Broken Arrow: A Military Erotic Romance (2 page)

Eventually, Jake told the group about the incident downtown. Corporal Kincaid asked, “Did you try to defend yourself? That’s what always worries me. I’m afraid I might hurt someone when I think I am defending myself. I’m afraid to move home, even if they let me.” He started crying.

Doctor Bryant had just started to say something in response when the explosion shook the building. This wasn’t a semi hitting a pothole.  This was ordnance–a lot of it–going off somewhere nearby. Alarms and sirens sounded from within and outside the building. In the small therapy room, all hell broke loose.

Two of the patients were curled into the corners. One was standing screaming, “Incoming! Incoming! Incoming!” Two more were locked in each other’s arms attempting to wrestle each other to the ground. Corporal Kincaid had his chair in his hands and was smashing it against the walls and the table and swinging it at anyone within reach. Sophie was on the floor, curled into a ball and sobbing, “No, Daddy. No, Daddy. You are home. Daddy, you are safe. Don’t hurt Mommy. Don’t hurt Mommy.”

Jake didn’t know if it was his back mind or his front mind that was in control, but as Kincaid moved to bring the chair down on the fallen doctor, he threw himself over her. The chair crashed down on his back just as orderlies began streaming into the room with restraints and sedatives. In a few moments order was restored as the men slowly came back to the present.

“It’s not an attack,” one of the orderlies said quietly to Sophie as she rose to her feet. “They were clearing out-of-date munitions out of an old ammo bunker up in the hills between here and North Camp and something went off. That damned World War Two stuff is as unstable as hell. They should have just detonated it in place to begin with, but they didn’t want to disturb the civilians in town.” He paused and added bitterly, “That worked out well.”

Sophie merely nodded in response as the orderlies turned and left the room, taking everyone but the sergeant with them. Her eyes were wide, but now tearless.

“Doctor Bryant?” Jake asked.

When there was no reply, he said, “Sophie?”

Then he saw it... the thousand mile stare that you normally see only in people like him. He took her hands in his own and said softly, “Soldier, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

She trembled slightly and then blinked several times as if confused. Finally, she shook her head and looked around her as if she were just waking up. Looking down at her hands held firmly in Jake’s, she suddenly dissolved into tears. He pulled her into his shoulder and held her tightly. “You are home. You are safe,” he said softly.

Jake wasn’t sure how long he stood there holding Doctor Bryant, but after a while he realized that they were now alone in the room. “Doctor Bryant?” he said. “Sophie, are you all right?”

She pulled slightly away from his chest and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with pain. “I’m not sure,” she answered. “I don’t understand what just happened.”

“I do,” he answered quietly. “You were crying for your father not to hurt your mother. You were trying to tell him that he was home, but he wasn’t, was he?”

Sophie just sniffled in response, trying to hold back more tears.

“What war did he bring home with him?” Jake asked.

“Does it matter?” she answered. “He couldn’t leave it behind him and one day he snapped and killed my mother and then himself.”

“I think you need to say more about that,” Jake responded. His voice was a mixture of concern and mirth.

When Sophie frowned at his use of what would normally be her words, he smiled and said, “I know the drill. Remember, I had to deal with my mother’s condition from the time I was five.”

The smile left his face. “But seriously, it does sound like you need to talk to someone who understands and isn’t in your chain of command. I understand, but this is not the place. You don’t have to be paranoid to think that the walls here have ears. I’ve seen the technicians repairing the microphones.”

His smile returned. “Thanks to my therapist, I have off-base privileges. We could go someplace quiet and talk. There are a lot of nice restaurants in town.”

“This base has very long ears,” Sophie replied. “Do you think you could drive me home? We can talk there.”

Then she kissed him. It started as a kiss on his cheek, like his grandmother would have given him, more of pressing the cheeks against each other rather than actually kissing, but then it changed. She drew back, slightly tilted her head and kissed him again. This time it was fully mouth against mouth. Her lips were hot and her body seemed to mold itself to his. She parted her lips slightly as she pressed in tightly against him, moaning softly.

Suddenly she stiffened and pulled herself away. Her face had a confused look, as if she again wasn’t sure what had happened or why. Then she laughed slightly. It was an artificial laugh. “A kiss for my rescuing hero,” she said.

“Just doin’ what a Marine is trained to do, ma’am, protecting the one you love.” Now it was Jake who looked slightly confused. “I mean, protecting the women and children back home,” he stammered.

“Look, Doctor,” he said, “maybe it would be better if we did go to some diner or restaurant. It’ll look less like fraternization. I’m a non-com and you’re a...”

“Civilian!” she said as she cut him off. “I’m a civilian, Sergeant. No regs against us meeting. And I live off base so the housing regs don’t apply either.”

“But you’re my therapist,” he said. “Isn’t there something about that?”

“Yes,” she replied, “there is. But my code of ethics requires honesty, not rigid separation. I will inform my colleagues that your heroic rescue of me today changed the dynamic of our relationship and I can no longer continue as your therapist. That’s the truth... sort of. The code doesn’t require the
whole
truth.”

She blushed slightly and then sighed. “And besides, your actions today indicate that you are progressing beyond your initial stages of PTSD and belong in a different group.”

“I just did what a Marine...”

She completed his sentence, “...is trained to do. I know. But it was appropriate behavior for the situation and you stayed in the present reality.”

“So, is our going to your house appropriate behavior for the situation?” he asked.

“It is if I love you,” she answered. “... and you love me.”

“I’m not sure it’s love,” he said softly.

“Neither am I,” she answered. “That’s why we need to talk... first.”

***

Sophie’s mind was alternating between numb and racing at a million miles per hour. What had just happened? What had she just done? She was taking a patient, an enlisted patient no less, back to her house with implied–no, explicit–overtones of sex.

Normally, it would take only moments to get off base and fifteen minutes to get to her house in town. South Camp was primarily housing and not quite as tightly-guarded as North Camp, but a massive explosion, no matter how seemingly accidental, was still an explosion and full security was now in effect. Every car was checked, going in or out. Armored personnel carriers with their guns locked and loaded sat on either side of the gates ready to repel intruders. Until everyone was sure exactly what had happened and the commandant made orders to stand down, both North and South Camp would be on high threat security alert.

As they sat waiting in a long line of cars leaving camp, Sophie replayed what had happened in the group session. When the building shook all of the men reacted as expected for severe PTSD. But then Corporal Kincaid started swinging the chair against the walls and table... just like her father had done more than once in her kitchen. Suddenly she was ten years old and hiding under her chair... Suddenly she was in the middle of nightmares she hadn’t experienced in over a dozen years... Suddenly she was pleading with her father not to hurt her or her mother. And when it was over, the most frightening realization of all came to her. She awoke to discover that the only difference between her and the men she tried so desperately to cure was the trigger for the PTSD episode.

Jake’s voice disturbed her thoughts. “You still with me, Doctor Bryant?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. Her voice somehow sounded distant as she spoke. Then things cleared and she said, “Jake, I think that while we are off base you should call me Sophie. Is that OK with you?”

“Got it,” he replied. “On base, full regs. Off base, residence regs.”

Sophie smiled. “I’m a civilian and I don’t live in base housing. Residence regulations don’t apply.”

“I’m a Marine, ma’am. Regs always apply.”

“Do you like Italian food?” she asked suddenly. Her mind was racing through what she had in her refrigerator and pantry. She and Jake needed to talk before they... before anything else might happen, and a meal made conversation much easier. She had some penne pasta on the shelf and a bag of pre-made Caesar salad in the refrigerator. There wasn’t time to make her mother’s recipe for red meat sauce, but there were a couple of jars of store-bought sauce in the pantry next to the pasta.

She had plenty of wine. The decanter on the kitchen counter was only about half-full, but there was an almost full gallon of Italian table wine on the floor of the pantry. It was the same wine her Italian mother and grandmother had preferred. It always amused her to hear her doctor friends compliment her on the wine when she had them over for dinner. She never told them it was what the gourmands–and probably they–would call “peasant wine.”

“I’m a Marine, ma’am,” he replied again, this time with almost a chuckle. “I’ll eat anything that doesn’t crawl away from me.” He laughed. “Except in survival training. Then crawling away doesn’t save it.”

Sophie laughed. They were now at the gate. A Marine guard leaned close to each window.  A second guard with a rifle held at the ready stood a few steps behind each of them. Both she and Jake rolled down their windows and held up their IDs. The guard on Sophie’s side looked over the top of the car and asked, “What’s the number?”

The other guard answered him, “Eleven.”

He then smiled down at Sophie and said with a laugh, “You are lucky number ten. You may go.”

When she looked over at Jake, he said, “I guess this is our lucky day.”

She still had no idea what he meant, so he explained. “High security protocol. Random full inspection of all vehicles going in or out. Those poor bastards behind us are going to be there for a while.”

Then his voice became much more serious, “Do you feel like this is your lucky day?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her voice was very soft.

“You would never let me get away with an answer like that in group,” Jake pushed.

“I found out something about myself today that I have been hiding from everyone, including myself for a long, long time,” she said. “And I was nearly killed by a member of a therapy group that I am supposed to lead. That doesn’t sound lucky.”

Her voice brightened, “But I was saved by another member of the group. A member...” There was a long pause. “...A member to whom I have been strangely attracted ever since he was wheeled into admitting in a coma.”

“You knew nothing about me then.”

“I saw you naked,” she replied quickly and then suddenly reddened.

Why did you say that?
she yelled at herself mentally. Then she sputtered out, “I mean— I— I mean I was there for the initial evaluation when we checked all of your muscle responses, and I have all of your files. I know more about you than you think.”

“So did they all work?” Jake asked, glancing over at her.

Sophie felt herself blushing horribly. With her slightly olive skin and darker complexion, a blush normally didn’t show, but from the heat on her face she knew that she was totally red. “Um... ah...” she stammered.

“I know about the peter performance test,” He laughed. “I don’t know what you write in the reports, but the word deployed is that if a Marine doesn’t salute, he is in a coma. If he doesn’t rise to the occasion, he’s dead.”