Hannah's Hero Ch. 03

She looked sheepishly at me. "I was a little afraid you might hear us last night."

I grinned back at her as I hooked my bra and stepped into my panties. "I didn't hear a thing. In fact I didn't even realize you'd come home. I guess you and Brad (I hoped I got his name right) are more considerate than Chris and I were."

"I can forgive you!" she said, playfully pushing me. "But only if you hurry!"

We made it to Community Hospital with less than 5 minutes to spare, but we made it. I worked through the morning, but all day long I felt off kilter. I was absent-minded, and a little moody, although I tried not to let it show. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. It was a week too early for my period to start. I didn't feel ill or anything. I just didn't feel right.

The feeling lasted my whole shift, and instead of easing off, it felt worse instead of better when I finally clocked out. Jennifer looked at me with concern as I drove.

"Hannah, what's wrong?" she asked. I didn't answer, I just shrugged. "Hannah, talk to me! What's the matter with you?"

"I don't know, okay? I've felt weird all day and it's getting worse instead of better." I went on to tell her the nitty gritty details, and she looked less concerned.

"It's probably PMS," she said, only half-teasing. I didn't feel like arguing so I just shrugged and nodded.

That night was even worse than the one before. I tossed and turned and punched my pillows into all kinds of weird shapes. I tried listening to music, turning on a fan, even drinking a glass of warm milk with nutmeg. As a last resort, I got out my vibrator and spent an hour pleasuring myself. Only afterward did sleep finally come for me.

Again, Jennifer shook me awake, only this time she hadn't let me sleep in. After making sure I wasn't going to close my eyes again, she sat down next to me on the bed. "Hannah," she said, "Something's wrong. I want you to see Dr. Kovarubias. Today." Doctor Marina Kovarubias was a truly gifted and compassionate mental health professional, and more than one member of the staff had gone to see her at one time or another.

"Come on, Jen, there's nothing wrong with my head. I'm just looking forward to having tomorrow and the next day off. That's all I need." I felt listless and the last thing I wanted was a fight. As I stripped down for the shower it looked as if she was going to let the matter drop. Relieved, I went through my morning routine of showering, dressing, and eating a light breakfast.

That morning at work was much like the day before. By the time lunch arrived, all I wanted to do was leave. Jennifer met me in the cafeteria where we both grabbed salads and iced tea. When we got to the nurses lounge it was already crowded so we ate standing near the TV. I wasn't really paying much attention until I saw the "Special Report" graphic.

"Hey Jack," I said to the male nurse nearest the TV. "Turn that up, will you please?" He did so, and soon the whole room was watching.

"This is a Special Report," the cute blonde newswoman was saying. "Al-Jazeera, the Arab news network is announcing that insurgent forces in Iraq have killed a total of 11 U.S. and Allied soldiers in an ambush attack in the Iraqi city of Fallujah. The network has also released the following video clip. We must warn you that this clip is extremely graphic and may disturb some viewers." Silence reigned throughout the room as the view switched from the clean news room to a dusty street. The sunlight was bright, and the camera was obviously held by a non-professional. The sound of automatic weapons was earsplitting, but nothing could be seen at first except running feet and sandy streets.

Gradually the cameraman found a good position and the picture steadied. I could see an American Humvee and three or four heavy trucks in the middle of the street. The Humvee in front looked like a giant had pounded the crap out of it with Thor's Hammer. The driver was slumped back in his seat, and judging by the angle of his neck, was already gone. A second soldier was struggling in the front passenger seat, obviously caught on something in the wreck and trying to get loose. A third soldier was kneeling behind the smashed hood of the vehicle, using it for cover while he returned fire.

An insurgent standing next to the cameraman threw a grenade at the Humvee, and missed. The blast still managed to knock the helmet off the American's head, and my heart started to race. That head looked very familiar. "Oh my God," I whispered in the quiet.

As I watched, the soldier got back on his feet, fired a short burst from his M-4 into a rushing insurgent, and returned to cover. Next to the cameraman, another insurgent brought up some sort of shoulder-launched rocket. For an instant, the camera focused on the American soldier just as the rocket motor ignited. The name tapes on the man's uniform were clearly visible: "WEST, U.S. ARMY." Then, the yellow flame from the flying rocket blotted out the picture. The scene ended and cut back to the pretty blonde in the clean news room.

"Once again if you are just joining our broadcast, the Arab news network Al-Jazeera is claiming the preceding video was shot by insurgents fighting American and Allied forces in Iraq..."

I didn't hear the rest. The sound of my salad plate and tea glass hitting the floor and shattering broke the silence. Every face in the room was watching Jennifer and me. They had all seen what I had seen. Three of the male nurses were already on their feet heading towards us. I was shaking like a sapling in the wind. I heard someone scream. It was a sound of intense pain, and soul-ripping rage combined. It took a second for me to realize I was the one screaming.

I was falling, the edges of my vision were going black. I felt like I was choking, like I couldn't get air. "Breathe Hannah, just breathe!" came a man's voice.

"Someone get Doctors Steiner and Kovarubias, stat!" shouted another. I didn't care about any of it. I felt strong hands catch me and gently lower me to the floor. Other hands were gently smacking my face, trying to rouse me, and checking my airway. I just didn't care. I let the blackness sweep me away into a merciful state of unconsciousness. I had just watched my loving husband die on national television.

END PART 3