Declan

by Ava Manello

  “Sounds good.” Cameron smiles. “Me and Declan can help you if you want?” The bloody git has a habit of volunteering me for things without asking, yet I don’t correct him. A bit of good, hard manual labour might be just what I need right now. At least if I’m busy grafting I won’t have time to think and sink back into that dark place I’ve been in.

  Conversation turns to Max. None of us has been able to see him since we got back from Afghanistan. He’s found excuse after excuse to keep us away. I know that he’s still at risk of losing his leg, and that his hope of going back for another tour have been dashed, but I’m surprised at the way he’s keeping us all at arms length.

  “I’ll give him a couple of days to settle in at home, then I’m going round there, invited or not.” I tell the guys.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Cameron offers.

  “Not this time. Let me see how the land lies first. I don’t want to scare him off.” I suggest. I don’t know what’s wrong with Max, but I do sense that I have to handle him carefully. Fuck – I’ve come home messed up to shit mentally and I haven’t got the injuries that he’s got.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon drinking, reminiscing and singing. By the time we’re kicked out at closing none of us can walk in a straight line so we all head back to Cameron’s and crash on his floor.

  For an afternoon I’ve managed to forget my fears and worries thanks to good friends and alcohol, but I’ve got to be careful, I can’t use alcohol as a crutch any longer. I know I need help, but I’m not sure that I’m strong enough to ask for it.

  For the first time in my life I feel weak.

  Chapter Seven

  Declan

  I’ve given Max the week I promised, it seems fitting somehow as it’s the same week that Gran has allowed me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to do and am no wiser, so Cam and I are going to go help Luke work on his renovation project. I figure some good hard labour will do me good. I’ve tried to help out on the farm this week, but I’m surplus to requirements. They farm hands have a routine and they like to stick to it. There’s not even any maintenance for me to do, Gran runs a tight ship. She seems happy though that at least I have an interim plan, something to keep me busy and stop me brooding as she calls it.

  I’ve spent most of the week tinkering with my bike, changing the oil, checking the battery charge level, the electrics and making sure there’s enough air in the tyres. It’s not got enough mileage on it yet to have any concerns. I’ve barely put 1000 kilometres on it since I brought it home from the showroom.

  It’s a Triumph Tiger XC SE 800, built a little like the Nary in that it can handle off road with ease, but a damn sight better looking and a lot more fun. I’ve decided to take the bike today, it’s only an hour to where Max lives in Rockingham from here, at least it is the way I ride and I’ve missed the feel of being out there on two wheels.

  The ride passes by too quickly; I’ve missed being out on the bike. Max lives near the shopping centre rather than on the coast road. They bought this place because it was close to a good school and they were thinking ahead. It’s a little too suburban after Harvey. Then again coming from a place with only just over 5000 residents to one that’s twenty times bigger will always be a bit too much for me. I bring the bike to a stop under the carport and pull of my helmet. I can hear the muffled sounds of an argument coming from in the house. Great. Just what I needed to walk into.

  “Whoever it is tell them to fuck off.” Max’s voice rises above the buzz of the air con extractor, clearly audible through the solid wood front door. I ring the bell anyway.

  The click of heels on the tiled hallway lets me know that it’s probably Georgia who’s coming to greet me. I’m a little shocked when she opens the door; she looks to have aged years since I last saw her. Her short hair looks lank and un-brushed, which is something I’ve never seen. Georgia always has been shit hot about taking care of her appearance. She has dark circles under her eyes, and if I’m not mistaken the shadow of a bruise around her eye which she’s tried to disguise with makeup.

  “Hi, Declan.” There’s little warmth in her greeting. She pauses to check over her shoulder. “It’s not a good time right now.” She explains apologetically.

  “I said tell them to fuck off.” Max shouts again from the lounge. Georgia draws in a breath as though to steel herself.

  “But it’s Declan.” She answers back cheerfully. “Surely you want to see him?” She sounds defeated. I don’t give Max chance to answer as I gently push Georgia aside and head into the lounge.

  Max, to put it simply, looks like shit. He’s unshaven, there are food stains on his t-shirt that is hanging too loose on him, and you can barely see his leg for the metal framework full of screws that are holding it together. The wounds around the screws look red and angry and his leg is grey against the coffee table that he has it propped up on. He gives me a dirty look as I get closer.

  “I said fuck off. I don’t want visitors.” Max mutters, taking another mouthful from the neck of the bottle of whisky clutched in his hand. It’s only ten am and he’s already three sheets to the wind. I look around for Georgia expecting her to have followed me into the room, but there’s no sign of her.

  “Well I’m here now so I might as well stay.” I grin at Max. It’s not returned. Instead I receive a steely and very unfriendly glare. It’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a stranger. I know Max can be a moody bugger, but this is different. I know I’m hardly one to say anything as I was in my own whisky stupor last week, but this isn’t good. “I’ll go round up some coffee for us.” I offer, heading off to the kitchen. I’ve been here enough times to know the layout of the place. As I pass the study I see it’s been converted to a makeshift bedroom, knowing Max as I do he’ll hate that.

  Georgia is sitting at the kitchen worktop, her head in her hands and crying silent tears. She flinches when I put my hand on her arm to get her attention. Confused I lift the arm of her t-shirt a little to find a livid purple bruise in the shape of a hand.

  “Don’t judge him.” She whispers. “He’s just having a hard time.” She pleads. I ball my hands into fists at the sight of the bruises.

  “I don’t care how fucking hard a time he’s having.” I growl. “That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me?” I obviously raise my voice a little too much as she flinches back from me. “I’m sorry, Georgia, but I thought we were friends. You should have called me.” I want to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but the way she’s holding herself tells me that wouldn’t be a good idea. I suspect the bruises on her arms aren’t the only ones.

  She moves slowly, and I can now see painfully, across the kitchen to fill the coffee maker. Gently I take it from her, gesturing for her to return to her seat at the counter. Whilst I’m prepping the coffee I ask her what the hell’s been happening.

  “He’s in so much pain, the pain meds aren’t helping, and they’re still not sure he’ll be able to keep his leg.” Her shoulders sag even further. “We’re going to have to sell the house, they’ve told him even if he does keep his leg he’ll never be able to handle the stairs properly and he refuses to get a stair lift.” She looks around the kitchen. This house was her pride and joy, her dream home. Now she’s going to lose it.

  “Surely there’s something they can do?” Even as I say the words, I know there obviously isn’t. The Army has the best doctors, if they say it can’t be fixed, then it can’t.

  “He’s got an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, they’re making the decision then, but it’s not looking good. It’s not healing properly.” She’s wringing a washcloth in her hands and it’s almost in shreds from the way that she’s worrying at it.

  “What can I do?” I offer. “What can the guys do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” She replies helplessly. “You can’t go back and undo that day. You can’t give him his job back.” She pauses as she draws in another sob. “He says he wi
shes he was dead.”

  How can I judge my friend? I was in a bad place last week and had none of the troubles that he has. I was so lost in a bottle I barely knew what day of the week it was. Part of me is angry though; he has Georgia. He has a wife who loves him. That hasn’t changed. He needs to be there for her as well. I guess that’s part of Army life though, we become selfish, leaving those we love behind for months at a time and only focussing on us, our survival for that time. If we didn’t we wouldn’t make it through the tour. You can’t just switch that off when you come home. I wish we could.

  The coffee brewed I leave a mug in front of Georgia and make my way back into the lounge. Max looks at me in disgust when I pass him the coffee, but he takes it anyway, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a coloured pill that he swallows with a mouthful of the hot drink.

  “What’s that?” I ask, curious, as it doesn’t look like any of the pain meds I’m used to seeing.

  “None of your fucking business.” He grunts in reply. I give him a sharp look. Max has never spoken to me like that before. Discipline is drilled into us, and no matter how angry, you never speak to a commanding officer in that tone.

  “Don’t look at me like that, we’re not in the fucking Army anymore.” He tells me petulantly.

  “I don’t give a shit, Max. What the fuck is up with you? Why are you hitting Georgia?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “I didn’t invite you here, I don’t want you here, and what I do or don’t do is none of your fucking business anymore, Declan. So finish your coffee and fuck off. You’re not wanted here.”

  I’ve seen enough for today, staying here isn’t going to help anything so I return to the kitchen where I tell Georgia goodbye, and make her promise to call me if she needs me. She nods her head in agreement, but I know it’s a false promise.

  I need to call Cam and the guys and find out what we can do to help Max. I don’t know where to start, I can barely help myself, but I’ve got to do something. He’s our brother, and you never leave a man behind.

  Chapter Eight

  Declan

  The whole ride home to Harvey I kept second-guessing myself. Is there anything that I could have said or done to help Max. Was leaving the right thing to do? I need to ring my Captain and see if I can call on some psych support at least for him, knowing Max he’ll refuse it point blank like I did. There’s got to be something we can do.

  I call Cameron when we get in; when I mention the tablet he asks me what it looked like. I try and recall it. I think it was a chalky, aqua blue looking tablet with some sort of pattern engraved on it.

  “Shit, sounds like he’s on Amphetamines.” Cameron groans.

  “Come off it. You know Max, he’s as anti drugs as the rest of us.” I offer. We’ve seen too many friends fall prey to drugs to overcome the stress of combat. “Max is stronger than that.”

  “Everything you’ve told me says its drugs, Declan. I know you don’t want to believe it. The mood swings, the depression, the anger. They’re all classic signs. We need to find out how he’s getting them, but you can’t just stop him cold turkey, we don’t know how long he’s been on them.”

  “I guess I can talk to his Doctor.” My response sounds lame even to me. “What do we do? We can’t let Georgia go through this on her own.”

  “Other than helping Luke out with his renovation I’ve got nothing on, we could stay with him, take it in shifts I guess.” Cameron suggests. Knowing Max that’s not going to go down well. He’s a strong willed individual when he’s not messed up on drugs. This isn’t going to be easy.

  “I’ll give Georgia a call, see if we can set it up.” It’s not going to be easy, but we have to pull together to try and help Max. It’s the least we can do. “Does Luke need anymore help?” It wouldn’t hurt me to get my hands dirty for a while, right now I really need a distraction, something that will tire me out, help me sleep at night. Sleep hasn’t been my friend of late that’s for sure.

  “I reckon we could do with a hand. He’s gutting the whole interior of the house first, then when he’s remodelled the garden will need landscaping. Pretty sure he could use a lackey like you.” I can hear the smirk in Cameron’s voice.

  “Cheeky bastard.” I laugh. “Just remember who your commanding officer is.” I remind him. We chat for the next half hour catching up on who is doing what, and who is doing who, although we’ve not been able to find out any more about Jacob’s mysterious vet nurse since we last met. He’s keeping pretty tight lipped on the subject that’s for sure.

  We end the call with me agreeing to call Georgia and the Captain to see what support we can offer, and what support the Army can offer. Max may be stubborn, but even he can’t take on all of us. At least I hope he can’t.

  Chapter Nine

  Declan

  The call I had been putting off all morning is irrelevant now. Georgia just called. The surgeon has made the decision that they need to take Max’s leg off mid calf. It’s infected, and if they don’t deal with it now, he could end up losing it above the knee.

  “How long has he been on the drugs?” I ask her.

  “How… I don’t… how did you know?” she asks guiltily.

  “He took them in front of me.” I reply, my voice heavy with disgust. “How the fuck did he get hold of them if he couldn’t even walk?”

  Georgia tells me that she thinks it was one of the other patients in the hospital that started him off, and that a guy has been coming to the house most days. That’s why she’s covered in bruises, she’d begged Max to stop and he’d lashed out at her.

  He’s going back into the hospital and Georgia has agreed to let the Doctors know so they can make sure he can’t get any more supplies whilst he’s in there. It will complicate his recovery, but hopefully he’s not too far into the addiction.

  Several Hours Later

  The phone is ringing and it drags me from yet another nightmare. I grope blindly on the nightstand for it and only succeed in knocking it to the floor. I curse as it continues ringing and vibrating across the floor.

  I can’t get to it in time and it stops ringing. I’ve just decided I can’t be bothered to leave the comfort of my bed and it can stay there till morning when it starts ringing again.

  “Have you seen the fucking time?” I question as I answer it without checking the caller display.

  “Declan?” I don’t recognise the voice on the other end, other than it’s female and it’s crying. “He’s gone Declan.” Through the sobs I realise it’s Georgia on the phone.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” I’m half awake and can’t understand her. The clock says three am. I’m pretty sure the hospital wouldn’t have picked him up this early.

  “He took an overdose, he left me the fucking coward.” She’s sobbing loudly now. I shake myself awake trying to understand what she just said.

  “What do you mean he left you?” I sound like a fool repeating everything she says, but I’m really not grasping what she’s trying to tell me. Georgia can’t get any more words out from the sound of it, she’s sobbing so hard. There’s a scuffle at the other end and then a new voice comes on.

  It’s a doctor who explains that Max had been brought into the emergency room after taking an overdose and that they’re very sorry but it was too late. They tried everything they could but were unable to save him. I listen to the words, but they sound like something you’d see on a tired hospital drama, not something to expect to hear about a guy I last saw a few hours ago. Max wouldn’t do this; he’s stronger than this. I try to tell the doctor that they must have the wrong man, but he assures me that there’s no mistake. He tells me that Georgia is in a bad way and as she has no relatives close by he asks if there is any chance that I could come and pick her up. I agree.

  I’m on autopilot all the way to the hospital. I manage to ring Cameron on route and let him know what’s happened. He offers to call the rest of the guys for me and meet me at Max’s house.

  I pull up into t
he parking lot of the hospital and sit there for ten minutes trying to get my head around it all. Trying to put on a brave face for Georgia. I’ve failed. I’ve let my team down. I let Max down.

  Chapter Ten

  Declan - present time

  I’m sitting in an anonymous hotel room and I’ve no idea how I got here, or even where here is. I’ve woken from yet another nightmare, and I can’t tell which parts of it are real, and which parts of it are not. The half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the nightstand clues me into the fact I had to drink myself to sleep yet again.

  The clock throws out a faint glow as it clicks over to three am. Why does that time seem important? Snatches of conversations, glimpses of memory start to return and as the events of last night become clear again I’m ashamed of myself.

  What the fuck have I become? A few months ago I was a Sergeant commanding a group of guys I loved like brothers. I was good at my job. Then one morning it all went to shit. That one morning destroyed lives, and I was powerless to stop it. I wish I hadn’t killed that young boy now, I should have let him kill me, but would that have saved Max?

  I can’t seem to find reason or logic in anything. I can’t even think of a reason why I should wake up, why I should be alive. Maybe Max was right, he thought we’d all be better off without him, and right now, I think everyone would be better off without me.

  That’s the Jack Daniels talking; at least I hope it is. I try and do a mental calculation of the pros and cons of staying alive. The only thing that is keeping me alive right now is that I haven’t got a gun to shoot myself with.