Fortunate Sons

Chapter 41: Rest and recovery

Taylor blinked his eyes open, bewildered at the sight of the white walls and the huge windows above his bed. Sunlight poured in through the glass panes, lighting the whole place up with not a shadow to be found. Row after row of beds lined both sides of the room, each occupied by a patient in a cobalt blue shirt and matching pants just like his.

A sharp wave of pain tore through his whole back as he propped himself up on his elbows. The sunlight, though welcome, hurt his bleary eyes but nonetheless, Taylor was relieved that he had remained alive.

Footsteps trailed through the quiet room towards his bed. From around the corner came Sue, her hair pulled back out of her face and held in place by the two thin amber hair sticks her aunt had given her. This has to be a dream.....Taylor thought.

They threw their arms around each other as though their lives depended on it. All of the longing that had built up over the last three months he had been away welled to the surface and released. The minute his arms curled around her slender frame, Taylor was blessed with the revelation he was neither dead nor dreaming.

"I'm so sorry," he said as a few tears fell from his eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Sue assured him. "You're alive and that's all that matters."

She kissed the crown of his head and held him in her arms until Dr. Pearlman told her he was going to find some antiseptic for Taylor's wounds. "How long was I out for?" Taylor asked sleepily.

"Three days," Sue replied. "Maybe four. It's already ten in the morning."

Ten in the morning and blazing hot. Although the hospital was air conditioned the outside thermometer already was reading one hundred and two with forty percent humidity. Taylor felt a little embarrassed for having slept for so long, but he desperately needed it. "Any idea what day it is?" he asked.

"Sunday," Sue replied. "Sunday, May 12th."

Shit.......Taylor thought. I'd better write Miss Etta or she'll kill me for forgetting it's Mother's Day......

Taylor sat himself upright and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Though he was grateful that Sue was there with him, he was still unnerved by the IV sticking out of his hand along with the transfusion pouch hanging next to his bed full of blood. It hadn't occurred to him how much he had lost until he saw it.

"Did I really lose that much blood?" he asked again.

"You lost quite a bit," Sue said, helping to keep him steady. "All of us were surprised you didn't die. The PJs had to hose out the choppers as soon as we got back."

"Truc and Mai?"

"All of them are with Uncle," Sue told him. "Paulsson is back at the base, but Swyft insisted on staying here in case you woke up."

Typical of the Colonel. Outwardly he may have been tough, but beneath his typical Army façade lay the instincts of a worried mother hen who would have willingly pecked out the eyes of anyone who dared threaten the chicks.

Sue heard Dr. Pearlman coming back a moment later with a bottle of isotropic alcohol in one hand and a fresh roll of bandages in another. "Here," she said. "Can you unbutton your shirt?"

Taylor did as he was asked and began unbuttoning his blue hospital shirt which proved to be easier said than done. His fingers fumbled as he went one by one, loosening the buttons until he was able to shed his shirt. The cool air of the hospital made goosebumps grow on his skin. "Alright," Dr. Pearlman said. "Let's see what we're working with here."