Free The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) by Deborah D. Moore Page B

motivated.”
     
    Ten minutes later we could hear quiet
movement overhead, and then heard the rattle of Eric descending the
metal ladder.
    “Good shot, bro,” Eric said into the FRS to
his brother.
    “No problem,” Jason responded.
    I turned to Mark to explain, but Eric beat me
to it.
    “That is my signal to Jason to keep watching,
and his that he understands,” he said.
    “What if those men are still alive?” Mark
asked, still looking a bit pale.
    I had to stifle my smile when Eric raised an
eyebrow and said, “Doubtful. I will check when we recon and collect
weapons.”
     
    Ten minutes later, after no movement at all,
Mark, Eric, and I went to check on those that were shot, while
Jason stood guard on the side of the hill. There were five on the
west side of the creek, one of whom had tumbled and was lying half
in the water. We pulled him out first.
    “He’s dead,” Mark announced after looking for
a pulse.
    Eric handed me the M-4 that was lying
alongside the body and yanked the dog tags from around his neck,
which I pocketed.
    The next three were also dead. I knelt beside
the body of the fourth one and pushed to turn him over. As I did,
his arm came free and he jabbed at me with a very wicked looking
knife. The blade sliced into the soft tissue of my upper arm as I
tumbled backward. At first there was no pain, no sensations at all,
and then it built like a blazing fire. Eric was closest and he
shoved the barrel of his AR15 into the gunshot wound that was
bleeding profusely on the soldier’s other shoulder. The pain must
have been intense; the soldier’s eyes rolled back in his head and
he slumped.
    “Allex!” Mark screamed. He was only a few
steps away, though it felt like a mile to me. I’ve been hurt
before, but nothing like this. My vision swam and I closed my eyes
to block the sudden vertigo.
     
    ~~~
     
    I woke on my back, staring at the ceiling
tiles in the kitchen, thinking I needed to repaint soon. I closed
my eyes again and thought that was stupid, I had just painted a few
months ago after John left. Then it all came rushing back and my
eyes flew open. I tried to sit up.
    “Easy, Allex, you don’t want to rip the
stitches,” Mark said quietly. It soothed my mind to know he was
here.
    I took a couple of deep breaths and opened my
eyes yet again, focusing on Mark’s smiling yet serious handsome
face. I smiled back.
    “That’s better. Let me help you sit up,” Mark
slipped his strong arm under my shoulders and lifted me. My left
arm was bandaged almost to my elbow and it ached fiercely.
    “Oh, we ruined my shirt!” I lamented. “I
really liked this one.” Again, I thought that was a stupid thing to
think.
    “Well, it’s good to see Mom is back,” Jason
joked, and then got serious again. “How are you feeling?”
    I looked around the room. Mark, Jason, Eric,
Ken, and Karen were all there, looking afraid.
    “I guess I should have kicked him over
instead of pushed, huh?” I tried to smile. “Where is he? I hope you
didn’t bring him in the house!”
    “No, Mom, Ken has him tied to a tree,” Eric
replied. “Mark insisted on treating his gunshot wound, though
agreed to do it without any painkillers.”
    I looked at my husband, and he shrugged.
“We’ve already called Colonel Andrews and he’s on his way,” Mark
said, flicking his little penlight in my eyes.
    “His dog-tags say his name is Ken Krause, and
that he’s from a Virginia battalion,” Eric informed me. “I did
manage to get a few things out of him before he clammed up. His CO
is General Marlow.”
    “That’s interesting…”
    Two vehicles pulled into the driveway.
Colonel Andrews got out of the Hummer, and two uniformed soldiers
got out of the canvas-covered transport.
    Colonel Andrews let himself into the kitchen
like a regular visitor.
    “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked, then turned
to Mark. “How is she, Doctor?” He turned again, to Eric this time,
“What happened?”
    I looked at the worried man in