Lindsay McKenna - Off Limits

The danger was past—for now. Jim sat down and gave Alex his undivided attention. He took two pain pills from his first-aid kit and held them up for her to see.

“Take these,” he rasped hoarsely, then slid his arms beneath her shoulders and lifted her upward.

Alex took the pills in her mouth. Grateful for the water, she swallowed them. As he laid her back down, she whispered, “Thank you....”

Awkwardly, Jim drew the blanket across her again. “How do you feel?”

“Like hell.”

“Your eyes look better.”

She nodded. “There’s not as much pain in my shoulder now.”

Jim held up the piece of twisted shrapnel. “If you were a marine, you’d get a purple heart for this.”

Alex stared up at the piece of metal that had been lodged in her shoulder. “No wonder I fainted.”

“Right after I started,” Jim said. “I’m glad. It saved you a lot of suffering.” He placed the shrapnel in her right hand. “A souvenir from the war.”

She shook her head slowly from side to side. “What an awful reminder.”

Jim couldn’t argue. “Most of the wounds our guys carry around aren’t the kind you can see, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“My pa carried a lot of invisible wounds. I recall him screaming and waking us up at night years after the war. Ma said they were just bad dreams. But after Pa had one, he’d be in a dark mood for at least a week. Now,” Jim admitted, “I understand why....”

Alex desperately wanted to know more about Jim, what had made him run, but the pills were already beginning to work. She began to feel light-headed, some of the pain receding from her shoulder. “My father was a navy pilot in World War II. I remember him telling me about some of his flights,” she began, her voice slurring. “I never heard him scream or have nightmares.”

“The air war’s clean in comparison to being a grunt on the ground,” Jim said. He wiped Alex’s forehead and cheeks with a damp cloth. She was beginning to sweat heavily, and that bothered him. “Pa was on the ground, at Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima and other islands. He never spoke to us of those times, but I remember seeing the haunted look in his eyes.” With a shake of his head, Jim added, “Don’t look too closely at mine. I’m afraid they’ve seen worse than Pa’s.”

There was such anguish in Jim’s eyes at that moment that Alex wanted to cry for him, for whatever terrible trauma he’d survived. “I—I’m sorry.”

He smiled gently and bathed her neck. “You have nothing to be sorry for, gal. You’re innocent.” He added painfully, “It’s always the innocent women and children who get caught in the crossfire of war....”

Alex wanted to pursue the utter sadness she saw in his eyes, but without warning, her eyelids closed and she felt a deep, spiraling sensation. On the edge of exhaustion and sleep, Alex dreamed of the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding together.

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