Is not necessarily a bad thing… 🙂

Spent the last week with for all practical purposes no connectivity due to work. And honestly it was kinda nice to NOT have to worry about jumping on the net and trying to jump through a lot of hoops to keep up with what is going on.

Kinda restful actually…

I managed to actually get a little writing done on book 3 of The Grey Man series, and had a little time to go see the Russian Fort on Kauai, something I’d been driving by for years.

While I missed my daily reads, I didn’t really miss chasing news reports and other crap on the net, and we were pretty busy at work anyway!

So here’s a little bit more from the new book…

The usual caveats apply, no editing at this point… 🙂

No More Cast

Jesse slumped back against the wall and wiped the sweat from her face with a towel. As she finished a shadow loomed over her and she looked up to see Chief Holt standing in front of her. “Well Jesse, how did that feel?”

Jesse huffed out a breath and leaned forward, “Chief, I know you took your training under the Marquis de Sade, and you have me in your tender mercies, but dammit why are you trying to kill me?”

Holt laughed, “That which…” and Jesse echoed with him, “Does not kill you makes you stronger.”

Jesse continued, “Yeah, yeah, I got all that shit. I don’t know which hurts more, my thigh, my butt or my back. Not to mention the shoulder.”

Doc Fischer strolled into the spaces prompting an attention on deck call, which he ignored waving at everyone to continue what they were doing. Petty Officer Hawthorne was trailing him with a stack of files under her arm and a long suffering expression on her face.

Doc stopped at various individuals, poked and prodded some, had others do various flexion stretches and had some lift various weights as he observed them while Hawthorne frantically tried to keep up with the note taking in the individual’s records and not drop the files. He finally got around to Jesse and said, “Don’t put the cast back on, walk to the office, turn around and walk back please.”

Jesse gingerly walked across the PT space turned and walked back as the doc watched with a critical eye then said, “Again and turn the other direction this time. Walk normally.”

Jesse tried it again, turning on the bad leg this time, and walked back to the doc. Stopping in front of him, she asked, “Was that better?”

Ignoring her question he said, “Sit.” Reaching down he put a palm on her right ankle, “Lift.”

Jesse tried to lift her leg, but he resisted. Switching ankles he said, “Lift.” Same thing again. Cupping the ankle he said, “Pull.” Jesse winced a little as the knee protested, but she pulled as hard as she could. Then it was repeated on the right side. All the while Doc Fischer was mumbling notes to Hawthorne who wrote frantically in Jesse’s now two inch thick record. He poked the shoulder area, had her do rotations and flexes, followed by pushes and pulls and finally said, “To the office and back once more please.”

Jesse eased down off the table and started across the space again when Fischer yelled, “Normally.” Jesse concentrated on trying to walk normally, turned and threw her head up trying to step out like she used to do.

Lance Corporal Baldwin yelled out from the ‘rack’, “Swing it honey!”

And Jesse retorted, “Ah shaddap No Balls.”

Baldwin replied, “Hey now, I’ve got one left and apparently it’s working again! See, last night…”

Which was met with a shouted chorus of “TMI, TMI.” from everyone in the room.

Doc Fischer finally said, “Okay, I think we’ll try you without the walking cast. Based on the x-rays the bones have healed, and your muscle tone is coming back slowly. No cane, crutches only when you’re tired or the leg starts to hurt. Hurts too bad, put the cast back on. Do not push it. Understand?”

Jesse beamed, “Yes sir!”

“And keep the extra-curricular activities to a minimum for now also.”

Jesse smiled, “Well my hubby is still deployed, so don’t have any of those Doc.”

Doc laughed at that and smiled at her then turned to the Chief. “Keep her on the flexion and weights for both legs, start on the leg press. Nautilus for the shoulder, chiro and deep tissue on lower spine and back times three.”

Chief Holt nodded as Hawthorne wrote everything down, and then hurried to catch up with the doc as he headed for the door.

The chief directed Jesse to the Nautilus machine saying, “Okay Bear, you’re outta there. Wipe it down for the lady and hit the showers.”

Sergeant ‘Bear’ Wojokowski unfolded his two hundred forty plus pounds out of the machine like an erector set, grabbed a fresh towel and quickly wiped the machine down. “Sorry Mizz Jesse. Didn’t mean to stink it up for you.”

Jesse patted Bear on the good shoulder saying, “No biggie Bear. None of us exactly smell daisy fresh in here.”

Bear chuckled, “True! Skritch my shoulder please?”

Jesse nodded, “Sure, bend down so I can at least reach it.”

Bear leaned forward and turned his back toward Jesse and she used her nails to scratch his shoulder since he couldn’t reach it at all due to his injuries. Feeling the ridges of skin under the t-shirt, she remembered the first time she’d seen him with his shirt off, and almost threw up. She’d never seen such massive scarring on a live person before, and like everyone else over the last couple of months, she’d learned their stories, even as they learned hers.

Sergeant Wojokowski had been hit by almost the full force of an RPG that detonated as he’d charged around a corner of a wall and it had sprayed his back and shoulder with fragments in addition to pretty much destroying the shoulder joint. Doc Fischer had rebuilt him, and said between Bear and No Balls, he had two $3 million dollar men. Bear was one of the gentlest people Jesse had ever met, falling into that gentle giant category just like Trey did.

No Balls, on the other hand, was slight, blond haired kid that looked like a fifteen year old choir boy. According to those who knew him, he was utterly fearless, both in the field and back at home. He’d been stitched by a heavy machine gun just below the vest while single-handedly breaking up an ambush. The rounds had blown out both sides of his pelvis and taken out one of his testicles on the way. Only by the grace of God had the rounds missed both femoral arteries and a medevac already on the way in to pick up other wounded. Even lying flat on his back, he’d hit on Jesse a couple of times until Chief Holt had apparently had a word or two with him. But he still picked at her, just now more like brother and sister.

Private ‘Lopes’ Lopez had turned out to be from El Paso. Since the ‘rack’ and the leg machine were adjacent to each other, they’d spoken mostly Spanish to each other, which had turned into a running joke in the PT space. Lopez, wiry and taciturn, had been a gunner in a Hummer that hit an IED[1]. He was suffering from a crushed vertebra and shrapnel in both legs and what they were calling TBI[2]. Jesse suspected there was some pretty serious trauma there, as he seemed to have lost most of his English, and had trouble some days remembering even the simplest things about home. Jesse had told Chief Holt of her fears, and he’d thanked her and gone off to talk to somebody.

As Jesse worked through the reps on the Nautilus she thought to herself, these guys are like my family now. They’re the brothers I never had, and I didn’t realize how badly people can be injured and survive, much less be considered not badly wounded. What is badly wounded? I’m not sure I ever want to find out.

Christmas was just around the corner, and Jesse decided she would figure out some way to put on a feed for the guys. She looked around with an appraising glance and tried to estimate how many people she could possibly feed, and where. The one nice thing, if there was one about therapy, was she could let her mind run free.

Since it was Friday, she knew Felicia would be over for dinner, and she decided to enlist her to help and maybe get Felicia to cook some of her tamales too!

Thanks to those that continue to buy both the first two books, and I’ll beg again for reviews.  Those DO help, and they are appreciated…