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take care of you until we transport you to a hospital.
Captain Tanaka? They knew his name now? But wait, that was an American accent. He grappled
through the layers of fog, slowly assimilating the smells and sounds around him.
The musty scent of hydraulic fluid and wet gear.
A low whump, whump, whump of aircraft rotors.
All the knowledge he d repressed for the past two weeks offloaded back into his brain. He even knew
what kind of rotors. He recognized the distinctive sound of the new CV-22 Osprey, an aircraft he d
helped field-test. His eyes burned with air tears, his body too dehydrated to pony up even a drop of
moisture despite the need to weep like a newborn.
They hadn t left him behind.
Tension seeped from his muscles until he damn near melted into the stretcher, while he let the smells and
sounds of home wash over him. The medic finished inserting the needle but didn t pull it back out. An
IV?
Coolness seeped into his veins almost as fast as gratitude and mind-numbing relief.
 Nunez, what happened back there? The voice was distorted by drugs, but the edge of impatience was
all too recognizable.
Jimmy Gage. Of course Jimmy was here, just as he would have done anything to be on the rescue flight if
the roles were reversed. Chuck might be known as the most bullheaded in the squadron, but Jimmy was
known as the toughest.
Chuck tried to move his head toward his friend, but they d put him in some kind of collar lock. He settled
back and listened while the medic continued checking him over with efficient but careful hands.
 We made it just in time. We caught a guard standing over him with a gun pointed at his head.
 I heard two shots through the headset  Gage hesitated with a low hiss.  Holy crap, Nunez, how s
your arm?
 This little scratch? It was worth deflecting the guard s attention, since it gave one of my guys the
opportunity to pop the bastard. The man called Nunez moved closer, his broadcaster-like accentless
voice growing louder.  I just wish we could have taken that guard alive for questioning.
 Things shook down pretty fast. You didn t see anybody else except that one guard?
 The place was deserted. Eerily so.
Chuck tried to push Marta s name past his cracked lips, but he could only manage an inarticulate groan
over his swollen vocal chords. Fuck. He couldn t even write a note with his hands such a swollen
mess if he even had the energy to lift his arms. He wanted her to pay. He needed to make sure she
didn t do this to anyone else.
And he burned to let his friends know he hadn t betrayed them.
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 Captain Tanaka, the medic said, the IV pole clanking from the bumpy flight.  I m administering fluids,
and I m also going to give you something for the pain.
He didn t want more drugs. He didn t want to . . . lose control. Miss a minute of living, if his injuries were
too severe.
Another groan slipped free, louder this time.
 Dude . . . Jimmy Gage s voice penetrated the pain.
Chuck pried his eyes open enough for a narrow view. He couldn t speak, but he tried to translate his
feelings with a look and prayed his friend understood. I didn t talk.
But Jimmy was staring at the shot being added to the IV before glancing back up at Chuck s face.  You
had to know we would find you. Jimmy looked up and down the stretcher, his eyes telegraphing loud
and clear his pity for the pulverized mess in front of him.  I m just damn sorry it took so long.
Chuck tried again to relay his thoughts through his expression. It s okay, man. You re here now.
 You did the right thing, hanging on. Don t give up now.
I didn t talk, he tried again to say, but just the effort of being awake sapped him. He closed his eyes and
surrendered to the painkiller dousing his system. Or was it a death euphoria? Either way, after the hellish
two weeks of holding strong, he didn t have any fight left inside him.
He didn t expect to live, but at least he wouldn t die staring up at Marta s evil face.
TWENTY-TWO [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]