“I need to go check on Riggs, I will be right back. Make sure you hang in there.” I go to stand, and my ankle gives out. “I’m coming, Riggs,” I yell toward him, hoping to get some response but instead I got nothing. I combat crawl across the road, once I reach Riggs, I am relieved to feel he still has a pulse.
I try to assess his injuries. I see the blood, but I can’t pinpoint where it is coming from. I tilt him sideways gently, that is when I see the six-inch piece of metal shrapnel embedded into his back. I know I can’t pull it out, but I need to take the pressure off it until we can get out of here. Whipping sounds send a chill of relief through me. I look up to see a rescue helicopter coming in, I turn Riggs over onto his stomach and race back to Rider.
“Jackson, wake up!” I hear. Shooting upright, I look around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you were screaming in your sleep,” Evelyn says.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I tell her, looking over at her, seeing concern etched on her face. I know what she sees, I’m drenched in sweat, I probably look like I haven’t slept in days.
“I promise, I’m okay, it was just a dream. It’s all over now. Come on, climb into bed,” I tell her. Nothing would settle me more than her in my arms. I look over at her and notice her eyes are red and rimmed, puffy and instantly I want to find out the threat and eliminate it.
“What happened?” I ask her, knowing she might not want to tell me, but she has done so much for me.
“It was just a very long and hard shift,” she says, her eyes welling up again.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her into the bed next to me. I know I will not be able to go back to sleep but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold her while she sleeps.
“I’m sorry work was hard.” I wrap her in my arms, her body is warm and pliable.
She curls up and lays her head on my chest. Nothing has ever felt this right, this comfortable and I owe it all to her.
“Do you have dreams like that often?” she mumbles.
“Yes, but it’s nothing I can’t live with. Shhhh, go to sleep, we can talk about that in the morning,” I tell her, running my fingers through her hair.
Chapter Six
Evelyn
“Why did you pick the name Gracie for her?” he says, pointing to Gracie. I knew this day would come. Talking about Grace in any kind of way rips open that wound.
“My sister’s name was Grace,” I tell him, hoping I can make it through this one without crying.
“I named her Grace after my sister, her name was Louisa Grace, but she hated her first name with a passion, so she just went by Grace for everything. Grace was in the Army. She specialized in explosives working with the K-9 unit in Baghdad, Operation Iraqi Freedom,” I tell him, looking over at Gracie sleeping peacefully.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” he asks. I clear my throat trying to make sure I can make it through.
“She was on her second tour when her unit was sent out to search and clear an abandoned building. It was said the building housed radicals. She and Tex, her German shepherd, just finished clearing it when their building fell under fire. She was hit, Tex pulled her to cover behind an abandoned car until they could be rescued. She was discharged, Tex was reassigned to a new handler and she just couldn’t recover. One year after she was discharged my sister fell victim to 22 A Day.” I reach up and grip the small pendent between my fingers and give it a small kiss.
“When people talk about coming back, they don’t tell you how hard it is, they tell you all the good parts but not about the bad,” he tells me, in a story like Grace’s the bad outweighed the good.
“My sister was a force of nature; she had her whole life in front of her. She was twenty-eight when she committed suicide,” I whisper.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. The words I have heard a million times but sounding more sympathetic coming from him.
“Grace was so full of life, always eager to help anyone, anytime. She loved animals, so when she joined the K-9 unit it wasn’t a big surprise. When she came home, she was a whole different person, her spark was gone.” I try and collect my thoughts.
“You know when I came home, everyone just expected me to be okay. In the hospital every time a nurse came in to check my vitals, or when I had visitors come by, they always said the same thing. Just thank goodness, it could have been worse, thankfully you are still alive. Don’t worry things will get better,” he tells me, his tone breaks my heart in some ways he reminds me of Grace.
“You know what most people don’t understand, they don’t understand that physically you might get better, but when you close your eyes you are right back there. Right back at the start, you repeat some of the most terrifying moments over and over again. I know there were days I was in such a dark place I could have ended it all. I would have done anything not to see the explosion and carnage that was left behind that day.” The way he talks about it, when he talks about those memories, he is intently back there.
“Do you still have those days?” I look at him questioningly.
“I still have dark days but nothing like what I had when I first got back. When my leg is acting up or when I sit too idle, the past can still haunt me,” he tells me
