Sharon Sala - Don't Cry for Me

Robert moaned. “I think I’m gonna pass out. Don’t lea—”

“I won’t leave you, man. I promise.”

Robert Lane’s eyes rolled back in his head.

Quinn felt for a pulse. It was too rapid. The wounds were showing signs of infection. The guy would be lucky if he didn’t lose the leg.

He stood up with his rifle steady in his grip. It wasn’t the first time he’d stood guard over a man who was down.

He contacted the ranger station again.

“This is Walker. Do you copy?”

“Go ahead, Walker.”

“From what the hiker said, I think we’ve got a rogue bear. It’s either sick or been injured. Might need to send some trackers up here to find it before it attacks someone else.”

“Copy that, Walker. I’ll pass the message on.”

“Walker out,” Quinn said, and pocketed his radio, then resumed guard.

It was close to an hour before he heard a chopper, and somewhat later before he heard people coming up the trail. He was deep into the trees, but they had his coordinates. They would find him. When he began to hear voices, he called out until the rescue crew came into view.

Within minutes they had the hiker’s condition assessed, started an IV in his arm, sluiced the rest of the ants out of his wounds with disinfectant, loaded him onto a stretcher and strapped him down. The eight-man crew would take turns, two at a time, carrying him down the mountain to the clearing where the evac chopper was waiting.

Another crew was recovering the other hiker’s remains. It would be dark before Quinn got home.

* * *

Quinn drove up to the cabin, turned off the headlights of his Jeep and got out. With the sun down, the air was already getting cool. He took his boots off on the deck, unlocked the door and then carried them through to the utility room. He would clean them up later, but not now. He needed to wash the blood off himself first.

He stripped where he stood, tossed his clothes into the washing machine and started it up before heading through the house to his loft. Within minutes he was standing beneath a spray of hot water with his eyes closed, willing away the gore of what he’d seen.

His life was solitary for a reason. Until he could figure out how to cope with his flashbacks and nightmares, he wasn’t in any frame of mind to build a personal relationship. He knew this and accepted it, but it didn’t make the lonely nights any easier to get past.

* * *

A couple of hours later he’d finished cleaning up in the kitchen and grabbed a beer as he headed for the sofa. Even though living in the mountains was usually a recipe for poor-to-no phone or TV signals, the satellite dish he’d had mounted on the roof served him well. There were a couple of shows he liked to watch, and later he hoped to catch the local news to see if they reported on the injured hiker’s condition.

He’d just kicked back and reached for the remote when his cell began to ring. The Caller ID showed an Out Of Area message. He frowned as he answered.

“Walker.”

“Quinn, it’s me, B. J. Pettyjohn.”

The hair crawled on the back of Quinn’s neck. It had been over three years since he’d heard from anyone in his old unit.

“Hey, B.J. How the hell did you ever get this number? And tell me this isn’t bad news.”

“No, oh, hell no, sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a start or nothin’. And I called a good number of Walkers before I found one who would claim kin to you. He gave me your number.”

Quinn grinned. “Then it’s good to hear from you.”

B.J. laughed. It was a silly kind of nervous laugh, but a three-year gap made chitchat difficult to pick back up.

“Look, the reason I called… I remember you saying you were from Kentucky, right?”

“Right. Why?”

“You remember Conrad from our unit?”

The smile slid off Quinn’s face. “Yeah, why?”

“So I heard through the grapevine that Conrad—who by the way is a corporal now—was in a Humvee when it hit a land mine and has been stateside at the army hospital in Fort Campbell, Kentucky, for the past two months. The doctor’s about ready to sign off on a release, and I remembered hearing Conrad grew up in foster care, without any family or anywhere to go. I just hated to think about one of us turning into some homeless vet and sleeping on the streets, you know? Thought you might know of a place that could help.”

Quinn didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah, I know a place. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s great! It’s a worry off my mind.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you home on leave or what?” Quinn asked.

“No. I’m out for good as of six months ago. Can’t wrap my head around normal living yet, but hey…it’s bound to come back one of these days.”

Quinn knew exactly what he meant. “One of these days for sure,” he echoed.

“So, talk to you soon, and tell Conrad I said hey.”

“Will do, and thanks for the heads-up.”

“Right.”

Quinn ended the call, and then set the phone aside and reached for the remote. He found the show he wanted to watch and then kicked back and took a drink of his cold, yeasty beer.

But the show was the furthest thing from his mind. He kept remembering the last time he’d been with his unit. They had been doing a sweep of some empty buildings when the world had blown up in his face. He’d been burned and bleeding and half out of his head when someone grabbed his arm. It had been Conrad, shouting, “We got you, Hillbilly, hang on! Hang on! Don’t you dare die.”

Now Conrad was the one hurting. The least he could do was provide a place for R & R until his fellow soldier was one hundred percent. Tomorrow he would make a few calls. Make sure the doctor didn’t sign the release papers before Quinn could get there, and see if he could borrow Ryal and Beth’s SUV. The backseat lay down flat, making the rear of the vehicle into a fairly decent bed. It was a long way to Fort Campbell, which meant it would be a long way back here. A hard drive for anyone who was healthy—and the ride from hell if everything hurt. They had a history of getting on each other’s last nerve but also had a great respect for each other as soldiers.

* * *

Just after daybreak, Quinn began making phone calls. He found out Conrad’s doctor was a man named Dr. Franks, then called around the hospital until he located him. After he explained the situation to Franks, the doctor assured Quinn that he wouldn’t sign the release papers until he arrived.

Then he called Ryal.

“Hey, brother, are you up?” Quinn said.

“I am now,” Ryal said, and then chuckled.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I need a favor. A soldier from my unit is in Blanchfield. That’s the army hospital on base at Fort Campbell, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. That’s where you were, right?”

“Right. So this friend is about to be released and needs a place to stay. I’d like to borrow your SUV so I can make a bed in the back for the drive home.”

“Yeah, sure! When do you need it?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Come get it. Anything else I can do for you?”

“I have to go back up on the south side of Rebel Ridge and help look for a rogue bear or I would do this myself. But since you asked, there are some things I’m going to need. Are you up for a trip into Mount Sterling?”

“Wow, this must be some good friend.”

“It was Conrad who pulled me out of the fire after the explosion.”

Ryal frowned. “Enough said. Bring your list and your money, brother. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

“Thanks. I’ll owe you.”

“No, I’ll never be able to repay you for saving Beth’s life. Just consider it a favor from one brother to another.”