by Jamie Knight
“Mayday! Mayday!” called the pilot, sweat covering his brow and his shirt collar.
I felt the impact as the plane hit the ground like a meteor and I was the hurtling hunk of space rock. I didn't think that I would make it out alive.
But, I did.
I had been hurt. Fucking badly. Initially, I blacked out and when I woke up, it was in a hospital bed. I couldn't move. But I could hear voices around me.
“What do you think, Doc?” asked a woman's voice.
“Can't be sure,” said a man's voice. “I can say, though, that he's stable for now. And considering that many of the people who were on the flight with him sustained very serious injuries, I would say that he's in a really good position.”
“Will he walk again, if he does pull through?” asked the woman.
“Only time will tell,” he said. “I just hope that he wakes up soon. That will be the deciding factor in all of this. That and his will to live.”
Apparently, I faded in and out of consciousness for a few days.
Then, one day, I opened my eyes. I remember staring at the ceiling and seeing a brown spot on one of the tiles. I just stared at it, trying to figure out where I was and process what I could remember.
A nurse walked in and saw that my eyes were open and gasped.
“Doctor, he's awake!” she yelled, running back out of the room. The doctor rushed in and looked at me.
“How do you feel?” he asked, careful and gentle like his voice would knock me back into unconsciousness.
I tried to move and felt a lot of pain all over.
“Hurt,” I managed to say. The word came out more like a grunt, though.
“It's okay. You're alright. You've sustained a few injuries, but you'll live. With some therapy, you will slowly start to improve.”
The doctor explained to me what had happened. The plane crashed, but we made it to friendly territory before the enemy could finish the job. We were then taken to a hospital where we received care right away.
“You broke your hip and leg. We were able to set them and put them in a cast. That’s why you can't move very much. There was some skin scraped on your face, neck, and chest, but those are minor cosmetic issues, which can be addressed later. For now, we just want to make sure that we keep you stable and that you don't develop an infection.”
I was in a lot of pain, but the biggest blow came two weeks later when, after being visited by the doctor, my commanding officer, James Stratton, came into my room. He held his hat in his hand and wore a sad look on his face. He looked like he was coming to give me news that I was dying. It turned out that he fucking might as well have been.
“How you holding up there, champ?” he asked me, trying to force a smile.
“I'm pretty good,” I said weakly, giving my best attempt at a smile.
He took a deep breath and then blew it out.
“There's really no easy to way to say this,” he said, staring at the floor, fidgeting his hat in his hands. “I know that you must be going through a lot right now, trying to recover from your injuries and all. That's why I tried to wait until the last minute possible to come down here and have to talk to you about this. But, given your injuries and the extent of the work that you do for the Air Force, we regret to have to inform you that your service will no longer be needed. As soon as you are well enough, you will be going back home. You will be honorably discharged, of course. The United States Air Force thanks you for your service. “
He stood up and saluted. I tried to salute back, but could barely get my hand up to my head. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again.
“And on a more personal note, I'm going to miss you, Brad. If you ever need anything and I can help, don't hesitate to ask.”
I nodded, telling him that I would.
He spun on his heels and walked away. I listened as his heels clicked down the hall until they faded away, just like all my dreams and goals. It was as if he was taking them all with him as he walked away from me after delivering such depressing news.
Chapter 3
Bradley
I lay there in my hospital bed in shock, trying to process everything. Days passed, so I had nothing to do but think about my situation.
During my long years in the military, I was gone when both of my parents had died, my father in a car crash and my mother from cancer. My brothers and sisters had either landed in jail, were hooked on drugs, or were off doing something where they weren't on anyone’s radar anymore.
I had become grateful for my career in the military because it gave me somewhere to go, a sense of belonging. Now that I was being discharged, the jarring reality crashed down on me that I was alone and had nowhere to go. After my father passed, the house went into foreclosure and was taken back by the bank. There was nowhere that I could call home.
Where would I go now that I had no home to go to and no career to keep me?
Trapped in the hospital bed, I lapsed into a mild panic.
I didn't know what to do, but I remembered James's last words to me before walking out of my room. Was he serious about letting him know if I ever needed anything? Because I could already think of something I desperately needed.
I decided to call him and let him know of my situation. I hoped that maybe once he heard that I had nowhere to go, he would reopen the discussion about whether or not I should be discharged from the military. I was injured, but surely, I could still do good work.
The more that I thought about it, the more hopeful I got. I started envisioning a happy future that could still be within my reach. By the time that I picked up the phone, I was positively beaming.
“Hello?” James answered curtly.
“Uh, yes, hi, sir, this is Bradley Miller,” I said, pausing for a moment to give him time to remember who I was.
“Brad, my man. How are you?”
“I'm doing great, under the circumstances,” I said, feeling that that was true now that I had come up with this plan to get back into the military. “I was hoping that you had a few minutes to chat about something.”
“Sure, you actually caught me at a good time. What's up?”
I could feel the sweat beginning to soak my palms. I almost dropped the phone.
“Well, I appreciate that you came down to let me know what was going on with my standing in the Air Force so that I wouldn't be blindsided by the information once I got better. But... sir, I have nowhere to go,” I explained.
I realized that I probably sounded pathetic, but kept talking anyway. “The Air Force has been my life for just shy of two decades and my plans were to spend the rest of my career here, serving my country. Now, I'm being told that, because I sustained an injury while actively serving, I won't be able to continue to do so. And to be completely honest, sir; this means I don't know where I will end up.”
I felt like all the energy I’d built up when I had been in a good mood had been drained out of me after I finished speaking. I didn't hear anything on the other end of the phone and I started wondering if I had accidentally hung up on him.
“Sir?” I asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I'm still here. Brad, what about your family?” he asked.
“Sir, my mother died of cancer ten years back and my father died a few years after that. As far as the rest of my family, the ones that I even know about are either incarcerated or on the streets. That's why I was hoping that we could still leave things open in terms of my service here. The doctors are hopeful that I'll recover just fine and I'll be able to complete my duties.”
The last part was a white lie. Actually, the doctors were saying that they weren't sure how things would go. They said that there was a chance that I might be able to walk without a cane again if I did physical therapy, but that there were no guarantees. But, for now, I just wanted him to believe that I would be completely fine.
“Brad, the decision that we made was based on your doctor's recommendation,” he said. “I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that. I don't wa
nt you to be upset with your doctor. He may have told you that in hopes that your spirits would be high for rehabilitation. But, I want you to look at things realistically, for what they actually are, not for what you hope for them to be. No one can live in a fantasy world forever, especially when real life is happening all around them.”
I knew that he was right. As much as I hoped against hope that I wasn't going to be discharged from the military, the fact of the matter was that I was. I had been in denial to think that there was anything I could say or do that would change my fate.
“I understand,” I said, swallowing hard. My heart sunk a little as I began to accept the fact that I would never work on another military aircraft again.
“But, you really have worked hard and I know that you will land on your feet,” James said.
“Thanks,” I said, halfheartedly.
“You're welcome,” he said. “And I know how hard it can be, transitioning from active duty to civilian life, especially when you've been in service for so long. And I don't want you to be on the streets somewhere, but I truly believe that you find a way to make it all work. In the meantime, before your disability pay kicks in and while you are getting things established for yourself, I want to extend you a place to stay. If you're interested, you're welcome to crash with me in my home.”
That was a total fucking shocker.
I was surprised, to say the least. Not that I doubted he was gracious enough to open up his home to someone in need. But we weren't exactly close during my time in the military. He was my commanding officer for the past few years. We had a good relationship in regards to our roles in the Air Force, but it wasn't to the point where I expected that he would just invite me to stay with him—not at all.
I mean, that’s the kind of generosity reserved only for family. At least, I thought it was. I never really had enough of a family to know, to be fair. My manly pride swelled up in my throat for a split second. But then, I thought about it for a hot minute and decided that it would be better to stay with him than to stay in a shelter or on the street.
“Thanks,” I said. “I would greatly appreciate that. It will only be for a short while until I can find a job. I sincerely appreciate this. I will let you know if anything else comes up, sir.”
“Okay,” he said. “I will be heading home at the end of the week. As you know, I travel a lot for work, but this is a period of time that I’ll be home. If you’re ready to be released and would like to come along with me, you are most welcome. And, Bradley, enough with this ‘sir’ business—call me James.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I could feel the tension leaving my body. Now, I had somewhat of a plan.
Chapter 4
Bradley
A week later, though, as I sat there at the dinner table of my new, temporary home, pushing my food around on my plate, I found myself trying to figure out what my next move would be. I had never had to look for a job—the recruiter for the Air Force found me before I became old enough for that. All I had to do was fill out an application and take a test. Now, it was almost twenty years later and I had no clue about what I was supposed to do.
“You know you're going to be okay, right?” asked James softly, breaking through my thoughts.
“Oh, of course,” I said. “It's just... everything is pretty new to me. It will take me a minute to figure out how things work, but that's pretty much what I've done for the past few decades. Working on a car is great practice on learning how to figure out the moving parts to just about anything.”
“That's a great analogy,” said James, nodding. “And a really positive attitude.”
Right then, the door flew open and slammed against the wall and a young girl rushed in, her auburn curly hair flying wildly above her head.
“I'm so sorry that I missed dinner, Dad,” she said, slamming her purse onto the table. She was out of breath. “You would not believe the day I've had.”
After depositing her bags and worries, she turned to survey the room, as if aware that something new was present in her environment. She glanced over at me, but didn't say anything.
“Natalia, this is a military buddy of mine, Bradley. He's going to be staying with us for a little bit while he gets settled.”
“Hi,” she said, flashing me an instantly bright smile.
Her eyes were almost purple; they were so blue and florid. She had brown freckles scattered over her nose and cheek. And the slightest dimple played at the corner of her mouth. Her hair covered her head much like a halo would. It suited her angelic appearance perfectly.
Knock it off, I thought to myself, shaking my head like I was trying to dismiss those thoughts, thoughts that I fucking knew better than to even begin entertaining. I had very compelling reasons not to even glance toward the intersection that led down that road.
This girl was barely half my age and barely even of legal age for that matter. Then, there was the fact that James was the best friend that I had at the moment. Even though we hadn't been exceptionally close, he did think enough of me to open up his home to me. He was helping me out in my biggest time of need. That meant a lot to a man, and I didn't want to tarnish our friendship.
Plus, I was positive that James didn't want some pervy old man chasing after his young daughter, and that’s exactly what I would seem like if I were to give into my basic instincts and do what I truly wanted—which was to bend her over this kitchen table and slide my cock into her undoubtedly tight little pussy.
“Why are you late? And why do you look like a cat who got its tail stuck in an electric outlet?” said James.
He had a glint in his eyes that said that he was half-joking. I could tell that he was trying to make light of things, but the furrowed brow revealed his concern.
“Ugh!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in disgust. “Today has been the day from hell. I took my car in for an oil change...”
James jumped up like a cartoon character in panic. “Heavens to Betsy! You?” he gasped.
“Dad…,” she said, voice grating, showing her irritation. “This is no time for jokes. I’m being serious here.”
She rolled her pretty eyes before continuing. “Anyway, after I picked my car back up, it started overheating. So, I pulled over to see what was going on. Of course, a big cloud of black smoke comes up from under the hood. I couldn't see anything. I tried calling the mechanic, but they were already closed. I tried calling you, but for some reason you didn’t pick up.”
I shifted uncomfortably and so did James. I had been on his phone a little while ago, calling around to potential jobs, and was probably on a call when she tried to get through. There were two more days until my new phone was to be delivered. I immediately felt bad now for using James’s, now that I knew she had been needing help.
“That was my fault,” I volunteered. “Sorry about that.”
“It's okay,” she continued. “I ended up just calling an Uber and coming home. But, now I have to figure out what I'm going to do about my stupid car. I left it, just sitting on the side of the road—anything could happen to it.”
James stood up from the table and started pacing and thinking aloud. He was always very pragmatic.
“Well, this timing might mean I can’t be of much help,” he said. “I have a long flight out in the morning and there's no way that I can change it. To square away your car, you can call a tow truck and have them bring it here. I'll leave you my credit card so you can pay for it. And I'll take a cab to the airport in the morning. I'll make sure that I leave you the keys to the convertible so that you can get around to wherever you need to. Am I forgetting anything?”
He paused, looking up at both of us. I shrugged, not quite sure if he really was asking me.
Natalie piped up, offering, “I can take you to the airport in the morning. It's the least that I can do since you're leaving me your baby to drive around.”
He laughed and told his daughter, “You're my only baby. That dream machine of a vehicle there… tha
t is a lady.”
They shared a laugh. Suddenly, I felt like an intruder, like I was an uninvited guest who was just privy to some inside joke between them. I wanted to offer my help in any way that I could.
“I'll be around tomorrow,” I said. “If you want, Natalia, I can help you to get your car situated. That way, you don't have to worry about it alone.”
She looked at me and smiled appreciatively.
“Thank you so much for the offer,” she said. “But, I think that I'll be able to manage on my own, with the help of the tow truck. I would hate for you to hurt yourself out there on my account.”
She nodded toward the cane that rested on the back of my chair. I winced at the reminder of my injury. Sometimes, I still forgot that I had been injured and that other people noticed. But, I knew that it was hard to ignore the big cane that I had to carry around with me everywhere. I was slightly embarrassed, but tried not to show it.
Plus, the way that she said it was different than the way that others had mentioned it. Most times, people would have a sorrowful look on their faces, one that screamed pity. They treated me like an invalid, like there was nothing left for me to do but to check myself into a nursing home.
But, Natalia didn't make me feel that way. In fact, the way that she said it made me feel like her statement came from a place of true concern and compassion, as well as just plain honesty. That made me want to help her even more.
“Thanks for the concern,” I said, pushing on with the assured confidence of a well-traveled military man. “But, I'm more than capable of helping with something like that. After all, I’m an airplane mechanic by trade but I spent years working on cars, so I could probably do it with both arms and legs tied behind my back. And besides, it will give me something to do, rather than sitting around here twiddling my thumbs. If you're up for it, I'd love to see what I can do to get your car running.”
“Okay,” she said. “I'm not sure how much help I'll be, though. But, I can try.”