Page 14 of Destiny Reclaimed
Another soldier appeared under the cover of the tank. The man panted as he stood between him and his dad.
A lightning bolt of pain zipped through Jack's left eye. The very eye he'd injured in Vietnam which was now fully healed, so why the jolt of pain. Squinting, he refocused on the soldier. Sure as the war going on around him, this was the same guy who'd occupied the mobile unit hospital bed next to him when he was injured in Vietnam. The same guy who'd helped him fly the chopper to safety. Those dark, deep-set eyes were unforgettable since they were the same eyes he stared into every time he looked into a mirror.
The way his father stared at the man, the exact same stare he'd received from him seconds earlier, told him his dad was of like mind. This soldier was familiar, a relative—a Preserver. Seeing his father was the one in which he was sent to preserve his story in this instance, did he know of Preservers and Protectors yet, or was he just a non-informed soldier at war at this point?
"Sir, are you okay?" the familiar soldier asked.
His father rubbed his bloody hand over his pant leg.
"Yes, I'm fine," his dad replied, looking beyond the man. "There are so many wounded. We need to work faster."
A tiny soldier and a medic appeared. One yanked his dad's shirt up as the other pressed a gauze to the wound. Then, they quickly ran tape around his torso, putting pressure on the wound.
Now that he got a better look at him—her—Jack recognized the bright, ocean blue eyes and tiny features. Golden tendrils of hair slipped out from under her helmet.
The tiny soldier's gaze latched onto the man next to him. The air sizzled between the two. He knew that expression. It was the same look he shared with Gwennie, and the same expression he remembered being exchanged between the nurse and the guy in the bed next to his in Vietnam. Though astonished, he knew it was the same couple brought here by design as well.
His father pointed at him. "You two." He moved his finger to a soldier lying on a stretcher in the sand abutting the tank. "Get that man on a landing craft."
Unaware there was a soldier next to him until his dad pointed it out, Jack glanced to his right to find his Protector at his side. The intensity of her gaze focused around him caused him to follow it.
She stared at the tiny female soldier who was the spitting image of her.
The blood stilled in his veins. Was this woman a descendant of his Protector? The female he came ashore with had mentioned her granddaughter was here. Could two Protectors from the same lineage be in the same place at the same time?
He had no idea of all the Preserver and Protector rules. He remembered during the short conversations he'd had with his father as he began to prepare him for his role that he’d mentioned the few rules of engagement he knew. He also said that sometimes the rules change, and unfortunately, there was no actual rulebook he was aware of. At one time, he'd begun to write the rules down in a small leather-bound notebook, but it went up in flames while in his hand burning his skin and leaving a black burn mark on the floor where he'd dropped it. Nothing was secret from the Gods nor the Devil himself, the major players in this game. The Gods, with the use of their Preservers, worked to preserve history, and the Devil, with the use of his relentless troops, worked to change history. A never-ending battle.
Jack and his Protector lifted a wounded soldier as his dad ordered the other tiny soldier and her partner to carry another wounded troop, while the soldier bearing the same eyes tended to a third. He and his partner made their way to the vessels traveling between the ships and beach to unload troops and pick up wounded.
Focusing ahead, Jack waded through shallow waters toward a landing craft. Waves crashed against him, causing him to wobble. Salty water splashed into his eyes, blinding him until he was able to blink his vision clear. He tightened his hands around the handles of the stretcher and took a second to regain his footing all the while silently praying not to trip a mine along the way.
With a glance over his shoulder, he noticed his father and the other team were headed to a different landing craft. He had assumed they'd follow him as he paved the way around obstacles and mines.
Once the last soldier jumped off the swaying vessel in front of him, Jack hustled forward, and he and his Protector loaded the injured man aboard, then he turned to see how his father fared loading his troop onto the next vessel over. The tiny soldier and her partner lifted their wounded man onto the boat, then she spun back around toward the shore. Even among the hazy air, the frantic look on her face was clear. She yelled something to his dad, but Jack couldn't make it out among the continuous thunder of artillery. Fighting the waves, she hurried toward his father. Something wasn't right.
He hustled in their direction, watching the tiny soldier take the stretcher handles from his dad. What in the heck was going on? He narrowed in on them but still couldn’t hear what they said. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw his father still, then fall back into the water.
Jack lunged forward and grabbed hold of him.
"Evan's the helmsman on this landing craft!" the female soldier yelled.
Jack focused on the man driving the vessel.Evan Dupont.The resemblance to Arthur was uncanny. It was like they were identical twins, rather than father and son.
Evan's lip curled up the same way he'd seen Arthur do as he aimed a weapon at his dad. Then, the gate on the landing craft started to rise. The evil laugh escaping Evan’s mouth made Jack's blood to boil. So, this is how he would do it—change history, his relative would simply let his father die in the salty waters of the English Channel. That still wouldn't garner the Duponts a decorated military history, but it would prevent the Cornelis’ from having one following the First World War.
There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen. His father had served admirably in three wars—saved so many. Touched so many lives he couldn’t imagine what would happen to all those people and families if history was altered. And what about the lives—families those people touched?
With all his strength, Jack lifted his father toward the tiny soldier and the man she worked with who'd leaped onto the landing craft before the gate closed, and reached out to him. As they struggled to pull his dad onto the boat, Evan grabbed the male soldier, attempting to break the man's hold. He and his Protector pushed more adamantly. The soldiers on the vessel pulled with vigilance, Evan tugged harder. Good God, they were going to hurt—kill his father in the process. A close explosion shook the boat sending the soldiers on the vessel to fall backward with such force they pulled his father along with them. He could no longer see them. Debris pinged off the metal frame of the landing craft and pelted his body as it landed in the water.
His Protector reached out and grabbed his hand, her other was gripped to a rung on the side of the boat. She pulled him toward her, and he latched onto the vessel as well, then he hauled himself up using whatever he could find to grab onto on the side of the boat.
As Jack reached the top of the wall, he saw the soldier with similar eyes to his take over the controls. Evan sat on the floor with his back pressed against the side of the boat. A large piece of shrapnel protruded out of his bicep. The pained grimace on the evil man's face let him know he wasn't going to be a problem at present.
Jack ducked back down to tell his Protector what he'd seen. Keeping his grip tight as to not get tossed off the bouncing vessel.
She sighed. "That's great, but we're not finished here yet. If we were, the Gods would have whisked us away. Arthur must still be on the move."
WherewasEvan's father? Was he still on the beach? Would he still be causing havoc?
