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Prologue
Flashes of blinding light. Deafening bursts of sound. What the hell was this? He couldn't see or hear long enough to figure it out. Nothing made sense, and that pulled panic up from the darkness like a putrid tentacle. He fought, clinging desperately to reason. Otherwise, he'd be sucked into the darkness, his mind shattered beyond hope.
His body lurched at the sudden shake that felt like the world was trying to tear itself apart around him. Despite his training, fear rose, eroding his control and his tenuous grasp on reality.
Was he alive or on the descent to hell?
"Hang on, buddy. "
What was that? Was someone there? Hope flared, then immediately suffocated under visions of blood and explosions, of pain and another voice, one that could do nothing but scream. Fear crowded in. Fear that he'd never have the chance to see the people he loved, never tell them how he felt. How grateful he was for each of them.
His body involuntarily tensed at the sudden jostle, and pain robbed him of breath long enough to have him gasping like a fish pulled from water. He wanted to shove it all aside, the pain, fear, and this damn confusion.
"You hear me?" Yes, someone was there. "Stay with me, bruh."
In desperation, he reached for the voice. Gunner. It was the one recognizable and welcome thing in his reality. He needed to hold onto it. But the voice faded in and out, along with his vision.
The only constant was agony. Pain like he'd never experienced, never imagined, and pain he'd do about anything to escape. He tried to will it away, but he didn't even have charge of his own thoughts.
His heartbeat suddenly hammered so loud it drowned out what sounded like a combination of weapon fire and an engine screaming. Was he in transport? Another gripping spasm of pain had his heart speeding up so much he felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest. He could barely breathe.
Something clamped on his face, covering his nose and mouth. He gulped in the cool, slightly damp air emanating from it.God help me. Dizziness competed for dominance with the pain and wished he could pass out, die, and be done with all this.
But that wasn't in the plan because pain shot up his left shin in the next second, past his knee and thigh, through his hip and abdomen, and nearly stopped his heart. Was that his voice screaming?
Gunner's voice sounded again. "Stay with me, brother. You hear me? Stay with me, and I'll get you home. God as my witness, I'll get you home. "
Something warm and almost suffocating pulsed through his veins, turning his body into a paralyzed slab of meat. It smothered the pain, which was a relief but further muddled his ability to make sense of what was happening around him.
"Hold on, Riggs. "
There it was, Gunner's voice again. He was lifted, and the world tilted drunkenly, making his guts threaten to spew from his lips. "I got you, buddy, I got you. "
The noise around him increased to near-deafening levels. He felt himself being moved again, lifted. Then, all his weight was on his gut. Something was wrapped around his left leg. Who had him? Was he being carried? He felt the bounce and jar. His head spun when he tried to raise it and look around. Why didn't anything make sense? Where was he? What was happening?
He lost touch with everything, finally surrendering to the darkness. But the unlucky man he was, the darkness shoved him back into the light. He became aware of the steady chuf of chopper rotors and the vibration of an engine. It hit him in a flash of clarity, packing the impact of a runaway train. The rage, fear, and desperation all rushed in, and Riggs opened his mouth and bayed like a wounded animal.
"Whoa, hold on, brother. "
Riggs latched onto the sound of Gunner's voice like a lifeline. It was Gunner, wasn't it? Despite the heaviness, he forced his eyes open. There sat Gunner. His big hand lay on Riggs' shoulder, the weight and heat a comfort in the sea of confusion that claimed Riggs' mind. "Where... "Riggs managed one syllable.
"In route to Germany," Gunner's hand squeezed, surprisingly gentle for such a big man. "Don't you worry, brother. I'll get you home. "
That brought back a flicker of memory. "The baby. Where's the baby?"
Gunner shook his head. "It didn't make it. When the IED went off, it came out of your arms, and… it's gone, Riggs."
Riggs could count the number of times he'd cried on one hand. Crying wasn't part of his makeup until now. Knowing he'd failed to save that baby ripped something inside him, and he howled, as much from grief as pain.
"It wasn't your fault, Riggs. You tried."
Riggs tried to remember. He had the baby, and they ran as fast as they could to make it outside. And then… then nothing. There was a dark hole in his memory, a blank spot. No, wait, he remembered being carried. Almost as soon as it registered, it was gone, and Riggs felt something pull him back into that velvet darkness where there was no pain.
Gunner saw Riggs' eyes roll back and moved his hand from Riggs' shoulder to his neck. There was a pulse. The medics hovered, but not too close. Gunner let them do their jobs, but his was to stand watch over his friend. It was Gunner's task to safely return Riggs to fulfill a promise they made when they first met in basic training.
No matter what, if either of them was seriously injured, wounded, or dead, they would wade through hell to carry one another home. A grimace flitted across Gunner's face. He hadn't had a home since the day he enlisted. He'd spent more time with Riggs on his family's ranch than anywhere else in the last twenty years. Home, the place where you belong, was something that didn't have much meaning anymore and probably never would.
Gunner lost the right to call anything or anyone home long ago and became a man who knew way more about killing than living. His family was in the Navy, his brothers the men he served with. And women? They were just a temporary diversion now and again. Love had no place in his life.
