Read Online Her Last Line of Defense by Marie Donovan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marie Donovan
Tags: Category, Uniformly Hot
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the summer after graduating from college and that fall had been the fall of 2001. After seeing the deaths of Americans at the hands of terrorists on live network TV, Luc had shown up at the army recruiting depot September 12.
The Army had taught him more than he could have imagined, and now it was his turn to pass his knowledge on. “Wake up, Claire.” He reached through the gap in the netting and shook her shoulder.
“Go ’way,” she muttered, slapping at his hand. He stared down at her. Civilians. Well, she was his “army of one,” as the old recruiting ads used to say.
“On your feet!” he bellowed in his best drill sergeant imitation.
She jerked to a sitting position, her bloodshot eyes staring wildly. “What? What?” She focused on Luc. “Oh, you startled me half to death.”
“Rise and shine, we’re burning daylight.” Without waiting to see if she was awake, he checked his map. “Today we work on map-reading and navigation. You got a good sense of direction?”
“Um. Sure.”
Luc raised an eyebrow at her hesitant reply. “I take that as a ‘no’.”
“I could use some practice,” she admitted, swinging her feet out of the shelter. She’d changed into shorts after going to bed and her legs were long, smooth and tanned. He gripped the metal compass case hard, rather than run his hand up her calf.
She started to stand and he stopped her. “Not in bare feet.”
“Oh, right. You were telling me last night about all the icky ground parasites that can burrow into your skin.” She reached for her boots and a fresh pair of socks that had been sitting in the tops of her boots.
He stopped her again. “Shake out your gear first.”
She shook out the socks. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“Fine. Now the boots.”
With an indulgent sigh, she dumped over one boot and fastened it onto her foot without incident. The second was another story.
Claire squealed, hopping around on one foot. “What—what the heck is that?”
Luc shook his head. “Brown recluse spider. Along with the black widow, one of two venomous spiders found in the U.S. Distinguished by its dark brown, sometimes yellow color with a black line pointing to the spider’s rear. Venom occasionally causes tissue necrosis at the site of the bite.”
“Venomous? Tissue necrosis at the site of the bite?”
“Yes, Claire. They crawl into close spaces to hide and bite people when they stick in their hands—or feet.” The spider scuttled away toward the leaf litter and Luc stomped on it with his boot.
Wide-eyed, she stared at its mangled remains with disgust.
“Shake out your gear. In the jungle, you’ll have spiders way bigger than this, lizards, centipedes, millipedes, ants—you name it.” He handed her the boot.
“Yes, Luc.” She gave it another vigorous shake and peeked into the inside for good measure before gingerly lacing her foot into it. She grabbed a T.P. leaf from her stash and ducked into the brush.
When she came back, she reached for her tiny bottle of hand sanitizer and squirted it over her hands.
He rolled his eyes. “That crap stinks to high heaven. What are you doing in the woods that you need that junk for?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Good bathroom hygiene is important for good health.”
“O-kay.” Once she got to San Lucas, she’d probably faint to see people washing, babies pooping and animal carcasses being cleaned in the local drinking water.
“Do you have any more purified water? I’m kind of thirsty.” And probably hungry, too, judging by the way she looked around hopefully.
“What are our options for potable water?” He wanted to see if she remembered.
“Since we are at low altitude—any lower and we’d be underground—we bring the water to a boil and continue to boil for a minute.”
Very good, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Soldiers didn’t get trained by touchy-feely stuff. And she wouldn’t get trained at all if he kept combining Claire and
The Army had taught him more than he could have imagined, and now it was his turn to pass his knowledge on. “Wake up, Claire.” He reached through the gap in the netting and shook her shoulder.
“Go ’way,” she muttered, slapping at his hand. He stared down at her. Civilians. Well, she was his “army of one,” as the old recruiting ads used to say.
“On your feet!” he bellowed in his best drill sergeant imitation.
She jerked to a sitting position, her bloodshot eyes staring wildly. “What? What?” She focused on Luc. “Oh, you startled me half to death.”
“Rise and shine, we’re burning daylight.” Without waiting to see if she was awake, he checked his map. “Today we work on map-reading and navigation. You got a good sense of direction?”
“Um. Sure.”
Luc raised an eyebrow at her hesitant reply. “I take that as a ‘no’.”
“I could use some practice,” she admitted, swinging her feet out of the shelter. She’d changed into shorts after going to bed and her legs were long, smooth and tanned. He gripped the metal compass case hard, rather than run his hand up her calf.
She started to stand and he stopped her. “Not in bare feet.”
“Oh, right. You were telling me last night about all the icky ground parasites that can burrow into your skin.” She reached for her boots and a fresh pair of socks that had been sitting in the tops of her boots.
He stopped her again. “Shake out your gear first.”
She shook out the socks. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“Fine. Now the boots.”
With an indulgent sigh, she dumped over one boot and fastened it onto her foot without incident. The second was another story.
Claire squealed, hopping around on one foot. “What—what the heck is that?”
Luc shook his head. “Brown recluse spider. Along with the black widow, one of two venomous spiders found in the U.S. Distinguished by its dark brown, sometimes yellow color with a black line pointing to the spider’s rear. Venom occasionally causes tissue necrosis at the site of the bite.”
“Venomous? Tissue necrosis at the site of the bite?”
“Yes, Claire. They crawl into close spaces to hide and bite people when they stick in their hands—or feet.” The spider scuttled away toward the leaf litter and Luc stomped on it with his boot.
Wide-eyed, she stared at its mangled remains with disgust.
“Shake out your gear. In the jungle, you’ll have spiders way bigger than this, lizards, centipedes, millipedes, ants—you name it.” He handed her the boot.
“Yes, Luc.” She gave it another vigorous shake and peeked into the inside for good measure before gingerly lacing her foot into it. She grabbed a T.P. leaf from her stash and ducked into the brush.
When she came back, she reached for her tiny bottle of hand sanitizer and squirted it over her hands.
He rolled his eyes. “That crap stinks to high heaven. What are you doing in the woods that you need that junk for?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Good bathroom hygiene is important for good health.”
“O-kay.” Once she got to San Lucas, she’d probably faint to see people washing, babies pooping and animal carcasses being cleaned in the local drinking water.
“Do you have any more purified water? I’m kind of thirsty.” And probably hungry, too, judging by the way she looked around hopefully.
“What are our options for potable water?” He wanted to see if she remembered.
“Since we are at low altitude—any lower and we’d be underground—we bring the water to a boil and continue to boil for a minute.”
Very good, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Soldiers didn’t get trained by touchy-feely stuff. And she wouldn’t get trained at all if he kept combining Claire and
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