Martial Law (30 page)

“What do you mean by
sheepdog
?” asked Abbie.

“Most Americans sleep safely in their beds at night, knowing that someone like me is willing to die for their safety, and some choose to deny there are bad people out there ready to do them harm,” replied Sabs. “The sheep pretend the wolf will never come for them. But the sheepdog lives for the opportunity to protect the sheep when that day comes.”

“I see,” said Abbie.

“I don’t mean anything negative by referring to anyone as sheep,” continued Sabs. “You can look at it as the egg of one of these beautiful woodpeckers we hear right now. Inside, it’s vulnerable and unable to protect itself. But on the outside, its shell is tough—enabling it to survive. A soldier is like that tough shell exterior.”

“It’s a dangerous world,” added Abbie.

“Then you must know the world is full of wolves,” said Sabs. “The wolves will feed on the sheep without mercy. Just like the wolves, some evil people are capable of indescribable horror to their fellow man. J.J., you’ve seen it.”

“I have.”

“Then there are the sheepdogs, like me. I live to protect my flock of sheep. I dare the wolf to confront me. That will be ingrained in me for the rest of my life.”

Sabs stood tall and proud. J.J. stood and hugged her.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight. “Be safe.”

“I love you too, Doc.”

Gibson pulled up on a four-wheeler. “Ready to roll, del Toro?”

“Roger that, L-T.”

“I’ll see you guys later!” shouted Sabs as she bounded down the stairs to join 1
^st
LT Gibson.

“Go tend to your flock,” mumbled J.J.

Chapter 57

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

11:23 a.m.

Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula

Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

Susan joined Abbie in the kitchen to help prepare a lunch of white beans and fish dip. The Quabbin Reservoir was fed primarily by the Swift River. With nearly two hundred miles of shoreline and over twenty-five thousand acres of water, it was the largest freshwater lake in Massachusetts. Trout and bass were the most common fish in the reservoir and were easily caught from the shore. Donald and J.J. incorporated shore fishing as part of their morning ritual. They didn’t take out a boat to avoid drawing attention. Thus far, Steven’s fleet of specially retrofitted Stroker boats was not needed.

Susan chopped the garlic while Abbie prepared the smoked fish. Some cannellini beans, olive oil, and Wheat Thins finished off the hearty spread. The ladies made some small talk while they moved about the kitchen. The girls were off in the woods with J.J., looking for more arrowheads. Donald was monitoring communications traffic and scouring the Internet via the Hughes satellite system.

“Do you think the Brahmin will like our setup here?” asked Susan.

“They’d better,” replied Abbie. “I can’t imagine any acceptable alternative in the country right now, except maybe Texas.”

“They still have power, so I guess they dodged a bullet. Donald picked up some ham radio chatter from down that way. Governor Abbott ordered the border closed.”

“The Mexican border is already closed. Do you mean the state’s borders?”

“Yes. According to the reports, Texas Rangers have been dispatched to every major entry point and are turning people away unless they can prove residency,” replied Susan.

“Wow. I know Greg. He doesn’t mess around. Sometimes I wonder if he’s extra tough because he was a former prosecutor or because he’s a paraplegic and wants to prove his mettle. Either way, he doesn’t take any crap.”

“What do you think about him closing the border?” asked Susan.

“Technically, it’s his state to protect, but I can’t see the President standing for it.” Abbie finished unwrapping the fish and placed it into a food processor to puree. Susan added her share of the ingredients. Before they started the processor, Abbie looked around to see if they were alone.

“Susan, I’ve been having nightmares.”

Susan wiped her hands and took Abbie’s hands in hers. “Oh no. Abbie, is it about Drew?”

Abbie’s eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t know if it’s the pressure of all of this, but I’m having trouble sleeping at night. I share the bungalow with my father, and I’ve woken up more than once crying. The first night he didn’t say anything, but I can tell that I’m upsetting him.”

“Abbie, you have every right to be upset. Drew was an exceptional man, especially to you.”

“We became so close that night, Susan. We both admitted that we were in love. But there was no time to enjoy the moment. We were in a race against time, and there was one dangerous obstacle after another.”

“I know, Abbie, and I’m very sorry. The passage of time might make it better. Would it help to get you another place to sleep? With the arrival of your father’s friends, we can rearrange the bungalow assignments.”

Abbie thought for a moment and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “No, but thank you. I’ll get over it. I just keep replaying the final moments over and over again. He was reaching out to me, shouting
love you
,
love you
.” Abbie started crying again.

“At least you can hold on to those final words. He obviously loved you very much, Abbie. He saved your life.”

Susan wiped Abbie’s tears for her and gave her a long hug. Susan knew Abbie’s loss was just the first to be consoled. Abbie finally pulled away and regained her composure.

“I know, Susan. I just don’t understand why it’s bothering me so much. It’s like an endless loop of a video. I dream the same thing repeatedly. I just miss him, you know?”

“I do,” replied Susan. They both shared a nervous laugh and returned to the food processor. Susan hit the puree button that created a noise loud enough to wake the dead. So loud, in fact, they did not hear the sounds of gunfire outside.

Chapter 58

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

11:35 a.m.

Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula

Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

“Susan! J.J.! Anybody!” yelled Donald as he came running down the stairs from the communications room. “Susan!”

Abbie and Susan ran out of the kitchen to meet Donald. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Where’s J.J.?” he shouted.

“He’s in the woods with the girls, looking for arrowheads. Are the girls okay? What is it, Donald?” Susan begged for an answer.

Donald caught his breath and steadied himself. “There’s been a shooting. It’s Sabs. She’s been shot, and it’s serious.” Abbie fell against the wall and covered her mouth.

“We need J.J. now!” he shouted.

“Abbie, get him,” said Susan. “You know the creek where they usually go, right?”

Abbie meekly nodded her head.

“Abbie! Can you get them?” yelled Donald.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she replied and ran towards the front door.

“Come on, Susan, we need to get the room ready.” Donald began to run for the hallway leading to their version of an ER.

“Donald, wait!” Susan urgently whispered to him. “Listen to me. She’s pregnant!”

Donald stopped dead in his tracks. “Who? Abbie?”

“No, Sabs is pregnant, and J.J. doesn’t know. Nobody knows but you and me.”

“Oh my God. Susan, she’s been shot in the chest. We have to tell him.”

“No, we can’t. It will make the shock on his system worse. It’s bad enough that he has to be the one to save her.”

Donald stopped for a moment to process this.
Would it make J.J. try any harder to save her life? Would it be an undue distraction?
The distant sound of four-wheelers approaching 1PP shook him back into reality. “I’ll figure it out. Prepare the room for him. You remember what to do?”

“Of course. I’ve practiced with J.J. several times.”

Morgan emerged from downstairs. “Mr. Quinn, what is going on?” he asked.

“Sir, there has been a shooting at the entry gate. Sabina has been shot in the chest. I have to go.”

“What can I do to help?” Morgan asked as Donald ran for the door.

“Please continue to monitor the communications room. If there are continued signs of trouble, such as a coordinated attack, please get me.” Morgan stood for a moment and walked slowly up the stairs. Donald didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed two poufs and propped open the front doors.
This can’t be happening. What do I do?

J.J. came rushing out of the south trail that led into the forest. Abbie and the girls were a moment behind him.

“Donald! What’s happened to Sabs?” asked J.J. Despite being in reasonably good shape for his age, J.J. was breathing heavily and bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Donald put his hands on his shoulders.

“They’re bringing her in,” started Donald. “Catch your breath until they get here. Abbie!” Donald went to meet Abbie and his daughters.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” asked Penny, tears of emotion streaming down her cheeks. Donald kneeled down to her level and pulled her and Rebecca close to him. What if it was my daughter who was shot? “Come here, girls. J.J. has to help someone. I need you two to go with Abbie for a while, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Abbie looked down at Donald and nodded her head.

“Come on, you guys,” said Abbie. “You haven’t seen my bungalow yet.” She led them behind 1PP just as Donald heard the distinctive roar of the Humvee from the front gate racing down the gravel road. He turned his attention to J.J.

“J.J., here’s what I know. Two sets of men on four-wheelers approached the front gate and began to question Sabs and Lieutenant Gibson. Things got out of hand, but the men left. Gibson called some other men to patrol the front security fencing when the men returned and tried to break through the barriers.”

“Donald, what happened to Sabs?” J.J. was frantic.

“Shots were fired, and Sabs took a bullet to the chest.”

J.J. looked dazed. “How could this happen?”

“J.J., you have to get a hold of yourself. She needs you.” The Humvee roared into the clearing and parked in front of the steps leading into 1PP. The Marines on the four-wheelers took up defensive positions. J.J. ran towards the back of the truck as Gibson emerged from the passenger side. As if a light switch had been turned on, J.J. became all business.

“What’ve we got, Gibson?” J.J. allowed two of the soldiers to slide a portable gurney out of the back gate. Sabs was covered with blood, but it appeared to have been stopped. She was barely conscious.

“Sir, she took a single GSW to the chest. Probably a .308 or Winchester .270.”

“Exit wound?”

“Couldn’t find one, sir. Single entry, which I treated with CELOX.”

J.J. nodded with approval.

As a combat field surgeon specializing in traumatic wounds, he understood the importance of time. Hemorrhage was responsible for half of combat deaths. In combat, it often took hours to transport casualties off the battlefield to a mobile surgical unit. Also, the hazardous nature of the forward combat zones made it dangerous for medical personnel to provide the requisite attention to the wounded. A standard known as the
platinum five minutes
was adopted by emergency medical personnel. The theory was that a time-critical patient, such as Sabs, should only spend five minutes in the combat zone until she was seen by the trauma surgeon. Gibson’s use of CELOX, a highly respected hemostatic agent, along with assigning one of his men to maintain pressure on the wound, greatly enhanced the possibilities for her survival.

Sabs was now in the
golden hour
—that critical time needed by the surgeon to stabilize the patient and begin life-saving treatment. The clock was ticking for J.J.

“Let’s get her inside,” said J.J. The men carried the gurney into the entrance and quickly got her settled on the surgeon’s table prepared by an awaiting Susan. Donald followed to lend assistance.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Donald as he dismissed the two soldiers and closed the door behind them. He pulled together two curtains and applied the Velcro closures. He tried to give J.J. a sterile environment in which to work. Susan was scrubbed in and wore a surgical gown and hat. She had no training other than what she’d studied online and what she’d learned from J.J.

After J.J. had washed up, he approached Sabs and touched her cheek. She began to stir awake and moaned.

“I’m going to take care of you, my brave girl. Please be strong.”

Sabs’s eyes started to flicker in and out of consciousness. She raised her hand and motioned for J.J. to come closer. She began to cough, and a trickle of blood came out of the side of her mouth before she spoke. “Please save us.”

Susan looked at Donald over her mask, and he shook his head side to side. A tear ran down Susan’s cheek.

“Stay with me, soldier. I’ll fix you up. Stay strong, Sabs. I love you.”

Sabs passed out as J.J. brushed the hair out of her face. J.J. was back to being all business.

“Okay, Susan, are you ready?”

Susan nodded.

“Donald, just in case, I need you to scrub in. We may need an extra set of hands.”

Donald rushed to the sink and got ready without responding. He was still wrestling with telling J.J. about her pregnancy.

“Susan, help me cut these clothes off her. Donald, grab those mylar blankets and the hospital warming blankets from the cabinet over the sink. We have to keep her warm to prevent her from going into shock. Gibson did an excellent job in stopping the bleeding.”

Donald returned to the table and assisted J.J. in packing both sides of Sabs with blankets.

“You can’t necessarily rely on visual entry and exit wounds. Sometimes the bullet can hit a bone, fragment, and then ricochet throughout the body. We don’t have the benefits of an x-ray machine, so we have to look for other indicators of difficult breathing or abdominal pain.” As they gently rolled her over, J.J. inspected her body for other entry or exit wounds. There were none.

“Okay, let’s keep her covered up. The gunshot wound is severe enough. Death from hypothermia would be tragic.” J.J. retrieved the electronic blood pressure unit from the shelf and handed it to Susan. “Monitor this, Susan. Check her pulse and let me know what you find.”