Lindsay McKenna - A Man Alone

Thane stared up at the tall man, noting vaguely the concern written across his broad, tense features. The silver gray at his temples shouted of his age, but to Thane, he looked a lot younger and very fit in the charcoal-gray pinstripe suit, impeccably pressed white shirt and conservative, dark blue silk tie. His brain still slow at processing, it took long moments for Thane to understand everything the man had said. The warm grip of the man’s hand on his shoulder, though, translated instantly, and Thane felt genuine care radiating from this stranger.

Opening his mouth, he realized it felt dry, like the Bolivian desert itself.

“Thirsty?”

He nodded slightly, feeling incredibly weak.

Morgan reached for a pitcher of water on the nearby stand, poured some into a cup and placed a straw into it. “Nurses been by to check on you yet?”

Thane sucked noisily on the straw. His mouth wasn’t exactly in working order. Grogginess and a floating feeling made his thoughts tumble loosely. Whispering his thanks for the glass of water, he lay back, exhausted by the simple act of drinking and swallowing.

“Don’t—remember…sir….” he said, his voice hoarse. His throat hurt. It was painful to swallow. Frowning, he looked around. There was an ache drifting up his right leg toward his thigh. What was wrong with it? Automatically, he weakly lifted his right arm to touch his right thigh beneath the thick blankets covering him. Frowning, he saw that his leg was lifted slightly and hanging from a series of pulleys at the end of the bed. It took him long moments to realize why his leg was hanging there like that.

And then, slowly, the reason for his leg injury came back to him. As the man beside his bed stood quietly, images of the mission formed before Thane’s shut eyes. The sounds. The loss of his team. The girl, Valerie. And…a woman’s face. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black flight uniform with absolutely no insignias anywhere on it. She hovered over him, a worried look on her beautiful face. A helicopter…yes, he remembered being in a shaking and shuddering helo. And his leg. No…. Somewhere in his drugged, spacy mind, Thane recalled another woman in a black uniform saying he was going to lose his leg. No! Panic surged through him. As it did, it began to wipe away his semiconscious state. The floating sensation was erased by the surge of adrenaline now flooding his bloodstream.

“Easy, Son….”

Thane opened his eyes. His leg was still attached. Wasn’t it? He was breathing hard now, his chest rising and falling with effort. Reaching out with his right arm, alarmed at how weak he was, he clawed at the covers near his knee.

“You still have your leg.”

Relief shuddered through him and Thane ceased his efforts to see if his heavily swathed and bandaged limb was really there or not. He couldn’t feel his leg, just the ache throbbing upward from it. A groan emitted from his parted lips as he fell back on the pillows. Heart pounding heavily in his chest, he knotted his right hand into a fist.

“My leg…” Thane felt Trayhern’s hand tighten briefly on his shoulder, as if to reassure him. He desperately needed that small act of kindness right now.

“From the after-action report I received, Captain Hamilton, they said a rocket launcher was fired. Apparently, according to the approaching helo rescue team, you dived behind a wall just in time. The rocket exploded into the rock just in front of you. I’m sure you don’t have memory of that—yet.”

Thane weakly moved his head from side to side. All he cared about, all he wanted, was to know that his right leg was still a part of him. The person on the helo had been wrong, thank goodness. He couldn’t stand the thought of not being whole. Not being able to go back to the Corps and be a career officer.

Nostrils flaring, he tried to settle down. His emotions, he discovered, were like the wild horses of Arizona that he’d once seen on the ranch where he’d grown up. Focusing his eyes on the somber looking man named Trayhern, he held his dark blue, penetrating gaze.

“My leg? What else?”

“According to the surgeon, they’re worried about infection.”

“Don’t let them take it….”

Morgan squeezed his shoulder again and felt the powerful muscles beneath the gown Hamilton wore. The man was in top shape. As a Recon Marine, he’d have to be. “We’re going to do everything in our power to see that you keep your limb, Captain.”

Panic seized Thane. “You mean…I might lose it?” No! No, that can’t happen! His heart raced with anguish as more and more of his drug-induced state was wiped out by another surge of adrenaline.

Morgan held up his hand. “I’ve got an idea, Captain. I need to make some phone calls. When I come back, I’ll have more answers and a plan of action for you. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you keep that leg.”

Thane closed his eyes. Pain was now drifting up his leg into his thigh, and knotting his gut. He bit back a groan. “I won’t lose my leg—sir,” he declared between clenched teeth. “Hell will freeze over before I allow anyone to cut it off….”

Morgan saw the dangerous glint come into the younger man’s eyes, the black pupils constricting and a look of stubbornness entering. Lifting his hand, Morgan said, “No one wants to see you walking on two legs more than me. I’ll be back, Captain.”

Thane was completely conscious the next time Morgan Trayhern came in, an hour later. The nurse had him sitting up, and had given him an IV drip of morphine for the after-surgery pain, but he was much more alert. The nausea in his stomach had abated, for which he was grateful. His gaze kept going back to his right leg. Dr. Del Prado had come in less than fifteen minutes ago and given him the prognosis. He didn’t leave much hope that he’d keep it in the long term. That scared Thane. Scared him a lot.

He looked up eagerly as Trayhern walked toward him. The man was ex-military, no question. And Hamilton knew the legend about him. Every marine did. The fact that Morgan had been a marine was a godsend. Marines always took care of their own, and it was apparent that Trayhern was going to do the same for him. That gave Thane hope despite the brutal words of the Peruvian doctor.

“Things are set into motion, Captain Hamilton,” Morgan informed him as he halted at the side of his bed.

Thane felt a semblance of relief and released a breath of air from between his tightly compressed lips. Somehow, Trayhern’s husky words, the look in his dark blue eyes, reassured him. “What’s in motion, sir?”

He smiled a little. “Several things. Just lie back and relax, Son, and I’ll fill you in on what we’re going to do.”

Morgan saw the hope in the man’s tense features. There was more color flooding into his face, making his cheeks look ruddy. The eaglelike alertness in his dark green eyes settled directly on him. Hope filtered through Morgan as he laid out the plan.

“I’m taking you stateside on a Perseus-owned jet that’s being readied at the Cusco airport. I have a trauma physician on board who will monitor you all the way back. We’re landing at the Sedona, Arizona, airport, where you’ll be met by an ambulance. You’ll be taken directly to the Red Rock Hospital. I’ve talked to their head bone doctor, Jonathan Briggs, who’s one of the best in the nation, according to Dr. Del Prado.” Morgan smiled a little, triumph in his tone. “I talked personally to Dr. Briggs just a little while ago and he’s willing to take you on as a patient. Not only that, but I’ve talked to your mother, Judy Hamilton, to let her know that you’re all right and you’re coming home. At this same hospital, they have one of the best physical therapists in the state. And a masseuse who works with this therapist. I’ve also contacted a local homeopath, Rachel Donovan-Cunningham, who has agreed to work with you on your case. Dr. Briggs has no problem using alternative medicine right along with standard treatment. He’ll be reviewing your records and X rays as soon as we get you to the hospital.”