And so it went for the next several hours. Each time Grant woke, he remained awake a little longer, things got more clearer, and at the same time, things got more difficult to comprehend.
Torrinson, Adler, and the Moshenkos took turns staying with him, talking, or just sitting, getting some comfort themselves just being with him.
Adler just walked into the ward, and hearing Grant moaning, he rushed over to the bed. “Skipper! Wake up!”
Grant was agitated and sweating profusely. “Huh? Joe?”
“Yeah. You having a dream?”
“More like a nightmare.”
Adler poured some fresh water into a clear plastic cup, and dropped in a straw. “Here. Drink some. Maybe I can get you a Coke later.” Grant swallowed a few sips. “Wanna tell me about it?” Adler asked, as he reached over and put the cup on the bedside table. He took a washcloth out of the drawer and dabbed the cloth on Grant’s forehead, wiping away sweat.
“You want the short or long version?” Grant asked.
“Whatever you feel like telling me.”
Grant closed his eyes, seeing everything again. “It starts out quiet. Wherever I am, I’m pretty sure I’m alone. I can’t hear anybody or anything. I start to think that the place is pitch black, no kind of light, until I realize I’m blindfolded. But I can’t figure out why I’m blindfolded. Even though I can’t see, I feel dizzy, disoriented.
“I’m sitting on some kind of wooden chair. I think it might be handmade ‘cause it’s rough, uncomfortable. I try to move, but can’t. Then I realize my arms are behind my back. My wrists are tied. I struggle but can’t get loose. The rope’s too tight, and I feel it cutting into my wrists. I try to move my legs, but my ankles are tied to the chair, too.
“There’s an odd yet familiar taste in my mouth, and it takes a minute before I recognize it as blood. Can’t figure out why there’s blood.
“I hear a door open, then voices. Sounds like at least two men are walking behind me. They’re speaking Russian.” He opened his eyes and looked at Adler, commenting, “You’d think I’d know what they were saying, but I don’t.”
Adler said, “It’s a dream, boss.”
Grant gave a quick nod, then continued. “I get a whiff of sulphur, then start to smell smoke, like cigarette smoke. I hear footsteps scuffing by me. Then, somebody is standing in front of me. I know he’s leaning close to my face ‘cause I can hear him breathing, smell some kind of liquor on his breath, before he blows smoke in my face. Everything goes quiet, before I feel intense, sudden pain.
“It’s the third time it’s happened, Joe, exactly the same way every time.” He tried to clear his brain, trying to put it back on track, trying to make sense out of everything.
Adler debated about giving Grant the full story behind the dream, but finally reasoned it was better than making him drive himself crazy. “Skipper?” Grant looked at him with confusion in his eyes. “Let me tell you why you’re having this dream, what happened, why you’re here in the hospital. Is there anything you remember?” Grant shook his head.
Twenty-five minutes later, Adler went silent. Grant laid his head back. Adler quietly said, “I’m sorry, skipper. I just… ”
“No, Joe. You cleared it all up. I thought I was losing my mind, you know, not being able to remember, not understanding what it meant. You know that’s just not like me.”
“Yeah. I know, but that’s part from the hits you took,” Adler said, as he pointed to Grant’s head, “and now the meds. You know what aspirins do to you.”
Grant looked back at his good friend. “And the men from the Team… did they leave yet?”
“No. The admiral had them stay a couple of extra days. They should be here today.”
“Good. I need to see them.” He took a deep breath, feeling pain on both sides of his ribcage. “What about the men we rescued. Where are they?”
“Understand they’re at a separate section of the hospital. Heard the big brass from D.C. are coming in. The admiral was trying to get information, but everyone’s keeping pretty tight-lipped. All he could find out was they’ll be here for at least another three weeks, if not longer. They’ve got examinations and debriefings, I expect.”
“They’ve been through hell, Joe. Are they okay?”
“As far as I know, they came through the whole incident in pretty good shape, except for some bumps and bruises when our chopper went down.”
Grant went quiet, as he tried to remember their faces. He still couldn’t bring them into focus yet. Giving his head a shake, he looked back at Adler. “Okay, now give me the straight skinny. What’s wrong with me? I mean, physically. We know what’s wrong mentally!” It was the first time he smiled since coming out of the anesthesia. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Do I still have all my teeth?” he laughed.
“Yeah, miracle upon miracle. You still got all your pearly whites! And as far as your other injuries, there’re nothing that time won’t heal. You know that shoulder of yours was dislocated. Doc said they had to do extensive repair work on the rotator cuff, so that’s gonna need some therapy.”
“Feel like I’m in a straightjacket with this damn thing,” Grant said, looking down at his right arm, wrapped tight against his body.
Adler nodded, then continued, “The pain in your side is because you’ve got fractured ribs. Anything else that hurts… well, now you know why. Look, maybe you should talk with Doc Engleston. He’ll… ”
“Hey! You’re being straight with me, right?”
“Would I shit you?” Adler laughed.
“Then that’s… ” Grant went silent, continuing to stare at Adler, but almost as if he wasn’t seeing him.
“What’s wrong, skipper?”
“Something you just said.”
“What? You mean ‘would I shit you’?”
“Yeah. Somebody said that to me not too long ago.” He closed his eyes trying to draw out a face. “Who the hell was it?”
It seemed to be something so insignificant, but Adler knew once Grant kicked his brain into gear, he wouldn’t stop until he had the answer. The only other person Adler could think of was… Oh, Christ. Tony. How the hell could he tell Grant about Mullins?
“Hey, skipper, don’t worry about it. Maybe when the pain meds are out of your system, it’ll come to you.”
Suddenly, Grant laughed, then looked at Adler. “Mullins! Tony said it when I called the Embassy. Hey! Where is he? Did he come here while I was zonked out?”
“Uh. No. He hasn’t been here.”
“He hasn’t?” Grant asked with both surprise and disappointment. “He’s not pissed at me for chewing his ass out, is he?”
Adler shook his head. “No. He’s… he’s probably back in D.C. now.” Unable to face Grant, he got up and stepped around to the foot of the bed. He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, keeping his head lowered.
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong, Joe. Are you gonna tell me?”
Adler turned. Gotta let him know, he decided. Except the time wasn’t right to let Grant know Mullins was trying to save him when he was killed. Maybe he’d never tell him.
When he looked up, Grant still had his eyes fixed on him. “Do you remember anything about the firefight when our chopper went down?”
“Just parts. I’m starting to remember the crash and then everybody getting out. There was the sound of another chopper and gunfire. But not much more; only brief flashes come back every now and then. Why?” All Adler could do was stare back, hoping he didn’t have to say the words.
The realization suddenly hit Grant. He pressed his head back against the pillow. “Oh, Christ! No! He can’t be. Tell me he’s not dead!” Adler still didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told Grant everything. “Tony’s dead?” Adler merely nodded. “How? What… what happened?”