Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3) Page 15

  “How are we ever going to find him before he loses too much blood?” she asked Lucas. “We have less than two hours left.”

  “We pray,” Lucas said grimly. Then he added, “Look for a coat with two chevron stripes on the sleeve. The sergeant said Frank was recently promoted to corporal.”

  “I can’t even see the stripes!” Aimee objected. “I brought a flashlight. Should I use it? Have flashlights even been invented yet?”

  “Yes, but they’re not exactly common. Use it discreetly so you don’t call attention to yourself,” Lucas advised.

  “Are you a medic?” a man in uniform called out to Lucas.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We need your help.”

  “Keep looking, but don’t wander far away,” Lucas told Aimee before he left to join the soldier crouched beside a man who was moaning in pain.

  Two stripes on the sleeve. That should make the search easier. Aimee cupped her hand around the flashlight to direct its beam downward and moved along the field, searching for the insignia Lucas had described. Once, a man begged her for something to drink, and she stopped to pour half her water bottle down his throat. Further down the line, someone asked if she had any rations, and she passed out the granola bars she had packed.

  “A new kind of hardtack,” she explained when they eyed the shiny wrappers with suspicion.

  One brave soul ripped his open and took a huge bite. “Mmm! Actually tastes like real food!” he said with his mouth full.

  Aimee moved on before they could ask any questions. She passed a stack of bodies, none moving. So much death. I could never be a real nurse, she thought. She wasn’t even aware that tears were running down her cheeks until Lucas gripped her arm and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t find him, Lucas. I keep looking, but I can’t find him.”

  “Let’s try another way.”

  Lucas waited until there was a lull in the battlefield noises. Then he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled two short notes, a long one, and two shorts. “Frank’s and my secret signal,” he explained.

  They waited but didn’t hear a response. They continued moving towards the farmhouse, with Lucas whistling every few seconds.

  “Hush!” someone called out to him. “Are you crazy?”

  But Lucas ignored him, and when they were a mere hundred yards or so from the stone farmhouse, Aimee heard, not a whistle, but a faint voice calling something that sounded like “Lou.”

  “That way!” she said and began scrambling across the mud-slicked ground toward the familiar voice.

  Lucas steadied her when she slipped, and they moved faster when the voice called out again. They found three soldiers at the base of a jagged stump. One soldier wasn’t moving. The second was propped against the stump, and the third lay across his lap. As they approached, the soldier holding his injured comrade looked up.

  “Lucas? What are you doing here?” Frank’s voice was uncertain. “Or am I just imagining you?”

  “Frank?”

  Lucas’s tone expressed the same disbelief Aimee felt. The face that looked up at them was gaunt, features sharply etched, eyes hollow, with lines of dirt and blood trailing down both cheeks. He looked as if he’d aged a decade, and his eyes were blank as they glanced at Aimee.

  “Lucas?” Frank repeated weakly.

  “I’m here,” Lucas assured him as he regained composure. “Let me see what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

  Frank ignored the attempt at lightness. “You have to help him.” He nodded towards the man he cradled across his lap.

  “Frank, you need help.”

  “He’s worse.”

  Lucas knelt and gently eased the man onto the ground. Aimee could see his bloodstained jacket but no visible injury. When Lucas gently peeled the coat aside, he drew in a breath at the sight of the man’s open wound. “Help me dress this,” he told Aimee quickly. “It’s a miracle his lung hasn’t already collapsed.”

  By now, Aimee had learned what Lucas expected of her. She held the sterile pad in place while he wrapped layers of gauze around the man’s chest. Their patient groaned, and his eyes fluttered, but he didn’t seem aware of what was happening.

  Once he had done everything he could, Lucas moved on to Frank, whose face had contorted in lines of pain. “Where are you hurt?”

  Frank pointed to his left thigh. “I think I took a bullet. Or shrapnel, maybe.”

  Lucas couldn’t access the wound, so he pulled out a knife and sliced Frank’s pants up the leg. Blood stained the pale skin, and Lucas held out a hand for a clean cloth. Aimee hastily passed it to him. Once he cleaned the area as best he could, he surveyed the damage.

  “Whatever it is, it’s in deep,” he told Frank. “You’re lucky it didn’t hit an artery. I’ll bandage it to stop the bleeding, but I’m afraid it won’t stop the pain.”

  With Aimee’s help, Lucas put pressure on the wound and bandaged it. Frank gritted his teeth and watched silently except for a couple of gasps. Lucas used the last of the rolls of gauze he’d brought and crumpled up the empty package.

  “I have more,” Aimee offered. She fished in her bag and pulled out the supplies she’d packed, which now seemed pitifully inadequate.

  “Thanks.”

  Lucas finished wrapping the wound and handed Frank a handful of aspirin from the bottle Aimee had included. Frank swallowed them with water from his canteen and then leaned his head back, breathing shallowly.

  Aimee felt like she could breathe again also. She and Lucas had beat the six-hour deadline and treated Frank’s wound. Now they just had to get him back to their arrival point before daybreak.

  “He’ll never be able to put weight on that leg,” Lucas told Aimee. “You stay here with him. I’ll get a wagon.”

  “What about George?” Frank gestured to his fellow soldier, whom Lucas had laid out on the ground beside him.

  “He needs to get to a hospital ASAP. I’ll track down litter-bearers for him.”

  As Lucas left, Aimee positioned herself on the ground near Frank. He turned towards her. “I’m Frank Elkins, corporal. Thank you for your help, nurse.”

  Was his wound making him delirious?

  “Frank, it’s me, Aimee. Aimee Woods,” she added when he showed no sign of recognition.

  “Do I know you?”

  Aimee surveyed him again. She saw no obvious sign of a head injury, but clearly something had damaged his memory. “Yes,” she said softly. “We met in St. Louis.”

  Frank frowned. “I’ve never been to St. Louis. It’s in Missouri, right?”

  Aimee hesitated. She didn’t want to argue with Frank or agitate him. It was probably best to humor him, for now.

  “I’m sorry. My mistake.”

  Frank shifted his position slightly and let out a ragged gasp of pain. Aimee reached toward him but didn’t know what to do. After a moment, he settled back against the stump. He stared straight ahead and seemed to have forgotten Aimee’s existence. She watched the pulse at his neck to reassure her he was still alive.

  Come back soon, Lucas. Please. She wasn’t sure how long she could sit here, surrounded by carnage, beside a seriously wounded man who didn’t even recognize her. She just wanted to go home, back to A Time for Love, and forget that this scene of horror had ever even existed.

  Chapter 18

  It seemed like hours, if not days, but finally Aimee heard rustling, accompanied by Lucas’s voice. She’d fallen into a daze, and she stood up to stretch her cramped legs. Widely scattered campfires broke the darkness, and in the dim light, she could see a rickety wagon beside Lucas. He bent to help Frank to his feet, but Frank edged away from his outstretched arm.

  “Take George first. He’s hurt worse.”

  “We don’t have time to take George! Let someone else worry about him!” Aimee snapped. Lucas shot her a look, and she apologized, “Sorry.”

  “Maybe we can take you both,” Lucas said. “It’s the only option we’ve got at the
moment. I couldn’t find anyone free to help.”

  Lucas hoisted Frank up into the wagon and then singlehandedly lifted the unconscious George and wedged him beside Frank.

  Aimee looked around. “Don’t we need horses or something?”

  “We’re the horses,” Lucas said grimly.

  Aimee’s mouth dropped open. She was already exhausted and no doubt traumatized, and he expected her to haul a wagon across several acres of rocky ground? “I don’t know if I can manage it for long,” she objected.

  “You won’t have to. Don’t forget when we are. When these boys see a woman pulling a wagon, I’ll guarantee someone will volunteer to take your place. We just need to get started.”

  He wedged a shoulder under one of the cart’s wooden handles, and Aimee stepped up to the other one. Lucas crouched so that his shoulder would be level with hers, and they tried to move forward. The wooden bar bit into Aimee’s shoulder, and she had to lean over to set the cart in motion. The wheels turned easily enough, but after a couple of steps, Aimee stumbled on a rock and fell, causing the cart to lurch sideways.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  A mud-smeared face appeared in the darkness above her, and an arm helped her to stand up. Aimee nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Do you need help? We don’t want to lose any nurses.”

  Aimee hated not to correct his assumption, but she was likely to get better cooperation if he thought she was a nurse. Besides, she’d been acting as a nurse all day, hadn’t she? Not a highly trained one, but at least a basic volunteer.

  “We need to transport these men to the far side of this field,” she said in what she hoped was an authoritative tone and pointed in the direction where she and Lucas had arrived.

  “Then step aside, ma’am, and we’ll get it done.” He turned to call over his shoulder. “Hey, Bruce, help me give a lady a hand here, would you?”

  The soldier took her place, and his buddy joined Lucas. The wagon began moving much more rapidly. Aimee sneaked a glance at her watch. Just after midnight. They should be able to reach the designated spot soon, with the soldiers’ help.

  The trek across the field was slow and unsteady. Aimee walked in front, warning of loose rocks or ruts. They had to stop periodically for Lucas and the soldiers to adjust their positions, and once Frank shouted that George’s wound had reopened. As they drew near the opposite side of the field, Aimee searched for the wagon that marked their entry point but couldn’t spot it. She moved closer to Lucas.

  “I can’t see the wagon,” she whispered.

  “It’s dark. We’ll see it in a few minutes,” he said dismissively. “We need to see that George is taken care of first.”

  Lucas directed the wagon towards a medical tent set up since their arrival. Lucas called out for a stretcher, and the two soldiers helped the medics unload George and take him inside the tent. Lucas stayed at the wagon. He held a quick whispered conversation with Frank and then helped him slide to the edge of the wagon.

  “Nice work on the bandaging,” the medic told Lucas when he returned. “Are you with the 167th?”

  “I’m from Florence, Alabama,” Lucas evaded.

  “You’re a long way from home,” the medic said. “But aren’t we all?”

  The medic seemed inclined to chat, but when Frank eased to the edge of the wagon, he saw the slashed pants and bandage for the first time. “Here, let’s get you inside. Do you need a stretcher?”

  “Oh, he’s coming with us,” Aimee spoke up.

  The medic frowned. “Coming with you where?” he asked Lucas. He wore no helmet, and his closely shaved head looked bald in the dim light.

  Lucas stepped close and whispered something in the medic’s ear.

  ”Are you sure he’s up to it?” the medic asked doubtfully.

  “It’s only a scratch.” Frank pushed himself off the wagon, wobbled as he landed on his feet, and then took a couple of steps. “I’m fine. See?”

  “All right,” the medic nodded. “But you’ll have to leave the cart. We need it.”

  Lucas and Aimee looked at each other. They knew if they pushed the issue, the man might insist that Frank stay at the medical tent, and they couldn’t risk the delay. They just thanked the medic and walked away, with Lucas holding Frank’s elbow to support him.

  “What did you tell him?” Aimee asked.

  “The truth. That someone really needs to see him before it’s too late.”

  The medic would assume Lucas meant a fatally wounded comrade. It was slightly deceptive, but Aimee didn’t see another choice.

  When Lucas saw the medic had returned to the tent, he propped Frank against a nearby tree while he foraged for a broken branch Frank could use as a cane. Then, with Frank supported between the two of them, they began to hobble in the direction where the wagon they’d chosen as their landmark should be.

  “It’s gone,” Aimee insisted as they neared the edge of the field. Lucas stopped and scanned the area before admitting she was right. “How do we know where to go?”

  “We just need to figure out where the wagon was,” Lucas said. “Do you still have your flashlight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great.” Lucas stopped. “Frank, we’re going to have to leave you for a bit.”

  They settled Frank onto the ground as gently as possible. Aimee could barely see him in the darkness, but she could feel his trembling and a rough gasp when he stretched out his leg. He didn’t speak, and the energy he’d summoned to put on a show for the medic was long gone. Aimee touched his skin and found it damp and clammy.

  “Lucas, is he okay?”

  Lucas bent down to feel Frank’s forehead. “No, not by a long shot, but the best thing we can do for him is to find our way out of here.”

  He took Aimee’s flashlight and wrapped his jacket around it.

  “We’ll look for wagon tracks in this area. The ground’s wet enough that they should be visible. Then we’ll follow them. There should be a heavy impression from the hours that the wagon sat in the mud. You hold the light. I’ll walk beside you to help shield it.”

  They began searching the soggy field in a crisscross pattern. The night had grown quiet as soldiers settled in to sleep as best they could, and apart from occasional moans or shouts from soldiers and the odd rattle of a cart crossing the field, they moved in silence. Aimee stumbled several times on the rough terrain and was thankful that she’d chosen to wear the sturdy hiking boots she’d bought in a burst of enthusiasm for her planned move to Colorado.

  Several times, Lucas spotted tracks, but they covered the target area twice before he suggested they reorient and try a wider range of ground.

  “What time is daybreak?” Aimee asked as she glanced at the readout on her watch.

  Lucas shrugged. “It’s summer. Sometime between five and six, most likely.”

  They had plenty of time, as long as they could find their entry point. They circled the area they’d covered before. Finally, they found a promising set of tracks and traced them to a depression where the mud was churned in deep, narrow furrows.

  “This is the spot,” Lucas said. “I think.”

  He tied his white handkerchief around a fallen tree branch and planted it in the ground to mark the location.

  Aimee looked at him, and he shrugged. What if he was wrong? Edwina had warned them there was no other way back. Briefly, Aimee wished she’d never started this journey. She could be home in her snug little apartment, planning her product line for her new bakery business and deciding whether she wanted a cup of hot chocolate before bed. But Frank would be gone, she reminded herself.

  As they made their way back to Frank, Lucas signaled for her to turn off the flashlight. Aimee heard a low groan and tried to move faster. She tripped over a rock, and only Lucas’s steadying hand saved her from a fall. When they reached Frank, he was holding his leg, and blood had seeped through the bandage.

  “I wish I’d brought more supplies,” Lucas muttered. “We need
to get him out of here as quickly as possible and to a proper hospital.”

  To Frank, he said, “Sorry, buddy. This is going to hurt, but hopefully you’ll thank me for it later.”

  He hauled Frank to his feet, draped one of Frank’s arms over his shoulder and the other over Aimee’s, and they began walking. Aimee stumbled several times on the uneven ground, but she managed to stay upright as they continued their painfully slow progress.

  “Hey, you! Over there! Halt, soldiers!”

  The voice, sharp with a tone of authority, reached them just as they spotted the makeshift flag that marked the wagon’s former location. Neither Aimee nor Lucas paid the slightest attention, and the voice grew louder. “Halt! That’s an order!”

  The voice was approaching. “Take Frank,” Lucas hissed.

  He stepped away to meet the newcomer, and Aimee staggered as Frank’s weight almost knocked her over. She grabbed him to keep from falling forward.

  “Lord, help me. Please help me,” she said over and over as she somehow managed to help Frank a few steps closer to the arrival and, hopefully soon, departure point. She turned back and saw Lucas in animated conversation with the soldier who’d intercepted them.

  Lucas couldn’t help her now. Somehow she had to get Frank the last few yards. She could glimpse the white handkerchief ahead, fluttering in the mild breeze. The night was chill and damp, and Frank was shivering. She paused to pull off the coat a soldier had given her earlier that evening. Without her support, Frank sank to the ground. She wrapped the coat around his shoulders and propped him up as best she could.

  How long did they have? Aimee couldn’t free an arm to check. She just held Frank and prayed Lucas would get rid of the man who’d ordered them to halt. Instead, both men walked briskly towards Aimee and stopped beside Frank.

  “Step aside,” the man ordered Aimee curtly.

  She glanced at Lucas, who made a motion she couldn’t see well in the darkness. She hesitated but finally moved out of the way. The man crouched beside Frank and asked for his name, rank, and unit.

  “Frank Elkins, corporal, 167th,” Frank answered weakly. He raised his arm in a clumsy attempt to salute.