Off Limits
Then Alex saw his blue eyes thaw, grow wide with concern and lose their intent, predatory look. She felt his hand loosen slightly from her mouth, and she could smell his sweat.
“Don’t go screamin’ on me, gal,” he murmured. “I’m an American recon marine. You hear?”
His voice had a Southern drawl to it. And as Alex moved in and out of semiconsciousness, relief flowed sharply through her.
“Okay?” Jim rasped, leaning very close to her, his hand still across her mouth. She had the most beautiful mourning-dove gray eyes he’d ever seen. The pupils were huge and black, and he knew she was in deep shock. When she barely nodded, he eased his hand from her mouth. Her lower lip trembled and he saw tears gathering in her heart-stealing eyes.
Jim placed his finger against his lips in a silent request for her not to cry out or sob aloud. It was a tribute to her courage as she fought her initial reaction and lay quietly as he hunkered over her. Jim placed his hand on her left upper arm, where the material was soaked with blood. He looked around, listening carefully. VC were thick in this neck of the woods, and the odds were stacked against him getting safely back to his tunnel.
Struggling not to cry, Alex closed her eyes and tried to breathe through her mouth several times just to allow the relief to register. He was an American marine, she realized thankfully. The man above her appeared confident, and she knew instinctively that she was now safe. Safe. His fingers around her upper arm seemed reassuring as he probed the jungle with his narrowed gaze. Amazed at the sudden change in him, Alex took in the grim line of his mouth, his slitted eyes and the way his harsh features tightened with frightening intensity. Alex understood the necessity of his concentration. For the last two hours, she’d been doing the same thing.
And then, when the American shifted his attention back to her, his eyes became warmer once more and, this time, filled with curiosity. He leaned very close to her ear, and again Alex felt a sense of security in his presence.
“My name’s Jim McKenzie, gal. I’m a recon marine. What’s your name?”
A croak came out. She swallowed. “...Alex...Alex Vance.”
He nodded. “Hell of a way to meet, Alex Vance. Now, I don’t want you to talk anymore. Not yet. We’re in heavy VC country, you understand?”
She nodded once.
“Good,” Jim rasped. As he prepared to go on, he inhaled the subtle fragrance of her perfume, and the scent dizzied him, reminding him of a gentler, saner time in his life. He fought to ignore the sensations the fragrance evoked. “I’m gonna truss up that shoulder of yours so we can get outta this place in one piece,” he told her. “Whatever happens, don’t yell, don’t scream. Understand?”
Again, Alex nodded.
She saw him smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes—it was just a faint twist of his lips. As he rose from his crouched position, Alex saw pain reflected in his face and eyes. And then, as he straightened up, Alex realized in shock that his left leg, from the ankle to his knee, was in a makeshift splint. Four roughly carved sticks of wood encased his lower leg, wrapped tightly into place with vine. What was a recon? What was he doing out here alone? Alex stopped herself from asking. She saw him dig into an olive green pouch he carried on a webbed cartridge belt around his waist. He drew out a dressing, and as quietly as possible, stripped the brown waxen paper from around it.
Jim returned his attention to Alex, who lay watching him with huge gray eyes. He had to give her credit—she had common sense. She was doing exactly as he asked. Her eyes grew cloudy with pain as he gently pulled the flight suit aside and moved the fabric of her bloody blouse to expose the wound. Leaning down, he whispered against her ear, “Now, this is gonna hurt like hell. I gotta place this compress against your wound and make a sling for your arm.” He reached across her, sought and found a small twig. “Here,” he said, “put this between your teeth. Whatever you do, Alex, don’t scream, or the VC will find us.”
A fine tremble worked through Alex as she clenched the stick between her teeth. She saw the apology in his lean, hard face. Shutting her eyes tightly, Alex tried to prepare herself for the dressing to be placed over her wound.
It was impossible. As gentle as Jim tried to be, pain reared up through her, and Alex grunted. She bit down hard on the wood, the taste of it almost spicy in her mouth. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth. Her back arched and her heels pushed into the soft soil, her nostrils flared wide. Agony sliced through her shoulder like scalpels. Fighting back a scream that begged to be released, Alex dug the fingers of her right hand deeply into the damp leaves and soil. All her focus was on the wood between her teeth.
“Good, good,” Jim praised raggedly. He saw sweat pop out across her furrowed brow, and saw her nostrils dilate. “I’m done. Relax....” Gently removing the piece of wood from between her teeth, he smiled as she barely opened her eyes. “The worst’s over, gal. Just hang loose and I’ll get you trussed up like a Christmas goose to give that arm of yours some support.”
The pain was nearly unbearable, but through the nightmare minutes that followed, Alex was struck by how humane the marine was with her. He was tall and rangy, and as her vision cleared, Alex got a better look at him. A couple of weeks’ growth of beard shadowed his craggy features. His fingers were long and large-knuckled, and despite their size he was incredibly gentle while he made a sling of vines for her arm. But there was a coiled tension about him, as if he could explode in any direction. His alertness reminded her of a jungle cat’s, and he seemed attuned to the most minor change of sound and activity around them. Occasionally he would freeze, listen, then continue to work on her arm. They exchanged no more words—only looks—but he could communicate powerfully with those cobalt eyes. Alex was amazed, as if some unexplained telepathy existed between them. She saw his eyes change to a light blue color as he knotted off the last of the vine behind her neck.
He helped her sit up. Dizziness assailed her, and she started to fall sideways. If not for the quick intervention of his arm around her shoulders, Alex would have fallen. Everything was happening so quickly, so efficiently. She wanted to ask him so many questions. Why was his leg in that primitive cast? Nothing was making sense except that he seemed to know exactly how to help her. The sling had eased the pain in her shoulder a great deal. Alex slumped wearily against the marine, her face pressed into the folds of his damp green shirt.
Giving her a quick squeeze of reassurance, Jim eased Alex upright. The look in her dazed gray eyes told him she wasn’t doing well at all. Her face was waxen and perspiring, indicating she’d suffered heavy loss of blood from her wound.
“Gal, as much as I wish I could, I can’t carry you,” Jim whispered. Without thinking, he reached out and pushed several strands of hair from her dirt-smudged cheek. “You gotta walk. Understand? We gotta get out of here.” He glanced up at the triple canopy overhead. “Before it gets dark.”
Alex nodded her understanding. Jim rose, his hands on her shoulders to steady her. With all her strength, Alex pushed upright onto her feet. If not for his lean, powerful body as a support, she would have crumpled. His arm went around her waist, and she sighed raggedly in relief.
Without a sound, Jim felt Alex lean against him, and he slowly turned her around. Pain shot up his leg. The bones had been set only recently, and he knew that if Alex couldn’t walk on her own, he’d have to leave her. When she weakly placed her right arm around his waist, her head against his shoulder, he smiled to himself. She wasn’t a quitter, and that made him want to save her all the more.
The slow, torturous walk began. Alex was aware of the marine limping badly on his left leg, the side she was on. As she struggled forward, black dots would dance in front of her eyes. When they did, she would grab at his waist for fear of fainting. Each time, his arm tightened around her and he stopped, waiting patiently. When Alex nodded that the faintness had passed, he slowly began their walk again. She lost track of time as darkness gradually fell over the jungle. No matter how bad she felt physically, Alex felt safe. Whoever this marine was, he was confident, and that gave her the courage to go on.
The jungle had darkened to near blackness when finally Alex felt Jim draw to a halt. His lips scant inches from her ear, he whispered, “We’re home, gal.”
Relief shattered through Alex, and she felt her knees buckling beneath her. The blackness that had been threatening to engulf her finally did, and Alex heard herself moan softly as she connected with the ground. It was the last thing she remembered.
CHAPTER TWO
Alex awoke slowly, moving through a constant barrier of pain radiating from her wound. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the gloom. At least her nose was working. Wherever she was lying had the dank, stale odor of earth. Slivers of moonlight tremored from some unknown source above her. Slowly she began to see outlines.
Jim McKenzie slept with his chin against his chest opposite her, propped against an earthen wall. Alex heard frogs and crickets in the distance. She appeared to be in a cave of some sort, the bare outline of walls rising around them. The ground under her was hard and unforgiving, but Alex realized that a blanket had been placed beneath her against the dampness. The flight suit she’d worn had been removed, as had her blouse. In its place, a thin blanket covered her. Carefully touching her dressed shoulder wound, Alex realized that her left bra strap had been cut away, but she still wore the remainder of the bra.
Her gaze returned to McKenzie. He was barefoot! Calluses covered the balls and heels of his feet. Her gaze drifted upward, and she drank in the sight of him in his rumpled olive uniform. Even in sleep, his hand rested over the butt of a sheathed knife fastened around his waist.
To the left of him she saw a few meager supplies, but couldn’t make out exactly what they were. When she moved slightly, the marine snapped awake. In the same motion, he jerked the long, lethal-looking knife from its sheath. Gasping, Alex froze.
Jim had gone instantly from a sitting position to a kneeling one, knife ready. Sleep was torn from him. When he realized it was Alex who had moved, his shoulders slumped in relief. The terror in her huge gray eyes made him quickly resheathe his Ka-bar knife. He moved over to her, crouching under the five-foot roof of the tunnel—too low for him to stand upright.
“How you doing?” he asked, his voice shaky with adrenaline.
Alex closed her eyes and touched her pounding heart. “Okay. You scared me to death when you jumped like that.”
Jim sat down, his right leg tucked beneath his body, his splinted leg stretched out before him. In the moonlight he could see the tension in Alex’s face. She was in obvious pain.
“Sorry,” he muttered, “it’s a habit.”
Relaxing as he lightly touched her left arm, Alex nodded. “That’s okay.” She licked her dry lips. “You’re Jim McKenzie.”
He nodded. “I didn’t think you’d remember. You were pretty out of it when I found you. We’re in a caved-in tunnel the enemy used to own.” He pointed upward. “There’s a small, concealed hole up there for air ventilation and light, but if we talk too loud, a passing VC might overhear us. Understand?”
“Y-yes.” Alex watched as he leaned over and retrieved a chipped wooden bowl that contained water and a small piece of cloth.
Jim squeezed out of the dark green cloth, a portion of the towel he’d once worn around his neck to wipe sweat from his eyes. During the last month the towel had gradually been torn into pieces, serving many utilitarian purposes.
“I feel a lot better now than I did when you first found me.” Alex met and held his warm gaze. “Thanks for saving my life.”
His mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. “I’m glad I decided to go and check out the crash. I sure didn’t expect to find a woman.”
Alex relaxed as he gently wiped her face and neck, the water feeling heavenly against her hot skin. “Believe me, I never expected to be in Vietnam, much less get shot down.” She lifted her right hand toward him. “I’m Alex Vance...Alexandra, but my friends call me Alex.”
The shadows were deep, and Jim could see the terror banked in her eyes. She was trying to be brave, and that touched him. He gripped her hand gently and squeezed it. “Alexandra’s a real purty name. You can call me Jim, McKenzie or Mac. Any of them suit.” Releasing her hand, he rinsed the cloth in the bowl of water and squeezed it out again. “What are you doin’ in Nam?”
Licking her chapped lips, Alex tried to smile but failed. “I was taking a helicopter from Marble Mountain to Firebase Lily when we got hit by enemy groundfire,” she said softly. She closed her eyes, her voice growing scratchy. “The other marines, they didn’t make it, Mr. McKenzie. They’re dead.”
He continued to bathe her face free of the crusty dirt and blood. “I’m no officer, just an enlisted recon marine. No need for any formality.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear about those men dyin’. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Alex tried to hold back tears. Her gaze clung to his harsh, tense features. Under any other circumstance, she would have thought Jim to be made of granite, his face not handsome at all. But the way he pursed his mouth, as if to hold back his own barrage of feelings, told her he was a man with a conscience, and that made her feel better.
“You’re a corporal in the marines?”
“Recon marines,” Jim corrected. He cradled her right arm as he began to cleanse it. She had any number of scratches that could eventually fester and become infected if he didn’t wash them clean. Picking up a small bar of soap, he scrubbed the dirt from her skin.
“I’m sorry...I don’t know what recons are.”
“You’re a civilian, then? I thought you might be in the service.”
“No, I would never be in the military, believe me.”
The emotion behind her statement caught him off guard. “Not many women join,” he agreed. “Let me tell you about recons. We’re the elite arm of the corps. We get dropped behind enemy lines in teams of six men to gather information from the VC. Then, if everything goes well, we’re picked up at a prearranged spot and returned behind our lines.”
“I’m not too up on the military,” Alex said. “I never knew recons existed.”
“That’s okay.” His mouth quirked again. “When I didn’t find any dog tags or identification on you, I thought you might be a spook.”
“Spook?”
“Yeah, you know—a CIA operative. A spy.”
Alex languished beneath his care. She managed a slight smile. “I’m twenty-two years old and a nursing student in Virginia. I graduate this coming September.”
“A nurse. That’s good,” he said, washing out the cloth. Dumping the dirty water into a small stream at the other side of the tunnel, Jim scooped up another bowl of fresh and brought it back to where she lay.
He wiped her throat and across her delicate collarbone. Once he’d dragged Alex into his tunnel and concealed the entrance with brush, Jim had done the best he could to tend her wound in the dark before catching some sleep himself. What he’d seen when he’d removed her blouse hadn’t been encouraging. “Then you realize you’ve got a piece of shrapnel sticking out of your left shoulder,” he said now. He saw her eyes widen. “I took off your flight suit and blouse—” he gestured toward the rear wall “—washed both of ’em out the best I could and hung them up on those sticks wedged into the wall over there. It’ll probably take a day or two for them to dry in this humidity, though.”
Jim hesitated fractionally before pulling the blanket away from her shoulder to check the wound. They were strangers, and yet he’d nearly undressed Alex in order to tend her injury. As young as she was, Jim knew she must feel awkward at the unexpected intimacy of their situation. But he had no choice. He drew the blanket down to her waist.
Alex was too sick and worried to be embarrassed, but still she felt shy about her partial state of nudity. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead right now,” she whispered, suddenly emotional.
“You’re a fighter, so my money’s on you to pull through,” Jim offered. When he saw her cheeks flush with sudden embarrassment, he murmured, “Sorry I had to undress you.” And then he managed a slight smile. “I don’t make a habit of undressing ladies without their permission.”
His quiet words dissolved Alex’s humiliation. “It wasn’t your fault.” Alex twisted her head enough to look at the compress over her wound. “You saw the shrapnel?”
“Yeah. It’s a pretty big dog-ugly piece.”
She grimaced at his colorful description. “Were you able to clean the wound out?” she asked as she lay back, exhausted.
“The best I could. You fainted as we reached the tunnel, so I took advantage of the situation. I used soap and water to clean it out before I dressed it.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
Jim shook his head. “No, it’s swollen and bruised-looking, but there’s no more bleeding.”
Relief shattered through Alex. “Good. Is there any redness around the wound? Any red streaks?” she asked, thinking of infection or blood poisoning.
“None so far.” Jim glanced at his watch’s luminous dial. “You’ve been asleep all night. That’s good.” He gazed upward toward the source of meager light. “It’s almost dawn.”
Alex stayed quiet a long time, thinking. “How near is the closest marine firebase?” she asked finally.
Jim set the bowl and cloth aside. He wrapped his arm around his drawn-up knee while keeping his other leg extended. “About ten miles, if memory serves me correctly.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Alex said, her voice quavering. “I’ve got enough nursing knowledge under my belt to know that if I don’t get this piece of shrapnel removed fast, I’ll be in real trouble.”
McKenzie heard the fear in her voice. Even in the waning moonlight gradually being replaced by dawn, Alexandra Vance was beautiful. The way her full lips moved, the fear in her eyes, touched him as nothing else had since that horrifying incident—Jim savagely shut down his thoughts, not wanting to relive that tragic day. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, “Alex, we aren’t going anywhere. We can’t.”
Her eyes rounded. “Why not?” she demanded, her voice going off-key.
Jim pointed to his leg. “I busted up my left leg three weeks ago. My recon team was hattin’ out for our prearranged pickup point when the VC discovered our presence. We were runnin’ hard, and I told my lieutenant, Matt Breckenridge, that I’d hang to the rear to protect the group. I got pretty far behind, and I wasn’t watching where I was going as closely as I should’ve been.” He grimaced. “I fell into this underground tunnel. It knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I woke up five hours later in the bottom of this place, my leg busted up, and alone.”
“My God. Didn’t your friends come back to get you?”
Jim shrugged. “Normally, no marine leaves a buddy in the field, but I think the tunnel brush hid the hole after I’d fallen into it, and they couldn’t find me. With the VC hot on their heels, they couldn’t spend the time to look long for me, anyway.”
“That happened three weeks ago?” Alex gasped, her gaze flying to his poorly splinted leg.
“Yeah. Recons are taught to be self-sufficient. I regained consciousness, realized I was in this place—” he raised his arm to encompass the space “—and started thinking about survival. This is an old, caved-in tunnel the VC used years ago, probably in the fifties, when they were fighting the French. That stream eventually weakened the dirt walls and the tunnel caved in. The VC haven’t been in here for years, from what I can tell.”
Alex could see more now that dawn light was cascading through the hole in the roof. The tunnel was about ten feet across and thirty feet long. At one end, loose dirt was evidence of the cave-in. She looked up.
“That ventilation hole doubles as an emergency exit,” Jim offered. “Probably was a ladder there at one time, but they took it with them when they left. When you fainted, I lowered you down here as carefully as I could. I didn’t want to start that shoulder of yours bleeding again if I could help it.”
Alex met and held his exhausted blue gaze. The ceiling was about five feet high, and she began to understand and appreciate Jim’s strength and vigilance. “You splinted your leg yourself?”
“Yes. There were plenty of sticks lying around on the floor. I had my knife, so I made these splints.” Pride sounded in his voice.
With a shake of her head, Alex whispered, “Did you have any pain pills?”
He patted the webbed belt at his waist. “All recons carry a pretty good first-aid kit. I had some pain killers, and used a couple of them, but they made me too groggy. VC were all around the place. I had to keep a clear head.”
“But...how did you eat that first week or two?” He wouldn’t have been able to get far with a broken leg.
With a one-cornered grin, Jim said, “Well, now, I’m not sure you want to know.”
“I do.”
With a shrug, he said, “There were a number of banded kraits—poisonous snakes—that were makin’ this place their home. That and rats...”
“Oh, dear...” Alex’s stomach surged and nausea overwhelmed her. She shut her eyes, fighting the reaction.
“Sorry,” Jim apologized. “Now, this past week, I can get around with the crutch I made, and I’ve mostly been living off edible roots topside. I found a VC camp nearby and stole some rice from them. Recons are taught to grub off the land in order to survive.”
“Where are you from?” Alex asked, purposely changing the topic.
He grinned boyishly for the first time. “I’m from the Show Me state, Missouri.” Pointing to his bare feet, he added, “I come from hill folk, and my ma and pa still live in a little cabin in a place known as Raven Holler. Ma makes quilts, and Pa, well...he makes ends meet by making white mule.”
“White mule?”
Jim smiled fondly, thinking back to his family and the growing-up years he’d loved. “Ever heard of white lightnin’?”
“Corn liquor?”
“The same. Pa makes two-hundred proof in stills he’s got hidden around the hills. So far, he’s avoided the law. He sells all he can make. He’s kinda well known for his white mule.”
Alex smiled gently, seeing Jim’s features relax in that moment. There was a burning flicker of hope in his eyes and a kind of dreaminess, as if he were back in Missouri.
“I like your Southern accent,” she offered. His voice, the softness of his drawl, was in direct opposition to his rough-hewn features.
“And you’ve got a voice like a nightingale,” Jim returned.
Alex smiled, feeling heat nettle her cheeks. “I wish I could sing like one. Thanks, anyway.” For the first time since the crash, she felt hope thread through her. “I’ve never met anyone from Missouri.”
“Outsiders call our people hillbillies, but—” Jim looked significantly around the tunnel “—everything I ever learned from my pa has helped keep me alive these past three weeks. None of those people who made fun of us or our lack of book learnin’ would have survived this long.”
Alex hurt for Jim. “People can be cruel,” she whispered. Her father came to mind.
“What about your family?”
“I’m the only girl,” Alex offered.
“Don’t make it sound so bad.”
She grimaced. “I’ve got two older brothers in the marines. My father is—well, he’s a hawk,” she explained, using the term that had recently become common for referring to those in favor of the war. “He believes wholeheartedly in this conflict.”
McKenzie looked at her strangely. “And you? What do you believe about Nam?”
“You’ll probably laugh at me, Jim, but I think it’s all wrong. I don’t believe we should be sending more and more troops over here. It just means that many more men who will get killed.”