Deep Night by Kathy Clark Read Free Book Online

to be transported. Chris had visited him every day, as he did all of the patients. He sat and talked about music and movies and home. And he listened as the soldiers voiced their fears and hopes and dreams. All the while, they were all just waiting for the next attack or the next rush of casualties from a roadside bomb or the insanity of a suicide bomber running onto the base. Waiting…always waiting…
    “Chris, are you okay?”
    Sara’s worried voice penetrated his thoughts, and he pushed those memories back into the dark closet where they belonged. “He was a good soldier,” he said.
    “Are you going to pick him up tomorrow?”
    Chris tossed the last of the garbage in the Dumpster, took off his gloves and dropped them in too. “Yeah. I’ll catch a nap in the afternoon.”
    “You can’t save them all,” she told him as she replaced her kit in the back next to his, then slammed the ambulance’s doors closed.
    He straightened his shoulders and met her gaze steadily. “I can try.”

Chapter 4
    “God, I hope it’s a quiet night,” Chris moaned as he climbed into the passenger side of the ambulance.
    “You’re going to be pretty useless.” Sara gave him a worried frown. “You look like crap, you know.”
    “Thanks for the confirmation.” He yawned and made no attempt to hide it. “I used to be able to stay up for ninety-six hours straight with no sleep.” He yawned again. “I must be getting old.”
    “Yeah, twenty-seven is over the hill.” She put on her seat belt, started the motor and drove out of the garage.
    “It feels like it today.” He had been on the go ever since their shift ended this morning at six. After a quick breakfast, Sara had gone to bed and Chris headed for the hospital to check on Miller.
    The hospital had already released him, and he was waiting outside for Chris to pick him up. The cut on Miller’s head had been stitched up and covered with a bandage that looked even whiter against his dark skin. He hadn’t signed up for any sort of veteran’s assistance since he moved to Denver, so Chris took Miller to the VA hospital and helped him get scheduled for outpatient treatment. That, of course, had taken several hours, because government bureaucracy never flows quickly. On the way back to Miller’s apartment, they had stopped for lunch, then picked up some things from the grocery store in spite of the man’s protests. Chris had barely made it to his Medical Physiology class.
    He’d been planning to catch a nap once he got home, but the city had chosen that day to jackhammer the street out front. Sara was gone, probably taking her test, and he was tempted to borrow her sound machine, but he dared not go into her room. As tired as he was, he hadn’t been able to block the noise out long enough to fall into a deep sleep.
    “Do you think it was wise to let him go home?” Sara asked. “He’ll probably be back on the streets tonight.”
    “He said it was his first time, and I believe him.” At Sara’s skeptical look, Chris added, “I checked out his arms and there were no marks except the one from last night.”
    “They shoot up in other places, you know. Did you check between his toes?”
    “Of course not.”
    “You’re too gullible.”
    “You’d do the same thing.” He challenged her with a knowing grin. She was the one who had always rescued the sparrow that fell out of its nest or the baby bunny that was being terrorized by dogs.
    She glanced his way and smiled. “Okay, probably. But you’ve got a lot going on right now. You can’t let him interfere with your job or school…especially if he’s a junkie.”
    “We talked a lot today, and I think he’s just feeling lost. I’ve hooked him up with the VA. They’re going to run some tests and schedule counseling. I think he’s got a bad case of PTSD.”
    “Oh…one year of med school and you’re the expert?” she teased.
    “He’s not the first guy I’ve known who had it.”
    They were stopped at a red