Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (31 page)

“About two minutes after Alec started flooring it out of there, Suarez stopped breathing. I tried giving him mouth-to-mouth, but…”

Roy’s face was again running with sweat. He scrubbed it off with his pajama sleeve. “DJ still hadn’t said a word. I thought maybe he’d inhaled just as the bomb went off and burned his lungs or throat. I thought his throat would swell shut or his lungs would fill up with fluid, and he’d suffocate before we could get to help.”

You know so many ways that a person can die,
Laura thought. She remembered kneeling beside the red-haired man—Andrew—and feeling his life run out, wet and hot, over her hands. How many times had Roy had people die in his arms?

Roy went on, “Suarez was dead. I thought DJ was dying. I felt like the floor dropped out from under my feet. Literally, I couldn’t feel anything touching me. It was like I was falling. No—it was like I didn’t even exist. I had no idea why we were doing anything or why any of it mattered. Everything—not just the war, everything in existence—felt completely meaningless and pointless. It was like I was watching a movie that I didn’t even care about.

“Then we started taking fire again. Honestly, I was glad. I know that sounds terrible.”

“No, it makes sense,” Laura said. “It gave you something useful to do. And something else to think about.”

“I guess. Well, I let go of Suarez, I grabbed on to DJ with one hand so he wouldn’t get thrown around, and I started shooting out the back with the other.

“DJ said, ‘Where’s my rifle?’

“I was so glad to hear his voice, I can’t even tell you. I passed it over to him, and, obviously, we made it back. I got out of the Humvee and fell over. I’d been hit and I never even noticed.”

“There.” Roy guided Laura’s hand to a pitted scar on his thigh. “DJ was medevac’d out, and I was treated at the base. The wound wasn’t serious, but I’d lost a lot of blood. I thought maybe that was why I had that—that breakdown. But I didn’t feel any better after it healed.”

He went on with a mixture of guilt and determination, as if he was making some terrible confession. “I know I let you get the impression that everything that was wrong with me started when the helo went down. But I was already falling apart. I couldn’t eat. I was afraid to sleep. I’d stay up until I more or less collapsed, and then I’d dream of that ambush and wake up having a panic attack.

“I’d be sitting around doing nothing and I’d have a panic attack. I wouldn’t literally
panic
, you know, but for no reason, I’d feel anxious, my heart would rev up, I’d get short of breath, I’d start shaking, and I’d sweat through my shirt. I tried and tried to keep it together, but I just couldn’t.

“When I first heard that DJ would make it, I thought, ‘I was afraid that he’d die, but now that I know he won’t, I’ll be all right.’ But I wasn’t. He came back about a month later, with one hell of a scar. Then I thought, ‘I had to see for myself that he’s fine, but now that I’ve seen it, I’ll be all right.’ But I wasn’t then, either. I haven’t been all right since that IED went off, and that was six months ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever be all right again.”

“Oh, Roy…” Laura tightened her arm around him. “Didn’t anyone try to help you?”

“Sure. I got sent back to the doctor on base. He said I was having a normal, temporary reaction to the stress of war. He pulled me off duty for twenty-four hours, gave me a sleeping pill and a shot for nausea, and told me I’d be fine once I got some rest. I made out like it fixed me.” Roy hesitated. “That happened twice before DJ came back.”

“But your buddies—your team. Didn’t they realize you were in trouble?”

“Of course they did. Marco was the one who sent me to be treated. He was the team leader, so he could do that. He kept an eye on me, made sure I ate and tried to stay near me when I slept. Alec did his best to cheer me up. DJ…”

He fell silent for so long that Laura prompted him, “What did DJ do?”

The muscles of Roy’s chest and side were rigid against Laura’s body. “This is really hard to talk about.”

Harder than telling me how you and he both nearly died?
Laura thought.
Harder than admitting that you haven’t been fine for a long time?

She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to cause him even more pain. “Do you think you’ll feel better if you tell me anyway?”

“Maybe?” To Laura’s surprise, even the possibility seemed to inspire Roy to keep talking. “You have to remember, for everyone else, this happened gradually. But for DJ, one day he was patrolling with me, then he spent a month in the hospital. Then he came back and saw me. He seemed shocked. All else aside, I’d lost weight. He started pestering me to go back to the doctor and tell him that twenty-four hours of rest didn’t cut it. I said no. I wasn’t going to make everyone else pick up my slack just because I didn’t feel good.”

“How well could you actually work?”

“It wasn’t so bad while I was on duty and had something else to focus on. Then I’d go off duty, and that’s when it would hit me. Finally… I feel terrible about this.” Roy took a deep breath. “I had no appetite and I felt sick all the time, so I wasn’t eating enough. I used to like the Pop-Tarts that came in some of the MREs. DJ found me one and told me I needed to eat something and he wasn’t leaving until I did. I thought, no problem, I’ll eat it and he’ll go away. If it made me throw up later, he’d never have to know.

“I took a bite, and my mouth went completely dry. It was impossible to swallow. I sat there chewing and chewing on that one bite of fucking Pop-Tart, knowing that something was seriously wrong with me and hoping it would miraculously fix itself before DJ noticed. It didn’t. The Pop-Tart broke into smaller and smaller crumbs, until I had a mouthful of dust. I had to spit it out before I choked on it.

“The look DJ gave me… It was like he was on patrol in an area he already knew was dangerous, and he turned the corner, and there were two thousand insurgents and a thermonuclear warhead. Like, ‘I knew this was going to be fucked up, but not
that
fucked up.’

“I felt like I’d been caught with my pants down. I said the Pop-Tart was spoiled but DJ’s not an idiot, so that didn’t fly. He told me that he and I were going to go report that I was severely stress-injured and I needed help.

“I asked him if he believed that I was unfit for duty and endangering others. I could see he was tempted to say yes, but he was too honest. He said that as far as he could tell, the only person who was in danger was me. I told him I was fine, which went over about as well as claiming the Pop-Tart was rancid. Finally I explained that if I kept reporting in with combat stress, I could get forced out on a medical discharge. He said that if I was, it might be for the best.”

Laura was amazed that anyone would have the nerve to say that to him. “You must have gone ballistic.”

Roy nodded. “I felt completely betrayed. I told him that if he ever thought I was putting other Marines at risk, he should tell me, and I’d turn myself in. Other than that, I didn’t want to hear one more word from him. About anything. Ever. When we got in that helo together, it had been about two months since we’d said anything to each other that wasn’t strictly business. As far as friendship went, I thought we were through.”

Laura’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, seriously?”

“Seriously. Oh, and right after the Pop-Tart incident, Marco sent me to the doctor for combat stress
again
. I assume DJ talked to him. It was the same deal as before, except the doctor had me rest for three days and gave me medication to take regularly, to help me sleep and settle my stomach. Looking back now, I probably didn’t have to worry as much as I did about the medical discharge. I was still pulling my weight, we were short on manpower, and they obviously didn’t want to lose me. But I was paranoid about it, so I ended up pissed off at Marco too.

“At that point we’d all been in combat nearly every day for seven months. Marco was taking sleeping pills too. DJ was constantly chewing on instant coffee crystals to keep himself alert, and sometimes he got so wired, he’d say stuff that didn’t make any sense. The moment Alec put down his rifle, his hands would start shaking. I wonder now if getting sent off to do trainings was someone’s idea of giving us a break.

“You know,” Roy added thoughtfully, “I’ve never dreamed about the helo getting shot down. I lost a lot that day. But it’s also when I found out that I hadn’t lost my best friend.”

Roy’s eyebrows drew together as he peered at Laura. “You don’t seem as surprised as I thought you’d be.”

“I was
totally
surprised. And speaking as a con artist, excellent job on the mislead,” Laura added wryly. “I had no idea.”

“Not about my fight with DJ. I meant about my…” Looking away, Roy muttered, “My PTSD.”

It was the first time Laura had ever heard him use the word. She’d heard enough about it on the news to get the impression that post-traumatic stress was common, even expected for soldiers in intense combat. But cancer was common too. Death was common. Just because something was familiar didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“No,” Laura said gently. “I’m not surprised. You said a while back that you only spent ten percent of your time in combat, but that ten percent adds up, doesn’t it?”

“That was misleading, too,” he admitted. “It’s about ten percent actual combat, yeah. Averaged over my entire career. That last deployment was more than that. But I wasn’t counting all the time when you know you could get attacked or drive over an IED at any second, but you don’t.”

“How long were you in a war zone, total?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t added it up. I enlisted when I was eighteen. I had my nineteenth birthday in Iraq. I wasn’t overseas the entire time, of course. But I’m almost thirty now.”

“Maybe people weren’t meant to be under that much pressure for that long.”

“Maybe not. But so long as I could still do my job, I couldn’t leave my team. I…” His look of guilt intensified. “I wonder if a part of me was glad to not be able
to go back.”

Roy sat up. His silvered gaze drifted to the window, and the scattering of snow on the mountains outside. Laura didn’t know which of them looked more distant and cold.

She put her arm around his shoulders. “You didn’t choose to leave them, though. No matter how hard it was.”

His muscles were hard and tense under her arm. “I still left.”

“What about other Marines who left?” Laura asked. “They got hurt, they retired, they moved on to other things. Do you blame them?”

“Sometimes. I know I shouldn’t. But yeah, I get what you’re saying. If this had happened to some other guy, I’d say he did all he could.” He shifted, forcing his shoulders down, though the muscles remained tight. “I’m sorry, Laura. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. In the middle of the night, too. I know we need each other, but… It’s a lot.”

“Roy.” Laura squeezed his hand tight, as if she could force the truth of her words into his flesh. “I love you. You think I’m not getting anything out of this? You think I’d trade you for an empty bed and an extra hour of sleep?”

He shook his head, but didn’t seem entirely convinced. “I just wish you’d met me earlier, when I was in better shape.”

“I don’t. For one thing, you’d never have been around. I’d have been lying awake anyway, worrying that you’d gotten yourself killed ten thousand miles away. It would have driven me crazy.” Laura stroked his hair. It was as wet as if he’d stepped out of a shower. “For another thing, you only understood what I was going through because you’d been there yourself. And that goes both ways. If I’d met you when you were that flawless hero, I never would have had the nerve to talk to you at all.”

“I wasn’t ever a flawless hero,” Roy said, amusement softening his voice. “But I used to be less high-maintenance.”

“I’m not that low-maintenance myself,” Laura pointed out. “I definitely expect you to help me out if
I
have any more nightmares.”

“Deal.” Roy yawned so widely that Laura heard a tiny pop from his jaw. “Okay, let’s try again. Maybe this time I’ll make it through the night.”

He lay down and pulled Laura into his arms. She kissed his cheek, then his lips, and laid her head on his shoulder.

“One thing’s better,” he said, his voice slowing as he spoke like a car drifting to a stop. “I’m giving it another try. I used to… Even after Marco talked me down… I used to just stay…”

With that, his eyes closed and his muscles relaxed beneath her. Laura stayed awake longer, irrationally convinced that he’d sleep safely so long as she guarded him. But eventually weariness overcame her, and she too fell asleep.

***

For the first time, Laura awoke before Roy. It was long past dawn but he still slept, his face buried in a pillow, nothing showing but his tousled black hair. She wondered if it meant something that he’d never taken a pair of scissors and clipped it short.

Laura showered, then went to the quiet, empty kitchen. She made coffee and poured a cup for herself, stirred cream and sugar into a second mug, and headed to the bedroom with them.

If he was still asleep, she’d let him get his rest. But if not, she’d keep him company. She had a feeling he might have woken up but not made it out of bed.

Sure enough, Roy lay staring at the ceiling, his right hand under the pillow where he kept the gun. The dark smudges under his eyes were so pronounced against his pallor that he looked like he’d been beaten.

“Thanks.” He sat up and took the coffee in his left hand, keeping his right under the pillow.

Laura settled herself beside him. “How do you feel?”

She was already debating over whether she should accept the inevitable “fine” when he said, “My whole body aches.”

Laura hadn’t expected him to mention anything physical. “Are you sick?”

“No, it’s from having all my muscles tensed to maximum for… however long I was doing it.” He took the tiniest sip of coffee, wincing as if even swallowing hurt, and put it down to massage his jaw. “I always feel terrible the day after I dream about that fucking ambush. I’m just glad I don’t have to put on eighty pounds of gear and go get shot at.”