Coming Home

Once again, a bright light hit my eyes as they opened. I heard the sounds of a bustling hospital and reached down to feel a leg that had been gone for years. Every single inch of my body hurt like no other pain I had ever experienced.

Trying to sit up, I looked around. An IV was still firmly attached to my arm, and I was now strapped down to the bed. I couldn’t imagine why they would strap me down. I had been shot multiple times, believed myself to be dead. I had no leg, or at least, I used to have no leg. It was so strange to me, and I just needed and wanted to know what was going on.

I rang the bell that brought a nurse in. It was time to get back into action, to know what had happened. There had to be a reason I was here, and I needed to know. I didn’t like not having capacity of my own body. Having no agency was like having no sense of self. I had no agency.

A nurse walked in, shock on her face. Two doctors, the same two from before, came in behind her. They were also surprised. I guessed I wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. It shocked me as well: I thought I was dead.

“I want answers, and I want them now.” I folded my arms over myself as best I could. Things were still in pain, still hurting like they had never hurt before. This was what pain meant, and I had never been a fan of pain. All of it reminded me of losing my leg and my team. Now I knew what I really had lost though, my boys.

One of the doctors looked at me and excused the nurse, closing the door behind her. I could tell they hadn’t been prepared for this, but if they knew me at all, they knew I was not going to back down. I would get right up out of this hospital bed if it meant I would get answers. Answers were all I needed. Fuck the pain, it could wait.

“We are going to ask a few questions first. I’m Dr. Henry Gomez. This is Dr. John Farrow. We’ve been taking care of you since you came here. Do you know your name?”

I fought incredibly hard not to roll my eyes. “Lieutenant Rae Martinez. They used to call me Lady Reaper in days of future passed. The last age I remember being is thirty-three. My birthday is April 8, 1984. I was in the military until 2011 when I lost my leg. I was dating Matthew Sanders, a former Navy SEAL and Charlie Anderson, a former Force Recon Marine. The last president I remember is Trump… I wish that were not something I remembered. Anything else?”

The doctors looked between each other. I’m sure they were surprised that I was as mentally sharp as I was. I had no idea how long I’d been in the hospital, but it was obviously long enough to recover from bullet wounds and whatever they had done to my leg.

“That about answered everything,” Dr. Farrow said, “Except the obvious: do you know what happened?”

“Honestly, the last thing I remember is some crazed gunman coming into the recruitment office and shooting it to shit. I think I was hit quite a few times. I thought I had died. So, what’s up with that?”

Dr. Gomez sighed, holding a hand to his nose. “We thought we would have more time for this conversation. When the medics went into the building to get the bodies, they thought you were dead. You weren’t moving, bleeding out, and was unconscious. When they started to zip you up, Farrow came in. Something struck him as odd. You still had a pulse, Martinez. Think about that. You had been shot multiple times, and you still had a pulse.” It was clear he was awestruck about that.

“We brought you back to a hospital for veterans. Gomez and I have been working here for years. We pulled all your cases files, but we weren’t ready to tell anyone you were still alive. There was no guarantee that you would make it out alive. You were in a deep coma and still recovering from all the bullets. While you were recovering, we figured we could try something.”

Gomez took the story back now. “Granted, we had no right to do what we’ve done, but the first time you woke up, we thought it was a fluke. You were still recovering, still regenerating cells and blood and all the fun stuff. Before you woke up that first time, we decided to put together some cybernetic technology. Think like Cyborg from the DC comics.”

It was weird how they kept switching between who took up the story. It was clear to me that they had been working together for a very long time. “It was a long shot that it would even work. I mean this is the type of technology that the government doesn’t want anyone to know about. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic. The point is, we tested it on you.”

I raised an eyebrow. They tested a cybernetic technology on me without my permission? While part of me wanted to get irritated, I had a leg again. The rest didn’t really matter.

“Your body took the part very well. I mean, we’ve been running tests. You’ve been in that bed for almost six months now, but we have no doubt that you will recover fully and even be able to join the Marines again, if you wanted.” Farrow rubbed the back of his head.

I sighed. “So, I’m like the six-million dollar man? Do I get to keep the leg?”

Dr. Gomez laughed. “Yes, you can keep the leg, but we would like to monitor you some more. And, the government knows you’re still alive, but no one else.”

Tears started to spill down my cheeks. It was so strange that I was crying just because my friends and my boys thought I was dead. People thought I was dead before, and no one really cared. “Can I tell them I’m alive?”

Dr. Farrow looked at his partner. I knew they were silently communicating in that weird way I had been witnessing before. “Yeah, I think you can. But first you’ve got to do the pee test for us and walk.”

I smiled. “This can’t be harder than after losing my leg, can I?”

They both nodded and helped me stand. Letting go of my arms, they walked with me as I made my way to the bathroom. The leg wasn’t at all cumbersome like my prosthetic had been. It felt like it was my own leg, the joint moved like my old knee had. It was strange and I was definitely slow-going, but it was totally worth it. As I sat down to pee, I had this strange feeling in the back of my head that there was something more going on though.

If they thought I was alive, they would have told my boys. They were going to use me for some grand scheme was the only thing I could imagine. As the pee twisted down the toilet, and I washed my hands, I thought about what I would tell the boys. Would they even believe me?

“Dr. Gomez, can I video call them? I want them to see me.” I was determined in this.

He nodded and pulled out his phone. After carefully thinking about who to call, I figured they would be together and dialed the number of the man I wanted to see the most: my Matthew.

A beard and long hair were the first things I saw. I couldn’t help the little gasp that came out of me when I saw those hazel eyes for the first time in so long. He looked shocked and then grabbed someone next to him. Dazzling blue eyes filled the screen next, and I could hear their brains trying to figure it out.

“I think it would be best to explain in person. Will you come see me in the hospital?”

Matt’s voice was hoarse, trying to hold back tears. “Of course we will, baby. I will be there in a heartbeat with this old man dragging behind me.”

“Reaper, we wouldn’t miss this for the world. We love you.”

I smiled even though it hurt a little bit. “I love you both.”

Notes

I know I’ve been away again for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if you all had given up on me at this point. As grad school starts, I definitely will not be updating as much, though I will try. My nana died, and her death hit me harder than I thought it would. As I worked my way through her death and having to speak at her funeral, I also found out the expense of tuition. I’ve been stressed from that and dealing with my relationship with my father and a boy I am crushing on.

About a week ago, I found out that the benign cyst on my brain stem was growing. And while it’s still benign, they are worried. I was going to tell my boy about it, but his friend went into surgery today for a brain tumor and his twin is in the ER, incredibly sick. I couldn’t bear putting more on his plate. But… I am worried. Brain stems… are a difficult thing. And it explains a lot of my health issues. Thanks for sticking with y’all.