Hallowed Ground by Yarros Rebecca

Author:Yarros, Rebecca [Yarros, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2016-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

JOSH

“I’m not laying down,” I said to the psychologist, Major Henderson, as I shut the door behind me.

“I don’t think I asked you to, but that’s good to know,” he said, looking over his glasses at my file. “I like knowing where we stand, or sit, rather.” He motioned to the armchair across from his, and I took it. “Lieutenant Walker, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.” We both leaned in to shake hands.

“You all look so much younger in civies,” he said, motioning to my cargo shorts and polo shirt.

“I’m on convalescent leave, sir.”

“I figured as much. No judgment, just an observation.”

I leaned back in the chair and stopped before I crossed my right ankle over my left thigh. The staples were out, but that wound was still angry and pink. “Will there be a lot of those here? Observations?”

“Depends on what you want to tell me. Did you bring the questionnaire?”

“Yes, sir.” I pulled the four-page questionnaire from the manila folder I’d brought and handed it to him.

“What will it tell me, Lieutenant?”

“If you’re going to evaluate my mental status, you may as well call me Josh.”

He nodded with a small smile. “Very well, Josh.”

I took a deep breath and settled in. I owed it to Ember to be as truthful as possible, but I knew this system well. There was zero chance I would voluntarily say anything that would end up pulling my wings. No chance in hell.

“Sir, the questionnaire will tell you that this was my second deployment. I was wounded both times, because I guess I’m either the luckiest or unluckiest bastard in the world, depending on how you view it.”

“Noted. Continue.”

“It will tell you that almost a month ago, I was involved in a helicopter crash that killed my copilot, whom I was very fond of, and then I watched a very close friend die protecting me, all in the name of saving my best friend, who was the pilot of the other downed aircraft.”

“That must have been extremely rough on you.”

“Yes, sir, it was.”

He flipped through my questionnaire, scanning the pages. “How would you classify your mental health?”

Tread carefully if you want to fly again.

“I have a little trouble sleeping, and when I do, I have nightmares once a night.” Three, four, five times. Who’s counting?

“How is that affecting your relationship?”

“I’m engaged to a very understanding woman.” Who you don’t deserve. “I’ve had no angry outbursts, especially in her direction. I’m not going to, either.”

“Anything affecting your daytime hours?”

“Besides this very annoying, itchy cast, the laceration on my thigh, and the incision on my chest from the splenectomy?”

He arched an eyebrow in my direction. “In the mental sense.”

“No sir.” Except that one time you tossed Ember off the counter because you thought the garbage man might be packing serious heat.

He scribbled something in my file. “Crowds?”

“I haven’t cared for them much since my first deployment, but things look a lot different from the sky than they do the ground. I’ve gotten better with it since I’m not kicking in doors on raids anymore.

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