Blackout

Chapter 8

Imaia Island

Max

Present

Between mosquito bites and having no electricity I wasn’t sure what I hated the most. My first night at Imaia passed very slowly, the kind of slow that can only exist in one of the circles of Hell or one of those Hyperbolic Time Chambers from Dragonball. And yes, I knew about anime classics, my roommate back at college was a fan. What could I say?

Tending a broken tibia took me a good part of the night and then I was out, crashing on the bunk bed I shared with Rosie. There was no AC in our room, just an old, portable fan that moved hot air from one corner to the other. The walls were made out of hardwood, which made the entire space smell like dead pine trees. Dawn found me awake, dressed only in my boyshorts and a tank top while I blinked at the base of Rosie’s bed. How could she snore and sleep so well? Ugh, I was so jealous of her eyelids. At least they had some rest when I had none. 

I crossed my arms behind my head, wincing when I felt the sheets sticking to my sweaty skin. The sound of a mosquito passing close to my head made me close my eyes and take a deep breath in. This was my reality for the upcoming six months and I needed to make peace with it. At least there were nice distractions to keep in mind.

The memory of green-gray eyes staring at me managed to curl my lips in a small smile. I also needed to make peace with the fact I was attracted to Callan, but that was a completely different matter. I’ve never been one to believe in fate, luck or Tarot cards and all of that mumbo jumbo. I believed in science, evidence based research and protocols. However...finding Callan at Imaia was crazy. From all the places, from all the possible time frames and all the different people who could have come in my place or in his, it had to be us. 

Since our first encounter back in Miami I’ve thought a lot about him. Callan was the kind of man who would always leave an impression on whichever woman he met. There was just something about him that reassured a woman of her own femininity. A feral quality, like that of a feline about to strike. A threat of the best kind. As if only standing close to him one couldn’t help but to feel...womanly. Then again, things seemed to come easily to him. Callan could control rooms with one simple stare, bend wills, shake your soul...I’ve never been more aware of my own body than in those moments standing close to him. His body heat made me want to seek his comforting warmth. His height pushed me to look up, until my neck was craned all the way to the back. There were about a million things about him that set invisible alarms in my head. One being the fact he was clearly dangerous, hard to handle and...well, he was a lot, a lot of one man for one simple woman.

A lot of one man for one simple woman. 

Yes, that was Callan in one simple sentence. A man that could only offer one night’s stands. No compromises. No promises. No reassurance. Everything I hated in a man and then more. Apart from our obvious physical attraction we probably didn’t have anything in common except-maybe- for the fact we loved our uniform. We devoted ourselves to our work, which in my case limited my romantic options. In his case it made dating completely impossible. I was starting to see military life in a different light, especially concerning military wives.  They had it even harder than their husbands. At least they got to leave the constant daily routine. Their wives were stuck on the same day to day basis, all alone, always waiting. That sucked. I wondered what my grandma would think of Callan...I remembered his eyes, the strong planes of his chiseled jaw and sighed. She would like him. As a matter of fact, all women would like him.

It was then that I heard the sound of a military march, sung by many voices in a loud, powerful choir. I leaned up, resting my weight on my elbows and frowning at the window. What on earth was that sound? The floor above us started creaking under the weight of the other women moving fast. Even Rosie woke up, jumping from her bed and scramming around the room to find some pants to wear. 

“What is going on?” I asked over my shoulder, buttoning the jeans I took off before going to bed. Rosie smiled, pushing her hair up in a messy bun and taking my hand. She looked frenetic, smiling too wide and moving in a rush that I’ve never seen her use at the hospital.

“This is the whole reason why I volunteered!” she explained, pulling me out of the room with her. The stairs of our little two-floor house was jammed with women of every age running down. Had I missed some memo or something? Why was everyone running down? Rosie pulled me harder, making space for us to pass between a group of nurses that were trying to put on makeup in the middle of the stairs. Rosie rolled her eyes, staring back at me, “I heard it from another nurse who volunteered a year ago. The best part of volunteering and sharing a camp with an army unit are their morning marchs.”

“Why is that?”

“You have to see this,” assured Rosie and then we were out of the house, passing the little backyard and moving to the limits of the wooden fence. There was a crowd of women already gathered there. I could see the excitement in their faces, and in the way they were all giggling like a bunch of school girls. I had only one fast second to realize the humming sound I was listening in the background was the constant cadence of many boots hitting the ground. Then they were there.

Catcalls and whistles broke off the moment the large platoon of shirtless men appeared running in our direction. I started laughing the moment I realized what was going on and then I was tearing up when Rosie jumped over the fence whistling at them with two fingers in her mouth, making a sharp sound that made the men smile in unison. Rosie wasn’t the only one. Even renowned doctors I admired back in the hospital were screaming all sorts of compliments to the soldiers over the general ruckus. I turned to the platoon, taking my full share of the imponent view they made. All powerful, strong men, running shirtless and already sweaty after exercising. I had to admit they were a nice sight to wake up to. I could get used to this.

My eyes scanned the unit, searching, looking, hunting down the muscular body I’ve already memorized from head to toes. Callan Jameson. Where was he? The more I looked for him the more I felt a little conflicted about the polarizing emotions barging inside of my mind. On one hand I felt utterly disappointed not seeing Callan running with the group of men. On the other hand, I was angry at myself for feeling disappointed. Come on Max. I didn’t know this man. I shouldn’t care about him, nor feel disappointed at not seeing him first thing in the morning.

Someone tapped my shoulder, thankfully stopping myself from spiraling down into another intense hour of over analyzing every single aspect of my defective brain. It took me by surprise to find a young soldier at my back, smiling at me from ear to ear. He was young. Probably only nineteen but nowhere near twenty five. Somewhere in the middle. He had light blue eyes, a perfect match for his golden chestnut colored skin. The boy was a looker, but given his nervous stance I was sure he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Good morning sister in law,” said the boy, making my eyes bulge out of their sockets. Say what now? Had I woken up to a different reality or was I still sleeping? He gave me a playful military salutation and then smiled again, showing a white line of perfect teeth, “ I’m Sergeant Jordan Oliver, your ears and eyes in this place.”

“Are you, now?” I looked around him, trying to understand if this was some sort of joke or a prank. Jordan only smiled even bigger, waving a hand at Rosie, who seemed a little conflicted between trying to follow my conversation with Jordan and keeping an eye on the running soldiers. The boy soldier pointed with his thumb to the back and looked at me with an inquisitive smirk.

“We just brewed fresh coffee back in the camp, do you ladies fancy a cup?” he asked and I was nodding before he even stopped speaking.

“You had me at fresh coffee,” I grabbed Rosie’s hand and followed Jordan throughout the group of women who were still staring at the nice back buns of the soldiers passing by. Rosie looked confused while she stared at Jordan and back at me. I knew she would have a million questions about Jordan but that could wait after coffee. I didn’t know a thing about the Sergeant either way, just the fact he had offered fresh coffee. Yes, I was following a complete stranger under the promise of a cup of coffee. At this point in my life I wasn’t even embarrassed of admitting I would have done pretty much anything for caffeine. 

“Where are we going exactly?” asked Rosie, scratching the back of her head and yawning. I gave her the side eye. How did she have the nerve of yawning after sleeping so soundly? It was official, if she snored as much as one more time tonight I was moving out and sharing a room with Nathan. Her tiredness was insulting. Jordan passed one look between Rosie and me before smiling again.

“It’s a well known fact that coffee at the medical base tastes like piss. You doctors can sew us back together but know nothing about cooking and brewing coffee in the wilderness like we do. Luckily for you guys, Connor brews the damn best coffee in this place,” he said with a boyish shrug. Jordan gave me the impression of being a growing puppy that hadn’t grown to the size of his paws yet. He walked either too fast or too slow, smiling too much and not looking where he was stepping on. I liked him. He was easy to be around and held no malice in his eyes. I was always at guard around people, but Jordan was as frank as they come and I enjoyed his company.

“Dude, truest words,” mumbled Rosie, yawning again, “I tried the coffee back at the base yesterday and it tasted horrible. I could kill for a Starbucks right now. I’m telling you, the only reason why I signed to come here was because of those soldiers running shirtless,” Rosie looked up to the blue morning sky and gave two thumbs up to it, “Well done God. Good job.”

We both laughed by her side, all of us finally walking together despite Jordan’s dangling extremities. Jordan shook his head at Rosie while we entered the military camp. Some soldiers by the front entrance nudged each other when we passed by, but apart from that reaction no one seemed to mind our presence. Jordan moved closer to Rosie, speaking as if they were sharing a secret, “If you think those soldiers look good wait to see our unit morning workout. We make them look like thin worms.”

“At what time do you guys exercise?” asked Rosie with stars in her eyes and Jordan smiled down at her.

“Is five in the morning too early for you?”

“Not when there’s something for me on it,” she answered right away, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I need coffee right now if you don’t want me to start snapping necks,” I informed them, pointing a finger at Rosie, “You damn know I can tell where all the important bones are, so if you don’t want my fury give me coffee. Now.”

“In you go,” jumped in Jordan, stopping by a large, green, military tent and opening the lapels for us to pass inside. Rosie moved in first, followed close by me. The moment we stepped in all the soldiers inside went quiet. There were three soldiers I vaguely recognized seeing before and two other tall soldiers drinking coffee by the back of the tent who were staring at me with widened eyes. It took me a moment to understand I’ve seen Jordan before, when he had come to pick us up at the hangar last afternoon. I also recognized Captain Connor, who was the one who seemed to control the distribution of coffee around the tent.

Our eyes connected and the captain lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Dr. Cruz, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his tone acid like lemon juice.

“I’m here for the coffee that was promised,” I said, pointing at Jordan who laughed nervously between our group and the other soldiers. All the soldiers looked back at Connor and I understood the unspoken power scale inside the tent. Connor was clearly the highest hierarchy here. I wasn’t sure if the guy didn’t like me or if he was that serious towards everyone. I did know I couldn’t pedal back when facing this man. He was unshakable in his views, a man that saw things in black or white, no gray tones. I could tell because my grandfather had been the same way and I’ve learned to never waiver in front of men like them.

“Why should I give you coffee?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Why did I sense he wasn’t just talking about coffee here? His question was like a barbed test, perfumed with the scent of coffee and the promise of the venerated caffeine effect I was craving. I could flip him off and go looking for coffee somewhere else, but I’ve learned to hammer nails down only once. As my grandmother would say “solo ponte roja una vez”...which translated to “only blush once”. Men like the captain needed to understand I wasn’t a doormat.

“Let’s put it this way,” I said, lifting an eyebrow at him, “If you are hurt, bleeding and smelling your own waste while trying to figure out where your ass starts and your mouth ends I’m the kind of doctor that will get you back together without giving you chocolates and roses. I will fix you and give you s**t for getting hurt in the first place because the world knows ain’t don’t have time to deal with babies throwing tantrums over cups of coffee.”

Silence.

Utter silence. Nobody dared to move while the captain and I shared one long look. Captain Connor finally gave me a small nod, his lips curling up in the tiniest, most minuscule acknowledgment of ceasefire. He raised a hand and waved his fingers at me to come closer, “Do you drink your coffee black or with cream?”

“Black, like my heart,” I joked, walking closer and this time he laughed. Everyone seemed to be watching our interaction with shocked expressions. Either Captain Connor wasn’t one to laugh often or nobody was used to seeing him get put back in place. I shrugged it all off, accepting the cup he offered me and sipping from it. A moan escaped my mouth and I closed my eyes, enjoying this way too much. It had been a rough couple of days. Traveling, getting used to Imaia, fixing tibias...Callan. Yeah, I deserved to enjoy this coffee.

When I opened my eyes I realized every single set of masculine eyes were on me. I frowned at them all.

“Does anybody have a problem with a woman enjoying her coffee?”

“Nope,” mentioned one of the soldiers, coming to me with an offered hand, “ Private Simmons at your service ma’am.”

“Private Oliver.”

“Just call me James.”

“I’m David by the way…”

In a short amount of time all the introductions have been done and I was genuinely enjoying my time with these guys. I wasn’t the only one, Rosie and Jordan were now openly laughing at the dumbest knock knock jokes that David was making while we drank coffee together. I learned little by little to recognize each other by their peculiarities. Like the fact Connor was quiet and seemed to keep an objective eye in every single discussion and interaction happening around him. That the loudest soldier was Simmons and he tended to speak two volumes up from the rest of the group. That David was the tallest of them all, towering over everyone. James was the quietest, staying by the fringe of the tent and looking genuinely at ease with being left alone to his own devices. Oliver was the only one with visible tattoos, having both hands covered in beautiful patterned scales that looked imposing against his white skin.

These guys joked with each other as if they were a genuine family. And they all babied Jordan. He seemed to be like their adopted kid or the lost baby brother they all had. I smiled at my cup, making a mental note to come visit Connor every morning so I could have good coffee and a pleasant talk to start my day.

“Attention!” A low voice called in a roar. Every man inside the tent stood in attention and stopped talking, smiling and moving altogether. I frowned, passing a look between the guys and the front lapels that opened, letting Callan-f*****g-Jameson pass inside the space. His green-gray eyes found me fast and a frown deepened the scowl that had already been marking his brow. His entire body tensed and expanded, as if I’d been a surprise he hadn’t been expecting and his physical reaction was to attack.  Attack me? Pfff, good luck with that. I pitied whoever tried to take me away from my cup of coffee right now. Those smart eyes traced a line between me and Rosie to the rest of the group at my back. A nerve started twitching in his jaw, “Sergeant Jordan!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” yelled Jordan, presenting a salute and standing in attention. 

“We will talk later,” said Callan, his tone a dark promise that made me shudder. Jesus, I wasn’t sure what Jordan had done to deserve that threat but I was so glad I wasn’t the boy right then. Callan looked at me then, his eyes clearing a bit when he spied the small smile that had been adorning my mouth since David started making stupid jokes. He nodded once and then stepped out of the tent without saying another word. Several seconds passed before all the men inside the tent shared a collective sigh of relief.

I’d been wrong before. Captain Connor wasn’t at the top of the pyramid. Callan was the big kahuna of this place and it served me well to remember that. It took time, experience and ruthlessness to become a big officer in the army. If I’d thought he had been dangerous before now I knew for sure he wasn’t the type of guy you could play with. I finished my coffee fast, murmured my thanks to Connor and took Rosie out of there with me, moving in a rush like a bat out of hell.