After a minute, Gunny stopped. “There’s discoloration and swelling. I believe the bullet is lodged against your shoulder blade.”
Gunny set back and picked up his first aid kit. “I’ve got topicals and the heavy stuff. Which shall it be?”
“You’d better make do with the topicals. We need to talk and I don’t think I could stay awake if I have the heavy stuff. Besides, I may have to leave again.”
“The Captain is always right.”
John coughed. “Please Gunny; I don’t think I could laugh just now. It’d hurt too much. Besides, since when have you ever thought the Captain was always right?”
“Most of the time, Captain. I just didn’t want it to go to your head. Too many officers go bad when they start to think they know better than their senior noncoms.”
John stared at the older man in amazement. He couldn’t remember the Gunny giving out many compliments.
“Now, lean forward again and let me numb that wound.”
John obeyed and a second later felt the cold spray against his flesh. It stung at first, then the feeling faded.
Gunny pulled out a pair of narrow forceps and clicked them together, twice. “Well, I haven’t done this in some time, so if it hurts, keep it to yourself. I don’t like to be critiqued while I’m working.”
“Aye, aye, Gunny.”
“You can start your story anytime you like,” Gunny said and leaned over John’s back.
While Gunny worked, John retold the events of the last few days, leaving out only what he considered too personal to relate. His dialogue was interrupted several times by pain, but he recovered and continued.
Gunny dropped a bloody piece of copper on the table in front of John. It was sharply conical. “Haven’t seen one of those in years. I thought only the French had them now.”
“Yes, the French,” John agreed and went on with his story.
Gunny dressed his wound and then cleaned and examined the cut along John’s ribs. He numbed it and took sutures from the kit.
By the time, he had finished stitching up the wound; John had his story up to date.
“Now let’s have a look at that ear.”
John was having trouble hearing on that side, but he was hoping that it was because the ear canal was filled with blood rather than actual damage to his inner ear.
The Gunny cleaned the area, which hurt almost as much as pulling the bullet out of John’s back and then shook his head. “This is going to take plastic surgery to really fix. I don’t think it’ll do any real good to stitch it up. You’ve lost nearly half the ear, but there’s no wound to sew together.”
“Great, just slap some antiseptic and a bandage over it.”
“How about this other bandage on your shoulder? Do you want me to change it?”
“I think it’s all right. Is it seeping?”
“No, but some of the blood from your gunshot soaked the edges.”
“All right, go ahead.”
Between the warmth of the fire and the scotch, John’s aches and pains had faded to a dull roar, but when he blinked, his eyelids kept refusing to open.
Gunny finished with his shoulder and then examined the various cuts and burns that showed through tears in John’s clothes.
After a minute, he shook his head. “These don’t look too bad, but they will need to be cleaned properly before I bandage them. You might as well take a shower.”
“All right, in a minute.”
“This bauble you’re wearing. You say it’s like a radio connected to your head?”
“Essentially.”
“And you know the frequency it’s broadcasting on?”
“Yes, it’s in the C-band.”
“Then you have to assume this Holdren fellow knows the frequency too. If you try contacting Caitlin he’s going to triangulate your location.”
“Yes, of course. I won’t use it while I’m here.”
“Unless she wakes up and calls you.”
“Ah, well I guess I could wait until I move away from your house to respond.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. You have a repeater in the Jeep?”
It was part of the equipment he’d purchased the previous day. “Yes.”
“I’ll take it down the road a ways and hide it in the trees. Then if they spot your signal, it’ll be the repeater they home in on. I’m sure it puts out more power than that little bauble.”
“Ten watts for it, less than a half-watt for this,” John said.
“All right. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll take care of that.”
John let the Gunny help him to his feet. “I’m going to need a few more things.”
“Yes sir, I imagine you will. Heroes always have needs. Let me worry about logistics.”
“Thanks Gunny.”
***
“John. Oh, John, I feel so groggy. What’s happened?”
John snapped from dream to full awareness. “Caitlin? Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Everything is dark. I feel ... I don’t feel good. John! John, are you all right?”
“I’m safe. It’s you I’m worried about. Holdren is near you. They took you from the airport to a hospital, Memorial, over on Union. I’m sorry; I had to let you go. There was just no way for me to get to you.”
“The airport. Yes, I was there with Dewatre. I remember now, he gave me something to knock me out. I guess it worked.”
John rolled over and looked at the clock next to the bed. It was nearly seven. The clock indicated A.M. but the room was pitch black. “If you’re just coming out of it, then you’ve been down for more than twenty-four hours.”
“Lord, no wonder I feel groggy. John, what happened to Dewatre? The last thing I remember he had me on a plane ready to leave the country.”
“Dewatre’s dead. I wish I could say the same for Holdren.”
John threw back the covers and sat up. His body was stiff.
