“Here you go Adam, take your time,” the nurse told him as she released the brake on the chair and pushed it to him, turning it sideways. She then put the brake back on and removed the arm. “It’s easier this way, until you gain some strength back. Then, you’ll either be able to swing yourself into it or use crutches,” she told him with a smile. “Now, lean on me, and we’ll get you sorted,” she told him.
Phil stood back and waited until the nurse had got Adam seated and had replaced the arm.
“Okay, all yours, Corporal Summers,” she told him.
“Ex-Corporal,” Phil told her.
“Snap,” Adam added.
“You’re out?” Phil asked as he began pushing him towards the door.
“I’ll put this bag behind the nurse’s station,” the nurse told him as she picked it up off the bed.
“There’s two containers of cookies in there,” Phil told her. “One’s for the nurses to have with a cuppa, courtesy of my mother.”
“Your mum sent me cookies?” Adam asked as Phil wheeled him past the nurses station and out of the ward.
“She did, she also sent you a pasty and told me to tell you that she’d like to come visit.”
“Why didn’t she come with you?”
“Because some arsehole had informed the nursing staff that he didn’t want visitors.”
“So how come you’re here?” Adam asked, looking over his shoulder.
“I was never very good at taking orders,” Phil told him with a grin and Adam chuckled.
“I’m glad you came,” he told him, sobering and turning as they came to the entrance.
“Me too, now let’s get you back on your feet,” Phil said, pushing Adam’s chair into the gym.
Chapter 8
A month later: -
Adam gritted his teeth as he reached for the barres either side of him, then dropped his hands again, wiping his sweating palms on his t-shirt. Neil, his new physio, stood between the barres in front of Adam who still sat in his wheelchair.
“Okay, on three,” he told Adam.
Nodding, Adam blew out a breath and again reached for the barres. Flexing his fingers, he took a firm grip as he used his left leg to push himself up and out of his chair. Standing upright after spending so much time either lay down or in a wheelchair was strange. He felt tall, like a kid who had stood on stilts for the first time, and then, when they looked down, the floor seemed to be miles away. Trying to ignore the peculiar sensation, Adam settled his weight wholly on his intact leg, slowly adjusting his stance, allowing the temporary prosthetic he’d been fitted with to take some of his weight. The stump was still a little tender, but that was more due to the unfamiliar feeling of the prosthetic than the injury itself. He’d been fitted with a special kind of cushioned sock that he had to roll over the stump to protect the scarred tissue from pressure.
“You’ve got this,” Neil told him, taking a step back. “Now, lead with your left leg, take your weight and then bring the right leg forward. It’s going to feel strange at first, kind of like your foot and ankle has gone to sleep, but you’ll adjust. The fitting of the prosthetic is good, but again, it’s going to feel strange, but you’ve got this. Just take your time. Walking is something we normally do without thinking, but, amputees must learn to think, to work out placement and balance before each move. In your case, you still have your knee so that should help. I’m not going to lie, it’s never going to be as it was, but with practice and time, it will become easier and your new normal. Okay?”
Adam nodded, then slowly shuffled the prosthetic forward, finding it strange not being able to feel his foot beneath him. He could work out where it was, though by the way his knee and thigh muscles bunched and the pressure on his stump.
“It feels weird.”
“I know, but you’ll get used to it. Once you have your balance and the scarring and swelling settles properly, you can be fitted for your proper prosthetic.”
“That one will have an ankle joint, right?’
“Yes, there are many variations and limbs, each tailored to the specific needs of the wearer. Now, come on, let’s get you to the end, then turn and back.”
Adam moved along the barres feeling like a toddler, his gait off and his thighs shaking.
It had been a long and gruelling month. They’d worked him hard in the gym to improve not only the muscle tone in his arms and shoulders but also his core strength. Once he’d finally gotten over his aversion to the chair, Adam had spent a couple of hours a day in the gym. He’d pushed himself to gain back the mass and strength he’d lost while lying in that bed for weeks. He and Daniel had become closer; he was an inspiration, and his grit and determination had helped Adam to push himself further when he was ready to quit. With Daniel’s help, he’d now not only gained back the muscle and strength he’d lost in his upper body, he’d also gained more.
He’d not seen Hannah since he’d sent her away. However, as the dreams persisted, he was becoming more convinced that he may well have forgotten or lost something important. The only problem was, he still wasn’t up to talking to the shrink. He could only handle one thing at a time - and trying to get out of a wheelchair was taking all his energy.
He, lost his grip on the barre, and wobbled so Neil put his hands on his waist to steady him.
“You need to concentrate,” Neil told him, and teeth gritted, sweat beading on his forehead Adam nodded. “You okay?”
“Yes, sorry, I was miles away.”
“You can’t afford to have your head anywhere else but the here and now, not if you want to stay upright. You fall now you could put yourself back weeks by doing further damage. Now concentrate.”
Nodding, Adam tried to blank his mind, to only think about the way the muscles and tendons in his thighs bunched and stretched as he moved his left leg. He then tried to get his right leg to mimic the actions by mentally transferring the information. He may still have the leg to below his knee, but he didn’t have full feeling. It was as if he had a short circuit somewhere in his neural pathway which made it kind of hit and miss on what he could or couldn’t feel. This also happened with pain. Although he no longer had the lower part of his leg, ankle or foot, it didn’t stop the limb from causing him excruciating pain. The surgeon had explained about nerve damage or trauma, saying it was where his brain wasn’t registering that certain nerve endings were no longer there. It also hadn’t helped when further trauma had been cause due to them having to dig around in his thighs to remove the buckshot that had peppered them.
Who turned a shotgun on someone?
Adam dropped the thoughts knowing it was pointless trying to search for answers that he’d never get.
As he got to the end of the Barres, he went to turn, but tried it too quickly, and as pain lanced through his left leg, he hissed in a shocked breath. Looking down, he realised that although he’d turned, his right leg hadn’t. He wobbled, and nearly fell as his prosthetic stayed put, still pointing the way he’d come. The unnatural position wrenched on his stump, making his knee cap creak and his thigh muscles quiver and scream under the strain.
Once again, Neil’s hands went to Adam’s waist to steady him while he slowly edged his right leg around to point in the correct direction.
“Okay, take a breather. You can’t just turn, not yet anyway. You need to do it slowly, work out how first, okay?”
“Yes,” Adam huffed, his t-shirt now stuck to his soaked body with the amount of effort it had taken for him to get this far.
“Do you want to call it a day?” Neil asked.
“No,” Adam gritted out. “No pain, no gain, right?” and as Neil grinned, Adam carefully stepped off with his left foot, hands gripping the barre like a lifeline; which they were. He mapped out his movements in his mind before he executed them. It was slow progress, but he was on his feet, and just then, that was all that mattered to him.
He was physically exhausted, his limbs shaking with fatigue, but he was also elated as he finally reached his
starting point.
“Well done,” Neil told him, helping Adam to lower himself back into his chair.
“I’m beat,” Adam admitted, lifting his hands out before him and showing Neil how much they shook.
“That just shows your working hard. You should be proud of yourself. If we keep at this daily, then in a week or so, you may be able to lose the safety of the barres and move over to crutches.”
“I can’t wait,” Adam told him, grinning as he took the brake off and pushed the wheels backwards, before turning and then heading towards the door.
Hannah cleared up her work room as her last client left for the day. She loved what she did, had put in the work for her qualification and it was now paying off with regular bookings and returning clients. She was now a qualified masseuse, and although there was still some stigma attached to her profession, she ignored it. She’d seen for herself the benefits she could bring to a client in pain due to tense, stiff muscles or stress. She’d helped new mothers sleep better and even had a client that had recently started to come to her who’d gone through chemotherapy, the after effects of her treatment was aching bones. She’d had to learn what carrier oils she could use for different ailments, and how to mix them correctly. She’d also done a course on meditation and did a class once a month for pregnant mothers. The one person she’d love to help had still not contacted her and she missed him. She knew she was supposed to be moving on, but she seemed to be stuck. Phil had kept them updated on his progress and she was pleased to know that he was now using his chair and working out, but he still hadn’t come to terms with the loss mentally. Until he did and sought help to deal with that, he was going to still have problems.
Sighing, she blew out the candles after brushing and mopping the floor and took the towels through to the little utility room.
She needed a night out.
Maybe blowing off some steam would help her to gain some perspective where Adam was concerned. With that thought, she pulled her phone out of her overcoat pocket, and rang a couple of her girlfriends’.
Chapter 9
A fortnight later: -
Hannah pushed through the front door, pulled off her coat and hung it up.
“Call off the search party. I’m finally here, and starving as I got held up with a client. I’m also off out with the girls tonight,” she called as she made her way into the family kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance.
“Hi baby, come on, sit down, we’ve been waiting on you. Isn’t it nice to have Adam home,” her mother beamed, wiping her hands on a tea-towel as she moved towards the cooker.
“Hannah,” Adam looked at her, his eye tracing over her features, trying to reconcile what he kept seeing in his dreams with the woman before him.
“Adam,” she replied, taking a seat at the table - the opposite end and side to him. Although it was only a couple of feet, it was the furthest she could get from him.
Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut when she’d come in. If she’d not said anything, she could have made an excuse about eating with the girls and left. Yes, her mother would have been disappointed, but she’d get over it. She liked them to get together once a month or more for an evening meal, plus a Sunday if they could. However, this was just going to be plain uncomfortable, and her appetite fled as she watched Adam from the corner of her eye. For a man in a wheelchair, he was intimidating, he had that edge of rawness that was often found with soldiers. Add to that that he’d widened out since the last time she’d seen him, and he had a harder edge. His upper body had widened, biceps now straining the lightweight sweater he wore. His caramel and golden hair had also grown out, now looking messy and rumpled. It looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed and ran his hands through it. That brought memories to the surface of her subconscious, gasps and moans, sweaty entwined limbs and running her own fingers through his hair. That was the clincher, her appetite vanished completely.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t sit at this table with her family and pretend that everything was okay. About to get up again, Phil came in behind her.
“Hey squirt, where’ve you been?” he asked, grabbing a crusty roll off the table and moving his hand out of the way before his mother could hit the back of his knuckles with her wooden spoon.
“Phillip, Radlington, Summer, you just wait for your food.”
“RADLINTON,” Adam mouthed with a snicker and Phil gave him the finger.
“It’s a good job you’re already in a chair or I’d put you in one,” he growled at Adam.
“Phillip,” his mother hissed, shocked at her son’s words.
“It’s okay, Kay, he’s only being brave now because he knows if I still had both legs I could kick his arse, twice,” Adam winked at her. Head shaking, Kay went back to stirring the pot on the stove.
“You wish,” Phil snorted, biting into his cob and chewing.
“I could take you with one hand tied behind my back,” Adam told him, grinning.
The front door opened and a shout of “Nana, catch,” was followed by a whistling sound as Phil’s 2-year-old son, Alan threw his whizzing ball into the room ahead of him as he came running into the kitchen.
Adam’s grin vanished as he froze, hands clawing the edge of the table as sweat broke out on his forehead. His eyes went huge, lids peeling wide just before he threw himself sideways, rolling out of his chair and coming up on his knees - hands up.
“Alan, freeze,” Phil told his son. “April, take him in the front room,” he told his wife who had stepped into the room behind their son.
Nodding, eyes dropping, April picked up Alan and took him into the other room out of the way.
“Mum, back away,” Phil told her, “Slowly, no sudden moves, okay?” Kay began edging away from the stove, hands before her as she slowly moved around the table.
“Phil?”
“Not now squirt,” Phil told Hannah as he began to get up from his seat.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Hannah grumbled. “Adam, snap out of it, it’s not a bullet, you’re in mum’s kitchen, there is no threat.” She clicked her fingers, and pushed up from her place. Phil held his hand up to her and she turned, glaring at him. “Adam, come on I’m starving here, listen, you can hear the radio playing, feel the floor beneath you, it’s tiles not sand.”
Hannah couldn’t stand sitting there and doing nothing. She may be trying to move on, but Adam was caught in some kind of flashback, a memory that had surfaced and was now more real to him than the here and now. She hated the look of pain and torment that covered his features, and how his body shook as sweat broke out across his forehead.
Adam had been joking with Phil one minute, trying not to stare at Hannah as she came through the door. Suddenly, that noise had registered, and bam, he was back on that dirt road. He went sideways as he felt the impact of the first bullet and came up on his knees, ears straining as he pulled his Glock up and waited for the cock of that shotgun. He wasn’t tracking properly. He could see the room he was in now, but it was as if it was a mirage, wavering as another image superimposed itself over the top, trying to solidify. He could hear shuffling and mumbling around him, but couldn’t make anything out… which left him disorientated.
Getting up, Hannah ignored Phil and approached Adam, her hand gently touching his shoulder where he knelt. However, he grabbed her arm, shoved, and knocked her off her feet and onto her back on the tiled floor. Hannah’s breath left her in a whoosh as she landed, then Adam’s weight came down on top of her, his forearm pressing down on her windpipe.
Shit.
The wrong move here and he’d crush her larynx.
A hand lightly touched his shoulder and Adam went on instinct. Grabbing the hand, he flipped his enemy over onto his back, then rolled over onto him, arm across his windpipe to subdue…
More noise, another hand on his shoulder trying to shake him, when he picked up a scent, a soft touch on his face before it covered his restraining forearm.
Adam froze, something familiar about the touch, and breathing deep he removed the pressure on the windpipe. The hand over his forearm dropped away and he lowered his head, face coming closer to the captive he held pinned beneath him.
Hannah tried to say Adam’s name, but with the pressure on her throat she couldn’t get the words out. Relaxing, she lay completely still, closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. Then, slowly - so as not to startle him - she lifted her right hand and touched his cheek. He didn’t move as her fingers stroked over the rasp of his stubble, up the side of his face and over and behind his ear. Hannah, hoped to god this worked, and that somewhere deep in his subconscious he recognised her touch. Her fingers shook as she moved from his ear, down his throat and on down his chest until her own hand rested on top of Adam’s forearm where it lay across her throat.
As Adam got closer, he felt the cushion beneath his chest…
Phil was off his chair and trying to physically manhandle Adam from her, but he wouldn’t budge, it was like trying to move a statue. Hannah glared at him over Adam’s shoulder, and mouth grim, he stepped back, fingers twined behind his head as he ground his jaw and looked on helplessly. Adam was his brother-in-arms, one of his closest friends. He trusted him with his life, but this wasn’t him, this was his sister. He felt helpless to do anything because he knew first-hand how hard it was to shake off a flashback and come back to reality, especially when it held you so tightly within its grasp.
Hannah watched Adam frown as his nostrils flared. He began to blink rapidly… as if trying to clear his vision, then, in the next instance, the pressure was gone as he leaned towards her, nose running up her neck.
“Hannah,” he whispered against her throat, his shoulders shaking as he squeezed his eyes closed. His arms dropped around her, holding her to him as his shoulders shook. Hannah swallowed, her sheened gaze meeting her brother’s over Adam as her arms came up and held him back.
Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology Page 77