s wounds. “Well, this is the worst it’s gonna be, right?” He cleared his throat for the second time. “Gets better from here. The docs say you’re in for some plastic surgery, once the bones heal. Maybe they can do a couple of tucks here and there. Who knows? Maybe you’ll come back as Rock Hudson or something. They can work miracles.”
The attempt at Kyle’s dark humor fell flat and angered him a little. Zak dropped the flap and turned away from his LPO. “I’m not ready,” he said to the wall.
Who the fuck wants to look like Rock Hudson?
Chapter 17
Amy returned to San Diego a week after Zak’s injury, and upon seeing the blue water and the lovely community of Coronado, she felt relieved to be back. Issues with her father were working out. Marlene was going to move in, as Amy had suggested, and for now, her dad was going to come back on limited duty, only two days out of the week. The Department hired a temporary Assistant Chief to help with the duties when he wasn’t available.
One war fought and temporarily won; one to go.
She asked lots of questions when Chief Collins stopped by. Zak would be returning in a week. He offered her a seat on a transport plane to Germany, so she could return with Zak.
“When can I talk to him?” The absence of communication between them was bothering her. “Is he avoiding me?”
“No. I don’t think so. He was pretty banged up, Amy. Not sure he’s able to right now. He’s been in and out of surgery lately, I understand.”
“I’m not going unless I can talk to him.”
Collins broached the subject of Zak retiring on disability from the military, since his injuries were combat-related. “And we have excellent VA benefits here in San Diego. He has his choice of several specialty centers.”
“What about his eye?”
“Not sure yet. I haven’t heard.” Collins stood tall. He pointed to the brochures he’d left in front of her at the kitchenette table. “There’s a whole list of what procedures are covered and not covered. He will require plastic surgery to his face.”
“Is he automatically off the Teams?”
“Not officially, no. But, Amy, I think you’d better brace yourself for that eventuality, like I said earlier.”
The experience she’d just had with her father came to mind. “It will be hard on him to quit, Chief Collins. Will he be forced to leave the SEALs?”
“That’s not up to me. If he can get well enough, and if some of his eyesight comes back at least, I think we can save his spot. Without that, I’m afraid he’ll be required to retire.”
Amy had learned Zak wasn’t going to need assistance walking. He’d be able to drive. He was going to be attending classes on blindness, though Collins swore his other eye was perfect. He might be having one more surgery before he came home. And he told her Zak was healing as well or better than expected.
Thank God for one little good piece of news.
With the list of medical treatment facilities Amy had to visit and register for, Collins had her busy running all over the county for the next two days. She had a stack of paperwork nearly a half-inch thick they would have to fill out. She wanted to wait until he returned from Germany—a project they could do together.
Four days after she returned to Coronado, Amy was dressed in one of her father’s old tee shirts and an old pair of jeans while painting the bedroom in the apartment. Gina, Christy, and Shannon—T.J.’s. wife—stopped by without their kids. Gina looked like she was going to pop.
“I can’t believe you haven’t had that baby yet.”
“Me, neither. Hoping Armando is home this week. You hear from Zak?”
“No.” Amy took her brush to the kitchen sink.
“Love the mint green color,” said Shannon. “You know the guys worry when they see us go into decorating mode. They think we’re pregnant again.”
“In your case, they’d be right,” said Gina.
Christy gave Amy a hug, releasing her quickly. “How are you doing?”
“Good. Keeping busy.”
“Anything we can get you? Do for you?”
“No, thanks, I’m good, Christy. Thanks for the offer. I’m just waiting until I get that call saying he’s on American soil.”
“We were going to grab a bite to eat. Thought we could convince you to come with us,” said Shannon.
“Thanks, but I wanted to get this done. Then I can burn candles and keep the windows open to get rid of the paint smell before he comes home. I only have a couple of days.”
“That’s great news. He’ll be home before the rest of the team, then.”
“How come you didn’t go visit him in Germany?” asked Shannon.
Amy went
back to the kitchen and washed out her brush. “He hasn’t called me, yet,” she said to the bottom of the sink. “I think he’s had more surgeries, according to Chief Collins. Talked to Kyle a couple of times, though, which I appreciate.”
Amy didn’t have to see their faces to understand the SEAL wives were sharing a look that transmitted ‘something’s not right.’
“You sure we can’t do anything for you?” asked Gina again.
“I should be asking that to you, Gina. Sorry I’ve been a little distracted lately.”
“I’m good. You would not believe how Armando’s mother can’t leave me alone. She even wanted to come today. She’s so afraid I’ll go into labor and she won’t get to be right there beside me.” Gina paused to rub her belly. “Ouch. This one is active. I think she just kicked my bladder.”
“She? You’re having a girl?” asked Amy.
“I think I’m having a girl. Armando thinks it’s a boy, of course. That’s all I do these days, just sit or sleep and wait. I’m too big to do anything else. We got the nursery set up before he left.”
“So we rescued her,” said Shannon. “And we made Felicia babysit.”
Christy added, “Last chance for some recreational shopping. Or should I take a rain check on it?”
“Let’s do that,” said Amy. “I’m good. You guys go have fun.”
She was standing in the front doorway, waving good-bye to her visitors, when Zak called her.
“Hi, Amy.”
“Oh, Zak! It’s wonderful to hear your voice.” Her heart started to slam in her chest, and her cheeks blushed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.” The monotone delivery scared her.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“Kyle told you how bad it is?”
“He told me about the conversations he’d had with your doctors, that’s all. Why? How bad is it?” Amy hoped Zak didn’t sense the lie.
“Bad.”
She waited for him to say something.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know they’re flying me home on Friday. Can you pick me up at the airport?”
“Of course, Zak. But how are you feeling, sweetheart?” She sensed she had to be cautious.
SEALed At The Altar_Bone Frog Brotherhood Novel Page 33