The Beginning

If ever I could name the most rotten week—no, months—of my life...this would be the pinnacle moment of rotten fruit stink.

Luke Vetti dragged his feet through the dust, half-supporting his best friend Kyle. All around him was his rescue team—he had been a prisoner of war in Iraq for over a month now. And what a month it had been. He had been beaten and abused in every sense of the word; it seemed Iraqi men knew no limits to the torture they could inflict upon two men. Luke felt as worn and beat as an old dusty rug hanging out a window in Italy.

In the rain.

In winter.

At night.

Luke’s shoulder began to ache from supporting Kyle. His arm had been dislocated a few days ago; of course Kyle had snapped it back into place, but it still hurt badly. Luke gestured to a fellow soldier, and the man trotted over, gently shifting Kyle’s weight to his own shoulder. With a hiss, Luke rotated his arm slowly, grimacing.

"Are you hurt?"

Luke looked toward the voice, meeting the emerald green eyes of Lieutenant Ellie. Luke had noticed that the young red-haired lieutenant was the only person of authority around, and that she must have led the rescue party to get Kyle and himself out of that... hole, but he couldn't imagine why. He hadn't been particularly nice to her, even though all the times he had been joking and picking fun at her, he just wanted to see if she'd smile.

“Nah,” he replied, shrugging but wincing at the movement. “Some loser dislocated my shoulder a few days back...Kyle replaced it. It’s nothing.”

Ellie nodded, unconvinced. “There must be something, you were captured for several months.” For a split moment, her voice rang with worry, and she circled around him to inspect his injured arm, tucking a lock of fiery red hair that had strayed from her ponytail behind her ear. “You’re lucky to be alive, you and your friend. Very, very lucky.”

“I have a queer mix of good luck and bad luck.” He watched her stare at his arm until she glanced up at his face. “Why look so worried? I’m still walkin’ and talkin’. That should tell you something.”

Ellie shook her head. “You’re pale. Whatever your doing right now is adrenaline, and when it wears off you’re looking at some serious pain. Trust me, I know how it feels.” She stopped walking to twist around and call for a long piece of cloth. When one of the camo-clad men handed it to her, she wrapped it around Luke’s shoulder and created a sling. “Try not to move it, okay?” She looked up at him again.

Luke cocked his head, still keeping his eyes on her. “What if...some terrorists jump out of the dunes and I have to protect you?” He raised his eyebrows.

A soft, quizzical smile graced Ellie’s lips as she replied: “I think I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“I don’t know. You look kinda wreck-ish. I’m guessing ‘cause I wasn’t around.” He bent over a bit, allowing Ellie to reach behind him and tie the sling at his neck.

“I’m not a wreck,” Ellie retorted, scowling over tying the knot. “I’m fine. You’re the one who was legally dead for three months.”

“Fine, but don’t scowl!” He flicked her chin up. “I could drop dead after the adrenaline runs out. Enjoy me while I last.” He smiled at her.

“You’d better not!” Ellie snapped, whacking his hand away from her face with her expression wavering between irritated and distressed. “I went through way to much trouble for you to drop dead. That’s not even worth joking about.”

Surprised, Luke blinked at her. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have. I’m not worth much more than what the popo will pay for me.” 

“Neither am I,” Ellie murmured, crossing her arms.