Page 3 of Hard to Kill

She slid her arms under his shoulders. He was big, solid, heavy, but she tugged, and tugged again, hard enough to unfold him and pull him toward the Humvee. Good. Good. She could save him.

Then she saw.

One leg was gone above the knee.

Corporal Harlow Hackett would never run again.

She pulled him onto her jacket and lifted his head to give him water. When he had sipped, he said, “Captain, you don’t look so great.”

She squinted at him. He was getting smaller and farther away. “Don’t feel so great.”

Corporal Hackett started yelling for medics, which Kellen should have done in the first place.

Not far away, the ground rumbled and lifted in a giant explosion, bigger than the first one.

Kellen only had time to look in the direction of the blast before she was hit hard on the shoulder and sent flying across the desert to land on the burning sands.

So much for her luck.

The world disappeared.

She was alone in the familiar dim gray of unconsciousness.

2

Six months later, in Germany...

Kellen watched as Corporal Hackett pushed himself upright with the help of his physical therapist.

SUSAN HAWKER:

FEMALE, AFRICAN AMERICAN, 27 YEARS OLD, 5’2”. CURLY BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES. IN PEAK PHYSICAL SHAPE. ORIGINALLY FROM FORT WORTH, TEXAS.

Kellen had to hand it to Susan—the petite brunette’s arm muscles were incredibly impressive after years of picking up disabled soldiers to put them in wheelchairs and hold them over the parallel bars that would teach them to walk again. Even pushing Hackett around didn’t seem to faze Susan. She also studiously ignored Hackett’s deep blush at having a woman so close to him. Kellen guessed Susan was used to these college-aged kids idolizing her.

Susan placed Hackett’s upper body between the parallel bars, and Hackett, sweating buckets as usual, used his sinewy arms to hold his body weight above his two legs, one scarred flesh, one new and Army-issued.

“Okay, Corporal, same as yesterday. We’re looking to go five steps. No rush.” Susan’s voice was calm, but she stood at the ready to catch Hackett if he needed support.

Hackett grinned at Kellen and, like a little kid, said, “Watch this, Captain!”

With a deep breath in, he lifted his prosthetic leg, and slowly, he placed the leg a few inches in front of him. Sweat rolled down his face from the effort, but when he accomplished it, he yelled, “Ta-da!”

Kellen grinned.

She could never have been so good-natured about such an ordeal, but then, this was why she’d enjoyed having Hackett in her unit. Kellen clapped enthusiastically and grabbed a small towel from a nearby basket.

Susan nodded her thanks as Kellen wiped the sweat out of Hackett’s eyes. “Good job, soldier—but you owe your PT four more steps.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hackett braced himself again on the bars, picking up his other leg and pushing it forward, inch by inch. When he’d caught his breath, he said, “Captain, tell me something interesting to keep my mind off this super-fun activity.”

Susan laughed softly at his obvious sarcasm.

“Where are you deployed to next?” he asked.

Kellen froze. She hadn’t really adjusted to the truth herself, so it was hard to say it out loud. But she owed Hackett the unvarnished truth.

“I’m not.”

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