Death Grid_Game of Valor Page 4

  “That seems to be working.”

  “You may see increased sensation and motor ability as your recovery progresses.”

  “Will I ever walk again?”

  “It’s difficult to say. With the amount of trauma that you’ve sustained it is unlikely that you would ever regain the use of your legs. I’m sorry.”

  Those words crushed any hope that I had. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I struggled to hold my emotions together. I clenched my fists and my body trembled.

  “Of course, you could elect to have a spinal reconnect. Those typically have an 80% success rate. Not bad odds.”

  My eyes perked up with hope. “I’d like to elect to have that surgery.”

  It was a no-brainer. Who wouldn’t elect to have that surgery? And why the hell wasn’t it done during the initial repair?

  I’m sure Doctor Jackson found himself in this position a million times before. By the look on my face, he knew exactly what was running through my mind. “That’s a procedure that you can look into once you get back to Earth. It’s more advanced than what we are capable of here. Quite frankly, it’s beyond my skill level. I patch you boys up as best I can, but you’ll need a spinal specialist.”

  “That’s great. Do you have any recommendations?”

  “You’ll have to look in the private sector. And just FYI, PrimeCare doesn’t cover the surgery. You’ll likely have to pay for it out-of-pocket.”

  My eyes widened like saucers. “What do you mean PrimeCare doesn’t cover it?” PrimeCare was the health plan that covered all active duty service members.

  “Spinal reconnects are considered elective surgery by the MHS.”

  “Elective surgery? Are you kidding me?”

  “I don’t make the rules.”

  “How the hell is that elective?”

  Doctor Jackson frowned. “It’s an expensive procedure, and Military Health Services still classifies it as experimental.”

  My face boiled red. I couldn’t believe it. It was utter nonsense. “So, we get ourselves torn to shreds, and they can’t bother to put us back together correctly?”

  “I understand your frustration, and I think it’s terrible. But I don’t make the rules.”

  I wanted to scream.

  “Perhaps you can contact your congressman and lobby for change. Voices like yours can make a difference.”

  I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, trying not to explode with rage. I didn’t sign up to become a political activist. I didn’t give a shit about politics. Politicians were all two-faced liars as far as I was concerned.

  I didn’t want to take my frustration out on the doctor. It wasn’t his fault. He just happened to be the messenger. I wondered how many other Marines had been denied necessary surgeries based on some ridiculous criteria designed to save the government money?

  “What about an exo-brace so I can at least walk around?”

  “I can write a prescription. But you’ll have to get approval from your Primary Health Manager. They are expensive, and in short supply.”

  The muscles in my jaw flexed again.

  “Get some rest,” Jackson said. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. We’ll get you started on rehabilitation soon. Keep your chin up, Marine. You never know what you might be able to accomplish with some good physical therapy.”

  He smiled and strolled to the next patient.

  I leaned back against my pillow and tried not to lose my shit. I couldn’t let my mind go to that place of total and utter despair. If I went down that dark hole I was never going to crawl out.

  I tried to think of at least one thing that I could be thankful for. They call it gratitude training. It’s easy to focus on everything that’s crappy about your life. But if I was going to get through this, I had to stay positive.

  I could still see. I could hear. My arms, hands, and fingers still worked. My junk still worked, thank God! There were guys in here that had lost all of those. So, in a way, I was lucky. My mom was still alive. I had a great girlfriend back home. My dog probably still loved me. And maybe, once I got back to the world, I could find a way to pay for the spinal surgery.

  After hours of being placed on hold and transferred to multiple different departments, I finally reached the PHM that was in charge of my case. The woman who answered the phone had a thick accent. She barely spoke English. She wasn’t even located on Earth. She was probably in a call center on Mars. What a shithole. “Thank you for calling the Military Health Services, Department of Health Management. My name is Sandra, can I have your name, date of birth, and service number?”

  “John Archer. 8/19/2167. ZGN-225-1936.”

  “For security purposes, can you tell me your mother’s maiden name?”

  “Frost.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Archer. How can I help you today?”

  “I have a prescription for an Integrated Devices Exo-Brace™. I’d like to get that approved.”

  “And who issued the prescription?” She said in a snooty, condescending voice.

  “My attending physician, Doctor Jackson.”

  The sound of her fingers clacking against a keyboard filtered through the tiny speaker on my mobile phone. You could never get a face-to-face call with one of these people. It was always voice only. No video. It was like they didn’t want a human connection being made.

  “And what is the reason for this request?”

  “Don’t you have all of these records in your system?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have access to that section of your medical records.”

  I rolled my eyes. It had to be complete bullshit. These people knew everything. You couldn’t take a crap without the government knowing about it. “I was injured during combat operations. I can’t walk. I’d like the extra mobility that an exo-brace would provide.”

  “So, the device isn’t medically necessary?”

  My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Of course it’s medically necessary.”

  “Do you have a hover-chair at your disposal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that device provides you with mobility, yes?”

  “To a degree. But it’s not the same.”

  “Is it alright if I put you on hold while I speak with my supervisor?”

  I sighed with frustration. “Fine. I’ll hold.”

  11

  I was on hold for another hour. The call mysteriously got disconnected. I wanted to throw the phone across the room and smash it into a million pieces, but I knew I’d never get another one. It was a military issue PDU, and like everything else, they were in short supply.

  I was done for the day. I couldn’t take another moment of listening to soft versions of pop music. I’d try the PHM again tomorrow.

  The phone rang, and my mom’s comforting face appeared on the display. Her brow was creased with worry, but there was also relief in her eyes as she finally got to speak with me. “Thank God you’re okay. I was worried sick about you. The mil-net had you listed as wounded in action. I nearly had a heart attack.”

  “Relax. I’m fine, Mom.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her.

  “What happened?”

  “Classified.” I really didn’t want to go into the details.

  Her eyes narrowed at me.

  “I got shot. It’s no big deal.”

  Her eyes widened. “No big deal?”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “You should have a little consideration for your aging mother and keep in touch better.”

  “I will.”

  “I thought you said there wasn’t much fighting on Kronos?”

  “It’s usually pretty quiet.” Another blatant lie. “Things just got a little… out of control.”

  “How long are you out for?”

  I shrugged.

  “When do you return to your unit?”

  “Not sure. I’ve got a lot of physical therapy to do.”

  She sighed. “Well, at least I don’t
have to worry about you getting shot during rehab.”

  I chuckled. “No. I think I’m pretty safe here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on a hospital ship. The USNS Mercy.”

  “Are they taking good care of you?”

  “Everybody here’s been wonderful. Really.”

  “When you go back, will you be in another combat unit? Maybe you can get transferred into something like logistics. Maybe something with a desk and an office?”

  “I’m an infantry Marine, Mom. We don’t have desk jobs.”

  “Well, when are you getting out of the Marines?”

  “Mom!”

  “I’m serious. I can be totally selfish and want you back home.”

  “Speaking of home, how’s Buddy?”

  “Buddy misses you like we all do.”

  “He still chewing up the furniture?”

  “Well, we tried obedience training. And I keep getting him new chew toys. But he has a preference for the seat cushions. Maybe I just need to get another couch.”

  Mom called for Buddy.

  I could hear his paws clack against the hardwood floors as he ran to her. He was a gray and white border collie with black spots. My eyes lit up as I saw his adorable face on the display screen. It was the first little bit of joy I’d felt since I found myself aboard the Mercy.

  “Hey, boy!”

  Buddy barked.

  “You behave for Mom, you hear me? I’ll be home soon.”

  “You’re coming home?” Mom asked.

  “Well, yeah, eventually.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me, suspicious. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No. Look. Everything’s fine. I’ll be good as new in no time. I promise.”

  “You better be.”

  “Do you hear anything from Kayla?”

  Mom grew silent. “No.”

  “I left a few messages for her, but I haven’t heard back. I’m sure she’s just busy.”

  Mom didn’t say anything. I could tell she was never really a fan of Kayla, though she never verbalized it.

  “Listen, I gotta go, Mom. Time for PT.”

  “It’s good to see you,” she said. Her warm smile filled the screen. “Take care of yourself, and get back to me in one piece.”

  “I will.”

  I ended the call before I fell apart. I didn’t want her to see me like that. She knew something was wrong, but I think she pretended everything was okay, just like I had done.

  I was trying to keep a positive attitude, but thoughts of home were almost depressing. How was I going to have any type of normal life? What was life going to look like? What was I going to do for work? I had always been physically active, and I couldn’t imagine sitting at a computer all day.

  My head was spinning with all the negative possibilities. In the blink of an eye everything had changed.

  Over the next several weeks, my wounds healed. But the mental scars endured. I did daily physical therapy, trying to strengthen my body—trying to get the slightest movement from my legs. Simple tasks had become monumental. Getting dressed in the morning was an event.

  I was adapting though. That’s what Marines do. Adapt, improvise, and overcome. That was my mantra. I said it over and over again every time I started sinking into despair. It was a challenge to keep my head above water, but I’d always relished a challenge before. This was going to be an opportunity to prove to myself what kind of man I really was. Do I call it quits and throw in the towel? Or do I take the cards I’ve been dealt and somehow turn them into a winning hand?

  I certainly didn’t like to lose.

  Mad Dog was convalescing aboard the Mercy as well. They had patched him up real good. He was already walking by now, albeit with a limp. Every time I looked at him, I could see the guilt in his eyes. He felt responsible for my condition. He almost seemed to be avoiding me. Everyday I asked myself if I knew then what I know now, would I make the same decisions?

  Every time I asked I came up with the same answer.

  12

  Look at you,” I said. “You almost look normal. Except for that face of yours. I guess there’s nothing they can do about that?”

  Mad Dog chuckled. “Eat me.”

  “How much longer you in here for?” I asked, looking up at him from my hover-chair.

  “They’re sending me back to FOB Crighton. Can you believe it? I’m going back to the platoon. The leg’s almost as good as new.” He slapped his thigh that had once looked like ground hamburger.

  “I’m happy for you, man. That’s great.” I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. “They putting me on a transport back to Earth soon.”

  Mad Dog forced a grim smile. He didn’t exactly know what to say. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. It ought to be me in that chair instead of you. If I could switch places with you, I would.”

  I had gotten pretty good at getting myself out of bed and into the chair. It had a joystick and thrusters that let me cruise around the ship with relative ease. Everything aboard was handicap accessible.

  Mad Dog and I had been moved out of the Intermediate Care Unit and into a Light Assisted Care Unit. There was one nurse assigned to 30 of us. The berthing compartment was like any other, but with more accessibility features.

  “It’s no big deal. You would have done the same thing for me.” I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “They can fix you, right? When you get back home?”

  “Yeah, sure. Maybe.”

  “They’re at least going to give you an exo-brace, right?”

  “You’re not going to believe this shit. They denied my request. They said they didn’t have the supplies available in my area, and to apply again in six months.”

  “That’s bullshit. I saw at least seven of them in the supply room when I was getting fitted for my leg brace.”

  My face crinkled with rage.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get this sorted.”

  “How? My PHM won’t send the authorization without assigning a specific unit number, which they say isn’t available in the Mercy’s inventory.”

  Mad Dog had a sly grin. “We’ll come up with something. Adapt, improvise, and overcome.”

  I tried to share his enthusiasm, but it seemed hopeless.

  “I hear you’re getting the Silver Star Medal?”

  “That’s what they tell me. I think it was either that or court-martial me for disobeying direct orders. But I don’t think the latter would play as well on the news.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  “You still owe me $100,” I teased. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

  “Damn, I thought I had gotten away with that.”

  We shared a laugh.

  “I’ve got you covered. And I owe you a lot more than $100.” He paused, scanning the compartment, making sure no one was listening. He leaned close and whispered, “Some of the guys finagled a little R&R. They’re going to swing by and break me out. You should come with us. Were going to Galaxy Girls on Gemini station.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Come on. Drinks are on me. So are the ladies.”

  “Kayla would kill me if she found out I went to Galaxy Girls.”

  “Look but don’t touch. Problem solved. I think you deserve a little fun.”

  I thought about it for a long moment. It did sound enticing. But I didn’t want to screw things up with Kayla. “You guys have fun. I don’t think I’m ready to face the real world yet.”

  “Don’t be a pussy. Galaxy Girls is not the real world. Trust me. I’m talking the hottest women this side of Orion sector.”

  “That’s not saying much.”

  “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. We’ve been on deployment for 7 months. I’m so horny I could fuck a cactus.”

  “Well, I’m not in the mood for a cactus.”

  Mad Dog sighed. “Alright. Suit yourself. If you change your mind, let me know.”

&
nbsp; I maneuvered back to my rack and crawled in. I had a PT session in a half hour. They had been applying nerve stimulation, trying to get my brain to talk to my feet. So far I hadn’t noticed much improvement.

  My mobile phone rang and Kayla’s face appeared on the screen. We had been playing phone tag, and there was only a small window each day where we could connect directly. The relay station was obscured by Kronos when we were in orbit on the far side of the planet. It created a communications blackout period.

  My eyes lit up as I saw her emerald green eyes. She had red hair and creamy skin. She looked both innocent and dangerous at the same time. I liked that. “Hey. Finally…”

  “Sorry, its just been really hectic lately. I’ve been swamped at work.”

  “I’m just happy to get to talk to you.”

  “Me too. How are things coming along?”

  I shrugged. “You know…”

  “I know you’re going to make a full recovery. Don’t let any doubt creep in your mind.”

  “There is no doubt here.” I flashed an optimistic smile.

  Kayla’s smile faded.

  There was a long, awkward pause, and Kayla took a deep breath. The kind of breath you take before diving into a subject you’d rather avoid. “Listen, we need to talk.”

  No good conversation ever starts with listen, we need to talk. It’s just filler before someone sticks the knife in and twists it. You might as well start the sentence with hey, I’ve got some really bad news.

  She didn’t need to go on. The rest of the conversation was inconsequential. I knew what she was going to say, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  13

  I don’t think were heading in the same direction,” Kayla said.

  “Of course were not heading in the same direction. I’m circling Kronos and you’re on Earth.”

  “I mean, I don’t think we want the same things.”

  “We wanted the same things before I left for Kronos,” I said in a dry, sardonic tone.

  “That was a long time ago. Things change.”

  “Indeed they do.”