Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair (34 page)

T
he weather was already warm
when I went out for a jog. I'd come back home last night, needing a real night's sleep before going in for third shift. I'd had that. Now I needed to work out a few kinks.

My face flushed at the memories of my weekend.

Other kinks.

I wasn't a fan of running, but a slow, easy jog was a good way to stretch out my stiff muscles. I didn't go far, but I didn't need to. When I came around the block, I slowed to a walk and went back upstairs. A long, hot shower and a good meal went a long way to finishing out what I needed to relax.

I drove in rather than taking the bus as I sometimes did. When I worked late, it was usually a toss-up as to whether or not I preferred to drive tired, or ride when there might be some less than scrupulous people riding. Tonight, however, I wanted to drive because I was going a bit early.

One of my friends worked in the ER and wanted me to come by at the beginning of her shift to talk to me about a refrigerator my mom was selling. I hadn't had a chance to talk to Jensine since she'd come off maternity leave anyway, and I was looking forward to seeing pictures of the new baby.

As I was walking into the ER, however, all hell broke loose.

Six ambulances pulled up and started rolling in victims of a five car pile-up. Right behind them were three from a warehouse fire. When I heard that, I started to walk faster, trying to catch up to the last gurney. These three would be heading my way. Then I heard the paramedic giving the doctor the essentials, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Twenty-eight-year-old white male. Badly burned. Broken bones. Smoke inhalation. His vitals are thready. ID says he's Sergeant Xavier Hammond. Stationed at Fort Sam...”

My chest tightened as the rest of the words faded away.

Fuck.

The bloody and burned body on the gurney in front of me belonged to a soldier.

The memories hit me hard and fast, fragmented and sharp.

Sandy brown hair buzzed short.

Dark green eyes sparkling proudly.

The announcement that he'd enlisted in the army.

Pride and fear.

His arms around me as he told me goodbye.

The call that he was being shipped out.

The call that he was coming home.

All of it came at me in seconds, each image taking only a fraction of time. Then someone ran into my shoulder and my world snapped back into place. The gurney with the soldier was two steps ahead of me now. I tossed my purse toward the front desk and hoped that the clerk on duty recognized me. If not, I'd deal with it later. It was chaos in here and I could hear doctors and nurses shouting orders. There weren't enough of them, not with this sudden influx of patients.

I jogged after the gurney and followed it into the room. I'd done a rotation down here back when I'd first started and the layout looked the same. A quick look around told me that they were going to be short-handed in here. I immediately spotted the doctor and breathed a sigh of relief that it was one I knew.

“Dr. Furia,” I called as she walked in.

“Nori?”

“Can I help?” I didn't bother with explanations. There was no time.

I could see the hesitation and knew that it wasn't because Dr. Furia didn't trust me. Unless specifically scheduled or called for, nurses didn't work outside their designated units. Technically, the hospital could get in trouble if the soldier's family found out, but I was hoping that the combination of being short-staffed, and the fact that he was a burn patient would give some leeway.

She nodded. “Get an IV going. Looks like our boy has one good arm available. Let's get it in there.”

I immediately got to work. For a moment, I was afraid my hands would shake and I wouldn't be able to get the needle in, but that passed quickly and I found the young man's vein. I hung the bag and checked his vitals.

His pulse was erratic, blood pressure dangerously low. He was going into shock, and it was clear why. First, second- and third-degree burns over what looked like at least thirty percent of his body. It was hard to tell under all of the dirt, soot, and blood, but there might've even been some fourth degree. If that was the case, his chances of making it dropped significantly.

“Hang in there, soldier,” I whispered. “Don't die on me.”

“Nori, call Catlin,” Dr. Furia said from where she was trying to intubate him.

I nodded and headed for the phone. I dialed the extension and asked for Dr. Fellner. She was one of the best doctors we had and we worked well together. That was good because I fully intended to see this patient through.

I lost track of how long we worked on our soldier, or even when we moved from place to place. His wounds were extensive and varied, making me wonder exactly what'd happened.

His left arm was broken in three places and burned almost to the bone in a few spots. The underside of it was relatively undamaged, only a few first-degree burns that would hurt, but hadn't reached the blood vessels there. The top, however, was scorched from shoulder to wrist. Mercifully, his fingers and most of his hand had been spared.

He also had two broken and three cracked ribs. None in any danger of puncturing anything important, but they were going to make breathing even more of a bitch than his swollen throat and damaged lungs would.

The rest of the burns ran down his left cheek, jaw, neck, across his shoulder, back and chest, down his side to his hip, tapering off about mid-thigh. He also had pieces of wood and metal embedded in him, adding to the risk of infection.

I took out each one, disinfecting as best I could. The burns were debrided and cleaned. His clothes cut off, the process of removing the fabric from the burnt skin nauseating. Dressing the wounds took extra skill and care since we had to set the bones too. Otherwise, he'd need them to be re-broken so they could heal properly.

I tried talking to him softly the whole time, encouraging him to hang on, telling him that he was getting the best care possible. I didn't know anything about him, but I told him to think of his family, of the people he loved, how they would want him to fight. I wasn't sure if he heard me, but I hoped he did. His eyes flickered open a few times, revealing a shade of blue that was beautiful despite being bloodshot. I didn't know if he saw me, but I tried to smile, to tell him that we would take care of him.

When we finally finished, I was exhausted, completely wrung out emotionally and physically. I leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to sit down. A glance at Dr. Fellner told me she felt it too.

She broke the silence first. “Was he from your brother's unit?”

I shook my head. “I don't think so.” I took a slow breath before adding, “I know he's not the only military patient I've ever seen, and my brother wasn't...burned, but...” I wasn't sure how to explain.

“Sometimes, one of these men or women come in, and it doesn't matter what the injury or the age or even the gender. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I just saw him and it was like looking at Logan even though there's nothing about this that's similar. They don't even look alike.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “Why don't you take a break? I'm sure you left some things downstairs. Why don't you go down, get them, ask if anyone's found his family yet?”

I nodded again. “Thank you.”

She was partway out the door when she stopped and looked at me again. “And if they haven't, why don't you go ahead and give it a try. Go out to the base if you need to.”

“I don't want you to get in trouble,” I protested.

She gave me a quirk of a smile. “My husband's family donated a lot of money to the hospital over the years. I doubt they'll fire me over letting a nurse do some slightly unorthodox things.”

I managed a partial smile in return. “Thank you.”

As the door shut behind her, I took a moment to close my eyes. I'd never asked for special treatment because of Logan. After all, I was far from the only person in the hospital to have military connections. But at the moment, I was glad that Dr. Fellner had granted me the extra privilege. I needed some time to clear my head.

I started to head down to the ER, trying to remember what I might've left down there. The last few hours or so were a blur. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the windows and realized that I needed to change into clean scrubs if there was even a chance I'd be going out in public.

I ducked into the changing room and pulled off the shirt and pants that were both covered with more bodily fluids than I wanted to consider. I found scrubs in my size and pulled them on, then headed to a sink to wash my face and smooth out my hair.

Feeling slightly more refreshed, I headed down to the ER. I remembered that I'd left my purse down there. I'd tossed it without a second thought, but now realized that hadn't been a smart thing to do. I was usually smarter than that, better than that, but something about that soldier, seeing him there, threw me. I didn't know why or what it was about him, but I knew he’d be one of those patients I'd be personally invested in until he left. And one I knew I'd wonder about even after he was gone.

“Hey, Malachi,” I greeted the ER desk clerk. “I was down here earlier.”

“I heard,” he said with a grin, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “Also heard you jumped right in.”

I cringed. “Dr. Furia isn't getting in trouble for letting me, is she?”

“Naw.” His Texas drawl was thicker than mine and it always made me smile. “Since the patient headed up to you guys anyway, no one's saying boo about it.”

“That's good.”

“He gonna make it?” Malachi's smile disappeared.

A lump formed in my throat, surprising me as much as the burning in my eyes. “It's hard to say. I've seen people with worse injuries pull through, but I can't say it for certain. It's going to come down to how hard he fights.”

“From what I hear, fighting's not gonna be an issue,” Malachi said. He leaned against the counter. “Story going around is, soldier boy came running up to a warehouse on fire, hears a kid inside screaming. He goes in, even though flames are coming through the roof, comes out a couple minutes later with this boy. Then he starts talking about how there's someone else in the building. Everyone tells him he's nuts, that it's suicide. He goes in anyway. Then, boom. The whole place explodes. And GI Joe's still alive.”

“Wow.” I leaned against the counter. “How the hell did he manage that?”

Malachi shrugged. “Beats me. Way I heard it, half a wall came down on the guy. Blew right over the man he'd gone in to rescue. That guy didn't have a scratch on him. Just some smoke damage.”

“What about the kid?” I asked. “I didn't hear anything about him being sent up to us.”

Malachi shook his head. “Don't think he was. From what I heard, he wasn't burnt. You know how it is. More people hush-hush about a kid. The hero's the one everyone's talking about.”

“So everyone's talking about him,” I said. “Anyone able to get hold of his family?”

“Don't know.” Malachi ducked down behind the counter for a moment and then came up with my purse. He handed it to me. “Honestly, I think things got a bit lost with all the crazy down here. After you took the soldier up, we had a gunshot wound, three dog bites and a bout of alcohol poisoning at a college pre-spring break party.”

“Holy hell,” I said. “I'm surprised you guys got anything done.”

Malachi shrugged. “We'd have to call the army anyway. Those boys will call the family.”

I wasn't sure if Dr. Fellner had been serious about me going to Fort Sam Houston or not, but I planned to take the opportunity for a bit of time outside. It was still nice out, and while seeing Malachi had helped me a bit, I needed some time before I could go back upstairs. Some time to get my head back together.

“I'll do it personally,” I said. Malachi gave me a strange look, but didn't press. “Dr. Fellner gave me the okay. I'll be back in a bit.”

“Here.” Malachi reached under the counter again and pulled out a plastic bag. “I had his effects ready for when we got hold of someone. It's basically just his wallet, and that's a bit crispy.”

I nodded and took it. “Thanks.”

I went through the front doors and flagged down a cab, not wanting the stress of driving. After telling him my destination, I gave in to my curiosity and opened his wallet. The face on his ID was a handsome one. Sergeant Xavier Hammond. Dark blond hair. A Pennsylvania driver's license that listed his home as Philadelphia.

I found myself staring at his picture, trying to figure out what sort of man he was, what had compelled him to go back into that building. He was a soldier, sure, but he wasn't a firefighter.

When the cab pulled up in front of the base, I paid and walked up to the gate. I squinted into the setting sun and smiled at the guard who stepped out to meet me.

“My name is Nori Prinz,” I said as I held up my hospital badge. “I'm a nurse over at the medical center. We admitted a Sergeant Xavier Hammond with severe injuries. I need to know who to speak to about contacting his family.”

I
knew pain
.

I'd gotten the shit beaten out of me as a kid probably hundreds of times. Had broken bones more than once. I'd nearly been killed more times than I could count, and only some of them had been after I'd joined the army.

I'd been pushed to the brink. Baked in the desert. Frozen at night. I'd had sunburn and frostbite. Bitten by bugs I couldn't name. Ran until my legs gave out.

This was worse.

So much worse.

I was burning. The entire left side of my body was on fire. Skin, muscles, nerves. All of them were screaming. My brain was screaming. I couldn't think of anything else but that I wanted to die.

I had to die.

Because there was no way anyone could survive something like this.

I felt darkness coming and welcomed it, prayed that it would be permanent bliss.

Except the darkness brought its own kind of terror.

“Xavier! You come back here, you little bastard!” His voice boomed in the hallway. “I'm gonna beat your ass! You broke that lamp and I damn well know it!”

The leather of his belt cracked down on me, bursts of white pain as it came in contact with my cheek, my jaw. Then it came down on my arm, my back, my hip.

“What're you doing, Xavy?” Madison danced in front of me, her blonde pigtails bobbing. “Daddy just wants you to be good. Why can't you be good?”

“I tried, Maddie,” I groaned, unsure if I was actually talking or just thinking.

I was floating in liquid fire.

Lava.

Flowing over my body, burning, eating, destroying.

I wanted it to melt me, make me disappear.

I could hear beeping, but it wasn't steady. It was all over the place. Fast one moment, slow the next.

There were voices.

Pressure on my chest.

Something on my face. Pressing, hurting.

I tried to brush it off, but my hand didn't want to move.

“You've been injured.”

A man was talking and since I hurt, I assumed he was talking to me.

“Don't try to move.”

Where the fuck did he think I was going to go?

Oh, right, the dark...

This time, without pain.

I drifted, content with the bliss unconsciousness offered. Or maybe I was dead already. I hoped that was it. I was tired. So tired.

“Xavy!”

She barreled into my knees and I reached down to pick her up.

“You got tall.” She gave me a serious look.

“I did?” I looked down and saw that she was right. I was tall.

I held her with one arm and rubbed my hand over my jaw. The bristles there were rough against my palm. I needed to shave.

Why would I need to shave?

I was still a kid, wasn't I?

I looked at Madison. She was just the way I remembered her. But I wasn't. I was a grown-up. How was I an adult and she still just a kid?

“You think too much, Xavy.” Madison patted my face. “Now come on, let's play.”

I tried to tell her that I couldn't play. I had things I needed to do. Didn't I? There had to be something I was missing. Something I was supposed to be doing. A place I was supposed to be.

A bright light pierced my eyes, and I jerked my head. Lightning shot up my side, and I tried to make a sound but I couldn't. There was something in my mouth. In my throat.

I wanted to reach up and grab it, but my arms didn't want to work. They felt too heavy. My whole body felt too heavy.

Something was wrong.

All of this was wrong.

Movement at the edge of my vision fluttered. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman, her dark hair pulled back to reveal a drawn face. She looked sad, and I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, but the darkness came again and took me.

I could see the bright spots of muzzle flash in the distance and knew that we'd walked into a trap.

“Fall back! Fall back!” I screamed at my men, but it was too late.

They fell around me, shot through the hearts, the heads. They lay all around me, screaming as blood poured from their wounds. Blown-off legs and arms littered the ground. Hundreds of bodies. And I'd killed them all.

Their deaths were my fault.

Always my fault.

I promised them that I'd look after them. It was my job to protect them.

But I'd failed.

Failed them like I'd failed everyone I'd ever cared about.

I didn't know why I'd survived. I shouldn't have. I should've died instead of them.

Mea culpa.

Mea culpa.

“Don't give up, Soldier. Please, hang on. Fight.”

I didn't know that voice, but it was a woman and I wondered if she was the one I'd seen before.

Then the pain was back and I couldn't think. Couldn't think of anything but how much I wanted to die.

But she'd told me to fight.

Asked me not to go.

How could I deny her?

But the pain was too much. I couldn't bear it.

But I had to bear it. It was my punishment after all. My punishment for all the wrong I'd done. I deserved this. Deserved no peace in the half-wakefulness that claimed me.

I could smell my body burning, smell the charred flesh. Feel them digging and prodding. Tearing, ripping.

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.

I wanted to die, but I couldn't.

All I could do was remind myself that I deserved every agonizing second. I could see their faces. All of them. Every person I'd failed. It was because of them that I was burning but not dying.

This was my penance.

This was my purgatory.

Mea culpa.

Mea culpa.