Page 64 of Warrior's Walk
“Yo, Riggs! I was told I’d find you in here.”
“Randall fucking Mallory, how the hell are you?” My former patient, who I haven’t seen in some time, strolls in looking tanned and healthy. Much like Rhett, he broke his leg on a jump gone wrong, and I worked with him for months until he was strong enough again to continue risking life and limb by jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.
“Better than expected,” he grins. His dark hair is showing threads of silver around his temples and forehead, and the laugh lines and crow’s feet that kiss his skin hint at his sunny, lighthearted demeanor. Randall is an easy-going guy who loves to laugh and lives life to the fullest.
Rhett and Nash finish their cool down and jump out of the pool. “Hey Randall, good to see you again,” Nash says on his way to the locker room, shaking the guy’s hand.
But Rhett stops beside me, joining the conversation. “Hey, I’m Rhett Marsh. Good to meet you, Randall.”
Randall’s eyes travel down Rhett’s dripping body before returning to his face, and I have to restrain myself from throwing him in the pool.
“Good to meet you, Rhett. How’d you hurt your leg?” he asks, checking out the maze of dark red and purple scars that zigzag across Rhett’s leg.
“82nd Airborne. My chute got shot down and I hit the ground too hard. Shattered the right leg and fractured the left.” He slides his arm around my shoulders, getting my shirt wet as he pulls me tightly to his side. “Riggs saved my life.”
Every time he says that, I have to fight the urge to blush.
Randall squats down and brushes his fingers up Rhett’s leg, touching his scars. “You sure made a mess of it, kid.”
“You should’ve seen it before they sewed it up,” he teases.
My blood pressure spikes, and I feel the heat rise to my face. My fingertips feel numb. Randall Mallory has exactly half a second to remove his hands from Rhett’s leg before I go fucking ballistic.
His survival instinct must kick in because he stands and straightens. “I’m 82nd myself, retired now. I own the flight school out of Asheville Regional Airport. Well, flight and jump school. You should come by, check it out. Maybe I’ll take you up in the air,” he offers. “I bet you miss it.”
“Hell yeah I do. It’s in my blood. Chasing that thrill, it’s what I lived for.”
“Lived, not live? I’ll tell you what. You stop by and I’ll take you up in the air, and then maybe we’ll grab some lunch, see if we can’t get that thrill back.”
I’m gonna fucking blow a goddamn blood vessel and have a stroke right here on the pool deck, clutching my clipboard. He’s blatantly flirting with Rhett, who either doesn’t seem to realize it, or is so desperate to get back up in the air again that he’s going along with it.
“That’s the best offer I’ve heard in months,” Rhett grins, sticking out his hand. Randall doesn’t take it. Instead, he pulls Rhett in tight for a hug, clapping his back.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before he ever jumps out of a plane again,” I snap, gritting my teeth.
“You’re about as much fun as a wet blanket,” Randall jokes.
I swear to God the man has no idea how close he is to death. A violent death.
“Don’t let that stop you, kid. Come on by and we’ll get you up in the air. You don’t have to jump. Maybe I’ll teach you how to fly instead.”
My legs move on their own accord, and I lunge for him just as Rhett moves to hug him again, blocking me with his body.
“I can’t think of anythin’ that sounds better than that. I’m gonna take you up on that offer real soon. I gotta get out of these wet clothes, but I’m so glad I met you.” Then he turns to me. “I’ll see you later. I’ve gotta work tonight, so don’t wait up.”
I know my face is red because I can feel the heat warming my skin. Randall laughs lightly. “You’re sleeping with him? Your patient?”
My heart beats furiously from the rush of adrenaline coursing through my blood. “I’m not sleeping with him, and technically, he’s not my patient. He utilizes the gym here and takes advantage of the services of all the physical therapists on staff, just like the rest of the vets here do. Just like you did.”
“Oh, so when he sleeps over, you two just sit up and play cards at night?” He laughs like it’s a joke, a joke that I don’t find funny.
“Is there a point you’re trying to make?”
“Not at all, Riggs. Not at all. It was good running into you again. I’ll see you soon.”
This time,the sky is black instead of light. “Geronimo,” I yell just before I throw myself from the plane, executing a perfect swan dive into thin air. The sky is littered with other parachutes, my buddies giving me a thumbs up as they fall around me. It becomes so dark that I can’t see them, their bodies fading into blurred shadows. Something crashes into me, a heavy body splattering blood on my face. I can taste it on my tongue, the bitter coppery tang.
The taste of death. If only I could see their face.