The Will to Love

“Helluva place you live in,” he muttered, opening the pack with quick, sure movements.

Kerry raised one eyebrow. “Corporal? Could you watch your language? This little girl here doesn’t need to hear cursing.”

Biting back a reply, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” he replied, glancing uneasily at Kerry, who was sitting cross-legged on the rug, the child in her arms, the girl’s head resting against her breast as she sucked her thumb. Kerry was smiling down at Petula and gently threading her fingers through the child’s tangled black hair.

“Is this your first time in the basin?” she asked Quinn.

“First time,” he answered. He pulled out some food packets. In all, he had twenty. Lining them up in order of breakfast, lunch and dinner, he opened the first one and put a heating tab beneath it to warm it up.

Kerry’s mouth watered as the odor of bacon and eggs filled the space. Her stomach clenched in hunger as she watched the marine handle the MRE with deft, sure movements. There was nothing soft or vulnerable about Corporal Grayson. No, he was all-business. The dark look on his face told Kerry a lot. Shock was written in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it from her as he worked quietly.

Taking utensils from his pack, he readied the plate of eggs and bacon. The look on Kerry’s face as he handed it to her made him flinch inwardly.

“How long since you ate last?”

Shrugging, Kerry said, “I don’t know. I’m so busy, so tired most of the time, that I forget about things like that.”

Quinn watched with fascination as she sat Petula in front of her, gave her the warmed tray and placed the fork in her hand. Immediately, the child began stuffing the eggs into her mouth, hot or not.

“Take it easy….” Kerry whispered to Petula. “If you eat too fast, you’ll throw it up, honey. And you want to keep down what you’re eating. Okay?”

Petula didn’t understand how sensitive her hungry, fatigued body could be, so Kerry monitored the amount of food the child took in. Halfway through the unexpected feast, Petula yawned, rubbed her eyes and murmured, “I feel sleepy….”

Setting the plate aside, Kerry smiled gently and eased the girl onto a blanket, beside a stuffed purple dinosaur near her pillow. Getting up on her hands and knees, Kerry drew a second blanket around her and tucked it in.

“Go to sleep, honey. Your stomach is full for the first time in a long time, and all your energy is going there to digest it.” She ran her hand soothingly across Petula’s thin back, and very soon the child fell asleep, her arms around Barney.

Quinn motioned to the MRE. “Why don’t you eat the rest?”

Kerry frowned. “There are so many people out there starving. If I ate it, I’d feel guilty.”

“Eat,” he ordered, studying the way her blouse hung on her frame. She’d probably dropped a good ten pounds or more in the last two weeks. Seeing the hungry glint in her eyes, Quinn added, “Look, I need you strong, awake and healthy. So dig in, will you?”

Casting him a glance, she picked up the plate and sat down opposite him. “You’re a pragmatic person, Corporal Grayson.”

“When you’re in a war, reality is the name of the game. You’re a cop. You must understand that,” he said gruffly, then regretted his harsh tone. He watched as she carefully spooned up a mouthful of eggs and started chewing. The look on her face was one of pure pleasure. She closed her eyes.

“Mmm…I never thought eggs could taste so good….”

If someone felt guilty right now, it was Quinn. The hollowness in Kerry’s cheeks told him more than he wanted to know.

“How long, really, since you ate last?”

Sighing, Kerry opened her eyes. “Probably twenty-four hours or more.”

Quinn reached down and pulled out a canteen filled with water.

“Here. You’re probably thirsty, too.”

As she took the dark green canteen, her fingers met his briefly. Kerry absorbed his touch. The look in his eyes was predatory and assessing. “You don’t miss much, do you?” There was a wry note in her voice as she set the MRE aside, unscrewed the lid of the canteen and drank deeply of the proffered gift of water.

After a moment, Kerry forced herself to stop drinking. She had to think of others, too. Reluctantly, she put down the canteen, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then started to replace the cap.

“You’re not finished.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not. Drink up.” Quinn hooked a thumb toward his pack. “I’ve got a gallon of water in there. More than enough for the three of us.”

Kerry hesitated. She remembered once more those who were thirsty outside her hovel. She had heard too many squalls of infants dying of thirst. Seen too many desperate parents looking for water for their children. Her fingers tightened around the canteen, which rested on her knee.

When Kerry hung her head, her knuckles white as she gripped the canteen, understanding hit Quinn like a steamroller. Frowning, he lowered his voice.

“Listen to me, Kerry. I was in the Gulf War. I was over there in the worst of it. I saw a lot of people die of thirst—men, women and children. It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t right. But the first thing you have to do is take care of yourself. You’re the only one here who has the information we need. You can’t short yourself just because people out there need water, too. Without you, this whole operation in Area Five would fall apart. I need you strong. Thinking. Not weak and unable to put two thoughts together.”

His voice was gentle with understanding. Kerry lifted her head and drowned in his lambent blue gaze, which was fraught with emotion. Slowly, she picked up the canteen again. Taking off the top, she lifted it to her lips and drank deeply. For the first time in two weeks, she was able to drink all the water she really wanted. What a luxury!

Wiping her mouth, she gave him a sad look. “I still feel guilty.”

“That’s okay,” Quinn rumbled. “Life isn’t fair. It isn’t ever gonna be. You’ve earned the right to the water, and—” he gestured toward the half-eaten MRE “—the rest of this food.”

Grimacing, Kerry handed the canteen back to him. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Eat.”

“I can’t….”

“Why not?”

Rubbing her stomach, she gave him a helpless look. “I’ve been so long without good food that if I ate that, I’d throw up, Corporal. I’d be better off eating a crust of bread, or some crackers….”

Wincing internally, Quinn said nothing. He pulled one of the lunch MREs toward him, tore it open and took out a handful of crackers. “Here, start with these. We’ll slowly build you up in the next day or two so you can eat regular food.”

Kerry took the crackers and peeled off the plastic with shaky fingers. Her stomach growled, embarrassingly loud.

“I guess my belly knows it’s going to get fed.”

Moodily, Quinn watched as she daintily ate each cracker as if it were a priceless gift. A look of pleasure suffused her face once again as she tasted the morsels. It hurt to watch her. This was America, the richest nation on earth, and people were starving to death. The terrible reality of that slammed into him. Kerry Chelton was gaunt looking. So was Petula. And so were the men who had taken the bottled water off the Huey earlier. Everyone had obviously dropped weight. Alarmingly so. As Quinn sat there listening to Petula breathing softly in her sleep, cuddling her purple dinosaur, and watching Kerry eat each cracker as if it were a feast, rage rose in him.

It was a rage of frustration. Flying in, he’d seen how every road in the basin, large and small, had been ripped up and torn apart by the massive earthquake. No vehicle, no convoy could possibly get through to give the people a consistent supply line of food. Now, as he sat here with Kerry and the little girl, the human side of the disaster was brought home to him in a way he’d never thought he’d see in the United States.