Away From You (Back To You Book 2) (11 page)

After what
seemed to be a longer ride than normal, we finally reached our stop near the
flight line. I bent to grab my khaki-colored backpack off of the floorboard in
front of me. It was bursting at the seams with my dirty laundry from the past
week. The laundry drop-off was close to the flight line, so I would bring it
with me to work and pick it up after work the next day. I heaved it onto my
shoulder and disembarked the bus.

“Hey, man,
hold up,” I told Brooks, gesturing to the door of the laundry facility. He
nodded and lit up a smoke while I dropped off my weekly bundle. When I came
back with my empty backpack, he opened his pack and held it out for me to take
a cigarette. I obliged, thanking him, and reached into my pocket for a lighter.

“What day is
it?” The cigarette between my lips muffled my voice as I lit it.

Brooks
chuckled. “Wednesday.”

“Hump Day.”

“You wish.”

I took a
drag of my cigarette and blew it out through a sigh. I did wish.

We’d been in
Afghanistan for several months now, and while it was better than the boat, I
was still more than ready to go home. I was grateful that I got to talk to
Olivia, but I missed the feel of her against me. I missed her light touches
almost as much as her firmer ones. I missed the way she giggled when I kissed
this one spot on her side. The first thing I was going to do when I got home
was make love to my wife. Then, I really wanted a beer. Actually, I’m not sure
which of those things I’d rather do first. Okay, probably Olivia. But we’ll pay
it by ear. Maybe I’d get to have a beer at an airport bar on the way home. That
was a good compromise.

An
earsplitting blast interrupted my plans. I looked around wildly for the source
and my eyes landed on a burning F-18 on the flight line. Without missing a
beat, Brooks and I both threw our cigarettes and sprinted towards the gate that
provided access to the hangars. I took the stairs leading up to the gate three
at a time with Brooks on my heels. As I was swiped my ID card in the reader for
entry, another explosion made the ground rumble beneath us. Right next to the
first flaming jet, a second one had exploded.

I passed
through the metal turn style and waited for Brooks to emerge. Marines and other
military personnel were running out of the hangars to see what was happening.
It was chaos. We ran towards them, trying to find the source of the explosions.
I caught sight of an Afghani soldier and did a double take. Even though they
worked with us on our base, the Afghani Army was not allowed near our jets. I
grabbed Brooks by the arm and pulled him behind a nearby tow tractor. We were
completely hidden by the vehicle that was used to tow the aircraft.

“What did
you see?” Brooks asked. He was smart enough to trust my instincts and stay
hidden.

Before I had
a chance to answer, rapid-fire shots began all around us. We unstrapped the
nine-millimeter pistols from their holsters on our right thighs. There was
shouting in Arabic and English. I couldn’t make out anything through the
commotion and the deafening sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. I looked at
Brooks and he nodded. I slowly inched around to the front of the truck and
peered around it, while he covered me from behind. In the brief moment before I
pulled back to safety, I saw several men on the ground.

“Bodies.” I
breathed heavily.

“Fuck.”

“I’m gonna
try to see who’s shooting.” I took a deep breath and stuck my neck out again,
pulling it back as soon as I got a decent look. “I think they’re inside the
hangar. I still hear them but I don’t see anyone outside.”

Brooks
looked around me to a Humvee about fifty yards away and tossed his head in that
direction. “Do you think you can make it? We can get into the hangar from
there.”

Nodding, I
took a deep breath. The sound of the gunfire was deafening. No doubt about it,
I was terrified. “Let me look again. I’ll tell you when to go, then cover you.”

Brooks edged
up closer to me and crouched low, preparing to run. I peeked around the front
of the truck and saw no one but a few Marines and airmen running to our hangar
from a neighboring one. I signaled to Brooks and brought my pistol forward to
cover him. He made it to the Humvee and then waved me forward, so I took off in
a dead sprint, praying all the way. When I got within arm’s reach, Brooks
reached out and pulled me the rest of the way by the front of my Kevlar. We
didn’t take time to catch our breath before inching to the other side of the
Humvee to make our way into the hangar.

Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw more troops coming in through the gate that we came
through. Reinforcements, thank God. I covered Brooks again as he made a beeline
for one of the giant crates of water bottles inside the hangar. He made it and
waved me over again. I gritted my teeth and took off, my adrenaline through the
roof.

I had no
concrete thoughts, just a white-hot pain in my left bicep. I reached the water
crates and my hand flew up as if to brush whatever it was off of me. When I
looked down, my arm was stained red. Brooks grabbed me and pulled me down, both
of us crouching low. Without missing a beat, he yanked off his belt. He quickly
wrapped it under my armpit and fastened it into a tight tourniquet to stop the
bleeding. I knew only seconds had gone by since I first felt the shot to my
arm, but the time was dragging on so that each breath felt like a marathon and
each thought was laborious. Getting shot fucking hurt. Adrenaline, be damned.

“Thanks,
man.” I met Brooks’ eyes with a look of appreciation and sniffed to clear my
nose. My eyes were burning from the pain, but I knew we were nowhere close to
safe. I popped up over the top of the crate, found a target, and fired,
instantly gratified when I saw one of the Afghani soldiers go down. The red
mist on the side of the silver jet he was standing by was the last thing I saw
before I ducked down again. Brooks was also alternating between crouching and
firing. After several exchanges, I counted seven of them returning fire from
the other side of the hangar, not including the one I took out. Three airmen
and two Marines, also hiding behind various crates and firing, joined Brooks and
me on our side. Even numbers now.

I collapsed
on the ground behind the crate and held the gun in my left hand while I loaded
a new clip with my right. The small pistol felt twice as heavy as it should, so
I switched hands again and flexed my left one. That whole arm felt glued
pathetically at my side. I had a fleeting thought of gratitude that it wasn’t
my dominant shooting arm that got hit. I heaved myself over so that I could
fire around the side of the crate, but my vision began to swim. I fired off a
few shots and pulled back again, panting. Glancing down at the tourniquet on my
arm, I was dismayed to find that I was still losing a lot of blood. Brooks
yelled to me over the melee. He was trying to tell me something but I couldn’t
focus on his words.

“Mills, look
at me,” Brooks was shouting in my face, slapping me.

I moaned and
opened my eyes. Blinking, I was only slightly aware that the shooting had
stopped. “Did we get ‘em?”

Brooks
nodded and clenched his side just under his Kevlar. He grimaced. “Yeah, bro, we
got ‘em.”

I watched as
Brooks brought his hand back from his waist and saw that it was slick with
blood. “You’re hit?”

“Yeah. I
went around the side and the fucker was right in front of me. I took him down,
though.” Brooks nodded over his shoulder and I followed his gaze. An Afghani
soldier lay dead on the ground feet away from us.

“Holy shit.”
I breathed.

Brooks
wobbled and I threw my good arm out to steady him. “Hey, stay with me, Brooks.”

I looked
around wildly as my friend slumped against the crate. The back up that we’d
seen coming in behind us earlier had apparently helped to take out the rest of
the enemy. Medics were rushing into the hangar, and I waved one over.

“Hey! My
friend is shot, get over here!”

The Navy
corpsman jogged over to us with a medical bag in each hand. “Looks like you’re
hit, too, Marine.”

I looked
down at my still bleeding arm. “It’s not that bad. Help him.”

The corpsman
stood from his crouched position next to Brooks and whistled with two fingers.
“Johnson, I need help over here.”

Another
corpsman, Johnson, came running over and bent down next to me.

“I’m fine,”
I shouted at him, shrugging him off. “Help him!”

“You got
this, Peters?” Johnson asked, looking at the other corpsman.

“This guy’s
critical, help me with him. Grab that stretcher.”

I grabbed
the side of Brooks’ face, forcing him to look at me. “You’re gonna be fine,
Brooks. You hear me?”

Brooks
sniffed. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for
having my back.”

“Me, too,
buddy.”

I wasn’t
sure what else to say, but I didn’t want him to pass out. “This is gonna be a
great story to tell when we get back home, alright, man?”

He rolled
his eyes with a small smile, but then got serious. “Mills, tell my wife I love
her.”

“Fuck that.
Tell her yourself.”

His face
changed from limp to furious in a flash. “Promise me.”

I couldn’t
believe we were having this conversation. “Okay, I promise.”

The corpsmen
loaded Brooks up on the stretcher and said that they would send someone over
for me. My vision was edged in black and the pain from the wound in my arm was
radiating throughout my body like a slow burn. Sure that my buddy was taken
care of, I leaned back against the crate and let the darkness consume me.

Olivia

My pen scribbled furiously across the
page as I tried to keep up with my professor. His voice was dull and crackly,
which was an odd contrast to how quickly he was rattling off the formulas we
had to memorize. I felt like I was always at war with myself over whether I was
falling asleep or burning a hole in my paper with the speed of my note taking.

I felt my
phone vibrating in my pocket and jumped. It could be Matt. I put down my pen
and pulled the pocket of my scrub top open to take a peek at the screen of my
phone. Half-expecting to see the picture of Matt I’d assigned to the number he
always called from, I was puzzled when I saw the caller-ID read “Unknown
Caller.”

I bit my
lip. My professor was still offering up numbers and calculations. Something
inside of me knew that I needed to take this call, so I quickly slid my finger
over the “answer” button in my pocket and slipped into the hallway. Once
outside, I drew the phone from my pocket and checked to make sure it was still
connected. Taking a deep breath, I held it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this
Mrs. Olivia Mills?” The man on the other end of the line asked professionally.

I gulped.
“This is she.”

“Hello,
ma’am. Can you please verify the name of your sponsor?”

“Matthew
Mills.”

“Thank you,
ma’am. We have reason to believe that your husband, Lance Corporal Matthew
Mills, was involved in an incident on Kandahar Airfield this morning.”

“An
incident?” My voice sounded strangled in my throat. “What kind of incident?”

“Information
is very limited at this time, ma’am. I apologize for the inconvenience. All we
know at this time is that Lance Corporal Mills may have been injured in a
combat situation on the base. Is this a good contact number to reach you with
further updates as they become available?”

I nodded.

“Ma’am?” The
man asked, not having seen me nod my head.

“I’m sorry,
yes, this is a good number.”

“Someone
will contact you via phone with more information as soon as it becomes
available.”

Niceties
were exchanged as I hung up the phone, but at that point I wasn’t paying attention.
I held my phone in my icy hands, not thinking, not moving, and just staring
blankly ahead. Matt may have been injured in an
incident.
How could they not know for sure if he was or if he
wasn’t? And if he was, why couldn’t he tell me that himself?

I shook my
head to clear the images forming of him lying unconscious in a hospital bed. No
need to freak myself out more than I already was. I slipped my phone back into
my pocket and smoothed my hands over my scrubs. Taking a deep breath, I opened
the door to the classroom and went to my desk. Without saying a word to anyone
I gathered my things and robotically headed back to the door. If anyone said
anything to me, or even looked in my direction, I didn’t notice.

Once
outside, I stopped. Where was I going? Could I drive right now? I held out one
of my hands and found it to be shaking. Probably shouldn’t drive. I glanced
around. There was a picnic table under a nearby tree and I started towards. My
legs felt like jelly as I took a seat on the cold aluminum bench. I pulled out
my phone again. I considered calling Ellie, but I didn’t know how to say it. Calling
anyone in the family would be stupid until I knew more information. Everyone
would feel just as lost as I did. On the other hand, I couldn’t keep them out
of the loop, either. I resolved that if I didn’t hear more information within
the next two hours, I would call them. That seemed like a good amount of time
to give it, right? I scrubbed my hands over my face, frustrated.