Texas Nights - Book 13 of the Damned of the 2/19th

All Clear

He nodded. "Any other complaints?"

I shook my head.

"Well, all right. Go ahead and get dressed, we'll put you on a light duty profile till Friday to keep that healing incision from reopening," he said, marking down notes on my paperwork. "With the Division going day on-day off for the holidays, it shouldn't make any difference."

He held out the profile to me.

"Thank you, doctor," I said, taking the profile and getting up.

"If I might ask," he said, pausing at the door.

I waited a second for him to say something. "Go ahead," I finally told him.

"Why aren't you at the hospital. You're surgical qualified, with a string of successful surgeries under your belt. Why aren't you working there?" He asked me.

I shook my head. "I do battlefield work. To quote Hawkeye from M*A*S*H: 'I do meatball surgery', not the quality, skill, or training that should be done in garrison."

He nodded at that. "Just curious."

He left the room and I dressed, taking the time to blouse my boots and make sure my dogtag was tucked into the laces right. Check the hearing protection case on my belt, make sure my mini-kit was in my thigh pocket, that I had my wallet, that my knife was at the small of my back, and everything else.

The profile went into my pocket and I left the TMC, walking out to the parkinglot. I lit a cigarette as I walked toward my car, breathing the winter air in as I walked.

I felt lonely.

Chuck had today off, but I knew he was sleeping off his CQ duty.

Loneliness was just something I'd have to deal with. It would go away, eventually, once I became adapted to the fact that the close intimacy of Atlas and 2/19th had actually been unhealthy and that this was better for me. More healthy. No more codependence.

I rolled down the windows in Blackrazor and turned up the stereo, relaxing in the bucket seat. The engine was still off, but the electrics were live. I just wanted to sit for a bit and relax.

Old dark places attract old dark things, but Fort Hood wasn't quite like that. Sure, there was all the Indian blood staining the banners of First Cavalry Division, but it wasn't like Alfenwehr. There wasn't undead Indians or skinwalkers shambling through the night looking to avenge themselves on the living who wore the insignia of Bloody Cav.

The snow started again and I put out my cigarette so I could roll up the window. I needed to get back to Charlie, but to be honest, I really really just wanted to go somewhere and sham.

Except Captain Jane wanted me to report to her.

At least I wasn't being followed around by someone from Alpha Company still. That had gotten annoying. I hated being under observation. Seems like I'd be over it, wouldn't have that big of a problem with it, considering the amount of time I'd spent under observation, but it still annoyed me to no end.

I fired Blackrazor up, taking the time to buckle up while the rumbling engine vibrated the car and my seat. It was soothing, in a way, knowing I'd rebuilt it. The pickup was pretty much finished, I just needed to change out the tires to winter tires. No sense in spending all that time rebuilding the engine, suspensions, and running gear, then slide into a telephone pole. That'd be just my luck.

I drove down the baseball field and back, just to give myself a little more time away from Charlie. There was no reason, I just didn't want to  go back.

Finally I parked and headed for Charlie. The guidon was out, so asking the Orderly Room clerks if she was in felt kind of redundant.

That was another weird thing. Every time I came back, Charlie was the same. Same clerks, same Armorer, same Supply Sergeant, everything was the same.