Thank you, Doctor Jordan. I ... uh ... maybe I could just come here to hang out after school.” She smiled at me and shook her head.“Do you really think you can turn the head of a woman my age? That would be both illegal and unethical. And rather stupid when you have so many girls your age to choose from.” She leaned in close to me and spoke so only I could hear her. “Come back when you’re eighteen.”I couldn’t believe I was going to school. I’d be a freshman hobbling around on crutches and dragging a rolling bookbag behind me. Mom took me shopping after the doctor appointment. I got a couple new pair of jeans since mine had been cut up when I had the cast on my leg. I chose a nice polo shirt and a button-down oxford and some new underwear. And new shoes. Something inside me cringed when I saw the running shoes that Doctor Jordan had suggested. I knew they weren’t the most stylish things for a high school student to wear, but when I put them on, the support they gave my weak leg was. After cleaning and bandaging that nasty gash in my forehead, I looked around, and figured I might as well head on home, as it was closer than trying to walk back to the highway and on into town. That decided, I slung my first aid pack over my shoulder and groaned at the thought of walking several miles with a headache and all the aches and pains of being thrown about in the wreck — I’d thought I was done with all that ground-pounding while beat-up when I left the Marines. I struck off up the dirt road toward my family home. Three hours later I was just coming onto our ranch land and things started to really look wrong. I had been noticing little things that weren’t quite right all along, but put them down to things changing because I had been away from home so long, but what I was seeing now … this … was just … wrong. I had come to the crossing of Blanched Creek, but where was the bridge that my dad and uncles built when I was just 10? There was no sign it had been washed away in a.
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