Psychic Warrior

Wires and tubes crisscrossed on the bed, and Sergeant Major Jimmy Dalton carefully scooted them aside as he gingerly sat on the edge. With a callused hand he tenderly brushed a stray lock of gray hair off the face of the woman lying there. He could feel the press of her thin thigh against his hip, and he stared at her face, letting his hand lightly trace over every wrinkle and line etched there by the years, lingering on the closed eyelids. He let out a deep breath and took her hand in his, careful not to disturb the IV line in the back of it. He leaned over, his lips close to her ear. His voice was a low, gravelly one, one that gave an immediate sense of confidence to the listener. "Well, my Treasure, another great day in airborne country. The colonel gives his regards. He was by last night. Lots of people are worried, but I know you're going to be all right. "The Christmas formal is only six weeks away and, well, I was wondering if you might want to escort this old soldier there." Dalton waited, head cocked as if listening to an answer, before speaking again. "You've been away from home for four months now. I think it's time to be coming back. I miss you." Dalton felt her skin under his fingers. He remembered the long years when he had so yearned for just this sensation, to be able to feel her once more. He leaned close and put his lips to her ear. "You waited for me for five years when I was a POW, I'll wait forever for you. So we can be together once more." "Sergeant Major Dalton?" Dalton slowly straightened and looked over his shoulder at the door. A young woman, at least by his standards young, somewhere in her thirties, stood there. She held a metal clipboard in her hand. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm Dr. Kairns. I was assigned yesterday to take care of your wife. I assume you know that Dr. Inhout, who was caring for your wife, was transferred." Dalton slid off the bed, his highly polished boots making contact with the tile floor. Dalton was a little less than average height, five foot nine inches tall, and had a stocky, well-muscled build. His face was dark and well tanned, cut with deep lines, his hair heavily peppered with gray and cut very short. He walked across and held out his hand. Kairns, after a moment of surprise, took it. "Thank you for taking care of Marie, ma'am," Dalton said. "Well, you're welcome, but I haven't really done anything yet." She held up the chart. "I have--" Dalton took her elbow. "Perhaps we should talk outside." Kairns looked over at the bed. She knew the woman could not hear them, but she allowed herself to be escorted out of the room. They walked down the hallway to an empty waiting room. Large windows revealed Cheyenne Mountain to the west, the sides covered in snow. Between the window and the mountain lay rows and rows of barracks, motor pools, and housing areas, all comprising Fort Carson, home to the 4th Infantry Division and the 10th Special Forces Group. Behind and to the right of Cheyenne Mountain, and barely visible, was the bright white top of Pikes Peak, catching the first rays of the rising sun coming over the Great Plains of Colorado from the east. Kairns flipped open the chart once more. "We took another MRI aDoherty, Robert is the author of 'Psychic Warrior' with ISBN 9780440236252 and ISBN 0440236258.