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“Thank you, sir.”
“I’ve got you, brother. Rest,” Logan urged, and Max closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep despite the wretched state he was in right now.
Six weeks later, Max was hanging up his stapler for good.
Being put on desk duty because of two broken legs was the thing nightmares were made of. For a man who loved being outdoors, wanted to see every bit of the world, loved going on patrol, was a whiz at target practice with his rifle, and enjoyed being active at the gym on base… being confined to a chair was torture – and worse yet – having a buddy help push you around or move you from spot to spot was embarrassing.
He was twenty-nine and able-bodied except for the casts – and today both had come off. The muscles in his calves had atrophied some, and he could see a knot along his shinbone where the bone had healed on one leg but he still had pain with the other one.
“I’m sure it’s just stiff,” the nurse said simply. “Try to roll your ankle, and why don’t you keep a crutch nearby. I’ll keep you off physical training for a while – so no running laps – but I think you’ll be fine.”
“Should my toes be ruddy like that?” Max asked nervously and wiggled them, wincing.
“You’ve been through a lot – so I would give it a little time to heal.”
“Okay.”
“If you think something’s wrong, just come back, and I’ll have one of the docs check you.”
He nodded – and swallowed nervously. If something was wrong, would he be stuck on desk duty again? Would they have to do surgery? He’d heard Ortega was discharged and being sent home. He didn’t exactly have a home to return to. After getting in a fight with his uncle, who cared for him, he’d run away and joined the Army three days later. This was his life, and he really couldn’t imagine starting over from scratch.
“I’ll let you know,” he said simply and got up slowly as they handed him a crutch. “Thanks.”
“Of course, Collins. Take care.”
Three days later, there were red streaks on his ankle, and his toes were still reddish. They were going on patrol in the morning, and he desperately needed to get out, so he told himself he would go back to medical when he returned – except he didn’t.
He was scared.
Another week passed and ‘scared’ was quickly turning to ‘terrified’ as the redness darkened, and his ankle was stiff – and one toe was mottled, turning purplish. A few days later, he couldn’t deny that something was wrong because three toes were now purplish, and the skin on his ankle was hot. At night, he put it up on a pillow and said his prayers that no one noticed or questioned him.
He was in denial and knew it. But the idea of going through that pain again, having his leg rebroken, or something else being wrong was something his brain couldn’t accept.
The days dragged by, and he simply stopped looking at his foot… until this morning. He’d been in the showers, washing his hair, and his squad leader stood in front of him with a towel slung low on his hips.
“Your shower is done – I need you in medical, Collins. Right now!”
“Sir?”
“Your foot is black, soldier – and the rest of you isn’t!” Mitchell roared, looking dumbfounded that he was having to explain this to him. “Get in medical right now, and I don’t want to see your face again without an explanation.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are NOT fine.”
“Sir, if you’ll let me explain…”
“There’s nothing to explain. You were injured, you healed, and something is now very, very wrong. Let me tell you, you do not want gangrene to set in…”
“I’m not going to medical.”
“Excuse me, soldier?” Mitchell snarled angrily, taking a step forward. “Are you refusing a direct order from your superior officer?”
“Please don’t make me go,” Max said quietly, looking around in alarm to see if anyone else was listening. “Look, I know it looks bad, but if I have to go to medical, they are going to want to mess around with it. I just want it to heal and stop hurting. If I keep it elevated and…”
“Collins… Max… listen to me, brother,” Mitchell began. “I get it. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of pain, but you still need to do the right thing and go see someone about this. I don’t want you to lose a toe or several of them – okay?”
“But…”
