Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

XIV

Like is slowly returning to normal at base, now that the Viking has awakened.

I don't mean to say we stopped living, just that he was at the forefront of our thoughts most of the time. The one most bothered was Lin. She no longer had a Lieutenant available. To tear Kris off his brother's side, she had to threaten to throw him in the pit until Erk was up and running again – which might take quite some time. The deal, in the end, was that Kris would take care of him at mealtime and resume his Lieutenant duties the rest of the time.

Speaking of Lieutenants, Fatso lost his arm. Doc did all she could to save it, but the wound was too old when Erk had tried to heal it and gangrene had set in. Despite modern medical techniques, it was impossible to save his arm.

Lin then told him about his conviction by the ECHR. She offered him to stay in the Company as an orderly, secretary, admin, accountant. He looked at his arm, she smiled. She also offered him a prosthesis. Since it is expensive, she told him he would get a basic one, and would have to earn the upgrades.

He didn't think about it. He said yes. Erk had kept him company, before being kidnapped and screwed up by the SRH, and Fatso had fallen under the charm of the Viking.
- He's our best ambassador, she said with a smile. Then it wilted. She was sad again.
- What's the matter, Lin? Fatso asked.
- Nothing of concern to you, rest.
- A thousand apologies, Captain, but as your orderly, it's my duty to make sure you are all right.

She looked at him blankly, then smirked.
- Damn, I'll have to review my proposal.
- I hope not, Lin. I... I never had the courage to stand up to the two scumbags that commanded this Company before you arrived. But there are some good people here, and, if you want, I'd like to continue this adventure.

She considered him for a long time, then decided to trust him. She told him everything. Absolutely everything. Including the massacre. She expressed her fears regarding the mental damage to her compatriot.
- I think if you speak about it with Everett, the cook... What's his nickname?
- Cook.
- Of course. He could help, you know, he was a shrink before he left the US.
- Really?
- Really. Go talk to him.

But Cook had beaten them to it. The day after Erk reported, Cook intercepted Kris in the mess hall and pulled him aside. With three words he caused the Icelander to completely collapse and spill the beans. He had gently taken Erk's lunch from his hands, sat him in his tiny office, and let him talk. And he had offered a deal. He would go to the Viking at lunchtime and make him eat while having a shrink session. Kris agreed, so vital to him was the need to see his brother healthy again. And missing a meal with his brother was nothing, next to that.

This is how our cook, at the end of the service, would prepare a special meal for the Viking, carefully choosing the dish and dessert to please the palate of the wounded man while being easily assimilated by his tired body. Doc and him worked on it. We got to enjoy the fruits of that cooperation, sometimes. Especially soups. And desserts! Fruit mousses on biscuit or sponge cake, things that were all sweetness, melting on the tongue... I digress...

During these sessions, Cook sometimes would spend his entire afternoon with Erk, even staying during dinner's preparation. Lin would say nothing, Ketchup and Mustard would manage and the giant slowly came back. Cook and him would develop a strange relationship, which would see them sitting side by side in friendly silence, sipping a cold beer under the caravanserai arcades.

Our friend Cook has a Gift, other than knowing how to listen and how to, in three words, ask the right question. He has a very very light Healing gift, which he uses on the many cuts his two helpers incurre daily. He would use it to help the Viking heal a little better. Thanks to him, Erk would only have a very thin scar on his face, thinner than a hair, from his left eye to the left corner of his mouth, and which would only be visible when he blushed – which happens regularly. On his back, there wouldn't be a single mark left.