Page 2 of Rescuing Baylee

Then the bombing started again, even closer this time, and she knew they were in trouble. Rex ran into the room. “They’ve broken through.”

Baylee was stunned, and she didn’t know what to do. When Olivia ran into the surgery, her eyes wild, Baylee grabbed onto her. They hunkered against the wall, arms clasped around each other and over their heads as the bombing intensified.

Then the Taliban broke into the hospital, and all hell broke loose.

Baylee screamed and knew, absolutely knew, she was going to die, but there was nothing they could do. They were medical personnel. They didn’t generally carry guns in the hospital, though they’d all been through the same training. The Marines were their protection on the base.

She squinted her eyes open as gunfire ripped through the surgical ward. “No,” she screamed, but it didn’t matter. The Taliban fired wildly, shooting the men on the gurneys. Men they’d worked on for hours, sometimes days, died within seconds at the hands of the terrorists. Baylee waited for bullets to tear through her own body, but they didn’t. For some reason, they left the medical personnel alone.

Then the weapons fire slowed. Her ears rang from hearing it in the enclosed ward, and she wondered if it would ever come back.

Baylee lifted her head and wanted to scream at the carnage. She was a nurse. She was used to blood. But not like this. It sprayed the walls and pooled across the floor. She and Liv weregoing to be sitting in a puddle soon, as a pool of crimson rolled toward her.

Then two men were jerking them up. “Are you medical,” one demanded, his English almost perfect. She nodded, blinking, her eyes flooding with tears as they shoved her into a room. Liv was right behind her, and they clutched at each other.

Baylee was in shock. Her ears were still ringing, and she felt light-headed. The fear that beat at her was debilitating. She’d never been as in fear for her life as she was at that moment. Two masked Taliban stood at the door of their room, guns toward them, just waiting for a reason to shoot them. Her gaze flicked to the dead Marines in the corner.

“Why do you cry?” one of the armed men asked. “They were dying anyway.”

Baylee couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You bastards,” she hissed. “These men were all injured, and you slaughtered them. I suppose you think that makes you big men.”

The English speaker grinned at her and in a flash, he struck out, slamming her in the mouth with the butt of his gun. Baylee felt her nose break and blood gush, and she went down in blinding pain. For several long seconds she couldn’t make heads or tails of her world, it was so topsy turvy. She gagged on the blood in her throat and spit on the floor, something she never, ever would have done in her life. Olivia found a cloth to blot at her lips.

“You’re okay,” she whispered.

The men forced them against the wall, and that was where they stayed, for hours. Baylee’s lip was split so badly it probably needed stitches. It felt like it was the size of a tennis ball, and the one time she touched it, she almost screamed in renewed pain. Liv blotted it clean, but that was all she could do while the Taliban were in charge.

Outside their surgery room, there was still the occasional spate of gunfire. Baylee had a feeling they were killing off the dying men. She wanted to sob and scream at the injustice of it all, the sheer audacity, but she couldn’t.

Olivia was quivering against her. Or maybe that was her quivering. It didn’t matter. They were both so scared.

Then she realized the men were torturing the remaining Marines. There was no mistaking the sound of flesh striking flesh. And when they were done, there was usually a single gunshot that seemed to echo through her heart. Every time there was a shot, Baylee assumed they had killed another serviceman.

Then they started bringing Marines in to be patched up. She and Olivia fell into their rhythm, bandaging and repairing what they could, sometimes adding a few stitches. When they were done, the armed men would take the injured out to torture them all over again.

Then they dragged Rex in, and Baylee almost cried. Rex was their big protector. He was there for them all.

“What did you do,” she hissed, as they helped him onto the gurney.

Rex grinned, but it didn’t have the bravado it used to. “I was trying to be a hero.”

There was a bullet hole through his shoulder, but the more dangerous wound was in his thigh. Blood was pooling on the gurney beneath him, and Olivia held heavy bandages to the leg. Baylee injected him with a heavy dose of pain killer. “Do you know what’s going on?” she whispered.

He nodded tightly. “Staged attack, across the country. This is the anniversary of most of the troops moving in, years ago after September 11th, and they wanted to send a message.”

Baylee shook her head. This was so ridiculous. She hated the war, and she hated fighting. She’d joined the Army to have her education paid for, not to take part in so much death.

Olivia was looking at the thigh wound. “I think the bullet’s still in there, Rex. Gonna have to dig it out. Pump some local in right there, Bay,” Olivia directed, pointing.

Baylee injected as much as she thought was safe, then wiped down the area. After a few seconds, Olivia slipped a gloved finger into the wound, obviously feeling for the bullet. Baylee cringed at the thought of Olivia nicking herself on the metal. And the cross-contamination. But what choice did they have?

“Found it,” she murmured.

Baylee handed her the long forceps she needed and watched as Olivia pulled the bullet out, dropping it to the tray beside her. Then she stuck her finger in again. “It didn’t break the bone. You’re lucky.”

Baylee was working on his shoulder. There was an entrance and an exit wound, and she quickly stitched them both up. “It’s enough to hold it together.”

“Thanks, girls,” he said, looking at them each. “I’ll be back for you if I can.”

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