Seven Years (#3 in Military Series)

Chapter 4

"-I know what you're trying to do," Marc reassured her, "Don't worry, I won't get clingy. But we are definitely getting that meal when we get home."

"I-" Jules began to protest but he wasn't hearing it.

"-Hey, when are you going to tell me the story behind that photograph?" Marc looked over at her.

Jules caught his eyes as she loaded her weapon. She was saved from having to answer when their target arrived.

"Convoy arriving from the south. ETA thirty seconds."

"We'll talk about this later," Jules snapped as both of their attention was taken up by the approaching convoy.

Only two vehicles deep, another soldier radioed that there were only eight hostiles on board.

Jules knew from their brief that there was only one man they were after, suspected of a bombing two years ago, the rest were expendable.

They heard the vehicles before they saw them, the engines sounding as if they had had a hard life, a deep rumble of a noise as they dug up a sand storm with them.

The engines did not change in pitch whatsoever as the pair moved through the street, unknowingly driving straight into a trap.

Jules's and Marc's eyes were glued to the marker, a line in the sand, waiting for the vehicles to pass it before they could attack.

Jules could feel her heart pick up in pace, her fingers drumming silently against her weapon as she nestled the butt into her shoulder and peered down the sight.

Zeroing in on the marc, her heart skipped a beat as the wheels drove over the line, and they, and a further dozen other marines leapt from various hiding places, converging on the jeeps.

The men began to shout in their native tongue, waving their AK-47's in the air, whilst the marines replied with their own language.

Marc ordered the men to lower their weapons, Jules sticking to his side, as they approached the front of the vehicles.

Sensing that they were trapped, the insurgents did what they thought was their only option and opened fire.

"Contact, front!" Someone shouted.

Jules opened fire, pressing the trigger down flat. Her first burst of fire hit the driver, the third and fourth his passenger, whilst her fifth strayed two metres down and hit the ground as something hit her shoulder.

"Reynolds!"

Jules heard Carlos shouting her name as she gazed down at her shoulder and saw a hole ripped through her uniform, her own blood staining the fabric.

Her eyebrows pulled together in anger and pain as she raised her rifle with her other arm and shot at the behind the driver.

The bullets hit him square in the chest, his blood spraying out like confetti.

"Reynolds!" Carlos shouted again.

"I'm-" Jules started to shout when she spotted movement from the corner of her eye.

However, by the time she looked, the insurgent that had been hunkered down in the footrest, had raised his arm and fired another shot, landing squarely in her chest, knocking her back a few steps.

A further few bursts of fire accompanied the shot before Carlos came up behind the man and shot the hostile in the back of the head.

"Reynolds! Langdale!"

Jules frowned, "Langdale?"

Why were they shouting for Marc when-

Jules turned to look at Marc but found him lying on the ground by her feet, blood seeping from a bullet wound to his right arm.

"Oh," Jules turned to kneel when her leg wobbled beneath her and she crashed to the ground, her chest constricting in pain as her lungs felt like they were on fire.

"You're shot," Jules winced as Twitch arrived, applying pressure to her shoulder.

Marc nodded, "So are you."

Jules stared down at the Kevlar that was strapped to her chest, "Thank God for bulletproof vests."

"Amen!" Carlos crouched beside her, "How are you feeling?"

Jules levelled him with a stare, "Like I just got fucking shot in the chest. Jesus, these things hurt! I think I broke a rib."

"Better than being dead," Carlos told her.

"Oh, I suppose," Jules winced as Twitch tightened something around her wound.

"We've called for medevac, you'll be fine. Just sit tight," Twitch patted her on the other shoulder before he turned to see Marc.

Ten minutes later, as they headed back to base in the Humvees, the medevac called off at their request, Marc and Jules were placed beside each other.

Their moods were stormy because they knew what this meant. It meant they were being shipped home to recuperate.

"So," Marc leaned his head back and smiled up at her, "How about that lunch?"

Jules rolled her eyes and gently knocked his wounded arm.

*

Sat in the medical tent a few hours later, she received the good news that their wounds would do either of them no lasting damage.

They were simple through-and-throughs, as the doctor called them.

Peering down at her body, a bandage applied to her shoulder and fastened around her waist, Jules lifted her free hand and traced the circular bruise that was beginning to form on the left side of her ribs where the bullet had hit her vest.

Wincing, the nurse returned to help Jules pull a shirt back on over her head before she left to check in on another patient.

Jules stared at her shoulder, "Stupid. Stupid!" She kicked the bed, knowing what this would mean.

Flashes of Evans and Jackson running from the convoy went off behind her eyelids. Jules had said she wouldn't get shot and here she was with a bullet hole in her shoulder.

At least it wasn't your head, the rational side of her mind try to tell her.

Letting out a deep sigh she suddenly heard commotion outside her room.

"Hey, you can't go in there!" A woman shouted.

Sara recognised the woman's voice as the nurse who had just helped her with her shirt, and she located the shouting to just outside her room.

"The doctor still needs to dress your wound- Lieutenant!"

Jules winced as she turned and saw Marc ducking into her tent, "I'll be fine!" He called back to the nurse.

Jules narrowed her eyes at him, "What are you doing?"

"Have you heard the good news?" Marc was grinning like a little kid as he hurried to the foot of her bed.

"That they're through-and-throughs, no long term damage, yeah I-"

"-No, not that," Marc waved it off as if it didn't matter and leaned in close, "We're going home. Booked on a morning flight."

"Home?" Jules paled.

Marc frowned, "Do you know what that word means? That's the second time you've said that when I mentioned the word."

Jules glared at him, "I know what it means," She snapped, "Why are we being sent home?"

"It could take up to a month before we're allowed back," Marc shrugged, "And it costs money to keep wounded vets on the base, eating up all their food." He joked.

Jules was not laughing though. She had not seen her family in a couple of years.

"And besides," Marc grinned, making Jules worried, "Now I can take you on that date."