Soldier
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Cobblestone Press
www.cobblestone-press.com
Copyright ©2008 by Dee Carney
First published in 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Author Bio
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Soldier
Copyright© 2008 Dee Carney
ISBN: 978-1-60088-244-9
Cover Artist: Dan Skinner
Editor: Devin Govaere
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
To Steve, my soldier.
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Chapter One
As he landed on his side, Nicholas felt the familiar wrench of his shoulder as it slid out of its socket. He bit back a groan at the injury and forced himself to roll to block the inevitable blow to his body. Feeling the wind from a close swipe of his opponent's sword tousle his hair as the swing barely missed his head, he brought up his own sword with his good arm in time to slice through his opponent's thin armor. The cut was superficial, but painful enough to need tending and force a temporary reprieve from the fighting. Nicholas took the fleeting opportunity to scramble to his legs in preparation for the next blows.
His breath was ragged and he was bleeding in several areas. The pain of each inhalation was an immediate reminder to himself that his time would soon be up. He was no longer a young man in a young man's fight. At thirty-three years old, he was living on borrowed time as most Soldiers did not live past their thirtieth birthday. His limbs felt heavy and he had to acknowledge that today was a good day to die.
The Once-man facing him showed no signs of slowing, despite the numerous lacerations it had also received. Gritting his teeth, Nicholas charged again, feinting to the left, his opponent's weakest point he had learned from observation. Taking two short steps, he whirled in a graceful move, his sword reaching for vulnerable flesh where armor-like skin did not cover. To his surprise, the Once-man parried and easily side-stepped his thrust. Overconfident, Nicholas stumbled and was unable to bring about his good arm in time. Nerve endings screamed in protest as he was forced to move the arm attached to a dislocated shoulder to defend himself.
Not enough and too slow.
In horror, he watched the Once-man drive its sword into his side, almost to the hilt of the blade. Recognizing his grave situation, he gathered himself in time to locate a short scabbard attached to the inside of his arm shield and used it to swipe at the head of the creature. It howled as its ear was cleanly sliced off, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. Enraged, its knee came up in an unexpected thrust, planting directly into Nicholas's abdomen. The wind knocked out of him, he stumbled again, pulling himself from off of the sword. He was gasping now. Darkness was swimming at the periphery of his vision and he raged against the thought of his mortality. He tried once again to lance the Once-man and, again, it side-stepped him easily.
Something was wrong.
His legs were heavy and would barely support him. Despite years of training and experience in battles both won and lost, he was laboring in the effort to even stand. Sweat poured down his head and trickled into his stinging eyes. The suddenness by which he was being overcome brought to his muddied mind the idea that he had been poisoned by a substance placed strategically on the Once-man's weapon. He had suffered worse injuries in battle than he currently had and had fared better than he was doing now.
For brief moments more he was able to stand. With each ragged breath he took, however, he felt more deprived of air. His vision would not focus and he could not tell where the Once-man placed itself. He dropped to one knee and then the other. His sword was on the ground next to him. Nicholas could not remember dropping it. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears and he felt as if his pounding heart would burst out of his chest. He tried to clutch at the sword weakly, but failed in his effort. Frustrated with the circumstances under which he would die, Nicholas screamed into the humid night air, then blackness took him and he knew no more.
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Chapter Two
Eyes gritty, Anna dragged herself into an upright position. The day after working a twelve hour shift was always a lesson in the aftermath of dehydration and exhaustion. The day after working two-twelves, as they were called, was a lesson in sheer torture. This was the day after three-twelves. Words could not adequately express the pounding of her head, the thickness of her tongue and the ache in her major bones and muscles. Despite a year of anatomy and physiology classes, she was sure she had discovered some muscles not previously identified in textbooks based on the way they announced themselves this morning. Her feet felt swollen after pounding them against the walkway between the five patient rooms for which she was responsible. Nursing truly had to be a calling, she mused. No sane person would put themselves through this on purpose.
Groaning, she disentangled her legs from the cotton sheet wrapped around them and swung her body to the side of the bed. Coffee. My kingdom for a cup of coffee, she thought. Yawning in a most unladylike manner, she stood and shut her eyes against a brief wave of vertigo brought about by the sudden change in position. Slowly making her way towards the small bathroom, she stopped to inspect herself in the mirror above the vanity.
The first things she noticed were the dark circles and pockets of bags underneath her brown eyes. Sighing at the sight, she stripped off the faded yellow t-shirt and white cotton underpants and inspected herself in the mirror again. As usual, she awoke with her short brown hair pointing in every unnatural direction possible. What was more disconcerting were the dark circles against her pale skin. She had picked up the extra shift because the unit she worked on was short-handed, but the extra shifts were becoming too often and her body rebelled. The one good thing about the circles, though, was that they drew attention away from the freckles that spotted her nose and cheeks. Years of trying to cover them up with concealers and foundation had predictably failed, but she continued to try anyway. Mockingly pouting her lips, she tried to critically appraise her looks. Turning to the side, she surveyed her nude body from head to thighs and decided not too bad.
She flipped the exhaust switch and turned the shower on, allowing time for the water to heat to a temperature that was tolerable. Despite a lack of sleep, she was never one to enjoy a cold shower. She didn't enjoy the cold at all, in fact. Even with the humidity, she much preferred the sultry heat of Florida to the prospect of cold weather anywhere else in the country. Stepping into the warm spray of the water, she luxuriated in the feel against her skin. Sweet heaven, even her skin felt tired. Meditatively, she st
ood under the spray for another five minutes before bothering to lather. Mindful that the warm water wouldn't last for too long, Anna soaped her body and quickly rinsed off, not bothering to wash her hair today.
While toweling dry, she ran through the list of items that she planned on completing. The guest bathroom renovation was going well. The next item on the to-do list was to add a window to the small room. She needed to go to the hardware store to pick up the supplies first though. While she was there, she would look at tiles and laminate flooring for the living and dining rooms. Lastly, while there, she wanted to pick up a book or two on landscaping. The barren desert that was her backyard would not do if she planned on profiting from any sale of the house in the future.
After toweling dry, she donned a faded pair of jeans, a simple cotton t-shirt and an old pair of sneakers. Deciding to eschew breakfast at home for a quick trip to Starbucks, she grabbed the keys to the house and car and headed towards the garage after a brief walk through the living room and kitchen. Old Faithful waited for her in the hot room. Her blue Honda Civic, a relic from two decades ago that still purred like a kitten, patiently sat. Unlocking and then opening the door, a blast of heat wafted from the vehicle and Anna forced herself inside nonetheless and turned on the starter.
After pressing the button to open the garage door, the gearstick was shifted in reverse and she turned her torso around to cautiously back down the driveway. Easing out of the garage, she pressed the button to return the garage door to closed. Her eyes flitted to the grass separating her property from the neighbors. Slamming on the brakes, she threw the gearstick back into the park position and scrambled outside. On the grass lay the nude body of a man.
Quickly donning her nursing persona, Anna ran to him and scanned the prone body for level of consciousness and obvious signs of any injury. He was unconscious, but his respirations were steady and even. His pulse was also strong. On her knees, she gingerly pulled back an eyelid, noting the pupil size, then doing the same to the other eye. She frowned and looked at both eyes again.
"Well, I'll be,” she muttered to herself. Mystery Man had one green eye and one brown eye. Other than an actress whose name she couldn't recall at the moment, Anna hadn't known anyone with this oddity before.
From where she knelt beside him, she couldn't find any signs of trauma or injury. There were probably a dozen or so well healed scars across his torso, but none looked recent enough to cause his current condition. He was obviously well nourished, so she didn't think he was homeless. That was all she could surmise about where he came from though.
She stood up and ran back to the car, cursing herself for forgetting her cellular phone inside of it. Dialing 911, she walked back towards him, watching him for any signs of change in his status. The call was quickly answered after the first ring and, after giving the operator the essential information, she stood by his side waiting for help to arrive.
As she stood there, Anna felt torn on whether to drape his naked body and risk missing a change in him or leave him exposed, offering her a rather thrilling view. Seeing someone nude was part of the job and sadly, even in a natural state, it took a lot these days for a man's body to capture her attention. This one did. He was tall, probably over six feet with a tan that suggested outdoor activities. Notably, he had close-cropped brown hair, suggestive of the military. His face was angular, an architect's dream. His shoulders were broad; his chest more so, with fine dark hair snaking its way down his body. The biceps also suggested a lot of attention and activity. His abdomen was flat with only wisps of hair surrounding his navel. Trying to convince herself that she was still in professional mode, despite the flush of heat to her cheeks, Anna's eyes slowly traveled further down. She almost screamed however when he jerked and started a fit of coughing. Ignoring the tremor in her hands, she kneeled next to him again, rolling him onto his side as his coughing worsened. When he moaned, her personal safety won the battle over occupation and she took a step backwards, simultaneously glad to hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
Although the coughing was subsiding, he continued to moan intermittently. He slowly turned onto his back and then to his other side, facing away from Anna. After a few minutes when he had not coughed or made another sound, she stepped closer. Kneeling again, her hand tentatively reached out for him. She did scream this time when his hand clamped onto hers. Rolling deftly, he turned to face her and those mismatched eyes stared at her with intensity and fury.
Not letting go of the vise-like grip on her wrist shooting bolts of pain through her, he sat up, surveying both her and their surroundings. If he cared that he was naked, he did not show it.
"Who are you and where are we?” he growled.
Anna tried to pull her arm away and winced when he pulled back. Before she could reply, however, his head cocked at the sound of the sirens only blocks away and he rose shakily to his feet, dragging a reluctant Anna with him.
Still amazed at his nonchalance of his state, she tried to focus her thoughts to the danger she was in. What had she learned from those self-defense courses the hospital had offered last year? Never go with your attacker, the instructor had said. Fight, kick, scream! Do whatever you can do to make him want to leave you there. The minute you go with him, it's game over. Someone in the back asked about the attacker having a gun. The reply was harsh and instant. If he has a gun, you run. Even trained police officers have a difficult time hitting a moving target.
Finding her paralysis broken, Anna yanked her arm for all she was worth and turned to run towards the house. To her surprise, his hand lost its grip on her and she was able to flee. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she found her strength and ran. It only took two full length strides for her to realize her latest predicament. She had already closed the garage with the remote and her keys to the house were also in the car.
With the calm only someone used to saving lives could know, she changed direction for the backyard. She was almost around the back of the house when she turned her head to find her assailant. Anna's eyes widened when she found him not even a full stride away from her. She shrieked again, not realizing that she had stopped, and turned to find a pathway to safety. It was only a few more feet before she felt his hand grip onto her shoulder, the force throwing her off balance.
She stumbled and he took the opportunity to force her to the ground. The impact was jarring, but Anna started scrambling forward immediately, ignoring the sting to her hands and knees. His hands climbed over her legs and pinned them down. Suddenly, his full weight was upon her and before she could scream again, a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off any sound.
His breath was coming as quickly as hers as he whispered harshly into her ear. “Do not move! Not one sound!"
Torn, not knowing if it were more prudent to struggle or do as he commanded, Anna chose the latter, deciding to save herself for another or better opportunity to flee.
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Chapter Three
Nicholas struggled to get his heartbeat and breathing under control. What had happened? He had never raised even so much as his voice to a woman and here he was with a woman pinned underneath him, the tension in her body a tell-tale sign to the terror she must be feeling. The last he could remember was losing the ability to stand, then he was awakened by this woman's touch. He was not where he had fallen, although he could recognize brief similarities in the terrains. But this was where the similarity ended. Gone was the evidence of death and decay, replaced by inhabited dwellings and plants rich with life.
In fact, as he breathed over the woman's head, he could smell sweetness from her hair. On deeper inhalation, he blinked twice in surprise. Berries. The scent was that of strawberries, fruit he had not tasted since his childhood.
He whispered into her ear, trying to shake the memory from his head. “I will not hurt you,” he insisted. “What is your name?"
His hand loosened over her mouth, poised to resume its position if she tried to scream. He coul
d feel her struggle with herself on what position to take and he relaxed when she finally spoke.
"Lisa,” came the tense reply.
"Lisa,” he repeated. “My name is Nicholas and I am sorry that I have frightened you. I should not have chased you, but it was my instinct.” He paused. “I cannot remember where I am or how I got here. I need just a little time to think and then I will leave you in peace for good if that is what you want."
The sounds of the sirens were almost deafening at this point, the source slowing to somewhere at the front of the house.
"Is that noise from the authorities?” After he saw her nod, he continued speaking. “Please, send them away. I am not harmed nor will I harm you. I promise you that they are not needed.” He slowly slid himself from off of her body and stood. Poised to flee if necessary. He did not have any reason to hurt her and he would not.
He watched her turn her head to look at him and she met his gaze. Defiance was clearly written in her eyes and body language, but he did not change his position. He would not blame her for not trusting him. Had their positions been reversed, he would have done the same.
"Are you so certain of your intentions towards me?” she whispered hesitantly and gestured at him with her chin.
To his astonishment, he noted that she pointed towards the slow beginnings of an erection that had started when he'd first lain across her lush body. He looked levelly into her eyes. “Never without your permission. A physiologic reaction to our proximity, I assure you."
She studied his eyes intently as she drew herself to her knees again. After a few more moments, she sighed and she rose to her feet a little unsteadily and walked with purpose towards the front of the house.
Nicholas stood and placed his back against the house and tried to focus his thoughts on his current predicament, instead of thinking about the body of the pixie into whose hands he had just placed his life. His mind betraying him, he could only think of how she had felt underneath him. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman and her curves had reminded his body how he craved another opportunity. The view from the front had been as equally delightful to the lushness of her backside. She was petite in stature, with hips designed for the passage of children. In fact, he could imagine getting her pregnant with several of them. Groaning inwardly, he tore himself away from the thoughts he was having, otherwise she would return to a raging hard-on that he would have difficulty explaining away as easily as he had the first time.