am in this hospital room in fucking Syria no less.
Every time I try to ask for details, they just fucking shush me and tell me I need to rest, and every time I fight them and insist they explain and they start talking, I feel myself going under again and miss what they said.
Not any-fucking-more. I need answers because if I am here, then there’s shit missing from my memory since as far as I know I should be in Georgia right now and if there’s shit missing, that can’t be good.
I need to know what happened and, more importantly, I need to know if it happened only to me and where is my squad.
They start to flash that light in my eyes again and I grunt.
“Can you stop doing that?” I ask and I’m amazed when I can actually complete the sentence in a clear, if scratchy voice.
Whatever medication they have me on it fucking works. Aside from a splitting migraine, I don’t feel much pain in the rest of my body, though the way I’m bandaged all over makes me think I should.
I look around trying to see if I recognize any of the military personnel in the room, but I don’t know any of them.
“Do you know who you are?” One doctor asks.
I shrug. “‘Course I do. Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Khaled, your neurologist. Can you state your name and rank and tell me what day is today?”
I sigh. “I’m Wyatt Ridge, Sgt. 1st Class in the 3-75ers, Doc, and today is… August 7, 2015.”
“Okay,” Dr. Khaled says, but he grimaces.
I frown. “Doc, cut the crap and tell me what’s going on. No need to go easy on me, I can take it.”
Dr. Khaled clears his throat, looking at me like he very much thinks that there’s no fucking way I can, in fact, take whatever he is about to.
I brace for his next words, my hands in tight fists.
“Sergeant Ridge, today is August 20.”
“What?” My eyes grow wide and I try to sit up more.
My mind runs through my jumbled thoughts trying to make sense of what I’m hearing.
“Sergeant, please, try to remain still. The last thing you need is to be jostled around. You have a TBI and you sustained multiple grievous fractures, fissures and injuries.”
Holy Fuck. “I don’t feel any pain.”
“You can’t right now. If you did, your body would go into shock and you would go in a coma again. We’re keeping you heavily medicated.”
“I was in a coma?” What the hell is going on here?
“You were. For over three days.”
“Was I shot?”
The Doctor nods but hesitates before answering. “Um… yes, several times, actually.”
“Fucking hell. I don’t recall any of this.”
“What’s the last thing you remember then?” the doctor asks.
I slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm down. “I’m in some dive… sitting with my friend, having a drink… planning a trip or… or something. Yeah, planning a trip to Florida, but… that… I mean, if today is the 20th, that was almost two weeks ago.”
“That’s correct.”
“And I’m in Syria?”
“Correct again.”
“Were we deployed then?”
The doctor looks at his colleagues and one of them steps forward, he’s wearing a military uniform under his open white lab coat.
I scan his insignia briefly. He’s one of ours.
He’s the one who answers me, albeit curtly. “Yes, Sergeant, you were. We cannot divulge details of that operation with civilians present, so we must refrain from mentioning particulars.”
I blink at him. “I don’t know any of the particulars, further than what was discussed when we were briefed about the objective on the fourth. Major…?”
“Callum… Scott Callum,” he finishes for me.
God, this is so fucking frustrating. There’s utter fog in my brain. I mean, I know shit up until the 7th, but then there’s just… nothing. There’s nothing.
The Major nods.
“What can you tell me?” I ask.
He sighs. “Your squad was on the ground. There were unforeseen circumstances, you had to make last-minute changes on the go.”
Shit. As Rangers, we are trained to think on our feet, but last-minute changes are never good, not when you’re planning a raid.
I look down at myself again. “Was there an explosion?” I ask.
Major Callum nods. “Yes.”
I curse under my breath. “Was it just me? Are my men okay?” I ask, my heart squeezing painfully.
He scratches the side of his face and looks away.
My heart plummets to my stomach.
Oh, fuck, no. No, no, no…
“I regret to inform you that several members of your squad didn’t make it.”
I feel tears sting my eyes and