Chapter 3 - The Promise I Made in the Water
"Don't tell Dad."
That was the first thing Brody said when I reached him.
Not "Help me."
Not "I'm hurt."
He had managed to hook one arm around a submerged stump, but the current was battering him against it.
His lips were blue.
Blood ran from a cut above his right ear.
I grabbed the back of his uniform.
"Give me your hand."
"Erin, please."
"Brody, give me your hand."
He reached toward me.
The stump shifted.
For a split second, both of us lost our footing.
Water hit my face.
Something struck my left arm.
I felt the bone break.
The pain was so sharp that my vision went white.
I nearly let him go.
Nearly.
Then my right hand caught the rescue sling.
I shoved it beneath his shoulders.
The soldiers onshore started pulling.
"Don't tell him," Brody said again.
I wanted to scream at him.
Three men were fighting for their lives because he had ignored a closed crossing.
Daniel Price was still trapped beneath the vehicle.
And Brody was worried about disappointing our father.
But the only thing that mattered in that moment was keeping him alive.
"Hold on," I told him.
He did.
We reached the bank together.
I dropped to my knees.
Brody rolled onto his side and began coughing up muddy water.
Pierce was already helping the others.
One of the arriving rescue personnel wrapped a blanket around Brody.
Someone tried to examine my arm.
I pulled away.
"There's another soldier."
A man in a reflective jacket looked toward the wreckage.
"Ma'am, our swift-water team is still coming in. You can't go back out."
"He's trapped under the truck."
"We need the right equipment."
"He's still calling."
The man looked at me.
He didn't have an answer that could make the situation better.
Neither did I.
I knew the current was growing stronger.
I knew my arm was broken.
I knew there was no reasonable expectation that I could move a partially submerged military vehicle with one functioning hand.
But I could still hear Daniel.
So I went back.
I remember very little about the fourth trip in order.
Fragments.
The rope sliding against my wet palm.
The terrible cold.
A flashlight beam spinning across the water.
The sound of metal shifting beneath the current.
I found Daniel pinned inside the tilted cab.
One leg was trapped.
Water was rising around his shoulders.
His eyes found mine.
"Captain."
"I'm here."
"My wife."
"We're going to get you out."
"She's pregnant."
I knew.
Daniel had shown everyone the ultrasound photograph a week earlier.
He was so excited about becoming a father that half the platoon had started calling him Dad.
I reached for the damaged door frame.
Tried to pull it open.
It moved an inch.
Then stopped.
I pulled again.
Pain exploded through my arm.
Daniel grabbed my wrist.
"Listen."
"Don't."
"Please."
I still remember how calm he became.
That was the worst part.
He reached into the open collar of his uniform and pulled the chain holding his identification tags.
"My wife. Rebecca."
"Daniel, stop talking."
"Tell her—"
The current shifted the truck.
I heard something give beneath us.
A rescue light appeared farther upstream.
For one instant, I believed we had enough time.
Then the vehicle dropped.
I had to pull free or be crushed against the support.
Daniel's hand slipped from mine.
The water took him.
I don't remember swimming back.
I remember waking up on the bank.
Someone was pressing a mask over my face.
I was coughing.
My left arm had been secured with a section of tent pole and bandages.
Colonel Paul Haskett was kneeling beside me.
He had arrived with the senior response personnel shortly before the final rescue attempt ended.
I didn't know him well then.
But I knew his face.
"Captain Lennox," he said.
I tried to sit up.
"Price."
His expression told me what I didn't want to know.
I reached for my hand.
The dog tags were tangled around my fingers.
"His wife," I whispered.
"I understand."
I shook my head.
"No. You don't."
I tried to stand.
He put one hand on my shoulder.
"Captain, stay down."
"She needs to know."
"She will."
I stared at him.
"Tell her I tried."
Colonel Haskett's expression changed.
He leaned closer.
"I saw what you did."
I closed my eyes.
And cried.
I didn't care who was watching.
I didn't care what my rank was.
A young soldier was dead.
And I had failed to bring him home.
Across the muddy bank, I heard Brody calling for our father.
That sound dragged me back to the present.
Back to Fort Riley.
Back to the gym.
Brody stood in the third row, shaking.
General Haskett was watching him.
"Lieutenant Ruddock," the general said, using Brody's former rank deliberately, "your original statement indicates you received a direct instruction not to use that crossing."
Brody nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you acknowledge that instruction?"
"Yes."
"Did you follow it?"
"No."
Charlene grabbed his sleeve.
"Stop answering him."
Brody pulled away.
And then he said something that made the entire room turn toward me.
"I didn't just ignore the order."
His voice cracked.
"I told everyone afterward that Erin was the one who sent us down that road."
My chest went cold.
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Because for six years, I had believed that lie had come from Charlene.
I had never known Brody was the person who started it.
