Page 48 of Deadly Strain

He hesitated, like he was going to argue, but sat down in one of the jump seats instead. She put her hands on his leg and began searching for the wound.

Someone put a headset over her ears.

“Ma’am,” a man said over the headset. “I need to check your injuries.”

She looked over her shoulder at the soldier behind her. He wore a paramedic patch on his shoulder and his helmet.

“I’m a trauma surgeon. Major Samuels,” she told him calmly. “My injuries are minor and can wait. Sergeant Foster has sustained multiple wounds to his leg. He’s first priority.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He dipped his head and came up with a pair of scissors.

She loved working with the Combat Rescue guys. They were prepared for everything.

Grace cut Sharp’s pants where the blood seemed heaviest and found the bullet wound she’d bandaged hours before sluggishly bleeding. She checked the back of his thigh to see if there was anything new there, but aside from more bleeding, it was okay. She reached up and squeezed Sharp’s hand.

“Through and through happened a few hours ago,” she said to the paramedic. “Doesn’t seem to have involved the femoral artery, but he might need a transfusion. Let’s pack it for now. He can be sewn up at the base.”

She and the medic went to work, put an IV line in and had him bandaged up in a few minutes.

“Am I gonna live?” Sharp asked, now wearing his own headset.

“Yep. You might have some muscle damage, but nothing that should put you on the sidelines for long.”

A grimace etched lines onto his forehead and around his mouth. “Sidelines? I don’t want to go there at all, Doc.”

She got herself strapped into the jump seat facing her patient. “You don’t get a choice, Sharp.”

His grimace dug in deeper. “We might all have fewer choices when we get back to the base.”

That sounded ominous. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, these guys—” Sharp glanced around at the soldiers surrounding them “—say Marshall is not a happy camper. He’s pissed. At you.”

“Because I went over his head about his cleaning plans?” She pressed her lips together. “Too damn bad. It’s not a situation he’s in control of. He doesn’t have enough info to make the right decisions.”

“He doesn’t agree.”

“He doesn’t need to. This is over his head and his pay grade.”

“He can still make trouble. Slow things down.”

“Why would he do that? He’d be risking lives of soldiers and civilians both.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with him, I said what I think he’s going to do. Right or wrong, the guy was king shit of his island until you voted him out without a paddle or a canoe.”

And here she thought the man couldn’t get any lower or behave any worse. “Well, that’s just fucking perfect.”