His Duty to Protect

Before Rachel could say a thing, she felt a powerful, whirling sensation, as if she were in a funnel, spinning around and around. Then she fell and everything grew dark. The gold light disappeared, and the blanket of love dissolved. Suddenly, it was as if an anvil were sitting on her chest. She gasped and coughed violently.

Her eyes flew open. The sunlight nearly blinded her, and she found herself on her back in the dirt and grass. Someone was kneeling at her side, gripping her shoulder. He was looking into her eyes, panic in his. His mouth opened and he raised his head, screaming for a medic.

Rachel felt the strong touch of his hand, saw the care and fear in his blue eyes. Her mind refused to work properly. She continued to gasp, grabbing her chest as if to force air into her lungs. Weapons continued to fire in the distance, and she heard men and women calling out orders. The sky. Staring up at the blue sky, Rachel blinked as her chest heaved. No more smoke! The smoke had moved. She was alive. Alive!

Mind barely functioning, Rachel heard the man at her side calling for help once again. He sounded desperate. Afraid. For her? And then as her consciousness grew, Rachel felt a shock wave of another kind roll through her. This one took her breath away. The man at her side was Captain Tyler Hamilton, the instructor pilot who had almost gotten her flunked out of Apache flight school. What the hell was he doing on her base? Rachel’s mind shorted out, and she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Was this a nightmare?

Groaning, Rachel couldn’t handle the emotional tsunami, and she blacked out. The last thing she felt was his protective hand on her shoulder. He was the last man on earth who she ever wanted to touch her.

“Rachel? Rachel, wake up….”

A woman’s urgent voice filtered through her gray consciousness. Rachel frowned. There was a hand on her other shoulder now, a woman’s hand. She fought to wake.

“Hey, Cousin. It’s Emma. You’re all right. You’re going to live. Come on, wake up.”

Cousin? Her mind was frayed. Rachel tried hard to surface. The hand on her shoulder was gentle and soothing, as if to remind her she was alive. Was she? Emma? Yes, she knew Emma. Emma had just married Khalid Shaheen, an Afghan officer in the U.S. Army. He flew the Apache. Rachel clung to this bit of information. If she didn’t, it would leave. Desperately, she forced herself to remember. In July, everyone had gotten leave to fly back to San Francisco. Emma and Khalid had been married there in Golden Gate Park. The whole Trayhern clan had attended, including patriarch Morgan and his beloved wife Laura, Noah and Kit, and Emma’s parents, Alyssa and Clay, were there to celebrate the wedding.

“Rachel? You’re doing fine, you’re coming back,” Emma whispered near her ear. “You’re here at Bravo Camp. You’re in the dispensary. You’re going to be okay….”

Emma’s husky voice was like a beacon. She fiercely loved Emma. And Rachel had cried when the Army had released her cousin from duty. Emma had sustained nerve damage to her left hand after being captured by the Taliban. And without her feeling in that hand, she wasn’t permitted by the U.S. Army to fly her beloved Apache. But Emma was strong, and her fiancé had given her a CH-47, which his family had bought, to fly instead. Emma had come back married, and still worked out of Bravo Base with Khalid. She flew nearly every day as a civilian contractor hired by Khalid’s family to deliver books and educational supplies to villages along the Afghan border. Now, Emma was here with her. Emma!

Though it felt as if bricks were weighted upon her eyes, she forced them open. Rachel saw fuzziness at first. But Emma’s red hair, her face and those dancing green eyes slowly came into focus in front of her.

Emma smiled and brushed some hair away from Rachel’s scrunched brow. “Hey, Cuz, welcome back to the land of the living. How are you doing?”

Rachel lifted her hand and felt an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The air tasted wonderful! She tried to reorient. Emma continued to gently rub her shoulder as if to coax her back to full consciousness. As she closed her eyes, the attack on the base roared back at her. The noise, the danger, the carnage. Her Apache helo had been destroyed. The thick, black smoke rolling across her and cheating her of oxygen came next.

“Come on, open your eyes, Rachel.”

She obeyed and saw Emma in her dark green flight suit standing beside her. She was smiling down at her, relief clearly written in her expression. “Hey, you had me scared there for a while.”

Groaning, Rachel was now aware of the frantic activity in the dispensary. There were orderlies, nurses and doctors rushing everywhere. Of course, she thought, we’re under attack … people are hurt … maybe dead….

Patting her shoulder, Emma gave a sigh of relief. “You’re okay, Rachel. The dude who brought you in said you’d nearly suffocated in that smoke. Thanks to him, you’re alive and not dead.”

Mind spinning, Rachel took off the oxygen mask. Her strength had returned. She was no longer weakened as before. Still dazed, she struggled on the gurney. Emma slid her arm around her shoulders and helped Rachel sit up.

“Hang on,” Emma said, “and I’ll raise this thing.” She leaned down.

Rachel felt the gurney move upward to support her back. “Thanks,” she rasped, touching her throat. It felt raw and hot.

Emma straightened and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve scalded the inside of my throat,” Rachel whispered.

“Here, drink some water.” Emma handed her a glass.

Though her hands trembled, Rachel took it. The water tasted wonderful. The cool fluid soothed the pain. “Thanks,” she said, her voice sandpapery-sounding even to her.

Taking the glass, Emma nodded. “More?”

“No.” Rachel looked around to get her bearings. She’d been here at Bravo for three months. Never had she been inside the small clinic before. A number of medical people were moving and speaking quickly to one another as more injured were brought into the facility. She turned back to Emma.

“I didn’t know you were here. I thought you were out flying today.”

Nodding, Emma said, “I was. But I’d just landed after the Taliban attack began. Luckily, I was at the other end of the landing strip, so our helo wasn’t blown away.”

“God, it’s awful,” Rachel muttered. She pulled her legs off the gurney and allowed them to hang. Looking down, she noticed her uniform was stained with dirt and weeds. Rachel scowled. “I thought I was going to die, Emma. That damned smoke followed me like a good friend. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time….”

“You were found about a hundred feet off the revetment, Rachel. I think you knew the wind was blowing that same direction, and you were trying to crawl away from it,” Emma said, her tone sympathetic.

Closing her eyes, her hands on her face, Rachel kept seeing flashes of the incident. She felt terribly vulnerable, her emotions in tatters, and her hands fell away from her face. “I have these awful images … the smells, the sounds …”

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Emma said gently. Touching her hand, she whispered, “It’s going to be with you for a while, Rachel. It’s important not to fight it. In time, it will go away.”

Gripping her cousin’s hand, she said in a wobbly voice, “Thanks for being here.”

“Hey, I’m glad I was.”

“Was Khalid with you?”

“No, I was flying in alone to pick up another shipment of desks and books. He’s up north with his sister Kinah. We’re setting up a new village today. They’re up there with the teacher and introducing her around to the village elders. I got a hold of them by GPS, satellite phone, and they know we’re okay.”

“Good,” Rachel said, feeling stronger and more alert. Though, one thing puzzled her. “You said someone brought me here?”

Emma grimaced. “Hold on to your helmet. I was already here at the clinic helping to bring in the wounded when he arrived with you in his arms. I couldn’t believe it.” Emma gently held Rachel’s scratched and bruised hand. “You’ll never guess who brought you in…. Captain Tyler Hamilton. The dude who tried to get you flunked out of flight school back at Fort Rucker.”

Chapter 2

“Where do you think you’re going, Captain?”

Rachel was starting to slide off the gurney when a balding physician came over. His scowl deepened. “I feel fine, Doctor. I want to get out of here.”

“Hold on, you’ve suffered smoke inhalation.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel insisted, remaining on the gurney. Emma had just left, and she wanted out of this crazy, busy place.

“No, you’re not,” the doctor said. “You’ve got first-degree burns in your throat from inhaling that smoke.”

Coughing a little, Rachel said, “I figured that. But I want to get to my HQ. I want to make sure my copilot is all right.” The fifty-something-year-old doctor rolled his eyes and then smiled.

“Captain, I’ve already sent an order to your CO to have you removed from the flight list for a week. You need time to let that throat of yours heal up.”

“A week for a little smoke inhalation?” Rachel was more than a little stunned.

“Yes. Now, if you’ll just sit still for about fifteen more minutes, I’ll get one of my nurses over here to release you.”

Shocked by the doctor’s pronouncement, Rachel nodded. “I can do that, but I really don’t want to not fly for seven days.” That would leave her reflexes slower than usual. Rachel was used to flying every day or every other day. There were so many things to know about the Apache helicopter that it was imperative for pilots to fly often. This frequency kept them in rhythm with the multi-tasking demands made upon them.