Free There Will Be Killing by John Hart Page A

and laid him on the floor.
    â€œWhat the hell did you just do to my patient?”
    â€œNothing that will last as long as the sedative you should probably give him before he comes to.” As if J.D. had the authority to issue the instruction, Hertz saw to the injection as J.D. explained, “It’s just an acupunctural technique with the carotid artery. Dim Mak.”
    â€œDim what?”
    â€œTouch of death. Just a touch, though. He’ll be fine.”
    â€œWow,” Hertz exclaimed. “What med school did you go to?”
    â€œI’m here!” It was Izzy, racing into the room with Bayer. “I heard yelling so I came the way you told me to. . . Gregg? What happened?”
    Gregg could only shake his head. “Later. Let’s carry this guy out and have him taken over to the 99th. We’ll ask the buddy who brought him in to let Captain Galt know what’s up.”
    â€œI’ll talk to the corporal now.” J.D. stepped over Romero. “See if he has some information that might be useful—for diagnostic purposes, of course.” He slapped a high five to both techs. “Fine work, Bayer. Hertz? Right on.”
    â€œWow,” Hertz said again with something akin to awe as J.D. strode out the door. “Dr. Mikel is cool.”
    â€œHell yeah,” Bayer agreed. “We sure are lucky to have him.”

    After a lunch break, more hot sweaty hours, and more than a few patients later, it was time to end the day. Everyone except J.D. sat in the front office while they put away files and locked cabinets. Bayer and Hertz had their shirts off it was so hot. Gregg was glad J.D. was still gone, and yet he felt like he needed to keep an eye on him so he didn’t improperly mess with any of their patients. Everything about J.D. seemed to challenge his inner equilibrium, like this see-saw between gratitude and resentment that the episode with Romero had ratcheted up another notch.
    â€œSo what’s with all this Ghost Soldier stuff that’s floating around, Dr. Kelly? The stories are getting really creepy.” Hertz gave a slight shiver and Gregg knew it wasn’t from the 100-plus degree air blowing dust through the windows.
    â€œWell, what it comes down to is fear,” Gregg ad-libbed in his best clinical voice, hoping to downplay the situation he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. “You know bad things happen up there, it’s scary and stories get started, so the mind thinks it’s better to come up with a story to explain the bad stuff away rather than just accept how awful the war is.”
    â€œI don’t know, Doc,” Bayer interjected. “These guys this morning were Special Ops steel balls guys. They don’t get afraid of the dark, or anything else. Everybody is afraid of them .”
    â€œTrue,” Gregg agreed while shooting a quick glance at Izzy. “But you have to remember these guys are patrolling long range for days, they’re isolated and stressed with their buddies getting shot, sometimes friendly fire. Nobody wants to admit to that, shooting someone in front of them by accident, but it happens and it’s easier to believe it was some monster or ghost than deal with the guilt. Right, Dr. Moskowitz?”
    â€œRight. Absolutely.”
    â€œBut that still doesn’t explain everything.” Hertz made a slice at his throat with his finger. “What about the beheadings? Even if you accidentally shoot someone, you don’t turn around and cut off his head.”
    â€œOf course not,” Gregg quickly agreed and silently damned J.D. for putting them in this position. “Look, that’s the rumor going around, but it’s just a rumor. Have you seen any of these guys with their heads cut off?”
    â€œHands, too,” Bayer reminded him before admitting, “But, no, we haven’t seen any of that. Sure don’t want to either.”
    â€œNone of us do.” Izzy got up to