Path of Jen: Bloodborne (30 page)

When it was time for Sarah to go the three of
them prayed, and then Sarah gave Fouzia a hug before saying
goodbye. “Please, be safe and have a good semester,” Fouzia said as
Sarah got into her car. Fouzia and Najid stood in the doorway and
watched her drive away in her red Ford Fusion. They waved, and felt
a twinge of sadness, knowing they might never get to visit and talk
with their own daughter again.

Deep South was angry. His face was flushed
red, and the veins in his forehead were standing out, pulsing
visibly. He was done talking. This punk in front of him wasn’t
interested in doing anything but antagonize him into saying
something untrue. Deep South knew the tactic. He had used it
himself on detainees. Once an interviewer got the subject on their
heels, or caught them in a lie, it was possible to push them into
making bigger mistakes or confess outright.

“Answer me you big stupid Hick!” the agent
said.

Deep South fixed him with a stare that sent
shivers down the little man’s spine. The CIA agent took a half step
back. Deep South growled and the agent took another step back. The
agent continued walking backward until he ran into the door.

“Hey guys?” he called. “I’m done in
here!"

Deep South stood up. The agent turned and
pounded on the door.

“Hey! Let me out of here!” the little man
yelled in a panic.

Deep South pulled violently at the chain
restraining him to the floor. He couldn’t actually get near the
agent, but he was more than happy to scare the smug bastard anyway.
He growled again as he shook the chain.

The door opened and the agent squeezed
through as fast as he could.

Deep South sunk back into the metal folding
chair and tried to relax. It was gratifying to see the spooks
sweat, but it wasn’t getting him any closer to finding Jen.
“I
can’t help her if I’m tied up in here,”
he told himself.
“Dear God, you helped me save her before. Please, let me out of
here.”

He leaned forward and let his head drop
forward. His chin nearly touched his chest and he felt the sore
muscles in his back and neck stretching painfully. He rolled his
neck slowly side to side, and took deep calming breaths, in and
out.

The door opened again and an attractive woman
in a black skirt and white blouse walked in. She had dirty blonde
hair tucked hastily into a bun, and long athletic legs. Deep South
noticed her hips swayed as she walked, and her blouse was
unbuttoned just enough to show some cleavage, but his first thought
was,
“Jen would look gorgeous in that outfit.”

The woman stood in front of Deep South, very
close. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Dustin, let me
help you so we can get out of here." Her perfume washed over him
and he had to admit, this was a much better tactic than the lame
intimidation ploy the little guy had tried.

“If you want to help me, unchain me and bring
that little guy back in here. He and I were becoming friends,” he
whispered back.

The woman stood up and cocked a hip. “You’re
funny,” she said with a coy smile. “Have you always been that
way?”

Deep South rolled his eyes. He dropped his
head and smiled. After a moment he looked back up at her and said,
“Lady, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m as queer as a three
dollar bill. Seriously, send the little guy back in here,” he said
with a wink.

She reached out and slapped him across the
face. She was clearly upset that he wasn’t taking the bait, and she
glared at him hotly.

Deep South laughed. “Uh oh, did I touch a
nerve?" He continued laughing when the blonde turned on her heel
and stormed out of the room.

Just before the door closed someone else
stepped through. He was a small man, with dark skin and a youngish
look about him.
“He might be Indian or Pakistani,”
Deep
South thought. The man was wearing a white lab coat and eyeglasses,
and Deep South surmised he was a doctor of some sort.

The doctor retrieved another chair from
against the wall and unfolded it about five yards away from Deep
South. He sat back and crossed his legs, silently evaluating the
big man in front of him.

Deep South fixed the doctor with a steely
gaze, and wondered, “Who is this guy?" He waited for the doctor to
say the first word.

When the doctor finally spoke, it was not
what Deep South expected: not by a long shot. “Hello Staff Sergeant
Parks,” he said with a pronounced accent. “I understand we have…a
mutual friend.”

The three fugitives fled Iraq in a stolen
black Chevy Suburban. Sergeant Lynch drove and Jen sat shotgun,
while Lance Corporal O’Bryan sat sideways, with is bad leg extended
on the bench seat behind them. They were heading southwest toward
Jordan and the Gulf of Aqaba. From there they would travel by sea,
southward to the Red Sea before turning north to the Suez Canal, or
west into Egypt. Their ultimate goal was to get into a European
country where the Marines could hep Jen find a doctor and
hopefully, a way out of this mess.

The Marines had ditched their uniforms for
street clothes at the first opportunity, and all three wore head
coverings. The black Suburban flew down the highway, stopping only
for fuel when the extra fuel cans ran empty. They were on the run
from every intelligence agency in the developed world, and no one
could be trusted.

Jen looked out of her window as the
countryside raced by. Her gaze drifted up to the sky, where white
clouds dominated a hazy blue sky. She saw a bird soaring high in
the air, just under the clouds, and she remembered the drone that
circled just after the attack at the Marines’ camp.
“Who’s drone
was up there watching them?”
she wondered.
“Was there an
intelligence analyst in a dark room somewhere watching and hoping
she died? Didn’t they know who she was and that she was kidnapped?
This isn’t my fault!”
she wanted to shout.
“Would they even
care?”

O’Bryan moaned in the back seat. Jen snapped
back to the present and turned around in her seat to look at the
Lance Corporal. The Marine was laying against the door, with his
eyes closed and a sheen of sweat covering his pale skin.
“Something’s wrong Sergeant,” she said. “I think he is getting
worse.”

Sergeant Lynch pulled the Suburban over on
the side of the highway and parked. “I told you to call me Matt,”
he grumbled as he climbed out and walked around to the rear of the
vehicle. He opened up one of the rear doors and retrieved a
camouflaged kit. He brought it to the side of the vehicle opposite
of O’Bryan, and opened the door.

He set the kit on the seat next to O’Bryan’s
extended leg, and unzipped it. It was a medical kit. He pulled out
a red handled device that looked similar to the detachable handle
to a power tool of some kind. Instead of a threaded bolt head
extending from the connecting face, it had a circular row of ugly
looking needles poking out. Sergeant Lynch laid out an IV bag, some
tubing, and two needles, and then picked up the red handle
device.

“Ummm, Matt, what the heck is that thing?”
Jen asked awkwardly. Calling any of the Marines by their first
names seemed foreign to her. They only called each other by last
name or nick-name in camp, so she felt like she was violating a
rule of some kind.

“It’s to start an IV. There’s a big ass
needle hiding in here that will punch straight into his bone marrow
when I push down on this thing." He pointed at the end with all of
the needles sticking out. “It’s a fast way to start an IV, and I
don’t have to try to find a vein. When somebody looses a lot of
blood, or crashes like this, finding a vein can be impossible. This
little monster makes getting fluid and meds into somebody
easy.”

Jen watched with interest as he pressed the
needles into O’Bryan’s shoulder. The row of needles held the handle
firmly in alignment with the targeted bone, while Sergeant Lynch
pushed hard on the device. Suddenly, Jen heard a snap, and the
Sergeant pulled the handle away. At first Jen was worried the snap
she heard was the Lance Corporal’s arm breaking. Sergeant Lynch had
put a lot of force on the device to get it to activate. When the
red handle was removed; though, Jen could see that the Lance
Corporal’s arm was still in tact, and now there was an IV tube
jutting from the skin.

Sergeant Lynch connected the IV bag and then
injected antibiotics and morphine straight into it. He hung the IV
from the hook above the door and tossed the kit into the next row
of back seats. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get going. I’ll change
out the bandages next time we stop.”

“I know it’s not easy, but O’Bryan really
needs a doctor,” Jen said.

Sergeant Lynch slammed his door shut and
pulled the Suburban back onto the road. “His name’s Nathan, and
getting to a doctor is going to have to wait."

He spoke in a calm tone, but Jen noticed he
avoided looking at her, and his knuckles were white on the steering
wheel. She looked out her window and tried to find the bird she had
been watching before they stopped. It was gone.

Late that evening, at least two hours after
darkness fell on southwestern Iraq, Jen saw spotlights ahead
illuminating an earth colored double archway extending over the
road. There were three vehicles ahead of them, and Sergeant Lynch
slowed as brake lights glowed in front of them. “How are we going
to get through?” Jen asked him. She had been wondering all along
what his plan was, but she was afraid to ask. His temper frightened
her, and she didn’t want to provoke him.

She could tell he was tired when he answered,
“I’m going to show him my military ID and hope the black SUV and
plain clothes does the trick. Nobody questions people they think
are special ops, or CIA, or whatever." He looked at her and added,
“But this is a border crossing, not some hasty checkpoint along an
MSR. Sorry, that’s a Main Supply Route. They might not be so eager
to be cool and let us through. If they stop us, I’m counting on you
to be our plan B. Keep your knife handy, and make yourself bleed
before you get out of the vehicle. If the virus works as fast as
you said, just infecting one of them should be enough to get us
through."

Jen shivered, but nodded in understanding.
“Whatever it takes to get Nathan some help,” she said. She glanced
back at the sleeping Lance Corporal. He looked awful with his head
wrapped and eye covered, and his leg bloody and bandaged.
“Please, Lord, give him strength to get through this. Keep him
alive until we can find a doctor.”

The Suburban crept forward and Sergeant Lynch
rolled his window partially down. He held up his Military ID for
the border guard, who looked into the vehicle suspiciously. The
guard couldn’t see much because he was relatively small and
standing flat on the ground. The windows were tinted as well. He
walked slowly around the vehicle and looked underneath briefly.

Jen held her hand inside her pocket, with the
knife blade extended and pressed against her index finger. She
pressed even harder as the guard passed her window slowly, and then
eased up when he was past. Jen kept her head down and hoped the
scarf hid enough of her face to avoid drawing his attention.

The border guard finished his walk around the
Suburban and returned to Sergeant Lynch’s window. He said, “Open,”
and took a step back.

Jen pressed hard and slid her finger along
the blade. She winced as she felt the knife cut into her finger
tip. She closed the knife in her pocket, and smeared the welling
blood from her finger all over the handle.
“Dear God, please
help us get out of this alive,”
she prayed.

Matt opened his door and started to climb
out. He fixed Jen with a serious look, and she nodded to let him
know she was ready.

A second guard was standing back, away from
the vehicle as overwatch, and he called out to the first guard in
Arabic. The first guard looked at his watch, and nodded agreement.
He held up his hands to Sergeant Lynch and waved him back into the
vehicle. His arms were extended with his hands pointing down, palms
toward his own body, and he swished them back and forth as if
sweeping filth away from himself with is fingertips. Jen and the
Sergeant understood that the gesture was a cultural thing and was
not intended as disrespect.

Sergeant Lynch hopped back into the driver
seat and closed the door. The guard waved them through the arches
and across the border. The Suburban rolled forward, and against all
odds they entered the Kingdom of Jordan unmolested. Jen sat back in
her seat and exhaled. She didn’t even realize she was holding her
breath until she let it out. She looked over at Sergeant Lynch and
saw him smiling. He glanced at her and then back at the road. He
started chuckling and Jen couldn’t help but join in.

The situation at the border was more intense
than she understood at first. It was starting to sink in. If there
had been a disturbance, they would have the police and probably the
entire Jordanian Army after them before they could get away. At the
very least, it would have let the agencies searching for them know
their location. Getting through the border quietly gave them an
enormous advantage, but they were still fugitives from every
government in the developed world. Laughing was a release, and it
felt good to let go and ignore the hopeless reality of their
situation for a while.

“Get some sleep if you can,” Sergeant Lynch
said in a friendly voice. “I’ll wake you up when we stop for food
or gas."

Jen leaned her seat back and nodded. “Thanks
Matt,” she said. “I mean it." She closed her eyes and drifted off
to sleep as the SUV cruised west through the pitch dark desert.

Sergeant Lynch simply grunted and focused on
the road. After a few minutes, when he was sure she was asleep, he
looked at her. His eyes softened and he shook his head and sighed.
“What this girl has had to endure…”
he thought.
“Jesus,
keep her safe,”
he prayed. He looked back at the road.
“And
Jesus? Take care of my Marines. They’re a rough bunch, but they are
definitely good guys. They didn’t deserve to go out like that."
His eyes started to well with tears, and he wiped them with the
back of one hand.
“One more thing Jesus,”
he thought. All of
the softness was gone from his face, and he gritted his teeth as he
prayed,
“Give me a shot at the son’s of…the animals responsible
for this. Let me be your sword here on earth. I will break them to
pieces."
His eyes drifted back to Jen, and lingered on the
smooth skin of her neck and the side of her pretty face. Slowly, he
felt the calmness return.