Path of Jen: Bloodborne (29 page)

“Help me,” he mouthed. There was no sound
aside from muffled gurgling and the rustling sound of the paper
suit as he struggled.

Jen pointed the shotgun directly at his head,
and considered exactly how she should help him. “I should put you
out of your misery for hurting my friends, you jerk,” she said
through clenched teeth. Jen wanted to pull the trigger. She wanted
to pull it badly as payback for Lance Corporal Sharp, but a small
voice in the back of her head told her,
“He’s already done for,
just keep moving.”

The man fell back on the seat and stopped
struggling. He was getting weaker, and his hand slipped away from
his neck. Jen grimaced and the blood flowed freely.
“He’s
done."

Jen took a quick look around the vehicle and
returned to the four-wheeler. She re-slung the shotgun across her
back and put the four-wheeler in gear. With more confidence, and a
healthy dose of anger, she sped off down the road. About fifty
yards past the black vehicle there were tracks leading off road to
the east. She slowed just enough to make the turn, and followed the
tracks.

The trail was bumpy and Jen was having a hard
time keeping control. She had to slow down and concentrate on the
terrain directly in from of her instead of scanning ahead for
Marines or bad guys. She crested a rise and nearly ran over
Sergeant Lynch. “Oh no!” she yelled, slamming on the brakes, she
lurched to a stop. The front of the machine hit a kneeling Sergeant
Lynch in the back and knocked him forward onto his face.

Sergeant Lynch groaned and pushed back onto
his knees. “What the hell?” he swore. His body ached, but it would
have been far worse if he had not been wearing kevlar body armor.
He worked his way to a kneeling position and suddenly turned,
raising his rifle toward Jen.

“Wait! It’s me!” she shouted. She raised her
hands above her head and asked, “Are you okay?”

Sergeant Lynch dropped the muzzle of his
rifle and sighed in frustration. “Didn’t I freaking tell you to
stay inside?" He stood up on shaky legs and stretched his sore
back. Jen saw pock marks and tears on the front of his body
armor.

“Did you get shot?” she asked with
undisguised worry in her voice.

Sergeant Lynch looked down at his gear and
said, “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s nothing." He pointed at the four
wheeler and asked, “Did you get that on your own, or did one of my
guys make it back?"

She shook her head and frowned. “Nobody made
it back. The shooting stopped and I had to see what happened." She
pointed back down the trail and choked on her words. Her throat
tightened up and she couldn’t say what she wanted to.

Sergeant Lynch saw her struggling and noticed
she was getting emotional. “Yeah, I saw him too,” he said with a
nod. “Sharp was the first to go down. He took two or three of those
bastards with him though." He paused for a second and looked her in
the eye. “They opened fire first, Jen. They weren’t looking to do
this the nice way." He shook his head in disbelief. “They came in
with the intent of killing all of us, not just taking you. Why?” he
asked. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

Jen remembered the man in the SUV wearing
personal protective equipment.
“They knew about the blood borne
pathogen!”
she realized.
“Do I tell him? Will he understand,
or will he blame me for all of this?”
Jen wondered.
“Oh, who
am I kidding? This is definitely my fault!”
she finally
admitted.

Sergeant Lynch slung his rifle and motioned
for Jen to scoot back. He was going to join her on the
four-wheeler, and he was going to drive.

Jen held up a hand and said, “Wait, there’s
something you need to know." She took a deep breath and readied
herself to level with him. “I have a disease. That’s why everyone
wants me,” she said.

Sergeant Lynch looked confused.

“When I was kidnapped,” she started in a
shaky voice. “They…experimented on me." Jen saw by his expression
that he was trying to control his anger, but his interest was
piqued. She continued, “They made me a…I don’t know, a biological
weapon. My blood is dangerous, Sergeant."

He frowned. “So they were eliminating the
threat…which included my men." He turned his head and spit angrily
on the ground. “Screw those guys, and screw anybody else who
tries." Sergeant Lynch motioned for Jen to scoot back again and
swung his leg over the seat.

“Hold on,” he said in loud voice. Jen hooked
her hands into the arm holes of his body armor and held tight. He
shoved the gear lever to FWD, and pressed the throttle. Just as
they lurched forward, he let off the throttle and hit the brake.
They stopped and he said “Oh, and do me a big favor. Don’t bleed on
me,” over his shoulder.

Only one other Marine from Sergeant Lynch’s
squad was alive. It was the half-naked Lance Corporal Jen had met
outside the tents on the first day. They had given up on finding
anyone alive when they found him stumbling back into camp with one
good eye and a shot up leg.

“What the hell happened to you O’Brian?” the
Sergeant asked the muscular Marine as they pulled up next to him on
the four-wheeler, just outside the camouflage netting. He cut off
the engine and they dismounted. They had already circled the camp
and found all of the other Marines and assailants dead. The Marines
had given at least as good as they got, but the men who came for
Jen, were professionals too. It was a tough fight.

“What?” O’Brian asked. “Oh, you mean this?”
he said pointing at his bloody eye socket as if it was nothing.
“Well, the first guy got lucky and hit my leg before I got him." He
hopped once and presented his bad leg, showing the gnarled calf and
outer thigh area. “That was my bad for standing still for too long.
I got the second guy between the eyes just before the third guy
shot my gun. Hit it right in the barrel.” he said, shaking his
head. “So I limped over to him and whacked him with it, but he was
a big son of a…" He paused and looked at Jen. “Sorry ma’am. He was
a big guy. Anyway, we grappled and went to knives, and well…I hate
to say it but I think I cut my own eye. It happened too fast. All I
know is, I lost an eye, but the other guy still has my knife
punched up through his neck and into his skull." He looked at Jen
again and said, “I’m sorry ma’am. That was pretty graphic.”

Jen just stood there with her mouth open.
“Are you kidding me?” she said. “Don’t apologize! Geez, what are
you guys made of anyway?”

The Lance Corporal shrugged. “We’re Marines
ma’am." He looked around with his good eye. “Where’s the rest of
the guys? Didn’t anybody else make it?”

“It’s just us, Lance Corporal,” the Sergeant
said without emotion. “Get your ass into the tent so I can patch
you up. Don’t think you’re done for the day either. You’ve got work
to do, so hurry up.”

As soon as the Lance Corporal limped off to
the tent, Jen punched the Sergeant in the arm. “What is wrong with
you?” she whispered harshly. “He just got shot! And he killed a guy
with is bare hands! How can you make him work?”

The Sergeant rounded on her sharply. “First,
don’t question me. Second, what the heck do you think is going to
happen as soon as he stops moving? He’s going to go into shock,
that’s what. I am not an idiot, lady. I know he’s been through it,
but he's a United States Marine. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let
him sit round and feel sorry for himself."

Jen took a half step back and swallowed. She
didn’t know what to say. She was angry, embarrassed, and sorry at
the same time.
“I really don’t understand these guys at
all,”
she admitted to herself. The conflicting emotions passed
quickly, and she simply felt awkward. Rather than speaking, Jen
nodded and pointed toward the tent. She raised her eyebrows as if
asking,
“Well? Are we going?”

Sergeant Lynch snorted and shook his head.
“After you,” he said. She started walking to the tent and he held
his hand up. “Wait,” he said. “On second thought, I think you’d
better wait out here. No offense, but I don’t want my guy catching
whatever you’re carrying.”

Jen opened her mouth and started to protest,
but he shut her down.

“Hey! Toughen up!” he shouted. “This isn’t
personal, got it?" He pointed toward the tent. “He’s bleeding all
over the place! Just..” and his tone softened as he realized he was
being a world class jerk. “Just gimme a few minutes to patch him
up, and then you can come in okay?”

Jen nodded, still unwilling to talk to him
after his tirade.

“Besides, I like the idea of somebody
watching my back out here,” he added. He turned and walked into the
tent to tend to his Marine. Jen unslung the shotgun and sat on the
four-wheeler.

A buzzing in the background grew louder and
Jen looked around for the source.
“What the heck?”
she
thought until she looked up. There, circling slowly above, was a
gray airplane. “No,” she thought. “That’s not an airplane, or at
least not a real one. That’s a drone." She watched it for a minute
before it hit her. “A drone!”

She hopped off the four-wheeler and ducked
under the camouflage netting. “Lynch! There are more coming!” she
shouted. “They’re coming!" She pushed her way into the tent and
found Sergeant Lynch wrapping the Lance Corporal’s leg with a
bandage. They both looked at her in surprise.

“What are you talking bout?” the Lance
Corporal asked.

“There’s a remote controlled airplane!” said
Jen excitedly. “Doesn’t that mean somebody’s watching us? They
might be coming here!”

The two Marines looked up, instinctively,
even though they couldn’t see beyond the roof of the tent. All of
them could hear the noisy engine of the little airplane, and
Sergeant Lynch said, “Aww crap.”

The Lance Corporal pushed his hands away and
said, “I got this Sergeant. Go do what you gotta do. I’m right
behind you." He took the bandage and finished wrapping it. The
bandage didn’t need to be tied. It had a plastic hook on one end
that, when twisted, secured the bandage and applied pressure to the
wound. He opened another bandage and wrapped it around the wound on
his calf in the same manner.

Jen followed the Sergeant out of the tent and
asked, “What can I do?”

Sergeant Lynch looked at her without emotion.
“Pray” he said.

Fouzia and Sarah sat in the Ahmadi’s living
room watching television. The nightly news was on and video footage
from yet another mass refugee migration to Europe from the middle
east was being featured.

“Didn’t they learn anything the last time?”
Sarah asked. “I mean, Germany alone is having enough trouble to
warn everyone away from accepting so many Muslim immigrants." She
turned to Fouzia suddenly and apologized. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t
mean to be rude!”

Fouzia laughed and pushed Sarah’s arm
playfully. “Don’t worry so much, Sarah! It’s not so easy to offend
me. I’m a doctor, remember?" She laughed again. “Besides, I
completely agree.”

They watched together as video footage showed
thousands of immigrants, mostly military aged men, running through
the streets past police and barricades.

“Why are there so many men?” asked Sarah? I
mean, it’s not even funny. It’s like a full on invasion."

Fouzia looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Well, that’s actually what it is, Sarah. What people don’t realize
is that this,” she pointed at the television; “This actually is an
invasion. The caliphate is trying to expand. How better to expand
and conquer than from within? These men will take jobs, marry local
women, influence their communities, and they’ll do it all in the
name of Islam. Mark my words, Sharia will grow as Islam spreads. It
will continue growing in Europe until the caliphate gains complete
control…and then it’s coming here."

Sarah screwed up her face. “That is the
scariest thing I think I’ve ever heard, Mrs. Ahmadi,” she said.
“Well, the scariest thing since hearing about Jena’s
kidnapping.”

The two women sat quietly until Najid walked
in the kitchen door from the garage. “Hello my love,” he said to
Fouzia. He bent over and kissed her cheek. “Hello Sarah,” he said,
taking a seat on the recliner. “What are we watching?”

“It’s more Muslim refugees swarming to
European countries,” explained Fouzia. “We were just commenting on
the fact that most of them are young men, but the news is still
referring to them as men, women, and children, as if they were in
equal parts.”

Najid nodded and watched the news with them.
After a few minutes he said, “They say the men are leaving to
escape being forced into military service against their countrymen.
I suppose that is true for some, but I can’t believe it is true for
all of them. There are just too many. Wouldn’t they be taking their
families with them if that was the case?" He looked at Fouzia and
then at Sarah. “Where are their mothers and fathers? Where are
their little brothers and sisters? I see military age men, storming
across borders under the guise of innocents seeking refuge. Nothing
good will come of this. Doesn’t anyone remember the attacks in
Paris? What about Germany?” Najid said, waving his hand at the
television for emphasis.

“See?” said Sarah, excitedly. “That’s what I
said!" She was feeling more comfortable talking with the
Ahmadi’s.

Fouzia smiled at her excitement and then
turned back to the television. She watched the news with hope. She
scanned through the flood of refugee faces, looking for one in
particular. She was looking for a young woman, the same age as
Sarah.
“Where are you Jena?”
she wondered.
“Please, show
yourself to me so I know you’re still alive."

The three of them watched the rest of the
nightly news, and talked about it for a while after. They discussed
how Christians were persecuted more and more around the globe, and
yet Islam was tolerated and accepted. It was more or less promoted
regardless of the atrocities committed each day under its banner.
In response, the Ahmadi’s and the Callahan’s prayed for the plight
of Christians around the world each time they got together. They
especially prayed for Jena.