Remember Courage Read online

  “No.”

  “Then I definitely want details,” Dylan said firmly, getting to his feet and grinning at his friend. Jamie laughed out loud and shook his head before ducking out of the tent without answering.

  Dylan got to his feet and grabbed a bottle of water, knocking over a few empty ones that he’d perched strategically next to his bunk. He was starting to wonder if he was starting to get sick because he couldn’t quite get rid of how thirsty he felt all the time.

  “Time to feed the tagalong,” he muttered under his breath, tucked his gun into his pants, and pulled his shirt over it to keep it hidden. He then dumped all the bottles into the recycle bin set up near one of the main buildings.

  That had been almost twelve hours ago.

  Jamie was incredibly smart and resourceful, but if something had happened – Dylan needed to get him help. He wondered if he would come upon something between the two of them, since they’d been gone so long – or if something had truly happened. He couldn’t take that chance and the desert wasn’t forgiving in the slightest.

  “Guys, I need your help…”

  In no time they were loaded up and racing through the desert. Thank goodness Dylan had enough foresight to ask Jamie where they were headed before he’d left. They were following their plan from before since the breeze seemed to have made part of the tracks disappear overnight. The tracks that they did find didn’t match the tires on any of the convoy vehicles, which didn’t bode well.

  Dylan pushed down the feeling of sickness inside of him, chalking it up to fear or food poisoning. The food and beer he’d eaten last night with Lucy’s cameraman must disagree with his stomach because he’d been sweating buckets, guzzling water, and in the bathroom all night long.

  “Dude? Are you alright?” Tobin asked him, leaning away like he had the flu or some sort of contagious disease.

  “I’m fine,” Dylan replied, trying to focus, “I think I got something bad for dinner last night in town.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Ha ha. Very funny, Tobin. Hody? Watson? Anyone else want to chime in?”

  “Nope. That was a good one.”

  Dylan looked at the other men sitting across from him and shook his head. His mind felt so fuzzy and his stomach ached terribly. Grabbing his canteen, he held it up to his mouth and was stunned that he’d already drank most of it. He would need to refill it from the truck before they set out, he thought as they came to a stop suddenly.

  Climbing out of the truck, he winced against the glaring sun beating down on them already. There was evidence that two vehicles had been here and one of them was obviously the convoy truck. The tracks were quickly blended with another, showing that they drove off together. Was Post being followed? Scanning the area, he saw nothing remained other than the smoldering remains of a bonfire.

  “You think there’s anyone waiting in the caves again? Remember when Ethan lost his leg in this valley…” Hody said quietly, looking around. Dylan didn’t think that it needed to be said aloud and obviously neither did Watson.

  “Shut up, Hody. I’m already on it with Paladin. Y’all check the caves and watch your steps. First one that finds them, radio in. Did anyone try the radios already?” Tobin ordered.

  “Yeah, there’s nothing.”

  “Luka, are you sure you’re okay? You can wait in the truck, buddy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Dylan picked up his rifle and quickly refilled his canteen before setting out behind the others. They were already scaling the cliffs and inspecting the area of signs that someone had been there. He stood there for a moment, looking around. If he had to hide quickly, he wouldn’t have picked a lower cave. He would make the rebels work to reach him. Glancing up, he saw one cave was quite a way up and definitely accessible for them but could Lucy have scaled the side of the hill? Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he immediately began to pull himself upwards.

  He felt a wave of dizziness hit him at one point and shook his head. It would be extremely bad for him to faint right now. He stopped and quickly downed half of his canteen, ignoring the urge to use the restroom again. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get checked when they got back. He’d never peed this much in his entire life – even as a kid.

  “Luka?” Jamie’s voice questioned, making Dylan breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he was there!

  “What are you doing here? Are the rebels gone?”

  “You two are sure hard to find,” Dylan blustered, pulling himself upwards onto the ledge so he could rest for a moment. The dizziness was getting worse and he might not make it back down at this rate.

  “I’ve tried to keep things quiet looking for you two knuckleheads while we spread out to search the hillside. FYI – the truck is gone and Logan is going to have your tail in a sling for that one.”

  “I just did what he ordered.”

  “Spent the night in a cave?”

  “No,” Jamie extended his hand as Dylan got to his feet. He hated to rush things but he was going to have to get back down quickly. He needed to lie down somewhere and was feeling pretty terrible.

  “Lucy – we’re safe. You can come out.”

  Hearing Jamie call back to the beautiful reporter, Luka suddenly grinned again, elbowing his friend. Her face flushed red and he wondered if Jamie was the reason behind that blush.

  “Dude, she’s so worth it then,” Dylan whispered to Jamie.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “No, it’s not,” Lucy blurted out hotly. “We were inspecting the area for my story and heard a drone just before the rebels found the truck.”

  “Suuuure,” Luka drawled weakly, winking at Jamie. “Afghanistan is a perfect place for a stroll. I take all my dates here. Now, can we go?”

  “Are you alright?” Lucy suddenly blurted out.

  “Luka, are you sick?”

  “No. Just feeling a little peckish,” Dylan said, wondering just how bad he actually looked. This was the fourth, or was it fifth, person to ask him that within the last few hours.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know,” Dylan said, wiping his brow. “I’m actually feeling pretty rough and just want to get out of here. I think I need to eat something.”

  “We need to go while its clear,” Jamie agreed quickly, waving Lucy forward. They quickly scrambled out of the cave and began their descent.

  “How many are out here?”

  “Just our squad – no brother gets left behind,” Dylan said, knowing that if Jamie got reported as AWOL or missing there would be an alarm raised immediately.

  They were scrambling down the side of the hill towards the others in a fairly quick fashion. He had to stop to catch his breath and felt like he was ready to vomit. Reaching the valley floor, everything spun and his ears sounded like there was cotton stuffed in them. He could see that the other guys’ lips were moving, meaning that they were talking amongst themselves, but he couldn’t hear a thing.

  “Jamie,” Dylan tried to say but the word wouldn’t come out of his lungs. He stepped forward and it was like dragging his leg through mud. His body wasn’t cooperating anymore, he thought as everything went black.

  Dylan felt himself waking up and tried to assess the damage to his body before he opened his eyes. Everything ached and the last thing he remembered was trying to scale down the hill. He thought he’d made it to the valley floor but maybe not? Everything was so fuzzy and so confusing.

  “How are you feeling, Luka?”

  A voice nearby pricked at his consciousness. He recognized it but couldn’t put a face to the sound yet. He lay there relishing the feeling of the cool sheets as he took stock of his condition before opening his eyes.

  “Pretty terrible,” Dylan admitted, looking around through cracked eyes. He was in a small looking room with a sheet pulled forward to block his view. Several monitors were beside him, beeping steadily.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “In bed.”

/>   “Where?”

  “Afghanistan – I think.”

  “What year is it?”

  Dylan started at that question, twisting to look at the soldier standing at his bedside with a clipboard. Maybe that was why he felt so bad, because he was injured and had amnesia?

  “Did I hit my head?”

  “Year, soldier!” Houghton snapped. Dylan recognized that voice and remembered the man. He had the bedside manner of a cold fish and rarely ever smiled.

  “2017.”

  “Good. I need you to sit up when you get a moment so we can run a few more tests. You think you can do that? Do you remember how you got here?”

  Dylan sat up slowly, feeling much better than he had the past few days. He realized that he’d been stripped down to nothing and garbed in a hospital gown. Only his dog tags around his neck remained out of the gear he’d been wearing into the desert. His stuff was piled on a chair haphazardly nearby.

  “What happened to me?”

  “You passed out in the middle of nowhere and got carried here by your squad – who is currently outside in a state of panic. Now if you will sit still, I’ll tell them you are going to be okay, and then we’ll have a long talk.”

  “Yeah. I’m not moving yet.”

  “Good.”

  Dylan sat there for several minutes in silence, taking inventory of the room and himself. He had an I.V. in his arm and a couple of Band-Aids on the other arm. He felt like he’d had the hardest nap in the world because his head still felt a little fuzzy. He thought about getting up to look in the mirror but decided against it. He didn’t want to pass out again and still had no idea what happened. The door opened and Houghton returned to the room, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

  “Still feeling okay?”

  “I’m starting to feel much better. How long have I been here?”

  “A few hours.”

  “That’s it?”

  “It doesn’t take long when we know what is going on right away,” Houghton began and sighed. There was something in his expression that made Dylan feel extremely uncomfortable. Houghton looked disappointed at what he was about to say to the man before him.

  “Does anyone in your family have diabetes?”

  “Wow. Um, not… not that I know of? Wh-what are you saying?”

  He hated how panicked his voice sounded and the stammer in his words. His mind was racing. His parents were perfectly healthy, if not a little overprotective. That was part of the reason he’d signed up for Afghanistan – to get away and have an adventure he could control himself. His grandmother had high cholesterol and high blood pressure – but no one had diabetes.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Luka, when you arrived you were completely unconscious. We started to do a full panel on you to see what happened when I caught wind of your breath. You smelled strongly of Fruit Loops, my friend. That is an indicator that your blood sugar was high. I had them pull your levels immediately and your count was over six hundred. Do you know what diabetic ketoacidosis is?”

  “You are speaking gibberish to me, doc. In plain English, sir – you are scaring me,” Dylan blurted out, feeling a rush of panic hit him as his heart hammered in his chest. Was he saying that he was diabetic?

  “Luka, you’ve got diabetes. I suspect it’s Type 1 but I won’t know for sure until all the tests are completed. You didn’t start to respond to stimulus until we got your blood sugar down significantly. We’ll test you again shortly to see what your reading is. We normally see this in children, but it can happen up to the age of about thirty and you are what… twenty-seven? I need to ask you some questions and then we need to talk about your future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are going to have to focus on taking care of yourself and maintaining your blood sugar in an acceptable range. I’m going to start the paperwork shortly for you and recommend some classes to help teach you how when you return home.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Luka, with diabetes you will be discharged from the military.”

  “No,” Dylan whispered painfully, shutting his eyes. “Go away.”

  Ignoring the man, he reached back to the bed where it was elevated, using it to brace himself so he didn’t yank his I.V. out by accident. He laid on his side facing away from where the head nurse, Houghton, sat. Dylan heard the other man get up and leave, just before the sheer overwhelming panic truly hit him.

  He was going to be discharged?

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes and we’ll take your levels again to see how you are doing,” Houghton said quietly.

  Laying there, Dylan tried to calm his breathing as he fought against the panicked gasps that were escaping him. Hot tears started to fall uncontrollably and he pinched his eyes shut painfully. He hadn’t broken down and cried like this since his grandfather passed away.

  Why was this happening to him?

  Tyler, Texas

  Eva filled out the application at the café that had just opened up in town and waited patiently for the official interview to begin – and she didn’t have long. Paula walked into the café and joined her at a table in the corner.

  The building was in an excellent location and they were looking for staff to work the odd hours. It was from five in the morning until just after lunch. She’d met with the owner by chance, who happened to be one of her customers at the Home Depot she’d been working at, and struck up a conversation.

  Paula was looking for someone dependable to run the counter at her business while she focused on opening other branches nearby. The city was growing and expanding quickly, with plenty of opportunity for growth – as well as overtime. Paula wanted a ‘take charge person that could function as a shift manager’, she’d described the position.

  This could be a dream job for her. If she could get overtime, then she could cut it down to just one job, and slowly begin to take classes again to finish her bachelor’s degree.

  She kept waiting for the bad news to hit about the job as the other woman talked to her. There was no uniform other than an apron, Eva had freedom to talk and chat with customers which she already loved doing, and the ability to make suggestions for improvements or changes.

  Nervously, Eva sat there trying to keep from fidgeting as the older woman looked her over, staring her down. She wasn’t sure how many people that Paula planned on interviewing, but hoped she had a shot at it.

  Eva knew what must be running through her mind. The woman had seen her dabble with her appearance several times over the last two years. She’d had hot pink hair, bleached blonde (which actually turned greenish at one point) and settled on a shade of black that had since faded up to her natural color of dark brown. Her tattoo along her hairline, by her ear, had faded into the dark tresses, making it not quite as noticeable anymore.

  Her wild days were fading into her past and she wanted a chance at a new beginning someday. She hoped that her appearance wouldn’t be held against her because she didn’t look like management type in the slightest and that is what Paula was looking for.

  “What do you think, kiddo?” Paula asked her quietly.

  “It sounds perfect and I hope you pick me,” Eva admitted, clenching her hands together under the table in the nearly empty coffee shop. Paula turned and held out her hand, gesturing to the rest of the seating area.

  “What’s the first thing you would do in here? Sales are down – so how would you increase traffic?”

  Mind racing, Eva swallowed hard and tried to not let the panic show. She was being tested to see if she was a good fit.

  “The building looks great, and it’s in an ideal location, but…”

  “…But what?”

  “I would focus on coffee and snacks instead of fancy luncheons. You want quick and easy items with a high profit margin. Also, you need to make the shop known a little bit more. I’ve seen this place a million times and the signage at the road is tiny.”

  “You don’t think word
of mouth could make an impact in a small town?”

  “Tyler isn’t so small anymore. You need to be seen and frankly? I don’t think they are discussing your coffee shop, because some people are getting free coffee at McDonalds and other places. You need to match it to be competitive.”

  “‘High profit margins’ and ‘give it away free’ – that seems quite counterproductive, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You’ll make it up on the back end of the business, in the flavored, fancy coffees and snacks like cupcakes, breads, pies. Give the plain coffee away for free to get them in the door. Promote it for law enforcement, veterans, and senior citizens to get the word out.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Positive. Restaurants want you to pick the salad cause the profit margin is so much higher than it is with the steak. Less effort, more results. It doesn’t take much to wash the lettuce and dress it up. So, we need to whip up something that is small, looks incredible, and mark it up big time.”

  “Where’d you learn all of this, kiddo?”

  “High school economics.”

  “Really?”

  “That – and I like reading a lot.”

  “You read management and economics books?”

  “No, I read self-improvement books.”

  “Interesting. So how fast could you develop a menu and marketing plan?”

  “Does that mean I have the job?”

  “You had it when you walked in,” Paula admitted, finally smiling. “I’ve seen you busy working your rear-end off for the last two years at Home Depot… and over at the greasy burger shack near the college. People notice dedication and drive. The fact that you are reading self-improvement books in your spare time means you are going somewhere with your life, kiddo.”

  “I want to do more with my life than just struggle.”

  “I understand,” the older woman said, getting to her feet. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at five so we can open the shop together. I’ll expect you to develop that menu by Friday, Eva.”

  “I’ll be here,” she vowed, knowing full well she was scheduled at the fast-food restaurant already, but with what Eva had offered her, she could afford to quit that job.