To all my readers, thank you all for the feedback, encouragement and criticism. I hope you all enjoy the next piece of John and Hope's adventure.
A huge thanks goes to my editor,
ghostdaddy27,
for catching my mistakes and keeping me on the right path. Along with my editor, I'd like to give a big thanks to the authors Magicwrtr and BreaktheBar for giving me advice as experienced writers.
Without further ado, here we go.
*****
John lay on the hood of a Humvee, staring up at the desert sky. The stars were so much brighter away from the big cities. They always helped him put things into perspective after missions like the one he just came back from. His unit had been tasked with a bitch of an objective; to push into one of the most heavily defended parts of the city. He and four other snipers had been providing eyes and covering fire for three platoons of Marines as they slowly advanced from building to building. They lost eight Marines with fifteen more wounded with the brutal firefight that ensued but they accomplished the mission and he had fifteen more confirmed kills on his extensive record.
"So where do you wanna settle down after we get home?"
He turned his head, unable to hide a huge smile as Lieutenant Commander Annette Saunders, his wife, smiled back. She kissed him deeply enough to earn a catcall from a passing Marine.
"At ease, Marine," John glowered.
The Marine saluted, still grinning. "Aye aye, sir. Have a good evening, sir."
"Smartass," John grumbled, just loudly enough for Corporal Jameson to hear.
"Move along, Corporal, before you get called in for your set of shots," Annette said sweetly.
The Corporal blanched and took off at a run towards his tent. They both laughed.
John looked back at his wife in wonder again. The moon glinted off her jet black hair that was pulled into a severe bun. He leered at her, despite being in her unflattering surgical scrubs. She was the aid station's commanding officer. Her returning smile made the full moon's light seems like a candle against that brightness.
"How'd everything go?" John asked, sobering.
She sighed heavily. "We lost PFC Jones. Took a hit to his liver. Nothing I could do. The others should recover once they get back stateside. They're in post-op now. I just came by to check on you and them one last time before I sack out for a few hours."
"Don't worry about me," he said, getting off the Humvee. "I'll let Lieutenant Thatcher know. Jones was one of his."
"I do worry about you," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him. "I just worry that you won't come back one day."
"Some days I worry about my sanity, but then I remember you," he said, kissing her cheek.
"Yeah, yeah... The old ball and chain," she quipped, grinning.
He shook his head. "You're my anchor. My reason for fighting on. I probably wouldn't have survived this long without you."
"Well, we get to go home in a couple of months and finally get out of this hellhole."
"Yeah..."
They held each other for a few more moments then separated.
"Go get some sleep, love," he said, turning her towards the aid station. "I'll see you later."
"You better," she said over her shoulder as she went to do her last rounds.
He stood there staring after her for a moment then shifted his gaze out into the darkness around the small base. John never knew how long he stood there but he scowled as a distant flash caught his eye. Shortly after, he heard the distinct whistle of an incoming mortar shell. Going pale, he bolted for the aid station.
"TAKE COVER!!" he bellowed as Marines all over dove for any cover they could find.
As he ran, time seemed to slow down as he saw it all happen. A small movement above caught his attention and he looked up to see the blurred shape of the shell heading right for the aid station operating ward.
"No..." he thought as he took off sprinting.
The impact and explosion rocked the camp as overpressure knocked him down. When he jumped to his feet, he saw hell itself in what remained of the ward. His heart frozen in shock, he bolted for the wreckage to find her. Others ran after his and they began to search for survivors. Hands bloody, breathing labored, he heaved rubble aside and caught sight of long, black hair. Desperately, he heaved steel beams out of the way as adrenaline and fear drove him.
He found her. Broken and bloody but alive...barely. He fell to his knees beside her.
"Annie?" he said, over the others' searching calls.
"John?" she replied weakly.
"CORPSMAN!!" he bellowed.
Two of them came over and began their frantic work.
"Shit, stay with us doc," one of them said, ripping bandages open.
"John," she said again, shakily reaching to touch his cheek as she gazed at him. Her ice blue eyes staring straight through him. "I love..."
Her eyes glazed as she exhaled.
"Annie?" he begged.
He felt a hand under his arm lifting him away. "Corporal, let's get the Captain out of here."
"Annie!" he called as he started to struggle out of their grip.
More men came over to try to drag him away from her. He fought.
"ANNIE!" he screamed brokenly as six men dragged him away.
The memory dissolved as reality faded back in.
John heard her sobbing a moment later after she had fallen back onto the bed. He sat there, staring at nothing as her sympathetic grief ran its course. As her sobbing subsided into sniffles, he felt the bed shift and her soft arms wrapping around him, hugging him from behind. She nuzzled against his neck, still wet with tears.
"I'm sorry, Master," she said wetly. "I shouldn't have..."
He sighed as she spoke. "It's alright, Hope. I just can't talk about it. She was my world. The only reason I'm still here is that she'd be disappointed if I took the easy way out. Despite that, I had planned to do that today until you dropped in my lap, so to speak." She gasped. "My conscience won't let me knowing someone else will go with me."
She sighed in small relief at that.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked quietly.
"For some reason, just you being here helps." She smiled behind him. "For now, let's get something to eat."
He got up, kissed Hope's cheek then threw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, socks and his riding boots. While he got dressed, she cleaned herself up in the bathroom.
"Where are we going?" Hope asked.
"There's a small Mexican place in that's pretty good. I thought that might be a good place for your first meal."
She squeed, clapping and bouncing up and down, which was REALLY distracting as he fumbled for his helmet on the dresser. He motioned for her to follow and they made their way to the attached garage. The light flipped on as he entered; casting a pale glow over his big Ford F-350 dualie and his Harley big twin motorcycle. Throwing his leg over the bike, he flopped onto the seat, put his helmet on then stopped.
"What is it, Master?"
"Well, two things, actually. I don't have a helmet for you and my bike doesn't have an intercom so we can't talk as we ride."
He wasn't looking at her but he felt the tingle.
"No problem," she said.
He glanced over and saw that she was wearing a similar domed helmet.
Smiling, he said, "That's going to take some getting used to."
She smiled and didn't move her lips at all
. "Talking isn't a problem either."
He gaped at her in surprise and she giggled.
"With our bond, we're literally only a thought away from each other."
He 'listened' intently and realized that, rather than hearing with his ears, her voice seemed to caress inside his brain.
"Can I speak to you this way?"
he thought.
