The sound of the door let Lewis know that someone had come back to the room. She sighed, turning off the clamp-on lamp attached to her bunk-bed headboard, folded the book, and looked to the side.
Heather and Miranda were moving into the room, swinging their hips to keep their mask carriers from bumping into the door frame.
"You're back!" Lewis said, waving from the top bunk.
"Yup. How's the butt?" Miranda asked, jingling her keys out of her pocket.
"Hurts. How do you think it is?" Lewis shot back. "How is everyone?"
Heather shrugged. "They released Roberts. Ant is walking his paperwork through command to get him permission to go home and heal up. That's the last of you that got wounded."
Lewis winced, remembering seeing how bloody, ashen faced, and hurt Roberts had been when he'd been loaded on the evac. She felt slightly guilty at not visiting him in the hospital, but after she was released she'd pretty much been relegated to bed rest.
"You going to go home for your convalescent leave?" Heather asked, grabbing a hangar with jeans, t-shirt, and underwear on it.
Lewis shook her head. "No. The idea of sitting on a plane for twelve hours makes my butt hurt."
Both of the other women snickered. Heather went into the bathroom and Lewis heard the shower knobs squeak. Miranda walked over to the fridge.
"Want me to make you a drink?" She asked Lewis.
Lewis nodded. "I've been skipping my painkillers. They really make me nauseous for some reason."
"Heather thinks painkillers don't play nice with the new Field Warfare pack," Miranda shrugged, pulling out a six-pack of Coke and then the bottle of bourbon.
"Three finger it for me, will you?" Lewis asked, turning her light back on and looking at her book.
"As you command, your majesty," Miranda laughed.
"How's Roberts look?" Lewis asked when Miranda handed her the drink.
"Like warmed over shit," Miranda said, shrugging her head. "He'll be able to keep his career, but he's got a lot of physical therapy in front of him. Lots of structural damage."
Lewis nodded. "How bad?"
"They had to put clips in his shoulder and fixators in his collar bone, put two of his ribs back together, and fix his lung," Miranda said, sitting down in her chair. "Probably six months worth the physical therapy. He'll be lucky to keep his career," She shook her head. "But for the grace of God go I."
Lewis nodded. She had pulled fifteen days convalescent leave herself to give her time to heal up.
Miranda lit a cigarette as Heather started singing in the shower. Lewis looked over at the wall, surprised at how good of a singer the big woman was. She looked back at Miranda, who had just leaned forward and turned on the combination TV/VCR.
"Hey, Miranda?" Lewis asked.
"Yeah," The bigger woman answered, staring at the TV.
"How long is Roberts on leave?" She could help but want to compare.
"Hospital gave him thirty days," Miranda said. "That's the most they can give without triggering a review board for medical fitness. Ant is going to request that Colonel Henry be up to extending it with administrative leave if Roberts gets a primary care physician stateside who can handle trauma like that."
"He doesn't want Roberts coming right back after the thirty days?" Lewis asked, frowning.
"No. Not to 2/19th. Maybe a different unit it would be different, but Ant doesn't want him to come back until he's sure that being here won't injure him further. That was a lung injury, and this is a hazard zone at is," Miranda clarified.
YOU ARE READING
Third Person - Complete
Historical FictionPFC James Roberts just wanted to serve his country, like his father and grandfather. He left his middle class life to join the military with the hope of making his family proud. Graduating top of his class in Basic Training, attending Advanced Indiv...
