Collateral Damage (21 page)

Safir ran over and dropped to his knees, bending over the old man who was on his side, crumpled up like a broken doll left forgotten on the ground. In the firelight he could see those dark eyes were still open. A large chunk of rock lay across his lower legs, more black liquid spreading out from beneath him. One gnarled hand lay on his belly, the front of him soaked with blood. It glistened in his beard, trailing out of his mouth. Terrible wheezing sounds were coming from his shattered chest.

“Uncle,” he said urgently, sliding a hand beneath the limp neck.

A gurgling noise came out and those dark eyes rolled toward him, focusing for just an instant.

“I’m here,” Safir told him, not knowing what else to say. Over the smoke he caught the metallic tang of fresh blood. His stomach rolled, a terrible sense of helplessness invading him. Masking his emotions, tamping them down into the deepest, darkest part of him, he maintained his confident bearing. “I’m here.”

Those pain-glazed eyes stared into his for a few seconds, then turned vacant. Behzad’s eyelids drooped slightly. The wheezing slowed, then stopped.

Qasim looked up at him, his features illuminated by the dying fires. “We’ll have a team come in to give them all proper burials,” he said in a low voice.

Safir swallowed and eased his hand from beneath Behzad’s neck. The old man’s head lolled to the side, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ruins of his village. Where his wife, children and grandchildren now lay buried.

He sucked in a breath and pushed to his feet, queasy and shaky. “Let’s go.” There was nothing they could do for anyone here, except see to their burials once they reached a safe house back near Peshawar.

Safir gritted his teeth as a wave of rage blasted through him, so strong it raised the hair on the back of his neck. His skin prickled with it, his breathing growing labored.

He glanced down at Behzad’s body, lying still and broken on the ground. “I will make them pay in kind,” he vowed to his dead friend. “I swear it to you on my life.”

A gust of wind suddenly kicked up, carrying a stream of glowing embers up toward the heavens. Though Safir wasn’t all that religious, he knew Behzad’s spirit had heard him and answered.

****

After the last couple days of nonstop action and the emotional ups and downs he’d been riding since the CSAR op, the last thing Liam felt like doing was being back at the hospital. He couldn’t
not
come though.

One of his own was in the room at the end of the hall—maybe not fighting for his life at this point, but definitely fighting the battle
of
his life, and command was transporting him out tonight for further treatment in Kuwait. Liam wasn’t sure what he or Freeman could do for him right now, but they could at least offer their support and show they cared.

Man, he was dreading seeing Blinski like this.

Pausing before the closed door, he shot Freeman a questioning glance. At the man’s silent nod, Liam pushed it open and walked in. Immediately the smell of stale air and antiseptic hit him. His gaze went unerringly to the figure in the solitary bed in the private room.

Blinski was unrecognizable beneath the layers of bandages covering his head, face, arms, and upper body. He lay on his back, the only sounds his shallow breathing and the soft blip of a machine at his bedside.

Jesus Christ. Liam had known it would be bad, but… Shit, he felt so bad for the guy, the thought of the burn damage making him want to crawl out of his own skin in sympathy.

Masking his reaction and ignoring his discomfort, Liam forced himself to approach the bed. The doctors had told them Blinski would tire quickly and might not be all that coherent due to the pain meds he was on. Liam didn’t plan on staying long anyhow. Just long enough to say goodbye and wish him well, offer to help any way he could. It was the least he could do.

At the side of the bed he paused and looked down into his friend’s face. The doctors had amputated Blinski’s right hand and three fingers on his left hand yesterday. Both amputation sites were wrapped with wads of heavy bandages. The only parts of his face visible through the bandages were his right eye and his mouth. The skin around both were red and oozing, his lips blistered. And if they’d been left uncovered because they were considered the least damaged parts of his face…

Imagining what lay beneath the bandages made Liam’s stomach roll.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the side rail with both hands and focused on Blinski. He had to do whatever he could to help him. “Hey, man.”

Blinski’s one functioning eye opened slowly and focused on him. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice shot. From screaming himself raw the night he’d been wounded. When Liam had asked Cam Munro later, the PJ told him Blinski had screamed until he finally lost his voice a few minutes prior to landing at Bagram.

Liam forced a small smile, banishing that horrific image. “Good to see you’re still with us.”

Blinski didn’t answer, merely shifted his one-eyed gaze to Freeman, who stood awkwardly off to the side.

“Wanted to come see you before they transferred you to Kuwait,” Freeman said, not making any move to come closer.

That light blue eye focused back on Liam. “You heard about…others?” he rasped.

Liam nodded, the reason for the hoarse voice almost as sickening as the injuries themselves. “Yeah, we heard. We were at the ramp ceremony yesterday.” They’d stood at attention, in formation as the two flag-draped coffins had been loaded aboard a C-130 for transport. First to Germany, then back to the States where they’d be buried with full military honors. Seeing strong men he served with breaking down in tears at something like that was always a punch to the gut and the sense of loss had hit him hard.

Blinski’s eye began to tear up and Liam’s stomach muscles grabbed in reaction. The man sucked in a breath, seemed to shift restlessly on the bed, as though he was in agony despite the drugs they were pushing into his IV. Liam could hardly stand it, wished he could do something to ease his suffering. “Shoulda been with them.” The words were a mere whisper from that raw throat, full of guilt.

Liam’s heart sunk. Blinski needed all the inner strength and positive thinking he could muster right now. “No, man. There’s no way you could have been there. We gave them a proper sendoff, so don’t worry.”

Blinski made a negative sound, gave a tiny, frustrated shake of his head. “Shoulda died too…”

Ah, hell. Liam gripped the railing tighter. What the hell was he supposed to say? Struggling to find the right words, he finally came up with, “Wasn’t your time, I guess.”

Tears rolled out of the corner of Blinski’s eye, disappearing beneath the thick wad of bandages covering the rest of his face. “God, wish I was
dead
,” he choked out.

Liam shot a helpless glance at Freeman then back at Blinski, resisted the automatic urge to argue and tell him not to talk like that. “Do you need more pain meds?” Clearly the guy was suffering despite whatever medication they were giving him and it made Liam feel sick to his stomach with helplessness.

Blinski closed his eye as a ragged sob tore free, his blistered mouth contorting. “Why couldn’t I have just
died
?” he moaned, and Liam knew he wasn’t really talking to him or Freeman.

“Naw, man,” Freeman interjected, stepping closer to the bed, a worried frown on his face. Liam noticed the beads of sweat dampening the man’s dark skin. Being powerless in this kind of situation sucked. “I know you feel that way now but plastic surgeons can do amazing things, and when you touch down your wife will be waiting to see you—”

“I don’t
want
her to see me,” Blinski bit out in that chilling, rough-edged voice as he shot a one-eyed glare at Freeman. “Fucking
look
at me.” He lifted the bandaged stump where his right hand had once been, grimacing in pain as he did so.

The force of the distraught words coming out of that ruined throat had the hair on Liam’s nape standing up. Christ, maybe they shouldn’t have come in at all. Freeman fell silent and clamped his lips shut, his gaze going to the floor.

“Kim’s going to be there for you through all this,” Freemen said at last, his voice firm despite its low volume. Liam didn’t say anything, relieved that Freeman was trying to get Blinski to focus on the positive, give him something to hope for. “They’re flying her to Germany to be with you.”

“Not after she…sees my face,” he whispered tearfully. “I’m a H-Halloween mask. Fucking Freddy Kruger, all…melted and shit, I…” He trailed off as another ragged sob shook him.

“Yes she will,” Freeman argued, his voice tinged with a hint of anger this time. “She’s a good woman and she loves you. You’ll get through this together.”

“No.” Blinski shook his head. “No…”

Liam swallowed, thinking of the pain Blinski had already suffered and the countless rounds of plastic surgery he would face during his recovery. Probably years of it. And Liam barely knew Kim. He had no idea how seriously she’d taken the “through sickness and in health, through good times and bad” part of her marriage vows. Even if she could get past the horrific scarring her husband had suffered, she might not be able to handle the accompanying emotional and mental trauma.

So no, Liam couldn’t even imagine what his fellow Night Stalker was going through.

After a few minutes of tense silence Blinski was back in control. His eye opened again and focused on Liam, the expression in it almost accusing. “What the fuck am I gonna do?” The desolation in the question was like a punch to the diaphragm.

Liam opened his mouth to say he was going to have to take this one day at a time, but Blinksi kept talking.

“Did you know Kim…was a beauty queen?”

Liam shook his head and stayed silent, letting the man vent. There was no other comfort he could offer.

“High school valedictorian.” He paused, sucking a raspy breath into his ruined lungs. “Modeled until…she had Jesse.” Their six-year-old son.

His lips clamped together for a moment. “He’s gonna…be terrified of me.” Anguish poured out of him. “My son won’t fucking be…able to
look
at me.” This time the sobs ripped free without any restraint, as if he couldn’t hold them back anymore. Awful, raspy noises came from his chest, ending in feral growls as his body stiffened.

The guy was in fucking agony, inside and out.

Unable to stand it, Liam grabbed the call bell and hit it. Seconds later a nurse came rushing in. She took one look at Blinski’s condition and went to the IV. “I’m gonna give you a higher dose, okay? Take the pain away and let you get some sleep.” She shot an accusing glare at both Liam and Freeman, who stood there in silence. Liam didn’t know about Freeman, but he suddenly felt like an asshole for being here.

Moments after she’d adjusted the drip and injected something into the line, Blinski’s restlessness faded and his eyelid began to droop. “Wish I…was dead,” he mumbled as his eye closed, that raspy voice barely audible.

When he was out, Freeman expelled a hard sigh of relief and scrubbed a hand over his face. Liam headed for the door, feeling ill. Out in the hallway he turned to find Freeman stopped by the closed door, his head down, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck in clear agitation.

God. “That was tough,” Liam murmured, shaken. They’d come to support Blinski but maybe they’d made things worse for him. He felt bad about that.

Freeman looked up at him, his dark brown eyes tormented as he pressed his lips together. “I don’t…” He shook his head, tears gleaming in his eyes. “I can’t…” His normally stoic and unflappable co-pilot covered his face with one hand, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Inwardly cursing, Liam grabbed the man’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Freeman leaned into him slightly, his face still averted as he tried to choke back the tears. Liam squeezed the sturdy shoulder he held. “I know. I
know
, it fucking sucks and it’s not fair,” he murmured, holding tight. This was the reality of the danger they all faced every time they went on a mission. Confronting it face-to-face was still a shock though.

It was a stark reminder of how fragile life was, and of the things that truly mattered. Honor’s face appeared in his mind. It could have been him lying in that room burned beyond recognition. And then what? Aside from his regiment, who would have given a shit if that happened to him? Would Honor stick with him through something like that?

Hell yeah, she would. He knew it without question, and a wave of self-loathing washed over him. What the fuck was wrong with him that he’d walked away from a woman like that? He’d already been regretting his actions. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, still couldn’t believe he’d walked away the other night. His feelings for her weren’t ever going to go away.

He shelved that worry for later. “He won’t go through this alone,” Liam said to Freeman.

The other man nodded, fighting to get hold of himself. After a few moments he pushed away. He sniffed, wiped a hand over his wet face and cleared his throat. “You think he’s gonna make it?”

Liam ran a hand through his hair. “Physically, yeah. I mean in time, as far as medicine will allow, anyway. The rest?” He blew out a breath. “Hope to God he’s as strong as I think he is.” It could be that Blinski would never be able to cope with what had happened to him. He faced a long, hard road ahead of him, one Liam didn’t envy.

Together they left the hospital and walked in silence back to their barracks. The late spring sunshine was hot as it beat down on them but Liam felt cold all the way to his bones.

Freeman shot him a sideways glance as they neared the security gate leading to the Spec Ops area. “Guess Honor left this morning?”

Liam concealed his reaction to the mention of her name. Freeman was well aware of how he felt about her. Though Liam hadn’t said anything, Freeman likely had an idea things had reignited between them after the base attack. “Yeah.” He paused. “I fucked up.”

“Sorry, man. That bites.”

Gritting his teeth, Liam only nodded. For the past two days he’d been wrestling with his decision, going over every detail.