Page 6 of S.O.S. Mizzay

Andy sucked in a breath and trying not to upset him unduly, began with a vague explanation.

“You were on a routine mission, and…things went sideways,” she told him, not wanting to force his memories to return or implode by giving him devastating news. “We can talk about it all later, when you’re feeling up to it.”

“My…squad? Winch?” he asked.

Cobble and Winch had been good friends.

Missy thought for a moment about lying, but knew it wouldn’t be right in the long run, so she squared her shoulders and laid it out quickly.

“You were the only survivor.”

Cobble’s eyes closed, and a line furrowed between his brows, but that was the only indication he gave of being affected.

Before Missy could say anything more, his breathing had evened out, and he’d dropped back into sleep.

Probably for the best. It would give her time to regroup and get a leash on her unaccustomed agitation.

At this point she needed someone on staff, here, to know that Cobble had woken up, albeit briefly. It would only be a slight distraction from her preoccupation with the horrors she’d seen that morning, but she’d take it.

Missy picked up the call button and depressed it.

“Yes?” A nurse with whom Missy had become familiar, stuck her head in the door a minute later.

“He was just awake,” Missy told her. “Not for long, but he was able to speak, and he took a sip of water before he went back to sleep.”

“That’s good. I will let the doctor know.” The nurse bustled over and took Cobble’s vitals; something they’d been doing every half hour since the operation, and she gave Missy a thumb’s up when she was finished. “Everything looks fine. But please tell us immediately if he wakes again.”

Missy nodded. She knew as well as the nurse that unforeseen complications could arise at any time, and Cobble might not wake up at all. Hopefully, however, he had a strong enough constitution to survive his injuries.

****

The next time Cobble awoke, it barely registered with Missy until he gave a weak cough.

She’d been by his side for just over twenty-four hours now—from the time she’d found him until present—and she’d been trying to catch some sleep off and on all night, sitting upright in the one uncomfortable chair in the room.

Nearly impossible.

She shook off her fatigue and came to her feet.

“You’re awake,” she softly spoke to Cobble.

“Mmm. Sort of,” he answered, but sounded more alert than the first time they’d spoken. “I’m…in the hospital, right?”

“You are. Ameth Bek,” she answered, naming the facility.

“And…everyone in my squad is dead,” he continued without inflection.

“Yes,” she confirmed, sympathy evident in her voice.

He turned his head a scant inch to the left, away from her, and didn’t say another word.

Did he blame her for the loss of his friends? She wouldn’t doubt it, because she certainly charged herself with their deaths. Nothing anyone could say would keep her from feeling that she was at fault. But recriminations would do her no good. She’d have to live with them for the rest of her life. Information, however, would help toward blunting the guilt. Of course, gleaning what she needed depended on how much Cobble was up to being questioned. A go-ahead only his doctors could give.

“You’ll need to get checked out by your surgeon,” Missy told him. “They had to remove a bullet.” That’s all she’d say about what had him in his hospital bed. “They wanted me to let them know the next time you woke up.”

Again, there was no answer, but Cobble’s eyes remained open and averted.

“I’ll just…go out and get somebody.” She gestured uselessly.

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