Love On Call

Glenn pulled out of the parking lot just as the sun dropped below the crest of the mountains, painting the road in intersecting patterns of light and shadow. Walking away from Mari was about the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d wanted to press her for an answer, for some sign that Mari felt what she felt, and knew she couldn’t. Mari needed to come to her of her own free will, in her own time, and all she could do was hope that time would one day come. If it didn’t, well, she wasn’t going to think about that. The need that clawed at her belly was like a hunger, an aching void she couldn’t fill. Living with that need would be torture, had been torture, every day. The only thing that helped was catching a glimpse of Mari, spying that fleeting smile, the lingering look that said Mari was searching for her too in the midst of a busy day. Every time she did, she knew she was right to wait, to hope, saw the road ahead as clearly as she’d ever seen anything in her life. She wanted this woman, this one woman, and whatever it took, as long as it took, she’d do—

The IED exploded right under the belly of her vehicle. The blast deafening, the detonation blinding. She braced automatically, her transport airborne, spinning, tumbling, end over end. She landed with a bone-jarring thud in a scream of metal and shattering glass, her head striking steel, pain lancing down her spine. Through a wash of blood obscuring her vision, she fumbled for her safety harness, finally found the clasp, and once released, tumbled to the ground. The scent of fuel penetrated the copper scent of blood.

No, not ground, still inside, had to get out.

Couldn’t burn. Wouldn’t die in flames.

She crawled, wiping blood from her eyes, peering around for the rest of her unit. Couldn’t find her med kit. Up ahead a Humvee on its side, trailing a glistening line of fuel on the road. Pushed to her feet, staggering, dizzy. Found the door, braced her leg against crumpled metal, felt the edge slice through her BDUs, into her thigh. Ignoring the searing pain, she pulled, strained, finally popped the door. Single occupant, unconscious, strapped in. Couldn’t find her KA-BAR to cut the straps. Worked him free and dragged him up clear, had to stop to vomit, kneeling in the road, the trooper slung over one shoulder. RPGs lit the sky. She staggered for cover, fell again, threw her body over the trooper.

“Medic, medic,” she whispered before the dark took her.

*

While Mari waited for Dr. Zapata, the young orthopedist on call, to come in from the suburbs a half an hour or so away, she checked over the pre-op numbers, made sure Antonelli got a consent signed, and explained to the patient and her spouse what they could expect for the rest of the evening.

“Dr. Zapata will go over the surgery in detail,” she said in response to their anxious questions, “but from the experience I’ve had with fractures like this—”

The curtain enclosing the cubicle rattled back with a loud clang, and she glanced over her shoulder, annoyed at being interrupted. Antonelli filled the space between the tiny cubicle and the hall. His face was white.

“We need you out here.”

Mari smiled at the woman with the fractured femur and her worried spouse. “The surgeon will answer the rest of your questions. I’ll be back as soon as I can to check on you.” She stepped aside and closed the curtain. “What’s going on?”

“We just got a STAT call from the sheriff. MVA, two victims en route, both unresponsive.”

“Did you page Abby?”

“Yes.” Antonelli blocked her path as she started toward the trauma bay.

Annoyed, Mari stopped short, already mentally cataloging what needed to be done. “Who’s on for surgery tonight?”

“That asshole Williams. Mari—”

Mari sighed. “I wonder if we could get Flann and Glenn back here from their—”

“Mari, it’s Glenn.”

“What? You already got her?” Mari looked down the hall, expecting to see Glenn stride around the corner with her battle-ready expression, directing everyone to their stations.

“No, no. Listen. The sheriff’s local. He recognized her. One of the victims is Glenn.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Icy fingers squeezed Mari’s throat. Time froze. The sound of her thundering heart drowned out all thought, leaving only primal fear.

“Where is she?”

Mari skirted around Antonelli, shouldered him aside when he tried again to stop her, and raced toward the admitting area. Antonelli, with his longer legs, caught her easily and grasped her arm.

“Don’t.” Mari jerked free, her voice a whip crack in the unnatural silence. Where was everyone? In receiving, waiting for the injured. Waiting for Glenn. No, that couldn’t be. She couldn’t even bring that picture into focus. The vision made no sense, and yet, beneath the denial, a terrible truth tried to bubble free. Nothing lasts—not life, not love, not dreams. “No. No, that it isn’t true. I will not accept that.”

“Mari,” Antonelli said, dropping his hand and keeping pace. “You don’t want to do this. Abby’s on her way down right now. We’ll take care of Glenn.”