Page 5 of Break Line

Nathan flipped mindlessly through the television channels. He was going stir crazy in his room with nothing to do. He had called the department secretary to see if she could bring some of his teaching materials and arranged to transfer his classes to Brad Thompson for the remainder of the semester. It would be a cut in pay, but they agreed to keep him on staff.

The dean had visited after lunch, hanging around just long enough to hear that Nathan was making progress. They discussed his leave of absence, and the dean approved to make the transfer to Brad. As much as Nathan wanted to return to teaching, he currently was in no position to do so.

A group of his students stopped by, bringing him a basket with snacks, books, sudoku puzzles, a stress ball, and a T-shirt that they had designed for him, proclaiming him “Best Professor”. These were his top students. Each had their own questions–some about his class, some about the shark attack. And Eddie, the class cut up, but brilliant student, asked if this was Nathan’s way of getting out of grading papers.

Before they left, they had him smiling and laughing with them. This was one of the reasons he'd gotten into teaching in the first place, the energy and excitement of his students was infectuous. He needed this now more than ever. He asked them to visit him again or else he'd instruct Brad to give pop quizzes every Monday.

The volunteers came by with their cart of goodies later in the afternoon. A seek and find word search booklet caught his eye, and he thought that would at least keep his mind occupied for a bit. He wasn’t much for games on his cell phone, but he was currently reconsidering that as he flipped through the channels once again. He found a station that was music with a list of what was on scrolling across the screen. He found the control button to turn off the screen and leave the audio then found the Sudoku puzzles and a pen.

Nathan was a wiz at these and worked through half the book before coming to one that stumped him. It was difficult to think with the rising pain and pushed the button for the nurse. He set the puzzle book aside, turning the screen back on and began flipping through the channels again.

The station landed on a family show where the dad was hugging his two small children. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized that he would have to call his former in-laws and tell them to postpone bringing his girls to Hawaii. There was no way he could care for them if he couldn’t walk. He’d have to reconsider the nanny and housekeeper. That would give him something to focus on until his secretary brought his lesson materials.

Claire, his secretary, recommended a woman named Vera for the position of nanny/housekeeper. He would have to call her to see if she could start with once a week for the housekeeping and then take the nanny position whenever the girls were able to come. He missed his children.

Somewhere between a commercial for denture cream and the heartwarming family story, he drifted into a semi-conscious state. The family was out on a lake in a small boat. The youngest had her hand in the water.

He didn’t notice the shaking or the cold sweats at first. A gunshot was heard onscreen.

The combat zone in Kuwait, he had been wounded, but never considered that he might die. Three men in his unit were killed when their jeep hit a landmine, but he still felt that he led a charmed life and would come out all right. Every conflict and exchange of fire flooded his mind in a series of flashbacks.

His pulse quickened, and the cold sweats began. He began to shake, his stomach was in a knot, and his jaw clenched tightly.

“Are you all right, Mr. Fletcher?”

The C.O. barked his name out, “Fletcher, you’re on point. Eyes wide open.”

A barrage of bullets whizzed by over his head as he hit the ground, belly crawling to a vantage point.

Someone had hold of his leg. Oh God, he didn’t want to be captured in this land.

He tried to recall the training the counselor went through with him for the PTSD. His mind was blank. Why would he have a flashback now?

“Mr. Fletcher?” Brittany gently shook his leg. He seemed to be fixated on something only he could see in his mind. Beads of sweat trailed down his temples to his ears.

“Mr. Fletcher?”

Her face came into focus. What was the nurse doing in Kuwait? Slowly, reality came back to focus in his mind.

Nathan stared blankly at the nurse.

“Is there anything I can get you, sir?”

He vaguely heard her.

He was racing down the street through a barrage of bullets. Sanchez and Marler were up ahead. Marler took a bullet to the chest, Sanchez was hit in the shoulder, and Nathan was hit in the arm. They kept moving for cover, ducking behind a partial wall of a building that had been bombed. Marler slumped to the floor as Sanchez called on the walkie for backup and a medic. They were safe for the moment.

“Marler is hit. He needs help.” It came out dry in a monotone.

“Pardon?” Worry lines creased her brow as she stepped back from his bed to enter a note for the doctor.

“I’m fine.” He tried to mentally shake off the flashback and force his heart rate back to normal.

“How long have you been having trouble with your PTSD, Mr. Fletcher?”

“I haven’t." It was a lie and he knew it. He felt uneasy, recalling his counseling. "Well, at least not before today, not for about six months.” He adjusted the blankets up around his chest feeling an inner chill that no amount of blanket would fix.

“Your medical files state that you have been prescribed medications, I can have the med tech bring those in for you.” She continued to type things on the computer.

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