A flash broke his vision, and the world turned white.
Silence.
Jed smiled at the peace of it. He’d missed this… the tranquil rush of absolute quiet. A scarce commodity on active service, it was something he truly craved. Sometimes, he sympathized with the venom in the eyes of the local women, the elderly crones who waved their sticks and threatened to claw his eyes out. Sometimes, he thought he could cheerfully kill every one of his men for some sacred peace and quiet.
“Jed!”
He sighed. Dammit. Didn’t they know he was sleeping? He opened his mouth to tell them. Gas, the unmistakable scent of an IED filled his senses, and his pleasant dream evaporated in a cloud of murky, choking smoke.
“Jed!”
He tried to roll over. Nothing happened. A weight pinned him down. Fuck! For a split second, it crossed his mind that the limbs he was trying to move were perhaps no longer there.
Huh.
Apathy filled him. He’d been freezing his balls off moments before, but now he felt warm, like the sleep he’d chased for the best part of a week was suddenly possible. Moving was hard work. Staying still was easy, too easy….
The weight crushing him lifted. “Get up, J. Come on. We need to move.”
Jed stared into the wild eyes of his third-in-command as Luke grasped his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Once upright, Jed surveyed his surroundings, and his brain slammed back into place with a strange, vibrating thud. He took in the patch of ground where he’d been standing when the device went off. The dusty, cracked concrete was gone, and in its place was a six-foot crater filled with blood.
Blood, so much blood, but it wasn’t his.
Jed whipped around, searching for a body, and found the crumpled form of the young Iraqi he’d urged forward to take his place. There wasn’t much left of him.
“J?”
Jed shook Luke’s hands from him and stepped forward. He skirted around the man’s body, the world briefly darker than it should’ve been, but as he left the scene, his vision cleared and he didn’t look back….
November 2006
THEDISTINCTLYAmerican hospital waiting room came back into focus. Jed blinked, surprised to find himself awake. He was used to the past haunting his dreams. So much so, he often welcomed his ingrained inability to sleep more than a few hours at a time. A waking flashback? Damn. That was something he could do without. The IED blast was nothing—a blip and a shitty day at the office. At least until he got back to base, pulled off his helmet, and a pint of his own blood fell out.
Paul said he was never the same after that. Maybe he was right. The shrapnel lodged in his helmet had taken a small chunk out of his head. Perhaps it had taken a piece of his soul too.
“Jed Cooper?”
Jed tore his eyes from the floor to find the elderly receptionist stooped right in front of him. From the look on her face, she’d called his name more than once. He tossed the newspaper he’d failed to open on the table and followed her to a room at the end of a corridor. The shiny nameplate on the door caught his eye, and he suppressed another sigh.
Dr. William Howarth MD. Gastroenterology
Great.He’d put off the appointment with the specialist for as long as he could, but a bizarre meeting with his physical therapist the day before had spurred him into action. Carla Valesco had made it clear that he couldn’t start PT without the specialist’s approval and guidance.
Yeah, that’s right. Dan had failed to mention that his kid sister’s definition of “working at the hospital” turned out to be as Portland’s newest physical therapist.
“I can find you someone else if you want, but we might as well get started in the meantime. I’ve read your file, Jed. It got back here before you did. What have you got to lose?”
He had been too stunned to formulate an intelligent response at the time, but he allowed himself a slight smirk as he pushed open the door to Dr. Howarth’s office. Carla Valesco was a spitfire—a tiny Ecuadoran powerhouse, like her mom. Perhaps she was just what he needed.
“Sergeant Cooper?”
For the second time in as many minutes, Jed found himself caught off guard. A slim, bearded middle-aged man appeared in front of him and offered his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you. My secretary had some trouble tracking you down. Sit, please.”
Jed shook the proffered hand and folded his body into the leather chair on his side of the desk. Dr. Howarth’s tone was dry, but Jed felt no urge to utter an apology he didn’t mean. It was his habit to analyze people, and the doctor’s keen eyes suggested he didn’t take kindly to bullshit, a theory proved when, after the introductions, he cut to the chase and directed Jed to the examination area.
Dr. Howarth passed practiced, cool hands over Jed’s tender abdomen. Jed flinched. Dr. Howarth paused and pressed a little deeper. “Is that sore?”
“A little.”