OUTLIER: Blood, Brotherhood, And Beauty (Beauty 0f Lifee Book 4) Page 17

  Blaze took one glimpse and cried out, “No! Please, no!” He ran to Patch embracing him tightly. A second later Winds held both Patch and Blaze. By Patch’s appearance and the reaction of Blaze and Winds, everyone assumed the worst, but no one dared put it to voice.

  Gradually it dawned on Patch what the others must be thinking. Shakily, he said, “Blondie’s in surgery. Has been for a while.”

  There was a collective sigh.

  He focused on Blaze’s eyes. “I tried so hard. I don’t know if it was enough. We lost him five times. I couldn’t do more. I’m not sure if he can survive this one. Our little brother might not make it this time.” He sobbed as he collapsed to the floor. Blaze sank down with him and held him as tears clouded his vision.

  Blaze and Patch had been on the floor for nearly thirty minutes when the door opened. A young nurse hesitantly stepped in. “Family of Broderick?” she timidly said. She was startled when several voices loudly rang out, “Which one?” She looked at her sheet, “William Broderick, the general.”

  Since Blaze was still holding Patch, Winds said firmly, “We all are, what’s his status?”

  She looked disbelievingly around. Could she give personal information to non-family members? They clearly were not all related. Her training didn’t prepare her for this.

  Lexa took pity on the frightened young nurse, walked to her, and said gently, “We’re not directly related, but we’re the only family either of them has here at the moment. Father and son were both injured. Please tell us the general’s status so we may relay it to his wife.”

  The nurse relaxed significantly. “General Broderick is resting in recovery. His wound was clean through with no significant trauma. The doctor stitched him up. We’re keeping him in recovery to finish the blood transfusion, a course of antibiotics, and because the doctor gave him a small dose of sedative to calm him. Dr. Draper would like to keep him overnight for observation, but the general is refusing and threatening to leave against medical advice.”

  A snort of laughter shocked the room, mostly because it came from Patch. He looked at the startled faces. “Like father, like son.”

  The nurse looked at the men on the floor and gasped. Her mind couldn’t put together the combination of a blood-covered man and laughter. Her training didn’t prepare her for real life in an ER. “Is there anyone who is willing to try to talk some sense into General Broderick?”

  Bram rose. “Show me the way.” He felt he had the best chance at it since they spent several hours discussing so many things after Dan had woken and asked for him. They had connected, and he knew the general’s current unreasonable state had to do with worry for Dan. General Broderick needed someone to wait with him—he shouldn’t be alone.

  Once the nurse and Bram left the room, Winds walked over to Patch. “Buddy, time to clean you up.” He reached out a hand to both men and pulled them up, and the three left together to sort Patch out.

  The rest of the occupants resumed their internal thoughts and the room became quiet—the mood heavy with concern for Dan.

  Waiting is Not Easy

  19

  July 19

  St. Michael’s Hospital – ER Information Desk - 7:30 p.m.

  Nancy loved working as the emergency room information nurse. She derived a sense of purpose by helping people in their time of need. She could handle blood and gore, but ever since her daughter was born, she preferred the less gory job of the information desk nurse. No less stressful, but she didn’t have to fight images of hurt and sick little kids and have her daughter’s face superimposed over them.

  She checked the computer for status on the five patients in surgery with families waiting. Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy glimpsed three men exit the private waiting room. At first, she thought one was severely injured, but the blood-covered man entered the washroom with another man who had his arm around his shoulders guiding him. The poor man appeared fragile. Who wouldn’t be when covered in that much blood.

  Nancy wondered how he became so bloody and if he was covered with a loved one’s, a friend’s or a stranger’s blood as the third man approached. She stared at the tall, handsome soldier and was distracted a moment by all the ribbons on his chest. She shook herself and looked up at his incredible amber eyes which looked so weary and sad.

  “How can I help?” Nancy asked compassionately.

  “My buddy needs something different to wear,” Winds said quietly.

  “I can see that. He’s had a rough time.”

  “You could say that. I need to get Patch out of Blondie’s blood—too much for him to bear. Do you know where I might find something? Even an old pair scrubs would do for now.”

  “What size does he wear?” After the corporal gave her the sizes, she said, “Wait here. I’ll see what I can find. Back in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Winds slowly rolled his head to release his tension.

  Nancy had a pair of new dark blue scrubs when she returned. “These should fit. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yeah, we’ve been here for hours. Is there any word on Constable Broderick? Daniel Broderick, not William Broderick. We’ve already been briefed on the general’s condition.”

  She checked her computer. “Nothing more than he is still in surgery. Dr. Markson is in charge of his care. He’s the best thoracic surgeon in the city. Either he or the lead surgical nurse will be out when they can to give you an update. If I find out anything, I’ll come tell you.”

  Winds thanked her again and went to help Blaze with Patch.

  St. Michael’s Hospital – Private Waiting Room – 8:25 p.m.

  Nearly an hour had passed before Blaze, Patch, and Winds returned to the waiting room. The door opened, and everyone turned expectantly towards it hoping to hear something. Several frustrated sighs escaped. The stress of waiting bore down heavily on the entire group.

  Dressed in the dark blue scrubs, Patch staggered to the chairs on the far side of the room and sat down. He scrubbed until his hands were almost raw, but he couldn’t get all Blondie’s blood off. Blaze stopped him and told him it was gone. Though he still saw the blood—so much blood. Patch stared down at his hands, and he guessed it must all be in his head.

  Loki got up and ambled to where Patch sat down. The man isn’t coping well. Now cleansed of the visible blood, it is apparent Patch is reliving his experience based on emotions playing across his face.

  Sitting down next to Patch, Loki said with certainty, “We all know you did all you could do—which is a hell of a lot more than most. Dan is lucky you were there. He’ll pull through, remember he’s Dantastic.”

  Patch sighed heavily. “Dantastic. I think Brody would have really liked that name for Blondie.”

  Loki asked, “I’ve been wondering. Why doesn’t Brody have a call sign?”

  Patch snorted. “We tried. Nothing stuck. Closest we ever came is Thumper, and he didn’t much care for that one. We used Thumper when we needed anonymity but mostly called him Brody.

  “Thumper? Really? Like Thumper and Bambi?” Loki chuckled.

  “Not quite. But yeah, sorta.” Patch rubbed his palms on his thighs as some of his tension began to ebb away as his mind focused on something other than Blondie’s blood.

  Blaze recognized Loki helped to distract Patch. In turn, it appeared it helped distract Loki too. Both wore their emotions on their sleeves.

  “You have to tell us how he got the name Thumper. I mean Blondie is descriptive, but how in the world did you come up with Thumper?” Ray asked understanding what Loki was up to.

  Patch glanced at Blaze and then at Winds and caught their slight nods and grins before he turned his attention back to Loki and Ray. “Well, we had been trying for about two months to come up with a code name for Brody. We went the usual route at first and tried to call him Jade because of his eye color. Brody failed to respond when we called him Jade. He said it sounded like a girl’s call sign. We tried a few more, but nothing seemed right.

  �
��Brody was typically Blondie’s spotter. One night, Blondie suggested we call him Spot. We all thought Spot … short for spotter—not original, but we suck at names anyway. Blondie shook his head as he chortled and said ‘No, Spot is a good name for man’s best friend.’ Brody woofed at him and then pretended to be a dog. Brody chased Blondie around trying to hump him like a dog and lick his face as Blondie yelled, ‘Bad dog, bad dog, sit, stay.’

  “After Blondie pinned Brody to the ground, Brody gave Blondie soulful puppy dog eyes as he whimpered like a scolded puppy. So damned funny. Spot didn’t last long because every time one of us said Spot, we busted up laughing at the image of Brody chasing Blondie. Those two were a hoot—Brody sure made us laugh.”

  Winds and Blaze chuckled recalling the night. Then Winds said, “We also tried Jaguar cause Brody’s cry sounded like a baby.”

  Nick, Lexa, Ray, and Loki looked surprised at the negative reason for the call sign. Jon chuckled when he saw Blaze smirk—it was a jest.

  Patch chuckled. “Winds is pulling your leg. Jaguar because Brody was good at camouflage and because he liked fast cars. Actually, Brody dreamed of getting a Corvette, though … so Jaguar didn’t stick.”

  Blaze said, “We tried Brownie … you know, like Blondie because Brody had brown hair.”

  Loki laughed. “Lame. You guys do suck at picking code names. So how did Thumper come about?”

  Patch grinned at the memory. “About two months after Brody and Blondie joined us we enjoyed rare downtime at a remote base camp. Brody banged on anything that made a sound—driving most of us nuts. He loved music—had a great voice. I loved to listen to him sing. Gambit had an awful headache that night, he had mild dehydration … a story for another time … and Brody’s constant banging was ticking him off. It got to be so annoying Blaze hustled everyone out of the tent except Gambit so he could rest in silence.

  “While we all sat together that night under the stars, Brody found more things to bang out a rhythm on. Somehow the subject of Brody’s call sign came up again. Blondie suggested Sticks because Brody wanted to be a drummer.

  “Brody shook his head and said Sticks reminded him of the River Styx and would be a bad omen to have a call sign which had a connection to the river which forms the boundary between Earth and Hades. Everyone agreed.

  “We threw out suggestions like Bam-Bam, Boom-Boom, Cymbals, Banger, Tom-Tom, Bongo, Beats, Ringo, and Wacker. Nothing seemed right. Mason suggested Thumper. That was hilarious. Brody’s eyes got wide with displeasure as Blondie laughed and said that was the perfect name.”

  Patch chuckled as the memory came alive in his mind. “Brody hated the name and sarcastically said, ‘So if I’m Thumper, we’re changing Blondie to Bambi.’ Oh, you should’ve seen the look on Blondie’s face as he retorted, ‘Hell no, Blondie’s bad enough! Anyone calls me Bambi I’ll snipe your ass.’ We all laughed our butts off and true to form started mercilessly teasing Blondie by calling him, Bambi.”

  Blaze picked up the story. “Blondie was fit to be tied. I’m not sure who instigated it but—”

  Winds snickered and interrupted. “Not sure? I’m sure. It was you.” He turned to Loki and said, “Blaze started to rise as he said, ‘It’s official, we now have Thumper and baby Bambi. Gonna go register the call signs with command.’ Next, there was a loud whoosh of air from Blaze as Blondie hit his midsection and took him to the ground, as Blondie angrily yelled, ‘Not happening!’ It turned into a wrestling match as we all got involved when we tried to pull Blaze and Blondie apart.”

  A sheepish grin appeared on Blaze’s face. “Yeah, well … I was yanking the kid’s chain and deserved the first hit. But what started in a bit of anger quickly turned into us blowing off steam with no animosity. In the end, we were all laughing and none the worse for wear—except maybe dusty, disheveled, and Blondie a little more colorful than normal.”

  Patch added, “After that, we decided we’d just stick with Brody unless anonymity were needed. Brody grudgingly accepted Thumper as his call sign.” His face got a contemplative look as he recalled the reason Brody and Dan typically stuck with using each other’s names instead of call signs. But he kept quiet—it isn’t for him to share.

  Loki saw the change in Patch’s face—they all did. He tentatively asked, “What’s the look for?”

  Covering his original thought, Patch said, “As we were finishing our wrestling match Major Plouffe showed up. He asked how it started. Blaze tried to take the blame as CO, but the major zeroed in on Blondie because he started the physical altercation.”

  Blaze fumed. “I should’ve known Plouffe had it out for Blondie. He made Blondie do push-ups until dawn. Blondie was completely exhausted when we headed out for our mission just after sunrise.”

  Winds snorted. “You couldn’t have—you’re not omniscient. And it didn’t stop Blondie from saving our asses that day. The kid has untold stamina.”

  “How did Dan save you that day?” Ray asked.

  Blaze rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Sorry, that one is classified. Suffice to say, I’m damned glad Blondie can climb as fast as he can. We wouldn’t be here today if he didn’t.”

  Patch leaned back and looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He turned to Loki and gave him a small smile. “Thanks. I needed the laugh. You sorta remind me of Brody in that way.”

  Loki grinned—he liked the idea.

  Blaze and Winds patted Loki’s back—they were happy Blondie had a friend like Loki.

  Near Yellowknife, NWT – Safe House – 6:30 p.m. (8:30 Ottawa)

  Yvonne recovered from her faint faster than Becca, and for the last hour distracted Becca with making dinner. It worked as to keep Becca’s mind occupied and her tears and nervous pacing ceased when she focused on the task. Yvonne would’ve assisted more, but needed to rest due to her CFS symptoms increasing her exhaustion.

  Regrettably, the poor men were in for a real treat for dinner tonight. Yvonne loved Becca with all her heart, but the girl could burn water. Mike and his men might need to resort to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I might, too.

  As she sipped her tea, Yvonne recalled her conversation with Mark earlier. Tom arranged a phone for Mark so he could give her an update on William and Danny. The update did nothing to quell her desire to be there for her men.

  Though she knew there was nothing she could do. Danny’s injury being life-threating, he was in the hands of the surgeons. The doctors had also given William a sedative and he was resting which he needed. Knowing Mark and the others would be there soon alleviated a bit of her concern and Yvonne hoped her calm demeanor helped settle Becca. My Becca isn’t wired like me. She has more of William in her and bristles at waiting. She demanded to go to her dad and her brother.

  Though Becca didn’t cope well when any of the family was hurt. Her tender heart wrenched, and she became anxious and hyper-focused on trying to help. Becca always over-reacted whenever Yvonne bruised. Unfortunately, she and Danny both bruised easily, and it always appeared much worse than it is.

  Even knowing that, Becca became so worried about her at the slightest contusion. Yvonne thought Becca’s reactions might be rooted in Sara’s death and Danny moving to the Yukon base. Becca was as much touched by the tragedy of Sara’s death as the rest of the family.

  One positive, Mike stopped my head from striking the porch. The resulting discoloration would’ve sent Becca off the deep end for sure. After she settled Becca, Mike explained what he could to her. It wasn’t much, most of details were classified. Yvonne understood. She learned early in marriage to accept she wouldn’t be privy to most of what went on in William’s world.

  In fact, she never learned the caused his injuries twenty-seven years ago. A car accident was all they told her. Yvonne thought for sure she would be raising Danny by herself when she visited William in France before they flew him home. The burns to his back and legs left scars. The skull fracture and resulting month-long coma had scared her to death.

  His legs were in tr
action due to compound fractures. He had five broken ribs, a broken wrist, and he was on a ventilator because the heat of an explosion seared his lungs. Though William pulled through and amazed everyone he survived.

  It set her heart at ease knowing his field days were mostly over after he recovered. He led an occasional mission but transitioned into the colonel role and the non-field mission details.

  “Becca, you might want to check the chicken,” Yvonne advised as the distinct smell of burnt chicken invaded her thoughts as it wafted around her.

  Racing to the oven, Becca opened it. A plume of smoke rolled out. “Oh, drat. It burned.” Becca pouted as she pulled the overdone chicken breasts out of the oven.

  Drake snickered. “Oh, fantastic, blackened chicken. Just like Ma used to make.”

  Becca turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “In Louisiana, blackened chicken is a treat.”

  “But we aren’t in Louisiana,” Drake quipped.

  “So?”

  “So, where I come from we don’t particularly like to eat coal for dinner.”

  “Your mother is from Louisiana?”

  “What? No why would you ...” Drake asked and trailed off.

  “You said blackened chicken was her specialty. In Louisiana, they like blackened chicken and fish,” Becca stated.

  “Burnt and blackened aren’t the same. I know that for a fact.” Drake stared at the pan of shriveled, dry, burnt chicken breasts. “I chewed through enough of Mom’s burnt shoe leather to last a lifetime. Anything’s better than that.”

  Becca bit her lower lip then pursed them to stop the laugh that wanted to come out. She knew she was terrible at cooking—and most other domestic things. But she didn’t want to halt the banter so said, “Lemme guess, you would rather eat something that died on the side of the road?” Becca huffed.

  Speechless— Drake’s mouth hung wide open.

  “You better close that mouth of yours or you’re likely to catch a fly. Besides, it makes you look like a fish.”