by Ronie Kendig
“Unconscious.”
Wary, Darci shivered uncontrollably, watching Heath slip from this world. You can’t. Please … don’t leave me when I just met you. Heath …
“Drink.” A sergeant stuffed a thermos straw toward her.
She shook her head. “No …” Couldn’t drink with Heath fighting for his life.
“Drink,” he shouted over the roar of the wind and rotors, his expression cross.
She sipped, surprised as sickly sweet warmth slid across her tongue and down her throat. Painful yet … better. She took another draught.
“Two minutes,” came a shout from the cockpit.
“He doesn’t have two minutes!” the medic shouted back.
Warmth tumbled into Darci’s stomach, and she wasn’t sure it was the drink. Was he breathing? Heath! Don’t do this to me. Not when I found someone worth knowing. Please …
“He’s going V-fib!”
Heath looked dead. His chest wasn’t moving—or was it?
The next two minutes felt like an eternity. Darci looked away, terrified Heath wouldn’t make it. You owe me a kiss. Warmth slid down her cheek as she felt the descent of the chopper. She glanced out the door, where three men sat in the opening. Buildings dotted the terrain a few miles out.
Even as they lowered to the ground, Darci saw the medical teams waiting. And a lot of soldiers.
Before the skids touched down, the three men launched out of the way. Settled on the ground, the chopper wound down as the medics hopped out, unlatching Heath’s litter.
Behind him rushed a team of six. They transferred Heath to a gurney.
A doc stood on the side of the gurney as the others shoved it away. They shocked Heath. Once. Twice. Three times. CPR. They were doing CPR.
That meant Heath wasn’t breathing.
He was dying.
Forty-Three
Craig Joint Theater Hospital
Bagram AFB, Afghanistan
A window peeked out into the night. Snow, falling thick and angry again, drenched the compound. Little movement and even less traffic stirred throughout the American base. Walls creaked and groaned beneath the strong wind, pounding the building with its mighty fists. The last attack of the storm would slow Jianyu’s Yanjingshe fighters.
Hands behind his back, Haur stared into the dark night at the mercy of the blizzard. With the fighters delayed, he had more work to do. The bars and lock on the cell, the cuffs on his hands—they were impediments he must figure out how to overcome.
“It sounds bad.”
Haur kept his face impassive at the sound of Bai’s comment about the weather. On the surface it sounded benign, but when mentioned in light of recent events, he knew they referred to the situation.
“Did you hear, they got the girl out?” Bai’s bunk groaned as he shifted onto his side.
Haur said nothing.
“You are planning something,” Bai whispered as his dark shape drew closer to the bars on the right that separated them. “Why did you not go into the compound to capture Jianyu?”
Beyond their holding cell, voices rose and fell. The sound of someone approaching pushed him away from Bai. Away from the window. But further into the arms of the storm.
“It is time.”
Inside, Darci tried to locate where they’d taken Heath. She heard a flurry of voices and could see shadows and personnel hustling at the far end of the hall, but her team wheeled her into a bay. They laid warming blankets across her chest. Sitting upright a bit, she was ordered to consume more of the all-too-sweet and warm liquid.
“Heath.”
“Your core temperature,” a doctor attached a probe to her temple, “is just around ninety-three degrees.”
“Ninety-four,” a nurse announced.
“Good, but we need that higher.” He nodded to the thermos in Darci’s hand. “Keep drinking.”
“I want to see Heath. Where is he? Is he okay?”
“Don’t worry about him. If your temperature drops, you’ll run some very serious risks. That’s what you need to focus on right now.”
An orderly rushed in with a machine, which he set up beside her. A steady whirring filled the room, along with warm, moist air.
They were working and moving so fast that Darci took a moment to savor the fact that she didn’t have to move at all or jar her ribs. But her mind and heart were with Heath … wherever he was. Had she really gone mental on him, asking for a kiss? He’d taken it in stride. During her moment of panic, he helped her haul in the tattered edges of her courage.
The warmth burned a bit, but Darci knew it was just the bitter bite of the frigid temperature wearing off. She closed her eyes and focused on Heath. On seeing him again. Getting warm fast so she could scurry down the hall to where he was warming up, too.
“That’s it,” the nurse said. “You rest. I’ll be right back.”
Darci let the quiet descend … only, it wasn’t quiet. A bevy of noises a few bays down captured her attention. The tsing of a curtain jerked her gaze to the side. A nurse rushed down the hall and around a corner. When he did, the curtain slung aside. Just enough …
Heath!
Even from here she could see how white he was. Her stomach churned.
Drawn to him, she eased off the gurney but held the blue warm water blanket around her shoulders and trudged closer.
The doctors looked frantic. Nurses, too.
IV bags hung over him. Several tubes snaked into his arms and abdomen. What…?
“Get that heart-lung bypass ready.”
Hand to her throat, Darci stilled. Bypass? What did that mean?
“Up to eighty-four-point-two.”
Degrees?
“That’s progress.”
“The only progress we’ve had.”
“His heart rate is dropping.”
“Losing him!”
Darci dropped back against the wall, hand over her mouth. Tears streaming.
A nurse started out of the bay and stopped. “Oh.”
Blinking the tears away, Darci shook her head. Her knees wobbled.
“Help!” The nurse rushed her.
Arms caught Darci as she slid backward. Lifted her—pain stabbed her side—and hurried her back to her bay.
But nothing—nothing!—would gouge from her mind the image of Heath dying.
Back on the gurney, the man who’d carried her stood over her.
She looked up into green eyes. The dog handler owner who’d brought Heath over. In his gaze she saw her own pain reflected. Something pinched her arm.
Her vision swooned.
Forty-Four
A blurry white image loomed over her.
Darci jerked.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
She straightened, her head feeling like a thousand pounds. “I didn’t know I fell asleep.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. We had to put you under for your own sake.”
Though she should feel ashamed for taking matters into her own hands, Darci didn’t. Heath was dying—or dead. “Heath. How is he?”
“I’ll let the general know you’re back with us.”
“Wait.”
The nurse left, and in her place came the doctor.
Glowering, he moved to her charts. “You were very foolish to get out of that warming bed.”
Darci took the beating. “How is he?”
“Haven’t you heard of doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“Can I see him?”
“Not till you’re stable and your temperature’s much higher.” He yanked the curtain around her bed, and outside he ordered the hall cleared, stating it was for medical personnel only.
The nurse returned with a steaming mug and some warm food. “Keep drinking and eating. Get your insides warmed up so you’ll stop shivering.”
Shivering? Darci glanced at her hand, surprised to see tremors.
“You’re doing good. Once you’re warmer, we’ll take a walk. Exercise is good to get the body heated up.”
“A walk?” Darci’s yearning to see Heath latched on to those words.
The nurse arched an eyebrow. “Well, not to see anyone. Just to walk around.”
Surely she could find a way to convince the nurse. Then a thought struck her—hard. What if Heath hadn’t made it? What if he’d died after she fell unconscious?
“Heath—is he alive?”
“Just relax. I can’t give out information on other patients. Now, drink.”
“Wait.” Darci took an obedient sip, more thoughts assailing her exhausted mind. “Have there been attacks?”
The nurse laughed. “You’re in Afghanistan.”
“No.” Darci swallowed. “I mean, bombs—here. On the bases.”
Confusion rippled through the older woman’s face. “No, not here. Things have been pretty quiet.” She tapped Darci’s arm. “Ninety-four degrees. Keep that coming up and you’ll be out of here in no time.”
The nurse disappeared, leaving Darci alone with the chill that seemed to have clung to her bones and the mental fog that made it hard to think straight. No attacks, so … Heath had kept his word. He’d told them. But … how had they stopped the attacks so fast? Had the rescue team notified Command, and they in turn found the bombs? It seemed too fast.
“Well,’ bout time you came back. Don’t you think you’ve had enough playtime?” General Burnett’s voice boomed before he entered the sick bay. His stern features, his gruff voice, felt like the warming jacket she still sported. Then it faded as a smile seeped into his rough exterior. “You should take better care of yourself, or your dad will wring my neck.”
Darci couldn’t help the smile. “Yes, sir.”
He bent over the bed and peered down into her eyes, no personal space between them. “How you doing, kiddo?”
He’d been general first, friend second. But it was a really nice arrangement that provided Darci a base from which to operate in more ways than one. She recognized the concern in his eyes even amid the gruff voice and exterior. “Been better.”
“I could’ve told you that.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “That’s what you get, trying to take down the entire Chinese army by yourself.”
“So, you stopped them—got him?”
Burnett smiled, eyes crinkling. “Thanks mostly to you.”
Darci let out a long breath. Exhaustion plucked at every sinew. “Good.”
“Get some rest.”
“Wait. Heath.”
Something indiscriminate flashed through his face. “Don’t worry about him. You need to get rested and better.”
“I’m fine.”
He scowled at her.
“Okay, a little pain—they broke my ribs, but I’m fine otherwise.” “You’re an ice cube.”
“Water freezes at thirty-two degrees.” She pointed to a small box readout. “I’m at ninety-four, so technically …” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa.” Burnett’s large hands steadied her. “Where are you going?”
“I already told you, I want to see him.” Even as she moved, the cold temperature made her ankles throb. “Besides, the nurse told me exercise would warm my body.”
Burnett squatted in front of her bed, peering up into her eyes. “Darci. Please. Your body isn’t ready for you to do this.”
“My body isn’t, or you aren’t?”
“Kiddo, I don’t think you are ready for this.”
Alarm spiked. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t go in there anyway. Even I couldn’t get in there.” General Burnett sighed. “Just … rest. Okay, Darci? You’ve been to hell and back. We thought we’d lost you—”
“You did. To the Chinese who captured me.”
“Which is why I talked with your dad. He’s worried, wants you to go home for a while.”
Avoidance. “I want to know how he is, General.”
“Your father’s—”
“You know who I mean.” Though she fisted her hands, her stomach squirmed under his scrutiny. “Heath—how is he? Why can’t I see him?”
“Darci—”
Not the tone she wanted to hear. “No. Please don’t—”
“Darci, he’s not good.”
Fire sped through her veins. “What do you mean?”
“He went into full cardiac. Twice.”
Darci drew in a hard breath. “How … they got him … he left …” Those gray eyes … the strength … he’d saved her … gone down that shaft…for me. Tears stung her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“He’s in a coma. They don’t know why he hasn’t woken up. They’re arranging to take him to Landstuhl.”
“But he’ll make it.” She looked to the nurse who came back in and stopped cold. “Right? He’ll wake up, won’t he?”
The nurse shot a glance at General Burnett, then hurried back out.
With her went Darci’s frantic hope for Heath. “Why won’t she answer me?” A tear broke free.
“With the TBI, they just aren’t sure what to expect. It doesn’t look good.”
She threw off the blanket. “I want to see him.”
“Darci—”
“Don’t.” She froze, her heart stamping out his objection. “I know you don’t want me involved with him, but …” She looked him straight in the eye. “It’s too late. I’m invested.”
Burnett hung his head as he pushed back to his feet.
“Take me to see him, General—Lance. As my godfather, as my favorite ‘uncle.’”
He shook his head. “That’s not fair.”
“Please.”
Escorted by the general, Darci slowly—very slowly—made her way down the hall, each step heavy and awkward. They trudged around a corner, and when they passed through a door, three people came to their feet from the chairs huddled by another door. Heath’s dog-handling team.
Trinity. How was Trinity doing? Was she okay? A renewed ache wormed through her chest.
“General.” Green eyes bounced to Darci as the team leader greeted her. “Ma’am.”
“You’re … you brought him over here?”
He extended a hand. “Jibril Khouri.”
“Darci Kintz. Thank you.”
Confusion rippled through his handsome face. He checked with the two women with him. “Thank you? For what?”
“For bringing him. He saved my life.”
Sorrow crossed his brow, but he quickly tried to conceal it. “He is a good man, a hero.” Jibril put an arm around the blond, whose hair hung in short spirals around her face. “This is Aspen, and also Timbrel.” The brunette with a long ponytail.
“How is Trinity?” Darci asked, hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket.
The brown-haired girl jutted her jaw. “Going nuts.”
Sweet relief! Darci let out a labored breath. “But she’s okay?”
They nodded. Kindness and gentility marked Jibril’s face as he inclined his head. “As best as can be expected without Heath.”
“Any news?” General Burnett cocked his head in the direction of the door.
“They are … tending him now,” Jibril said.
It all sounded morbid—and hopeless. She couldn’t take it anymore. Wouldn’t believe that Heath was taking his final plunge. Not when she’d finally set her heart on him. Darci shifted and pushed through the door.
“Hey!”
The loud calls came from behind and in front.
“You can’t be in here.”
Darci lumbered toward the bed. Lights gaped at him as the doctors and nurses moved around the bed draped with several puffy warming blankets that looked like clear rafts. The same warm moisture that had coated her room filled this one. Heath, tubes running into his mouth and nose, looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
The thought ricocheted from her chest to her stomach and back. She shuffled closer, surprised when they did not stop her.
“General …” “
Let her have
a minute.”
Relief warred with her panic.
Panic? At what? Heath … never opening those warm, caring eyes again.
At his bedside, she leaned against it, using it for support against the tidal pull of emotion. Darci smoothed a hand through his short, sandy blond hair. At least he had some color now. When she’d seen him before … death. Not even warmed over. Just icy, cruel death.
“Ghost …” she whispered as she drew herself up and sat on the edge of his bed, taking in his large frame beneath the humming warming blanket, which looked more like giant bubble-tube packing, and the warming fan. “You said you’d come back … for me.” Stubble coated his angular jaw and chiseled features and tickled her fingers as she dragged her finger along it, avoiding the tubing. “Remember?”
Behind her, murmuring. But Darci felt all twisted up and turned inside out over what Heath had done to save her. Again, she touched his face, noting it still was cool. Even with the chill in her own hands, his skin felt icy.
“Remember,” she breathed through a clutter of tears and angst, “I owe you something.” The general would go through the roof if she mentioned it.
“Let’s give her some time,” the general’s soft words filtered through her awareness.
Soon, the soft thump of the door came.
Darci released the hold she had on her emotions. “Heath,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Please … come back. Let’s figure things out, just like you said. Okay?” She pressed her lips to his temple. “I’ll give you a real one if you’ll just wake up.” A tear slipped over her cheek and landed on his.
“Thought so.” She could just hear him saying it. Challenging her. And the weird thing was, he just seemed … lonely … without Trinity.
Darci looked over her shoulder, not surprised to find the dog team watching her through the window. Darci nodded the brunette in.
Timbrel eased into the room. “You need something?”
Waving her over, Darci eased onto her feet. “He looks lonely.”
Brown eyes widened. “Don’t expect me to help with that.”
Smiling, Darci leaned closer to the midtwenties girl. “Can you get Trinity?”
Timbrel’s face brightened. “I like the way you think.” She spun on her heels and jogged out of the room.