Nathan Jones - Determination

“Not that.” Lewis tried to wave towards the door of the tent and managed to jerk his hand awkwardly. “How bad was the attack? Who was hurt? Who died?” He had a brief, horrible image of Carl’s broken body lit up by a flashlight. But that had to be a nightmare, right?

There was an even longer pause, reluctant this time. “I think that’s something you can hear after you’ve had some rest,” Terry said. He started to back out of the tent, inching his way around Jane when she was slow to budge.

Lewis reached out and caught the man’s collar. The movement hurt, bad. “Don’t leave me here wondering,” he half demanded, half pled.

His friend sighed. “It’s not great news.” Lewis just waited, keeping his hold, and Terry sighed again. “We might be able to salvage something from the truck, although they blew up the engine block. The M2 is scrap metal. Your dad’s leg is broken in three places and he also has some broken ribs. He’ll be as immobile as Chauncey for a long time, I’m afraid. A few others have broken bones from when the truck flipped, and they’re out of action too. During the fight afterwards Ike Randall took a bullet to the hip. It missed the bone, but he’ll probably also be out of action for a while.”

Terry fell silent, and something about it made Lewis sure the worst was yet to come. “And?”

“And Abel Moss, Toby Daniels, and Carl Raymond are dead,” his friend replied in a pained voice.

The words struck him like a blow. “Carl?” he repeated, finally releasing the man’s shirt. So that hadn’t been a concussion fueled nightmare.

His friend nodded sadly. “He died in the crash. I won’t go into detail how.”

Lewis looked away, feeling a moment of anguish. Tam, and Jen. Thanks to him their husband and father had died. His carelessness, his overconfidence.

Terry gave him a few moments to grieve, but he was fidgeting. “I have to go,” he apologized. “I have the others stable but I don’t want to leave them for too long. I just needed to check your head injury and bandage it.”

He nodded, and the man finished backing out and disappeared.

Jane immediately scooted in to take his place, moving as carefully as if he was made of glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared,” she said quietly, tentatively reaching out to rest her fingers on his cheek. Lewis could feel the dried mud caked on his skin cracking under her touch. “Especially when I heard what happened to Carl, and he was only a foot or so away from you.”

Lewis closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about Carl. “We accepted the risk when we started this.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.” Her hand drifted down to rest on his chest. “What if it’d been me in there, and you watching from above as the truck flipped?”

Lewis placed his hand over hers. That was another thing he didn’t want to think about. “So the blockheads are really gone?”

His wife took a shuddering breath, regaining some of her composure at the change in subject. “The commandos? Martin and his people followed them far enough to confirm they seemed to be heading back north. The soldiers in the valley have either pulled out on Highway 6 or are back to defensive positions.” She hesitated. “Lieutenant Faraday and a couple hundred soldiers are here, too. The military is finally taking over defending this area.”

“Better late than never,” Lewis mumbled. He sounded more bitter than he would’ve liked.

Jane nodded. “They’re insisting on blowing the canyon road. Faraday says it’s a miracle we haven’t needed to up til now, but it’s time to stop pushing our luck.”

“Too bad I won’t be there to see that. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

His wife’s lips thinned worriedly. “If you tried to leave I’d pin you down. You need to rest.” She licked at her sleeve, then began wiping his face with it to clean off the mud.

Lewis endured the mothering stoically. “I probably look as if I rolled around in a pig pen,” he said. “I sure feel like it. Grit’s chafing my skin pretty much everywhere.”

Jane finished doing what she could. “We’ll get you washed up after you’ve rested a bit.”

“If you’re willing to give me a hand I’d prefer to do it now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep like this.” That wasn’t strictly true, considering the sharp headache and his physical and mental exhaustion. In spite of Terry’s advice he was struggling hard just to stay awake.

But if he was going to crash for who knew how long, he preferred to get out of his body armor and filthy clothes and wash away the dirt. He could endure being up another few minutes for that.

Jane gave him a doubtful look, then nodded and crabbed her way out of the tent. “I’ll get some water and clean washcloths.”

As soon as she was gone Lewis’s focus fled, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He didn’t know how long he laid like that before a shadow darkened the entrance to his tent. When it moved forward enough to cover his face he looked up at the figure crouched there, expecting to see Jane returning with the water. Instead it was a different redhead.

“Tam,” he said, half in greeting and half in anguished apology.

His friend’s eyes were red and her face was splotchy from crying, but her expression was rigidly controlled. “Lewis. I’m glad you made it away from that in one piece.” Her words were sincere, but there was no warmth in her tone.

He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t answer. After an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever Lewis found himself drifting again, almost relieved to escape the scene. But before his thoughts could scatter too far Tam abruptly spoke up. “I’m done.”

He nodded, still unable to look at his friend. Even that slight motion was agonizing. He wasn’t surprised by her decision, and he certainly didn’t blame her.

Maybe she thought he hadn’t understood, or maybe she felt the need to elaborate, because she continued. “Completely done, Lewis. With being a defender, with volunteering in any way. I’m all Jen has left. I need to focus on her now.”

He nodded again, but that didn’t seem to be enough of a reply. The auburn-haired woman snorted bitterly. “I should’ve been done from the start. I didn’t turn Matt down when he was looking for volunteers just to throw myself into the same mess here. Just to throw Carl into the same mess and get him killed.” She abruptly cut off with a strangled sob, and her voice was strained when she continued. “Sorry, but I’m done.”

Lewis couldn’t find any words that could possibly be good enough, probably wouldn’t have been able to say them even if he could. He closed his eyes, and moments later the shadow across his face disappeared. He heard the soft sound of Tam’s footfalls as she walked away.

Sometime later Jane returned with the water and some clean cloths, zipping the tent door behind her. He couldn’t think of anything to say to her, either, as she helped him with the excruciating process of stripping down to his boxers, then began bathing him with the cool water. And bless her heart, or her usual taciturn nature, she didn’t feel the need to speak either.

Her hands were gentle as she tended to him, finishing by laying a damp cloth across his forehead, partly over the bandage Terry had tied around his head. Then she curled up at his side, resting his head gingerly against her chest, and pulled an unzipped sleeping bag up to cover them both.

“I screwed up,” he finally whispered.

His wife didn’t answer, the perfect response. In the comfort of her arms Lewis finally gave in to the sleep he’d been fighting, gratefully sinking down into blackness.