The Heart's Shrapnel
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Authors: S. J. Lynn
The Heart’s Shrapnel
S. J. Lynn
The Heart’s Shrapnel
By: S. J. Lynn
Published by: S. J. Lynn
Copyright © 2015 S. J. Lynn
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Editor: Janine Savage (Write Divas)
Cover Designer: ebooklaunch.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN:
ISBN-10: 0-9971005-2-4
ISBN-13: 978-0-9971005-2-5
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9971005-4-9
Visit my website at:
www.fantasyistherapy.com
To my husband . . . Forever and always
Phillip
They say your life can change in an instant. That just one moment, one tragic event, can turn your life upside down. They say you only think you are strong, but in reality you are weak. You’re weak until you know what it’s like to die and be reborn. I realized something for the first time last night: Whoever they are, they’re right.
“I think this should just about do ya there, son.” The barber adds the final touches to a traditional “army” cut. The sensation is familiar, but it’s been a while. I feel lighter as if I’m someone else.
It’s perfect.
“What’s with the change?” he asks while grabbing a broom and sweeping up the mass amounts of hair. “It’s pretty drastic considering what you came in with.”
I stare at the new, yet familiar, man in the mirror . . . the man I once knew. Hazel eyes stare back.
Cold. Angry. Dangerous.
“War.”
A bell chimes, signaling there’s another customer.
A tall, dark blond male waltzes through the door of the barbershop and whistles. It grates on my ears; the happy tune at odds with my mood.
“Now don’t you look sexy, sergeant,” says Ryan Connor, my best friend.
I almost forgot he was meeting me here. Leonard was held up.
“Army protocol,” I respond as I get out of the chair and untie the black cape from around my neck. Handing it to the barber, I make my way to the counter to pay.
“I didn’t think you needed a trim, but yeah, I’m about due for one,” Ryan says as he rubs a hand over his head while peering into the mirror.
“I’ve got time for you, son. My next client doesn’t show for another fifteen minutes.”
“Nah, I’m good, Bill. It’ll keep until next week, I’m sure.”
“If you say so,” he says as he rings me up.
I hand him a fifty and ignore the confusion on his face.
“Keep the change. You ready?” I ask Ryan as he comes over.
“Damn, Mr. Money bags,” he whistles, catching sight of the fifty before it disappears into the register.
Shit. Right . . .
I shrug. “Mom’s way of telling me she misses me,” I offer by way of explanation.
“Wish my mom would miss me more.” He smirks. “Catch ya’ later, Bill. Stay lit, man.”
We exit the air-conditioned shop, and the summer heat blasts into me. Keeping just a few paces behind, I wait while Ryan unlocks his car and scan the streets looking for anything out of the ordinary. After years of this job, you learn to be sharp, assessing.
“So where were you early this morning? You didn’t tell me over the phone,” Ryan asks as we get into his vehicle.
“Errands,” I mutter.
“Well, Amy stopped by with Mike . . . but we both know she was there to see you.”
My body tenses and my knuckles grasp tightly around the door handle. “That so?”
“Like you two don’t sneak alone time together every morning. Come on man! What’s up with you? You seem different. Must be that fresh cut that has you walking taller. Even if you are a bit on edge,” he adds dryly.
Damn. Am I really that big of a stick in the mud?
I keep my attention focused on the outside, ignoring the suspicious inquisition I’m sure will follow.
“Phillip?” he asks when I don’t answer straight away.
My knuckles feel like they’re going to break. I shut my eyes to try to calm myself.
“You okay man?”
“Rough day yesterday.”
“Yeah, early morning training shouldn’t be this brutal.” Ryan stops talking as we continue the drive to post.
If he wants me to be honest, he’d know otherwise. The Phillip he once knew doesn’t exist anymore.
“I know we need them, but man these guys annoy me,” he says as we approach a gate guarded by two soldiers standing at attention.
As they both approach the car, one walks around to my side. They should just want our badges—standard procedure.
Shit, I need to pull myself together and get my head into the game. Ryan doesn’t make any movements, so I remain still.
“Morning, soldiers,” they greet.
I only nod.
“Morning,” Ryan responds and decides to have a conversation with the one at his window about the heat in Germany.
I feel someone’s gaze on me, and I look up. The soldier on my side of the car regards me intently through narrowed eyes, and I stare back in like manner. His eyes roam from my face to my army fatigues checking my rank and last name.
He doesn’t know. There are only two people here who know.
“Private Connor and Sergeant McClintock,” the soldier at Ryan’s window says to the other and breaks our silent standoff. He checks off our names, and they both return to the guard shack and let us pass.
Mission one accomplished.
“I know I already said this, but man, my ass is busted from training this week,” Ryan says.
We pull up to what I’m assuming is my new place of dwelling. It’s a decent size.
He turns to me and adds, “But, you seem to be bulking up. Trying to outdo me?”
“Don’t I always?” The old Phillip was competitive.
Ryan huffs. “Yeah, and it’s a pain in my ass. Were you there? I couldn’t tell. I was half asleep and it was dark. You’d think 0530 would be normal after several years in this place.”
We walk to the building with Ryan leading the way.
“I was there. Just commanded another group,” I lie. “Leonard here?”
“Called right before I left to get you—said he’d be back by the time we arrived.” He opens the door and we step inside
I look around, familiarizing my surroundings.
“You know you could have taken the car, man. You didn’t have to bother anyone else,” Ryan adds.
Oh, don’t you worry. No one was bothered.
“Figured you might need it. Leonard!” I shout. Mild shuffling sounds come from the hallway before he appears. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, but he’s still the same old, Wesley Snipes look-alike badass I remember.
“Phillip,” he says cautiously while briefly acknowledging Ryan. He turns back to me. “Dylan is out. I need to speak to you about something private, though.”
“Okay.”
“Well, while you two ladies paint each other’s fingernails, I’ll check in at work a bit early,” Ryan says. He grabs something to drink from the fridge and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
“What is it?” I ask, getting straight to it.
Leonard hurries to the window and peers around the curtain. Looking satisfied, he locks the door. “Listen, this can get real ugly really quick. Do we have a plan?”
“Of course, there’s a plan . . . and I’ll stick to the majority of it.”
“Majority?” he asks, turning back to me again.
“Leonard, it’s the only way this will work.”
“You could be discharged, man. What would that accomplish?”
I run my hands down my face. “If there were another way, I’d do it. But, there’s not. You and I both know what has to happen.”
“Shit, man.” Leonard rubs the back of his neck.
“You have to.”
“Wait here,” he says with mild irritation and heads down the hallway. I take a moment to look around again and this time more thoroughly. There are pictures of my face everywhere, reminding me of why I’m here. Before I’m able to think anything else, a sharp, wet, burning sensation pierces my lungs.
I’ve been shot.
Jane
Buzzzzz
.
I stare at my cell nestled in my lap, afraid to open it. I don’t have to look at the screen to know who it is. It’s the same person who’s been texting me ever since I left Baltimore.
Buzzzzz.
Clutching it with my hands, I close my eyes and will myself to ignore its demanding cries. The vibrations ring loud in my ears, and I worry if the others around me can hear it.
The ringing goes on and on. Giving in as I always do, I unlock the screen. Kevin’s name pops up like an insufferable rash. My thumb hesitates just centimeters above the message before I click on it.
The screen brightens.
“Jane. Where r u?”
To most, it would seem like a simple question. To me, it’s my past haunting me. I can’t let it. I won’t.
The soldier, dressed in full army attire, stands. Everything about him is immaculate, with his cropped hair, wrinkle free suit, and shiny black army boots. He brings his clipboard in front of him, rests it on his trim stomach, and retrieves the pen nestled at the top. Everything about him puts me on edge. How he stands, how he dresses, what he represents. That uniform only means one thing to me—fear.
My mind drifts as the officer reads off our names, calling us one by one. There are only ten of us who were given a leave of absence from our jobs to come here—a mixture of medical skills. I was given a week to get my affairs in order and say good-bye to my family.
“I’m private Jennings. I’ll be reading off your names. Call out as I do so. Reynolds?” The soldier’s deep voice booms in the confines of this small space as he begins checking off our names.
“Here,” A woman’s voice calls from behind me.
“Minor?” he asks next.
“Here.”
“Foster?”
“Yup!”
I hear the snickering from the other women at the girl’s remark. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves as they run toward something that could mean great things for them. Me? I’m running away, but hopefully to a new beginning. It’s the perfect opportunity for a much-needed distraction.
“Hey, I’m Mandy.” A young woman plops down next to me. She looks to be just a few years older than me. When she extends a welcoming hand, all I can do is stare at it. “Hello.” She waves her hand in front of my eyes.
I shake my head to dispel my unease. “Sorry, um . . . I’m Jane.” Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I finally take her hand.
“Hello, Jane.” Her broad smile reflects the sincerity in her voice.
“Fischer?” The soldier inquires.
Mandy announces her presence, and all the while I’m wondering how she got over here next to me without being noticed. Or maybe the soldier saw but doesn’t care.
While the soldier continues to call the other names, she leans over and whispers, “I can’t wait to get off this wretched bus. Ugh. It smells and there’s no air circulation in here,” her southern voice draws. “For God’s sakes, can’t we open a flippin’ window?” Mandy fans herself, her golden hair swaying with every motion of her hand.
As she keeps rambling about the negatives of the bus, I think about where we are going and the jobs we’ll be assigned. It’s all nursing jobs, but there are different fields. We’ve been told we’ll receive them once we’re at the base.
“Hey,” a voice whispers, interrupting my thoughts.
I turn my head over to Mandy again.
“He’s announcing your name.”
Embarrassed, I look at the officer with folded arms, glaring at me.
“Summers,” he repeats.
I sink into my seat just a little. “Here. Sorry.”
He stares at me a few beats longer and checks off my name. When he moves on, I look out the window, admiring the greenery. I never realized Germany was so beautiful.
“So, where are you from?” Mandy asks. “I’m from Louisiana, in case the accent wasn’t a dead giveaway.”
The officer finishes the head count, heads to the front of the bus, and sits behind the driver.
I slowly relax with his departure. With these nerves, I’m going to have a difficult time with where I’m going.
“Maryland,” I say cautiously though no one else seems to be listening. Still, you can never be too careful.
“Maryland, huh?” She looks me over, her eyes skimming the length of me. “I can see that.”
I quirk my brow, wondering what she means by that statement.
“Calm down there, my friend. I simply mean that you look like one of those nice, down-home, country livin’ gals. Nothing wrong with that. The soldiers will love you. Beautiful and sweet. Yeah, there’s going to be plenty of fights over you.” She snickers, retrieves a book from her bag, and starts to read.
Okay, she’s not afraid to offer her opinions. What she doesn’t know is I really wouldn’t be considered ‘country,’ being from Baltimore. In fact, it’s the largest independent city in the United States.
I’m not sure who she is, but I know absolutely no one here on this bus, or here in Baumholder, Germany. I could use a friend, and she seems friendly enough. And, I don’t want to be alone.
“Do you know if we’ll all be bunking together in a house?” she asks, dog-ears her page, and closes her book. The erotic image on the front cover doesn’t escape my notice.
“I’m not sure, but no, I don’t think all of us. Ten in one house would be too much. Plus, I think there might be more women coming in later. From what I found online, these homes aren’t that big. So, I would say at least three, maybe four people to a place.”
Mandy stares out the window past me. “I just hope I don’t have to live with someone who’s a total bitch, because seriously, they’ll have to kick me out and fly me home.”
Roughly twenty interesting minutes later we arrive at the base, and it’s not at all what I expected. It’s a rather charming community. They’ve made it into a quaint cul-de-sac type living. At least it will feel sort of like home.
“Okay ladies, listen up!” the officer yells as the last of us exit the bus. “I’ll be calling you by your last names. Get used to it. That’s your names from now on.”
All of us look around at each other.
“Ooh, I hope we are together!” Mandy grabs my arm, unfazed as she jumps excitedly up and down.
“Foster, Reynolds, Minor—you are in house twenty-three,” Private Jennings announces.
“So far so good,” Mandy whispers with an elated excitement.
“Donovan, Michaels, Andrews, and Long—you will be in house nineteen. That leaves Fischer, Johnson, and Summers in house three.”
Mandy squeals beside me, and I look around to see what the other women’s reactions are. They all seem to be pleased with whom their roommates are.
“Quiet!” he barks, silencing the excited murmurs. He scans the small crowd before he continues. “There are places to shop on and off the base should you need groceries or other necessities. There are a few restaurants just off the base that are still close enough to get to. Brochures are in each house for you to read over them later. Your nursing supplies and equipment will be at the building next to the main office. You will need to go there sometime tonight to pick up your uniforms. Failure to do so will result in a point on your record. Three points will result in an immediate dismissal.”
Points? We’re volunteers.
With him talking about points against us, the reality of what I’ve signed up for seems more serious than I first thought. But, I’m excited we have things readily available for our convenience. At least I have that going for me.
“Keep in mind this is no vacation. You are here to work, and work starts early tomorrow morning at 0700 and throughout the rest of the week. You are on call on the weekends.”
There are collective grunts among the group. We’re all tired. Thankfully I’m already used to this kind of schedule. Still, I wonder if the ladies’ reactions will upset the soldier.
He sends them a look that makes it clear they are to remain silent, to my amazement.
“This base is separate from the actual army base that houses army personnel and their dependents,” he continues. “You are separate from the army itself. You’re here strictly as volunteers since we are currently understaffed. Any questions?”
Private Jennings narrows his eyes while he looks around at us. Mandy is the first to raise her hand, and for some reason, I’m not surprised. I catch myself stepping back a hair.
“Are we allowed to visit the actual army base homes?”
“Good question. Fischer has asked if you can set foot on post down the road. The answer is yes, as you’ll be expected to go there from time to time to treat people who are sick or who receive an injury, but that will be the extent of your admission. Now, if that’s all, there are three vehicles that will take each group to your new quarters for the next few months. The US Army thanks you for your time and service. Wait here for the drivers to load your bags, and then you may get settled. May I suggest that you not worry about settling in too much today? You’ll need your rest. Thank you.” Private Jennings leaves in a sharp, black SUV.
It’s surreal now that my feet are on foreign soil. But, I can do this. This venture is for me.