Page 35 of Protecting the Flame

“That was my dad’s story. He was originally Air Force, mostly so he could go to school. Once he took his first college biology class, I think it was all over. I guess the military wanted scientists back then for the space program, so they footed the bill for grad school, too. Eventually, he switched over to the Public Health Service. Worked out at Fort Detrick on stuff he never could tell me about because it was all top secret bioweapons stuff. He’s retired now, but if you google him, you’ll find my dad on a couple conspiracy websites. Anyone in your family military?”

She shook her head. “Media studies professor and English teacher. Total pacifists. I think they were appalled, actually. They wanted me to go straight to college, but I wasn’t ready yet, I guess. I didn’t see the point of going into debt without a direction. I think they were relieved I chose the Air Force, though.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I looked a lot better in navy blue than khaki.”

He let out a short bark of laughter he quickly smothered. “Where were you stationed?”

“I was detailed to D.C. as a photojournalist, but they send you all over.” It struck her that she hadn’t checked out her camera or lenses at all. Well, she had been a little busy surviving a crash. Besides, other than a few glimpses of the terrain below snatched between clouds, there really hadn’t been much to take a picture of. Even if the clouds hadn’t been so thick, the best terrain for aerial photography was south in the Dakota Badlands. She’d taken, maybe, five or six pictures, max, before they crashed. “What about you?”

“Besides wanting to be in the astronaut corps? Money. College was bad. Medical school was obscene. There was no way I’d afford it without help, so I joined up. The Air Force put me through and then I became a flight surgeon for a while. Went all over with my guys. Everything they did, I did, too. It was a good experience. I might even have stayed in.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I got married. We wanted kids. Remote assignments aren’t exactly conducive to a stable life, and a flight surgeon…well, you go where your flight goes. Don’t get me wrong. I really loved it. By and large, pilots are a healthy bunch. If I did my job, I kept them that way.”

“So, why leave if you liked it so much?”

“Becca. My wife. Some people are good at managing the separation, the long tours, the unexpected calls when your flight’s ordered somewhere you can’t tell your spouse about. Becca wasn’t good that way, and she…like I said, we wanted kids. So, I got out and did a fellowship in oncology. Don’t ask me why. It was a weird choice for someone like me. All that death. Yes, there are cures, and you do the best you can, but there were a lot of days when I realized my job was also to help people die.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“None.” Before she could respond, he clicked on a penlight. “Okay, enough chitchat. Come on, let me take a look, and no more deflecting. It’s a good time now, anyway, with Mattie asleep. Nyuh-uh.” He shook his head when she started to roll up her shirt. “All the way off.”

Crap. “Why? I’m cold.”

“You’ll be warm a lot faster if you stop arguing and do what I ask. Come on, shirt off.”

“Can I leave my bra on?”

“No, but it doesn’t have to come off right this second.”

Damn. Shrugging out of her shirt and then her tighter-fitting thermal was harder and more painful than she’d thought it would be, but she worked at keeping that off her face.

“Okay, that’s good,” he said, screwing his stethoscope into his ears with his left hand. “Stay sitting for right now.” She kept her eyes averted as he listened to her heart and lungs and then stiffened when he took her left arm and began to walk his fingers down its length. “Any discomfort?”

“No.” But she felt when he came to the scars midway up her forearm and over her wrist. Her scars weren’t sensitive. The ER guy said she’d trashed a couple cutaneous nerves and would probably always have a few dead spots. But she could feel his surprise and then the questions in his fingers, as if he were parsing something drawn in an unknown language. The scars on her right forearm were fewer and not as deep because she was right-handed, and by the time she’d gotten to her left wrist, her hand was slick with blood, and it was hard to hang on to the razor. The ER guy said that was lucky because she’d clearly meant business, cutting up and down over the arteries instead of sawing straight across the way most people did. Amateurs, he’d said.

She waited for a question or a remark, but Will only scooted around to her back. “Let’s have a listen.” After a few moments with his stethoscope, he said, “You’re going to feel my hand now.” He began walking the fingers of his left hand along her ribs, first the right and then left. “Tell me when…okaaay,” he said as she grunted and cringed away from his touch. “I guess that hurts.”

“Well, yeah, when you bother it.”

“Uh-huh. How did it feel when you were on your back?”

“Not great.”

“Is it better when you lie on your right side?”

“Yes, although I noticed I can’t take a really deep breath either and…ouch.” She flinched away again. “Go easy, would you?”

“Sorry.” He was still behind her. Finally, he sucked in air between his teeth, exhaled, and said, “Listen, you’ve got some pretty impressive bruising here. It’s not only your left chest in front but the shoulder, too, and along your back. No wonder your bra is killing you.”

“I was going to lose the bra when I was building the barricade, but then—” She pulled up abruptly, the words but then I thought I heard a scream jamming up behind the gate of her teeth. “There hasn’t been the right time.”

“You might be more comfortable out of it.” And then he added, more gently, “I also need to get a better look. I would do it for you, but I’ve only got the one hand.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll get it.” Her muscles screamed as she reached around to work her bra’s hooks. Sliding down the straps, she shot a look down at her chest and felt her mouth drop. From the top of her breast down to the angle of her rib cage was one large purple-black bruise. “Wow. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

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