Lindsay McKenna - Off Limits

“You don’t understand,” he said heavily. “That firebase is ringed by VC. I couldn’t just drop you nearby. You’d probably step on a land mine or get shot by VC before you even got close to safety. Even if you made it that far, one of the marines is liable to shoot you for not knowing the right password. No, you’d get killed, Alex.”

Frustrated, Alex glared at him. “If I don’t get out of here, I’m dead, too! So what’s the difference?”

Jim winced at the anger in her voice. He couldn’t blame her. Shame flowed through him. She deserved better than him—a better chance at surviving. Why had she been thrown into his arms? All he’d wanted was to continue to survive without being detected—by VC or friendly forces. “Look,” he rasped, “I need time—”

“I don’t have time!” Alex cried softly. “In a week, I could be dead! Is that what you want? Are you willing to throw my life away so you can stay safe?”

Jim couldn’t bear the tears glimmering in Alex’s haunted eyes. Anger mixed with his grief. “No, dammit, I don’t want to let you die! But I can’t go back. I can’t!”

“Why not?”

Jim’s breath came hard and fast, the pain in his chest so great it felt like a heart attack. He could see the anger flashing in Alex’s eyes. Frustration showed in the set of her stubborn lips. “I can’t talk about it,” he whispered defensively.

“Can’t or won’t?” Alex hurled back hotly. She jerked the blanket aside, and the movement cost her dearly.

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m getting out of here, that’s what. Get me my blouse and that flight suit! I don’t care if they’re wet or not!”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “You won’t be able to walk ten feet without falling on your nose.”

Alex struggled to her knees. Pain throbbed through her shoulder and down her left arm. “Hand me my clothes. I’ll be damned if I’m staying here with a deserter. I’m scared, McKenzie, but I’m not so scared I won’t try! I don’t know what Vietnam did to you, but I’m not paying for it!” She stretched out her hand. “Now give me my clothes!”

Glaring at her, Jim rasped, “You’re going nowhere. Sit down, Alex. Right now.”

Squaring off with him, Alex felt the pumping adrenaline suddenly leave her. She felt shaky, then began to tremble. Black dots danced in front of her eyes. She was going to faint if she didn’t lie down immediately.

“You yellow-bellied coward,” she cried hoarsely. “If I could, I’d leave you right now! Just as soon as I get strong enough, I’m getting out of here!” She fell back, the wall of the tunnel stopping her from completely collapsing. The jolt made her cry out, and she reached automatically for her wounded shoulder.

Instantly, Jim moved to her side. “Be still, Alex,” he whispered tautly, pulling her hand from her shoulder.

Jerking away, Alex glared up at him. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled.

Smarting beneath Alex’s attack, Jim made her as comfortable as possible. When she lay down, he covered her with the blanket, then crawled over to the other wall of the tunnel. She had closed her eyes, her lips set in an angry line, and was refusing to talk to him.

Jim knew he’d better eat, even though he didn’t feel like it. Glumly picking up the bowl, he dug into his rucksack for more of the poorly cooked rice. His stomach knotted. Only the sound of Alex’s labored breathing filled the tunnel. How could he tell her the gruesome truth? What would she think of him when she knew the horror of the crime he’d committed? The crime was so heinous, so mind-blowing, that he felt as if he were drowning in guilt and shame.

Jim chewed the rice without really tasting it, his gaze fastened on Alex. Her breathing had steadied and softened. When she opened her eyes much later, Jim scrambled inwardly to lessen the tension strung between them. Casting around, he said, “In our part of the country, we don’t have many television sets. My kinfolk—an uncle—had one, but he lived near town. I remember as a kid growin’ up listening to the radio all the time.” He forced a semblance of a smile, his voice low. “You remember the Lone Ranger?”

Alex turned her head and gazed at his shadowed features. There was something vulnerable and hurting about Jim McKenzie. But now his mouth, once a tortured, twisted line of some withheld pain known only to himself, had relaxed. He had a wonderful mouth, a kind mouth, and she had trouble imagining him killing anything, much less another human being. As he lifted his head to meet and hold her stare, Alex felt some of her anger dissolve. His large, intelligent eyes were not those of the killer he professed to be. She saw the faraway look in them and was lulled by his low voice. Wanting to make peace as she’d always tried to do in her own family, controlled by a father who ruled by anger, Alex responded. After all, Jim McKenzie had saved her life.

“Yes, I remember,” she said softly. “I used to sit in front of our radio just waiting for the next weekly serial to come on.”

Relief washed over Jim. He saw Alex struggle to be polite although anger still lurked in her eyes. “I can remember as a ten-year-old kid hardly being able to wait for the next Lone Ranger and Tonto story. I liked them, I liked what they did. They were always saving people who were in trouble.” The corners of Jim’s mouth lifted with the memory. “I used to make believe I was the Lone Ranger. I went out back, found a saplin’ and cut it down. That was Silver, my horse. When I wasn’t doing chores or huntin’ with Pa, I’d be galloping around the hills, pretending I was saving people in trouble.”

Alex shut her eyes. “I—I remember those times...the radio shows. That seems so long ago....”

“We were young ’uns.”

“I was eight years old.”

“Who was your favorite?”

Alex opened her eyes. “I always liked Tonto.”

“He never said much, but then, he was an injun.”

“I liked him because he saved the Lone Ranger when he got into trouble.”

“I guess we both wanted to help people,” Jim whispered. “Nurses definitely do that.” He frowned. “I thought recons helped, too, but, I was wrong....”

“There’s nothing wrong with helping others,” Alex said. “You said recons saved a lot of marine lives. I think that’s positive.”

Jim smiled faintly at Alex. “Maybe.” Her face held such serenity in that moment. She was pretty, and there was a wide streak of goodness in her, too. Desperate to get off the topic, Jim said, “You remind me of Molly Pritchard, a gal whose folks were our closest neighbors.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Molly was kind of like Tonto, always quiet and something of a shadow. She had five older brothers, so she was kind of pushed aside in favor of them. She had hair like yours, the color of rich, brown earth. The kids at school made fun of her.”

“Why?”

With a shrug, Jim said, “Molly was board-awful ugly. Not that it was her fault. She had buckteeth and she squinted all the time. A lot of city kids picked on her, but I used to stand up for her. Partly because she was hill folk like me. And partly...well, she was like a little brown mouse, so quiet and afraid. I always had a soft place in my heart for underdogs.... So, I kinda became her protector.”

“What happened to Molly?” Alex was touched by Jim’s admission.

“We were in the third grade together and this teacher, Missus Olgilvie, used to walk up and down the rows with a three-foot-long ruler in her hands. Anyone not studying got whacked across the shoulders. She always picked on the boys, not the girls, but poor Molly lived in dire fear of Missus Olgilvie smacking her. Molly couldn’t see the blackboard, so the teacher kept moving her closer and closer to the front of the room. Finally, the teacher sent a note home to Molly’s parents to get her eyes checked.”