You don’t remember it because you had a concussion, but I remember. You didn’t leave me behind, Silus. I’m not leaving you. Graves looked at the ceiling, fighting back tears. He had spent 10 years thinking the world had forgotten him. He had spent 10 years thinking his war was over and that he was just debris left on the battlefield of life.
But he was wrong. The war wasn’t over. It had just moved to room 402. Dr. Evans, Graves mused. That kid looked like he was 12 years old. He is, Sarah said, forcing a smile. But he’s got good hands. I’ve seen him stitch and I’ll be in the O with him. You can do that. I’m going to scrub in, Sarah said. Sterling thinks I’m just a nurse.
He doesn’t know I’ve done more field surgeries in the back of a shaking helicopter than he’s done in his sterile theater. She checked her watch. We have 4 hours until surgery. We need to get your strength up. I’m going to the cafeteria to get you something real to eat. No more jello. Sarah opened the door to leave, but she stopped.
She looked back at the colonel. Silus, she said, her voice dropping. There’s something else. Something about Routt Michigan I didn’t tell you. Graves tensed. What is it? The IED, she said, her expression darkening. It wasn’t random. We found out later. Intel suggested they knew we were coming. They knew exactly which vehicle was the command truck.
Graves felt a chill that had nothing to do with his fever. What are you saying? I’m saying someone sold us out, Sarah whispered. And I think I saw the man who did it in the hospital lobby this morning. The revelation hung in the air like smoke. Colonel Graves gripped the bed rail, his knuckles white. The hospital lobby, Graves demanded.
Who was it? Sarah checked the hallway to ensure they were alone. His name is Robert Emmes. Back in 2012, he wasn’t military. He was a private intelligence contractor working with the local warlords. He was the one who provided the route clearance intel for Route Michigan. He swore up and down that the sector was cold.
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