Page 5 of What is Lost

“And yet, we did.”

“So, what do you want me to do about that?”

“Like I said, there’s rescue. There are times we extract a team or soldier in trouble.” Slotting a palm into either hip pocket, Patterson cleared his throat. “And there’s retrieval.”

A beat. Then two—and John’s brain finally caught up. “Oh my God.” His knees wobbled, and he had to grab onto his mare’s saddle. “You found...” He forced the words past a hard knuckle in his throat. “You’re talking about Roni’sremains.”

“Yes, John,” Patterson said. “And Captain Keller needs you to bring her home.”

WHEN JOHNNY MET RONI

JULY 2020

They were butter bars,which is slang for second lieutenants, and in the same class in the Direct Commission Course at Fort Benning. The course is designed to train officers entering the Army straight out of college or, in their case, medical residency programs: general surgery for John, ER medicine and then psychiatry for Roni.

The moment John spied this small, athletic woman,zingwent the strings of his heart. Roni was broad across the shoulders with a torso that tapered to a trim waist, narrow hips, and strong, muscular thighs. When she passed by, the scent of something delicate and yet mysterious trailed behind: a whiff of jasmine on a moonlit night.

Roni could also be a real pill—or just a little nutty, but then again, she was a shrink. She enjoyed “testing limits,” which was a fancy-shmancy psychiatricway of saying she didn’t follow orders well. Like…she’d sit in a back corner and do needlepoint during class. No one told her to put anything away, although eventually an instructor challenged her to repeat what he’d just said. She did, verbatim, though minus the bad jokes. After that, instructors left her alone.

The other thing she had going for her with the instructors: she never moaned and bitched like the rest of them on the obstacle course or the team-building exercises. Some were downright terrifying. For example, shinnying up a rope then making like Tarzan which meant swinging from one perch to another fifty feet in the air, without crapping your pants. She never once griped during twelve-mile marches fully geared up, even though Benning broiled in a summer with way more red flag days than not. Big guys got damn near close to heat stroke and fell out of formation or a march…but Roni just never quit.

He thought that was on account of her dad being a Marine instructor at Mountain Warfare. John knew movies, which were—let’s face it—so much better than real life. He figuredThe Great Santinicontained a kernel of truth and, as forFull Metal Jacket...some Marinesweremaniacs. Still, you wanted these guys, locked and loaded, on your side. Being a Marine’s kid probably toughened up Ronnie enough that nothing these instructorscould throw at her made a dent. Eventually, the instructors decided they couldn’t break her and quit bothering her. Besides, the Army needed ER docs as much as it required shrinks, so Roni was golden.

Until the day their team lowered the flag.

All the docswere assigned to a team: Red, Blue, Yellow, and so on. Roni and John were on Blue Team, which, like all the others, was expected to perform various drills. Mind numbingly dumb-assdrills, but no one asked for John’s opinion.

The evening Blue Team lowered the flag, the guy who’d drawn the short straw for inspection was a wiry, dyspeptic captain named Driver. Rumor was Driver had been a hotshot pilot before a ruptured eardrum put the kibosh on his flying days. That might make anyone irritable, but mostly they pegged Driver as a mean cuss who probably kicked dogs.

He was also on the short side, a bantam-rooster kind of guy. Which was a nice way of saying he was a shrimp. (This was something no one ever pointed out inTop GunorMaverick.No fighter pilot was a body-builder type. They were tiny guys because there just isn’t enough room in the cockpit for an Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe. Plus, theamount of oxygen big guys suck down is huge. John figured Old Arnold would never last a single mission.)

Anyway, Driver moved slowly down the line until he came to Roni. In contrast to the rest of her team, Roni was a cool-cucumber type; if she was sweating, John didn’t see it. She just stood there, staring into the middle distance, until finally Driver moved in a little closer and said, “Lieutenant Keller, your name plate is crooked.”

In that situation, any sane person would just say,Yessir, sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, sir. Thank you, sir.But this was Roni Keller. Sanity need not apply.

There was a millisecond’s pause before Roni said, very calmly, “With all due respect, sir, no, it’s not.”

“Whatwas that, Lieutenant?” Driver’s chin took on a hard jut. “What did you say?”

“I said, all due respect, sir, no, it’s?—”

“I heard you the first time!” For a short guy, Driver could really bellow. “Are youquestioningme, Lieutenant?”

“Not at all, sir. I am only saying that you are wrong, sir.”

John had to admire her calm. On the other hand, maybe this was par for the course for a Marine’s kid. Or maybe shrinks were just used to being screamed at by maniacs.

“Wrong.” Driver blinked then turned that into a question.“Wrong?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how isthat, Lieutenant?”

“Because I measured, sir.”

Driver stared. A beat passed then two. Finally, Driver said, “You. Measured.”

“Yes, sir. As per D-A Pam seventy-six dash one, specifically twenty-one dash?—”

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