Page 35 of Everything Changes

Jase stood up. “Thank you, Senior,” he said, making no promises. There was no guarantee he could keep them. Watkins smiled faintly, understanding that as only one warrior to another could. He dropped the pen on Jase’s desk and left the hooch.

OVER THE next few days, Jase was busy with workups, getting ready for the mission. Not long after his conversation with Watkins, he was called in to meet with the team. He walked into the main hooch to find six men sprawled about, leaning on desks, slouching in chairs, and they looked him over appraisingly, not saying anything until one of them drawled, “Hey, Doc, so glad you’re here. I got a powerful ache in my balls.”

“Dude, don’t tell him, show him,” another man piped up, his voice full of suppressed laughter.

The first man stood up and began unbuckling his belt to the hoots and whistles of the others. Jase knew better than to show any reaction, which would escalate things until he’d never live it down. These were highly trained men with a dangerous, stressful job, and they were just blowing off steam, giving the FNG, or fucking new guy, a hard time.

Instead of replying, he reached into his pocket where he’d stuffed a pair of latex gloves earlier while he’d been putting away supplies, and pulled them on, making a show of it, the latex making a snapping sound. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

The room erupted in laughter, and someone clapped Jase hard on the back before the team leader, an imposingly muscular man, said, “Okay, ladies, settle down. Let’s get this tea party started.”

“Who brought the scones? I want blueberry,” someone called out, and for a minute there were mock orders for food shouted out, and Jase clearly heard the wistful overtones of men who had been away from home for too long and were missing its comforts. The team leader, Vince, let it go on for a few moments before calling again for them to settle down.

“Okay. For the benefit of FNG here,” he said, waving toward Jase, “I’m going to go over the basics of the mission again, just so he knows what to expect.”

Instantly the other men in the room were all business, professional to the core. Jase could tell it was a very tight-knit group, as all spec ops teams were.

“This is basically an intel-gathering mission,” Vince said. “We need a doc along, and your chief tells us you can handle yourself out there. Heard what happened here,” he added. “That’s rough.”

A couple of guys leaned over and bumped knuckles with Jase, a quiet kind of sympathy for the tragedy the firebase had recently endured. Jase nodded in acknowledgement of the support, warmed by the implied acceptance. Even though he wasn’t a SEAL, no matter how well-trained and hardcore these men were, it was a relief to them to have someone along on the mission who could put them back together and keep them alive if the worst happened.

Finally Vince seemed satisfied with Jase’s understanding of what to expect when they launched, and he crossed his arms over his muscular chest, leaning back in his chair.

“Got anything to add, Doc?” he drawled. “Any public service announcements for us?”

Jase looked around the circle of suddenly amused faces. Apparently it was time to fuck with the new guy again.

“Uh, don’t forget to put on your sunscreen?” he deadpanned. “SPF one million.”

The men guffawed in appreciation, and somebody stood and clapped Vince hard on the back.

“CO don’t need no sunscreen, Doc,” the guy chortled. “Anybody can see that!”

“Black dudes can still get sunburned, Rodriguez! Don’t you know nothing?” somebody else called out, and Vince reached over and smacked the first man on the back of the head.

“Jackass,” he grunted, and they all laughed again, including Jase, who was secretly relieved to have the focus of the teasing off of himself.

After the briefing, Jase spent the next few days on preparation, checking and double-checking the functionality of every piece of equipment he would be responsible for. He spent hours on his medical bag, going over every possible contingency in his mind, making sure his supplies were up-to-date and plentiful, wanting to be prepared for anything. After he was satisfied he was ready for the caregiver aspect of the mission, he shifted his mindset to warrior, meticulously checking his weapon’s laser sight and his night-vision goggles, his body armor.

The entire team worked together to prepare. As Jase was learning, in special operations nobody had just one job. He found himself assisting with the vehicle maintenance, tuning the vehicles until they purred. He helped augment the armament with ballistic blankets placed over the seats and along the ceilings and floorboards to provide an additional layer of protection against incoming rounds and shrapnel.

Jase was happy for the distraction all of this was providing him; he was actually able to put thoughts of Carey from his mind for hours at a time. He knew Carey was alive, having gotten word at last through the pilot grapevine that he had made it to Germany safely. It was in their hands now, and Jase knew he needed to have his head completely in the game if he was going to make it home to see Carey again.

Early one evening, Vince finally deemed they were ready to launch in a matter of hours, and Jase’s tension reached almost unbearable levels. To relax he decided to join a small group of guys who were passing around candy and cracking jokes as they sprawled next to a makeshift fire pit someone had dug outside the hooches. Jase pulled up an old ammo crate and sat down, accepting a handful of M&Ms with a grateful smile.

“Someone got a care package?” he asked, savoring the chocolate, thinking how much for granted he’d always taken these small pleasures.

“Farley did, that lucky son of a bitch,” someone drawled. “Not only is his wife fucking hot, but she sends him boxes full of candy and porn mags.”

Farley grinned. “She’s a keeper.”

“More than you deserve, fucker.”

“Got that right,” Farley said fervently.

The other guys ribbed him for a few minutes, then quieted when Danny Allen walked up with his guitar and sat down. Jase had become fairly close to the SEAL as they’d worked together over the past week on their mission prep. Danny was a talented singer, and the two of them had bonded over spirited music discussions and impromptu jam sessions. Danny had appropriated someone’s battered old guitar, and everyone enjoyed it when he had time to sit down and take their minds off of things for a little while. He had a beautiful singing voice, pure and rich, and the sound of it always sent shivers down Jase’s spine.

“Got any requests, y’all?” he said in his soft Southern drawl, laughing as the requests flew fast and thick from men hungry for a taste of home. Danny was a versatile musician, and he knew songs from almost any genre. Jase was in awe of his talent and loved listening to him no matter what he chose to sing.