Cover Those Arms, Nurse Ashworth

For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the monitor beside Marcus's bed.

Its steady beeping should have reassured me.

Instead, every pulse felt like a countdown.

“Say that again,” I whispered.

Marcus swallowed against the dryness in his throat.

“Commander Rourke ordered the extraction to fail.””

“No.””

The word came out before I could stop it.

I wanted to dismiss it. I wanted to believe Marcus was confused by the drugs, the blood loss, and the pain.

I wanted the man who had signed our mission report to remain exactly what he'd appeared to be four years ago: an officer who had made a terrible decision under impossible circumstances.

Marcus watched my face.

“You still trust him.””

“I trusted the records.””

“That's not what I asked.””

I took a breath.

“Why would Rourke want six of his own men left behind?””

“Because we found something.””

“What?””

He shook his head.

“Not here.””

“You nearly died getting here.””

“That's why I need you to listen.””

He reached toward the bed rail, fumbling until his fingers found mine.

“Do you remember the final radio transmission?””

I did.

I remembered it with a clarity that had followed me through every sleepless night since the mission.

Six men trapped in a damaged structure.

Fire spreading through the lower level.

Communications breaking apart beneath interference.

A command telling us the extraction window had closed.

And a voice on the radio insisting that we abandon the rescue.

I'd refused.

I had gone back inside.

The ceiling came down before I reached the last man.

I remembered smoke in my lungs, heat against my face, and a piece of metal opening my forearms like a blade.

I remembered waking in a field hospital with bandages around my hands.

I remembered being told the operation had ended in failure.

I remembered asking about the men.

Nobody answered directly.

Finally, Commander Rourke had come to my room.

He'd stood at the foot of my bed with his hands folded behind him.

“Corpsman Ashworth, the six personnel you attempted to recover are presumed dead.””

I'd asked whether their remains had been identified.

He'd said the area was too unstable.

I'd asked whether the recovery team had returned.

He'd told me the investigation was closed.

Two months later, I received a commendation for exceptional courage.

It sat in a cardboard box at the back of my closet.

I'd never displayed it.

“Marcus,” I said, “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.””

He glanced at the door.

“Not until you find the bracelet.””

“Why?””

“Because what's hidden inside it is the reason I'm here.””

I stared at him.

“The brass bead?””

He closed his eyes.

“Three knots. One bead. Six men. You remember the promise.””

“I remember.””

“Then you remember what we said we'd do if one of us couldn't get home.””

My chest tightened.

We'd made that promise beside a damaged transport vehicle, hours before the rescue attempt.

The men had been exhausted. Their uniforms were filthy. One had a broken finger, and another kept making jokes about the terrible coffee at the base.

They'd cut lengths of black cord from a spare equipment bag and tied the bracelets themselves.

Marcus had held his up like a medal.

“Three knots,” he'd said.

“One for the men beside us, one for the men we haven't found yet, and one for the people who'll come looking.””

Then he'd handed me the brass bead.

“Keep this for us, Ashworth.””

I'd refused to wear it.

He'd laughed.

“Fine. Don't wear it. Just remember what it means.””

Now I looked at the empty property bag on the counter.

“Someone took the bracelet.””

Marcus nodded.

“Before they brought me here, I hid the evidence inside the bead.””

“What evidence?””

His eyes opened.

“The original extraction coordinates. The recording of Rourke's order. And the names of the people who made money from the operation.””

A chill moved through me.

“Money?””

“We weren't sent in to retrieve an ordinary equipment case, Caroline.””

He paused, breathing carefully.

“We were sent to recover a drive. It contained records showing that a contractor had been diverting military equipment through a private network. Weapons, medical supplies, communications gear. Things that were supposed to be accounted for.””

“And the six of you found proof?””

“We found enough to get people imprisoned.””

“Then why did Rourke abandon you?””

“Because the drive identified the people protecting the contractor.””

He turned his head toward me.

“His signature was on one of the approvals.””

I felt as though the floor had shifted beneath my feet.

“Rourke was involved?””

“He was part of it. We didn't know how far up it went until we found the second file.””

“What was in the second file?””

Marcus's expression changed.

“Names of patients.””

My stomach tightened.

“Patients?””

“People transferred through military medical facilities under restricted authorization. Some were witnesses. Some were injured personnel. Some were civilians who'd seen things they weren't supposed to see.””

He glanced at the door again.

“Your hospital has one of those programs.””

I thought of the Level Four order.

The hidden transfer protocol.

Voss's insistence that Marcus be removed from ordinary care.

“Why bring you here?””

“Because Ashford Memorial has a private treatment unit underneath the older building. No ordinary visitor access. Separate records. Separate transport entrance.””

“The elevator.””

Marcus nodded.

“Rourke told us anyone who ended up there disappeared into a system that didn't officially exist.””

I stared at him.