By the time they were done with opening statements the judge decided it was time to recess for lunch. Shawn followed Major Wade out.
“Aside from this court martial stress, how are you doing?” Major Wade asked as they walked toward the mess hall.
“About as well as can be expected. They’re still trying to save my back and ribs.”
“What do you mean?”
“The docs are concerned the damage to my ribs and upper back was too extensive to repair all of it. There’s the possibility that at best it’ll hurt for the rest of my life.”
“And at worst?”
Shawn studied Major Wade for a moment, “I’ll have significant nerve damage affecting sensation and muscle control from the shoulder blades down.”
Major Wade whistled, “Man. He messed you up pretty good. Don’t worry, though. Black Ops takes care of their own. You’ll be in good hands regardless of what happens.”
“I just don’t know if I want to live like that. On the worst case end of it I wouldn’t even be able to walk without a cane or something. At best I’d be in constant pain? That’s a nasty way to live.”
Major Wade didn’t answer right away. Shawn knew it was because there was no answer. What did someone say to news like Shawn just gave the Major? They ate lunch and talked of inconsequential random things. Shawn didn’t want to venture back into territory related to his injuries or the possibility he’d never return to service. From the looks of it Major Wade didn’t seem to want to contemplate that either.
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