Beyond Valor

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Watching an old woman die because she didn’t get proper medical help in time,” he answered quietly. “Or a baby burned by pulling boiling water off a hot plate because the mother was busy with four other children. Over in Iraq, I saw it all.” Gazing around the mud house, he added, “And it’s even worse here because in Iraq there’s infrastructure and government. In this country, it’s all tribal and most villages have no road system.”

  “It’s bad here,” Megan agreed. She pulled some bottles out of a pack and carefully put them into the larger bag. “It’s one thing to take an immersion course on Afghanistan and another to be here.”

  “You’re still in culture shock,” he warned. “It’ll take a couple of months to wear off.”

  “Do you ever get used to the suffering?”

  Shaking his head, he zipped up the pack. “No.”

  “How do you deal with it?”

  “I hold it in. Sometimes, when I’m frustrated, I’ll go somewhere and cry it out. But not often.”

  Megan bit her lower lip. “Well, at least we have each other. Right? I do cry. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’m okay with it,” he said with a wink. Seeing the warmth come to her blue eyes made his heart beat faster. The softness of Megan’s lips called to him on every level. “I’m here for you,” Luke promised. “I always look forward to seeing you.”

  Megan was caught off guard by this comment. The Afghan sun had darkened his skin, and his rugged good looks did nothing but make her yearn for him even more. “I like our quiet moments together,” she said. “I wish...I wish we had more of them, but I don’t want the Marines to think...well, you know...”

  “I understand.” He gave her a teasing smile. “You’re safe with me.” Luke wanted to say much more, but it was dangerous. He ached to walk over to her cot, lean down and graze her lips with his. He stood up and shouldered his pack. “Well, I gotta get going. You catching the second group leaving for the village?” He looked at his watch.

  “Yes. I’m going in with Buck.” She watched as he put his helmet on and walked toward the door. “Stay safe out there, Luke.”

  Opening the door, he grinned. “Hey, no worries. You stay alert, too.”

  * * *

  “You have helped many children and mothers this morning,” Mina told Megan as they sat in the house sipping tea at lunch.

  Megan smiled. “Thanks, but I couldn’t do it without your help or the widows. You are all amazing.” She finished off a plate of couscous and lamb. Outside, the day was cloudy and Megan wondered if it would rain. The village’s crops relied solely on such moisture. There was no well and no irrigation to water them when the rain failed to appear.

  A sudden explosion went off somewhere in the village. Megan’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide. The house shook for a moment. “What was that?” she asked.

  “It’s an IED!” Mina leaped to her feet and threw her scarf over her head. “Come!”

  Megan’s shoulder radio blared to life as she followed Mina out the door and into the dirt street.

  “Red Robin, this is Red Robin Two. I need your assistance at the gate. Over.”

  It was Luke’s tense voice.

  “Red Robin Two, I’m coming with my pack. Where are you located? Over.” Megan ducked into the clinic. She grabbed her medic pack, threw on her helmet and ran out the door.

  “The gate. Over.”

  “Roger. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Megan shouldered the pack. A year of training on the hard, rocky hills of Camp Pendleton in California had kept her in prime condition. Mina was hindered by her long robes. Several other women, many children and older men were rushing toward the explosion at the gate. Megan easily passed all of them. Turning at the end of the main street, she dug the toes of her boots into the red dust and turned left. As she rounded the corner, she saw Luke and several Marines, plus a Humvee parked near the gate. Megan raced toward them. Two children, a boy and girl, lay on the ground. Luke was working frantically over one of them. The Marines from the Humvee stood by, looking toward the slope of the eastern mountains, rifles drawn and ready.

  As she skidded to a halt, breathing hard, Luke jerked a look up at her.

  “Two kids hit an IED,” he yelled. He threw several dressings over the unconscious boy’s missing right leg. “Get to the girl!”

  Dropping to her knees, Megan felt the world focus in on the little five-year-old girl sprawled on her back, unconscious. There was blood everywhere. Her right leg was missing. Megan quickly went into medical mode. The bleeding had to be stopped. She grabbed a small elastic band and quickly put it on just above the girl’s knee. The child was so beautiful, her tan skin leeching of color as she bled out. Megan heard Luke breathing hard, heard him ripping and tearing open more dressings. She heard nothing else. It was as if the world were holding its breath.

  Quickly listening to the girl’s heart with her stethoscope, Megan felt momentary relief. The heart wasn’t cavitating—yet. When enough blood was lost, the heart would stop beating. The blood pool congealed into the dirt around the child. Megan gave her a shot of morphine. If she became conscious, the pain would be horrendous. The child’s beautiful dark blue gown had turned purple as it became saturated with blood.

  In the background, a woman screamed. Looking up, Megan noticed someone racing toward them, her face contorted, her shrieks wild. It had to be the mother of one or both of these children.

  “Buck!” Luke yelled. “Call in a medevac! These two aren’t gonna make it unless we can get them to Bagram pronto!”

  “Will do,” Buck called, getting on the radio in the Humvee.

  Frantic, Megan continued to work with the child. She quickly put in an IV with saline solution into her tiny arm to try and stave off her massive blood loss. The mother came flying toward her, her robes like wings.

  “Get her back!” Megan ordered Shorty, who had walked up to help her. “I need room to work with this girl!”

  Shorty shot forward. Mina caught up with her and threw her arms around the young mother. Gripping her neighbor, she held her tightly, pleading with her to stop.

  Shorty stood between the frantic medics and the screaming mother who fought to escape Mina’s strong arms. He knew, as all Marines did, they could not touch a village woman. It was taboo. He held up his hand, a signal not to come any closer.

  Megan yelled at another Marine standing nearby. “Lance, come and hold this IV!”

  The young Marine was wide-eyed over the sudden carnage. He trotted over and took the IV from her hand and held it above the unconscious child.

  Megan’s hands shook as she applied sterile dressings to the bloody stump. The IED had blown off the girl’s leg just below her knee. Jerking a look toward the Humvee, she yelled, “Buck, is that medevac in the air?”

  “Yeah, we’re getting one outta Camp Bravo. They’ll be here in less than twenty minutes.”

  Groaning, Megan didn’t know if it would arrive in time. She listened intently to the girl’s chest. The mother’s frantic screams, crying for her two children, filled the air. There was a faint beat of the girl’s heart as she listened intently through the stethoscope. The heart weakened by the moment. The girl needed a blood transfusion, but none was available out here. None. Lifting the child’s legs, she forced what blood was in her body back toward her core. Instantly, her heart beat a little stronger. Relief flooded through Megan.

  Another Marine knelt down beside her. He had a blanket rolled up. “Can I put this under her legs?” he asked Megan.

  Grateful to the corporal, she said, “Yes, great. Thank you.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “Nothing. We’re going to have to pray and wait.” Tears jammed into Megan’s eyes. She touched the girl’s long black hair and gently pulled strands away from her wan face. Anger tin
ged her, but her focus was to keep the girl stable. Her heartbeat came back stronger and steady as her legs were lifted by the green wool blanket placed beneath her knees.

  It seemed like forever before the medevac arrived. With it came two combat Apache helicopters, armed to the teeth. Megan wanted the helo to land, but she realized the Apaches were flying across the eastern slope, looking for hidden enemy fighters. The medevac helo wasn’t armed. And when it landed, it was a sitting duck for missiles or grenade launchers. Hurry! Hurry!

  Finally, the helo landed outside the gate in an area the Marines had already cleared of any possible IEDs. Luke picked up the unconscious boy, his face taut with tension, and carried him toward the helo. A Marine walked beside him, holding the IV for the boy.

  Buck walked over to Megan. He knelt down next to her and yelled above the beating blades of the helos. Above them, the two Apaches swarmed and created a moment of safety while the medevac was on the ground. “I’ll carry her. I just talked to Captain Hall. He said for both of you to take these kids to Bagram. You’ll both fly them in. Pick up whatever supplies you can and bring them back with you tomorrow morning. Got it?” He gently slid his arms beneath the child.

  “What about the mother?” she yelled, standing and taking the IV from Lance.

  “No go,” Buck shouted, quickly carrying the child toward the helo. “Not enough room.”

  Nodding, Megan looked back, lifted her hand to Mina, trying to signal to her that the mother’s children were stable. “Can you tell Mina the kids have a chance? They’re stable.”

  “Yeah,” Buck yelled over the rotor wash. There was a crew chief on board the medevac. Ahead of them, Luke had traded the boy off to the woman. He quickly climbed in and moved aside, ready to take the girl from Buck’s arms.

  Within a minute, Megan was in the medevac. It was crowded and they worked side by side. The blades spun faster. The sound in the helo was loud. The door was pulled shut. Luke donned a helmet and then handed one across to her. The gravity of the helo lifting off made Megan feel some relief. They were targets, pure and simple. More than one medevac had been blown apart on the ground trying to pick up wounded Marines or villagers.

  The pilot put the throttles to the firewall, climbing sharply in a zigzagging motion. Megan plugged her helmet into the cabin intercom system. She heard the talk between the pilots and the hospital in Bagram. Working with the woman medic, they continued to keep the children monitored. Adding several more blankets would keep the children from going into deeper shock. The helo shuddered around Megan and she briefly looked out the window. It was raining, the sky turning a dark, depressing gray color. Moving her gloved hand over the girl’s dirty black hair, she suddenly wanted to cry. She fought back the tears and looked over at Luke.

  He stared at her for a telling moment. His hands and arms were bloodied and so was his Kevlar vest where he’d carried the boy into the helo. His face was taut, his eyes unreadable as he listened intently to the boy’s heart.

  Shakily, Megan remained by the girl, her fingers wrapped around her limp hand. There was little else to do but monitor at this point. The metallic odor of blood hung in the cabin. The female crew chief medic with the flight was from the Air Force. Her dark green one-piece uniform had a Black Jaguar Squadron patch on one shoulder and an American flag on the other. Somehow, knowing this woman worked for BJS, Megan felt they had the best personnel for this particular mission of mercy. The shaking and shuddering of the helo increased as it gained altitude.

  If they could reach Bagram and the children remained stable, it was a testament to their training and being at the right place at the right time. Briefly, Megan glanced across the helo to see how Luke was doing with his charge. For a moment, their gazes met and locked. Luke’s eyes burned with a tenderness that shook her soul deep.

  * * *

  “It’s all good news,” Luke assured Megan as they exited Bagram hospital after releasing the children to the surgical staff. They walked far enough apart so as not to draw attention to themselves.

  The sun was high and it was near noon. Megan took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank God.” The minutes between the medevac landing and rushing the children through the emergency room of Bagram had been a blur. She’d calmly given the child’s stats to an awaiting surgical nurse. Each child had been swarmed by knowledgeable and highly trained E.R. staff. In moments, she stood watching the gurneys bearing the children rushing away and disappearing out of swinging doors for surgery. She’d wanted to cry, but this wasn’t the place to let go.

  Megan moved aside, feeling numb in the aftermath. And terribly alone. Her heart and mind focused on the mother back at Lar Sholtan, who had no idea if her children were alive or dead. War was brutal, and it sickened Megan.

  A wave of nausea hit her hard. She asked an orderly where the bathroom was. He pointed through the same doors the surgery team had gone through.

  Megan bolted down the white, tiled hall, looking for the restroom, when Luke reappeared. His tense face lightened when he spotted her.

  “You okay?” he asked, coming up to her.

  “No. I’m sick....”

  Nodding, Luke gripped her arm and led her down the hall. “Here...go on in...”

  Without a word, Megan ran into the empty, quiet bathroom. Her stomach churned. She pushed open a door, choked and retched violently into the toilet bowl. Tears squeezed from her eyes and she sank down on her knees, hugging the commode as everything came up. Her vision blurred and her nose ran. Her mouth burned with acid.

  Megan didn’t hear Luke come in or push the door open. She just felt someone’s hand firm on her shoulder. A paper cup filled with water appeared in front of her.

  “Here,” Luke said near her ear.

  Hand shaky, Megan took the cup. Tears continued to run down her cheeks as she cleaned up. When she was done, Luke placed a second cup of water in her hand. Wordlessly, Megan drank. The water tasted so clean. Her nostrils were still filled with the odor of blood.

  Luke knelt down beside Megan, his arm across her shoulder to comfort her. “It’s all right,” he said in a low, unsteady voice. “Kids always get to us....”

  Shutting her eyes, Megan leaned wearily against his tall, strong body. Sobs worked up and out of her chest. Anger, grief and shock pummeled her. Luke said nothing as she buried her face against his neck and jaw. He was warm, alive, caring, and right now, that was what she needed to offset the terror of the past hour.

  Luke closed his eyes, feeling Megan’s body shake with sobs. He felt helpless, knowing it was tearing her up to have seen the children so badly injured. And for what reason? He shared her rage, her sense of helplessness in the wake of a war that didn’t care about collateral damage—civilian casualties. He couldn’t tell her it was going to be all right, because it wouldn’t be. Good people died. Children’s lives were destroyed. Just holding Megan helped him to control his own grief and shock over what had happened this morning. She had been strong, professional and caring and had saved a child’s life.

  Megan stopped crying and clung to him, her hand opening and closing against the shoulder of his uniform, as if to transfer the pain outside herself. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her mussed hair. “It’s good to get it out,” he said in a rasp. “We all cry for the kids. It sucks, Megan. I know it does....”

  Luke’s deep voice was balm to her broken heart. Slowly, Megan lifted her head and stared up into his narrowed eyes. His arm was supportive and right now she needed his strength. His face blurred for a moment as fresh tears spilled. “Oh, Luke, I—I’m sorry. It rips me apart to see a child hurt in any way....”

  “I know, I know.” He gently pushed damp strands of red hair away from her wet cheek. “It’s okay. We aren’t robots.” Cupping her jaw, Luke looked deeply into her marred eyes. “We cry for them, Megan. It’s all we can do. That and pray they live. It’s a pretty damn hel
pless feeling at times like this.”

  His hand was rough against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his palm, absorbing his care. “Th-thank you...”

  “Come on, let’s get you upright,” he urged and helped Megan stand. He opened the door and led her out into the brightly lit washbasin area. She appeared unsteady and Luke kept his hand on her elbow. Pulling some paper towels from a nearby dispenser, he turned on a faucet. “Cold towels help,” he told her.

  Their fingers met and touched as Megan took the dripping paper towels from him. She leaned her hips against the sink and pressed the cool towels to her hot face. The tears stopped and the cold water felt good. Luke released her elbow and she heard him turn on the faucet and then shut it off.

  “Feel like some more cold water?” he asked.

  “Thanks, Luke. You didn’t have to do this.” She dropped the wet towels in the wastebasket and took the paper cup. “I hope no one comes in. They’ll be shocked seeing a guy in here....”

  He smiled, his eyes hooded, as he observed Megan. Leaning up against the door, he made sure no other woman would unexpectedly enter right now. Megan was so distraught. “The first two tours I was over here in the Kandahar area, I heaved my guts out every time a kid stepped on an IED.” He saw her look up, a flicker of surprise in her stormy eyes. Luke thought he saw relief in them, too. “I wondered if I’d ever get over my reaction. No one ever called me a coward or weak because I got sick afterward. I finally understood it’s just my emotional reaction to trauma. In the States, we don’t deal with limbs being blown off by IEDs. I’d had medical training on it, but I never realized what it would do to me, personally, until I saw it happen here in Afghanistan.”

  “You make me feel better,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. There was such tender concern in Luke’s face for her that all Megan wanted to do was walk into his arms and be held. There was something about this man that was healing to her heart, her soul.