The chaplain glanced up just as the first cannon shot tore up the desert terrain, heading for their position. “Help me! Please help me!” He gripped one side of the dust- and blood-covered blanket and started dragging the unconscious man toward the nearest RSOV.
Shifting his assault rifle to his shoulder, Goose ran and caught the other side of the blanket. Adding his strength and speed to the chaplain’s efforts, together they humped the blanket toward the RSOV. Then the cannon fire echoed all around them, and Goose knew that if he could hear the destruction at nearly the same time as the rounds hit the ground that the enemy fire was almost on top of them.
Five feet out from the RSOV, Goose yelled, “Under! Now!” and threw himself forward in a skidding dive. His strained shoulder screamed in renewed fury as he desperately clung to the blanket. O’Dell had gone to the ground at the same time, maintaining his hold on the blanket and the soldier as well.
Gravel tore at Goose’s lower face. He arched his back, riding his Kevlar chest armor hard. Pain lanced his left knee, biting into his flesh. His mouth opened to yell, sucking in the dust-covered kerchief, and then a whirling maelstrom of sound drowned out any sound he might have made.
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 1:16 A.M.
Helplessly, Megan watched as Gerry Fletcher remained standing on the roof’s edge. God, where are You when I need You? We can’t let this happen! God, please don’t let this happen!
The wind picked up, pulling at Gerry’s clothing with invisible fingers. He threw his arms out, and for a moment Megan thought he was going to throw himself over; then she saw that the movement was instinctive, made to keep himself from tumbling over the edge.
The boy remained standing on the roof’s edge. The spotlight turned his auburn hair the copper color of a new penny. For a moment, in the harsh light, his hair looked like a red-gold halo.
“Gerry,” Megan said. “I’ve got a phone here. Why don’t we call your mom?”
Gerry hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“I think it could help.” Megan thought about taking a step forward, slowly cutting down the distance separating her from the boy. But she knew if she encroached on him there was every chance she could scare him over the edge.
New tears coursed down Gerry’s face. He trembled. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Gander. You never understand. I try and I try to tell you, but you just don’t get it. I’m a jinx to my mom and dad.”
Megan knew that the words the boy used were his father’s.
“I was born,” Gerry said, “and I screwed up their lives.”
“That’s not true.”
He turned to face her, his face angry. “It is true! All you gotta do is ask them!”
“If your father feels that way—”
“He does. And you know it.”
“Your father is wrong,” Megan said.
Gerry stared wild-eyed at her, as if he couldn’t believe she had said what she had.
Never in one of her counseling sessions had Megan dared interfere so directly with the relationship between parent and child. She had always tried to mediate, to help one or both parties come to an understanding that worked for all of them. That was her job; the performance that she had agreed to undertake. Relationships healed best that healed together, when both or all parties took on some of the guilt and undertook a portion of the effort required to put things back together.
But there is no guilt on Gerry’s side, God. Surely You see that. Of us all, You have to be able to see that. Don’t be blind to that now. Deep inside herself, though, Megan was afraid that God wasn’t listening, that He had turned a blind eye to the sparrow perched on this roof’s edge.
“You can’t say that about my dad, Mrs. Gander,” Gerry said. “He’s a good soldier. He’s my dad.” He wiped tiredly at his eyes.
“I didn’t say your father wasn’t a good man,” Megan replied. “I said he was wrong. Everybody can be wrong. We’re supposed to be wrong sometimes. That’s the best way we learn. From our mistakes.”
“I’m the mistake,” Gerry sobbed. “There’s something wrong with me, Mrs. Gander. Something bad wrong. Before I was born, my mom and dad were happy. Now they’re not. It’s all my fault.”
“Gerry, please. Let’s call your mom. I talked to her earlier—”
“You did? Why did you do that?”
“Because you ran from the hospital. Because I was worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Mrs. Gander.” Unable to remain calm, Gerry started pacing along the building’s edge. His arms shot out from time to time, and he nearly fell twice.
“Gerry.” Unable to stop herself, Megan stepped forward.
“Don’t!” Gerry screamed. “Stay back!” He turned and faced her so abruptly that he almost fell.
Megan froze. Her heart beat so frantically it nearly burst. “Gerry, I’m stopping.”
“Stay right there!” he commanded in a shrill voice.
He’s afraid. Megan clung to that realization. As long as he’s afraid of falling, he won’t jump.
“Gerry,” she said calmly, “I talked to your mother just a few minutes ago. She’s worried about you. She knows you’ve been to the hospital.”
“Where is she?”
“At home,” Megan said. “I told her to wait there in case you came home. She doesn’t know you’re up here. But I think she’d like to. I think she’d like the chance to talk to you.” She paused and took a deep breath, knowing she was about to push another of Gerry’s hot buttons. “I think you’d like to talk to her, too.”
Stubbornly, Gerry shook his head. “When she finds out my dad got arrested because of me, she’s going to be mad.”
“Your dad didn’t get arrested because of you. He got arrested because he attacked those other two men.”
“I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital.”
“You had to go to the hospital.” Megan slowly lifted her cell phone. “I’m
