CDR-4 was put on rotation at the end of the week. It was a set of days that seemed to quickly pass, fortunately since nobody called in another demon sighting. Sergeant Yang’s condition still sat on everyone’s minds, even when they were finally relieved by CDR-1.
Sergeant Bjorn shook hands with Kang, the temporary team leader of CDR-4. “Your team did well this week,” he said in a slight European accent. It was a mix of German with Swedish, at least by Andrew’s guess. “Say, you should consider being a team leader.”
“Perhaps,” the ragged Kang replied. He still had a couple bandages around superficial wounds and spoke with a hoarse throat. “But that would mean there’s an open slot.”
Judging from the pitying faces of CDR-1, Andrew guessed they weren’t enthusiastic to be on duty. Even from CDR standards, the past couple of weeks had been crazy. It would only be a matter of time until casualties really started ramping up again.
***
As soon as CDR-4 got all their paperwork in order, the team headed straight for the hospital. Since they had been on duty for the past couple days, they didn’t have any news of the Sergeant, let alone of her recovery. Having to rely on rumors wasn’t exactly comfortable.
The gang of them approached the front desk, where the receptionist looked scared half-to-death. “H-Hello! C-Can I help you?”
In short order, the squad was brought to Sergeant Yang’s room, where she lay connected to all sorts of machines. Half her face was covered in bandages, as with the stub of an arm. It had been cleanly cut up to the elbow, just as Andrew had horrifically remembered it.
Doctor Shiro, presiding over her state, gave the squad a quick overview. “The Sergeant has been recovering quite well. Very honestly, I’m surprised she managed to pull through after all the surgeries. I suppose it takes a mighty leader to lead such a mighty team!”
He was smiling. The rest of the squad wasn’t.
“How bad is the damage?” Smith asked.
It was a heavy question. Everything went quiet. Even the air conditioner shut off. “W-Well…” Doctor Shiro glanced at the body then looked back with a sigh. “I suppose I can’t sugarcoat the answer. The Sergeant lost her right arm and suffered damage to the left side of her face. While the facial reconstruction is going well, thanks to stem cells, we can’t say she’ll see out of her left eye again.”
The squad visibly reeled from the news. “Fuck…” Singh muttered. Smith bumped his fist on the wall, “Shit…” Even Gutierrez was visibly upset by the news. Despite being the funny uncle of the group, he wasn’t so funny right now.
“So what now?” Gutierrez asked. “Is Sar’nt gonna be decommed?”
Doctor Shiro tried lifting their spirits as he smiled. “Not exactly!” he exclaimed. “Chief Williams came around earlier to congratulate her. He gave her two options: an honorable discharge with a stipend, or to be integrated with experimental prosthetics. I think you know which option she chose.”
Singh chuckled. The first laugh from anyone in a while. “Of course she chose prosthetics over retirement.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Kang pragmatically said. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch!” Doctor Shiro replied. “What we’ll be giving her should have flexibility and strength actually superior to her original arm. The same goes for a new left eye. The only problem is that we need to see if she’s capable of healing to the point of using them properly.”
“Oh, so that’s the catch,” Smith scoffed. “If she’s not able to do fucking gymnastics or able to see like eagle, then you guys take the toys back and leave her as a fucking–”
“That’s not the case,” the Doctor calmly replied. “Even if she fails to use her prosthetics in a combat-related manner, we’ve given her the liberty of keeping them in retirement. Not a cent would be owed.”
Now everyone was quiet for a different reason. So far, hardly any of the CDRs had been given such a golden ticket. With that kind of money, and surely with that kind of resume, anyone could have a peaceful life on a Malibu beach with optional online calls. “Shit…” Gutierrez muttered. “Chica might be set for life…”
It all depended on the Sergeant’s choice. If she wanted that peaceful retirement, she could just easily say no. But if she wanted to get back into the field, back with her team, and back with an APE suit, she had to put in the work. It was harder to stay than to leave.
***
The team reconvened in the lobby of the hospital. Kang, stepping up as the temporary team leader, gave the quick rundown. “I know we’re all tired, but we need to keep fixing our equipment at the station,” he said. “We don’t know if the Sergeant will be coming back with us, but we know that we could be brought back on standby at any moment.”
Scoffs and tsks came from all around, though none of them were directed at Kang himself. Even Andrew had been in long enough to know that bullshit from higher up could mean anything. They could ask everyone to charge at demons without APEs, if they really wanted to.
“We can recharge for now. I’m not asking for everyone to act like they’re back in boot camp. But I am asking for everyone to try repairing the broken APEs, gummed weapons, and faulty gear. We really strained ourselves the other day, and it really shows on our equipment.”
“So what do you want us to do?” Gutierrez asked.
“Just come up to the shop whenever you can to help. Either we get it done now, or they recall us to do it later,” Kang declared. “Besides, I have the bad feeling that this is just the beginning. It’d do us some good to prepare.”
Smith shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, fuck off. We almost lost the Sergeant and our lives, and you’re asking us to head back to work. Of all times to talk about this, you could’ve waited tomorrow, but you decide that today, of all days, is the best time. Fuck off.”
Singh was in agreement. “The Sergeant almost died!”
Both of them gave an earful to the temporary team leader, who was taking it on the chest. Andrew didn’t know what to say or think as he watched them bicker on. The noise only subsided when Gutierrez sighed.
“Y’all are some selfish assholes,” Gutierrez said in a dry chuckle.
That shut everyone up. Even Smith was held in surprise as he finally sat himself back down. It wasn’t so much that he was offended; it was that he knew Gutierrez was going to finally say something that wasn’t a stupid joke.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“You all remember when Wade died. It was a shitty day for all of us,” he began. “We went to his closed-casket funeral. His mom cried all over Sar’nt’s uniform. I don’t need to beat the dead horse; it was horrible.
“Sar’nt brought us around as soon as it was over,” he added. “She wanted us to take a good long break; she even negotiated a leave period with higher just to make it happen. I was thankful. I needed it.
“Long story short, I flew back to the States and hugged my family. Had a good time. I don’t need to tell you everything, but I’ll say I was glad to see my kid. I flew back a little early, frankly because I fucked up the scheduling, but I ended up being back before leave was over.
“In my bored lonesome, I decided to come to the shop. I expected all of us to be away on leave, but there I find the goddamned Sar’nt still hard at work. While we were all on leave, being able to see the people we love or at least able to take a breather, the Sar’nt was here: cleaning the blood off Wade’s APE and clearing his locker.”
In the end, Gutierrez didn’t need to conclude with much. “So, like I said, we are some selfish assholes. But the Sar’nt? She’s probably the one person who actually cares about us like fuckin’ family.”
Nobody dared say anything. Not even Kang. “Here’s how things are gonna go,” Gutierrez said. “There are five of us here, meaning we can have two sets of us alternate the repairs while one of us stays here to check on the Sar’nt. I won’t be able to sleep at night without one of us keeping her company. We can rotate people by day and–”
“I can stay,” Andrew said.
Everyone looked at him. It was the first time he had opened his mouth in a while. “I was able to fix everything with my gear in the past couple of days,” he innocently said. “And I don’t have the expertise to work as well as you guys when it comes to the other equipment.”
What Andrew didn’t mention was how he noticed the melancholy that sat behind their eyes when they saw the Sergeant’s state. While Andrew was equally devastated, he didn’t have the time to feel nearly as horrified to see the Sergeant beaten like this. It would surely save his teammates from some nightmares.
Andrew expected to hear some objection; maybe Kang would say something about how he needed to learn the professional skills while he still could. But instead, he received looks of appreciation. Maybe Andrew was right: they didn’t want to see their leader slowly fizzle into ash.
***
Andrew was given permission to use the soft couch by the Sergeant’s bed. Gutierrez got him a bag of clothes. “Now you remember these orders from Papi Gutierrez, alright? Everything to the letter, chino.”
It was as if Gutierrez was speaking to his kid back home. “Don’t leave the Sar’nt. Now if you gotta go take a shit, I understand, but at least don’t leave the hospital. And if you need food, get it delivered. Hell, ask what the chica wants too, if she’s good to talk.”
Then he gave a list of rules, most of which being anxious bullshit like making sure the Sergeant doesn’t sleepwalk. “Now I’m just saying that because I rarely see her sleep, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she was like some zombie or anything, so just be careful if she comes back from the dead.”
Finally, Gutierrez gave him a nice pat on the shoulder. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to give us a call. Smith might be with his girlfriend, Singh at the gym, me with tequila, and Kang with… something. Either way, we’ll put everything down if you or the Sergeant need it. Got it, chino?”
“Got it.”
Gutierrez nodded and headed out the door. It didn’t take long for them to get back to joking and laughing in the distance. “Yo! Singh! My ass is starving! Wanna get some pizza from Lil’ Macho’s on the way back?”
Andrew smiled. Maybe the fact that he was sitting here had put their minds back at ease. In any case, he was glad that they were back to their normal selves. Even if their normal selves were abnormal anywhere else.
***
There wasn’t much to do in a hospital room, Andrew quickly realized. The TV wasn’t much solace to the boredom; the mere mention of “demon” made Andrew shut it back off. His social media was equally useless.
He rummaged through the bag of clothes, each item a few sizes too big. Of course, it was made to fit Gutierrez’s larger build—and not whatever Andrew was made of. At least the hoodie was nice.
Fortunately at around eight or nine pm, a visitor came knocking around. “Hello? Anyone in there?” a strangely familiar voice called. It was funny, since Andrew couldn’t discern who the hell it belonged to.
Even when he looked out the window and saw the rank insignia of a higher-up CDR lieutenant, he was still confused. “Sir, excuse me,” Andrew asked, “the Sergeant is indisposed at the moment. Is there anything I can do?”
The lieutenant chuckled. “You know, it’s funny that you boys and girls really don’t recognize me in person. Don’t worry, it happens to everyone,” he said. “I’ll give you a hint: CDR-4, this is command…”
Andrew jumped up. “You! You’re the one behind the radio!”
“That, I am. Now can I come in? I’m scared of getting in the way of all these nurses.”
Promptly, Andrew opened the door and read the nametag. Lieutenant Jeffery Bates. That name was definitely familiar, probably because the Sergeant directly reported to him. It was nice to see that he at least bothered to visit the Sergeant.
“Looks better than yesterday,” he tsked. “I had tried visiting her as soon as she was admitted, but the doctors said it was too unsafe. By the time all the procedures were done, there was either a schedule conflict in her schedule or mine. Whenever she was conscious, the Chief wanted to see her.”
“Schedule conflict?” Andrew asked. Part of him felt offended, even though he knew it wasn’t on purpose.
“Yeah. Schedule conflicts,” the Lieutenant chuckled. “Everything keeps rolling along, you know. I’ve actually been booked with more meetings after that incident. Everyone’s got questions about the demon, the cultists, the drugs, and how we can move forward. Some people are trying to mix the police and the CDRs together, but there’s the obvious issue of mission sets. Ah, whatever. It’s all bureaucracy.”
He then placed a box onto the side of the Sergeant’s bed. “Cuban cigars,” he said. “She likes long-fermented oscuro wraps. It was a bastard out of the paycheck, but what the hell. I’m sure she’ll appreciate them when she’s up and moving again.”
“You really think she’s gonna recover?” Andrew asked.
“Do I think so?” the Lieutenant scoffed. “I know so. She is one of our finest CDR officers, and one of our finest team leaders. It’s been years since the Transformations, and I’m still comfortable with saying that. Almost a decade, where you still have people wondering how to fight this kinda war, Sergeant Yang is more than happy to face a demon with her bare hands.”
As if speaking into existence, Sergeant Yang rose up from her bed like a reanimated corpse. The machines beeped as she dizzily swayed her head around. “Jesus Christ!” the Lieutenant cried. “I didn’t mean recover that quickly!”
She coughed some blood. It looked almost like a small stone, since it had been sitting in her throat for so long. “My eye… I want…” she muttered. She paused before she could get the final word out.
“What do you need?” Andrew asked. “Medicine? Bandages?”
“I want… an eyepatch…” Then she fell back into bed. The machines stopped beeping as she fell back asleep. A rollercoaster of emotions, thanks to an injured Sergeant.