Avoiding Valhalla

By A.R. Moler

US Army Captain Adam Whitaker is a doctor in an Iraqi hot zone. Death is an all too frequent occurrence. So why does Adam keep seeing the same soldier lingering in the area when he loses a patient?
On a med-evac mission, Adam's vehicle gets hit. Adam is the sole survivor. The same unknown soldier rescues Adam from certain death. Sig isn't what he looks like, hot as that is,--or maybe it's that he's more than he seems. Can an immortal Valkyrie and an all too human military doctor find some way to overcome impossible obstacles to find happiness together? What price will Sig have to pay? It's not going to be that easy to walk away from being an angel of death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.R. Moler
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215453292

A.R. Moler

A.R. Moler is a chemistry professor at a community college, a homeschooling mom and an avid science fiction fan. She is a devotee of first hand research for her writing whenever possible and to this end has - learned to fire a handgun, been rappelling, ridden with both EMS and the police, flown a helicopter, bought a motorcycle and learned to ride it. She has traveled to nearly all the places where her stories are set and taken hundreds of photos for documentation. She has been writing since her high school years, but only recently has become published. Her website can be found at http://armoler.com

Book preview

Avoiding Valhalla

by

A.R. Moler

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2015, 2019 by AR Moler

Cover illustration by P.E. Ash

Chapter One

The Humvee bounced erratically over the road in Iraq. Actually, to call it a road was being generous, the strip of pavement that ran through the rocky desert was potholed in many places and almost obliterated in others. US Army Captain Adam Whitaker glanced across the vehicle at the driver. The younger man’s focus was on the road, with good reason. If not for the crap-ass condition of the highway, then for the fact they were being sent to retrieve a pair of soldiers that had been injured while clearing a building more than ten clicks from Forward Operating Base Grant. The man in the driver’s seat was Sergeant Gabe Sobotta and riding in the back, manning the .50 cal, was Corporal Kurt Bailey. The three of them functioned as a triage to a medevac team when necessary here on the far edges of Iraq.

The radio crackled and the voice over the channel said, Sierra Kilo one nine, this is Lima Tango seven. We have an update. One cat alpha and one cat bravo.

Adam leaned forward, picking up the mic. This is Sierra Kilo one nine . Any idea what kind of wounds on the cat alpha?

Triple amp. We have tourniquets on.

Adam frowned. Traumatic amputation of three limbs was very bad. IED? As a doctor for the Army, Adam had seen more than his fair share of those kinds of injuries.

What else?

How ’bout the cat bravo? Adam asked over the radio.

Shrapnel wounds, left foot. He’s stable.

Looking at the GPS, Adam said, ETA five minutes. We’re close.

Sobotta glanced toward Adam. What are the chances on the triple amp, doc?

Not good, but I have seen some survivors. We have I/O lines with us. It’ll be his best shot. Adam referred to the intraosseous lines that could be secured straight into the bone when IVs were impossible.

In just slightly over five minutes they pulled up near a jeep that was parked in front of a decrepit building. The critically injured soldier was laid out on the ground near the vehicle. Two other soldiers stood near him. A third sat leaning against the tire of the jeep. Sobotta, Bailey, and Adam scrambled out of the Humvee, grabbing gear.

As Adam dropped to his knees beside his patient, he immediately felt for a pulse. There was a barely palpable flutter beneath his fingertips. One quick scan made him decide the humerus of the uninjured arm would be the best place to drill the I/O line in. How long ago?

About half an hour, one of the soldiers replied. We got the tourniquets on as soon as we got him out of the building. It was really all we could do.

The wounded soldier didn’t even flinch when Adam rammed the I/O port into the bone. Damn. Adam knew the installation of the port often produced screams of pain. He screwed the bag of fluids into the line, and hastily put on his stethoscope. Wrapping a blood pressure cuff around the soldier’s arm, he tried to get a read. Nothing registered. He checked the carotid again. Gabe, bag him. I’m going to start CPR.

Sobotta pulled an Ambu bag out of their gear and began to ventilate the dying soldier.

Five minutes. Check. No Pulse. Ten minutes. Still no pulse. Adam gazed out past the parked Humvee as he counted compressions. He could barely see another soldier standing out a little ways from the vehicle. That man was covered in a layer of dust, his desert camouflage uniform pale with the sandy filth that covered him. Adam wondered if the soldier had seen the IED go off and was having trouble coping with the aftermath. He certainly wouldn’t be the first. The distant soldier met Adam’s gaze for just a second and Adam felt a sorry chill in his guts. That soldier knew that the CPR was a useless gesture.

Stop. Check for a pulse again, Adam said.

Nothing, Gabe replied.

Anybody think of something we haven’t done? No one answered. Adam took a look at his watch. I’m calling time of death as 1516. There was a moment of silence and no movement. Is he the cat bravo? Adam pointed to the man sitting against the tire.

One of the standing soldiers replied, Yeah, Meeker. He’s got a huge hunk of metal in his calf. We put a pressure dressing on it.

Okay, let me have a look. Bailey, can you get a body bag for… Adam realized he had no name for the soldier who had just died beneath his hands.

Potts. Corporal Randall Potts, said the soldier standing behind Adam.

Bailey, please get a body bag for Corporal Potts. There was no gentle way to give that order, no way to make it easier on the men around him. The best they could do was take the body back to the base and allow him to be shipped home for his family to grieve. Adam stood up and walked over to Meeker.

Meeker was conscious, but pale. He was visibly upset too. I was only a couple feet away.

I’m sorry. Adam began examining the leg wound. He carefully removed Meeker’s boot and looked at the man’s foot. Despite the fact the boot was soaked in blood, the foot was pink enough that it was still getting blood flow. You’re going to need to have your wound cleaned out in the OR and there may be some nerve damage. I’m going to start an IV on you just to be safe. You’ve lost a unit or so of blood.

Meeker gave him a small nod.

It took another fifteen minutes to get Meeker set for transport and the remains of Corporal Potts to be loaded . Adam put a hand on the shoulder of one of the soldiers. Is the other guy okay?

What other guy?

The one I saw hanging out behind the Humvee while I was working on Potts.

There isn’t anyone else. Me, Meeker, Potts, and Dominguez. The soldier pointed a thumb at the man standing beside him.

Adam was confused. I thought I saw a fifth guy. Really dusty, like maybe he’d been on the outer edge of the blast.

Not our people.

"Um,