Path of Jen: Bloodborne (31 page)

He turned back to the road and drove into the
night. Memories of his family, high school, and a normal life he
would never know again flashed through his mind as he watched the
road in front of them. He remembered stepping off the bus at MCRD
San Diego and standing in the yellow footprints that symbolized the
beginning of his transformation from civilian to Marine. He wished
his parents and his little brother could have been there on
graduation day when he marched across the parade grounds and heard
the Commanding Officer call them all Marines for the first time.
Tears came to his eyes when he heard those words over the loud
speakers, and the applause that followed.

He remembered the day they died in a fiery
car crash, just after he graduated high school. Matt was out all
night at a party, drinking and carrying on with his friends, and
didn’t make it home on time to leave with them. It was supposed to
be one last family trip before he shipped off to the Marines, but
he screwed it up. His dad hadn’t been mad when Matt finally woke up
in his truck and called. His dad just said, “You have time if you
hurry son. Be safe and meet us at the airport. I love you, Matt."
Those were the last words he ever heard from his dad.

Sergeant Lynch left his memories and looked
in the rear view mirror at Nathan O’Bryan. The Lance Corporal was
still sleeping, but he looked a little better than he had prior to
the IV and medicine. “Hang in there little brother,” he said in a
low voice. The Marines became his family the moment his feet landed
in those yellow footprints, and he thought of all of them as
brothers and sisters. He was not unique in that feeling. Marines
have always felt a strong familial bond. It’s one of the
characteristics that sets them apart from the other services. It’s
that bond that makes them so fierce on the battlefield. For
Marines, every battle is personal. Every shot fired is to kill
someone who would do harm to their brother or sister. Every ounce
of blood spilled is in defense of their family.

He couldn’t help but steal another glance at
Jen while she slept. Seeing her resting peacefully, it was
impossible to tell that she was a danger. He remembered Staff
Sergeant Parks and how devoted he was to her. Now he understood
why. He focused on the road ahead and wondered if Deep South was
alive or dead.

Deep South leaned against the back wall in
his cell and his head spun.
“How the hell can the doctor who
started this whole evil mess be walking around free while I’m in
here and Jen is running for her life?"
He took a step forward
and punched the cell door violently. It was a heavy wooden door,
with a solid core of fire retardant material, and it held fast
against his assault. “Are you kidding me?” he yelled. “You’re
working with ISIS! You’re helping them get their experiment back!
You’ll help them kill us all!”

Earlier, in the interrogation room, the
doctor told him how dangerous Jen was, and that he just wanted to
help bring her in so they could manufacture a serum to counteract
any outbreak. He told him about their projections for contagion
outbreak across the Middle East, Europe, Africa, and Asia if Jen
wasn’t captured immediately. Deep South stared at him and refused
to answer any questions. The entire time, from the moment he
admitted he had been the doctor attending to Jen in the hospital,
Deep South imagined getting his hands on the tiny man and ripping
him limb from limb. The rest of the time he prayed for forgiveness
and patience, and worried about Jen hiding somewhere out there all
alone. He hoped the Marines he left her with were able to protect
her, and she wasn’t actually alone. It was hard to trust anyone
else to keep her safe, but he knew he had no choice as long as he
was stuck in here.

A guard outside the cell pounded on the door
and told him to knock it off. Deep South put his head against the
wooden door and closed his eyes. It was all so hopeless. There
wasn’t any way to get Jen through this alive, was there? He sunk
down to his knees and then turned around and sat against the
door.

He thought about the options.
“Could I
really get her to a safe place? Could I find a doctor and a lab,
and keep her safe while the doctor searched for a cure? Can she
even be cured?”
he wondered. Finally, he stood up and pounded
on the door. “Okay!” he yelled. “I’ll help you bring her in!" He
pounded on the door harder. “Do you hear me? I’ll help you bring
her in!”

A few minutes later, the tray slot in the
center of the door opened and Deep South backed up to it and
presented his hands for restraints. A guard placed metal handcuffs
on his wrists and told him to kneel on the floor facing the back
wall. He complied and the door opened. A guard placed metal leg
restraints on his ankles and then helped him to his feet.

Deep South was escorted out of the cell by
two guards and walked down the hall. They led him into a conference
room, complete with a long wooden table, executive style chairs,
and a widescreen television on each wall. The room was noise
insulated, and felt constricting as soon as he stepped through the
doorway. The guard told him to stop and the restraints were
removed.

“Take a seat,” the same guard said. Deep
South pulled the nearest seat out and sat down. The guards stepped
out and closed the door.

One hour later, the blonde haired agent, the
skinny agent, and the doctor walked into the conference room. The
door closed and the three sat across from Deep South. The skinny
agent looked nervous and kept his gaze averted from Deep South’s
face. The woman had a superior look and the hint of a smirk tugging
at the corner of her mouth. The doctor sat emotionless, leaning
back in his chair, waiting for the situation to unfold.

The woman was the first to speak. “We’re
waiting on one more guest before we begin.”

As she was speaking the door opened and Deep
South tensed.

“Good evening Staff Sergeant Parks,” said
Lieutenant Colonel Griffin.

“What world am I living in?" Deep South said
in disbelief.

The Lieutenant Colonel chuckled and set a can
of Diet Dr Pepper on the table in front of him. He pulled out a
chair and sat down. “I’m told you’ve finally decided to play ball.
Is that true?”

Deep South choked down his anger and looked
around the room. “Yes, I want to help you bring her in. I want to
keep everyone safe, and I want to get help for her too if that’s
possible.”

The blonde agent and the Lieutenant Colonel
shared a knowing look, and she slid a folder across the table to
Deep South. “Take a look Staff Sergeant, and tell us what you
see.”

Deep South opened the folder and saw aerial
surveillance photos. “Drone footage?” he asked. He already knew the
answer. He spread the photos out on the table in front of him and
studied them. He recognized the area almost immediately. It was the
Marine camp where he left Jen. “You already know where this is, why
are you asking me?”

“I didn’t ask you to tell us where it is,”
said the agent. “I asked you to tell us what you see in the
photos.”

Deep South looked at the photos again. He
scanned them carefully and began to see what she was referring to.
“I see the aftermath of a firefight. It looks like an engagement
started on the approach road here,” he said pointing at four bodies
lying on the ground near the road. “The assault pushed east, and
off road to here,” an abandoned vehicle and more bodies. “It looks
to me like it ended here." He pointed to an area farther east,
where more bodies were scattered along an off road path. “The camp
itself looks relatively untouched, but the camouflage netting makes
it hard to make out. What I don’t see is…oh wait…there,” he said
pointing to what looked like a mostly symmetrical rock. “Someone
may have survived. There was a four-wheeler in camp, and I think
that might be it. It’s hard to make out, but it looks like someone
is riding it." He shuffled through the photos and checked the time
stamps. “Yep, look here,” he said sliding two photos toward the
agent. There’s a minute gap in these photos, and the four-wheeler
moved. Everything else is stationary.”

The agents looked at each other and nodded.
The female agent said, “That matches closely with what our analysts
told us. There were a total of three survivors; two men and a
woman. They took one of the SUVs the assault team went in with, and
went southwest before our drone lost range.”

Deep South wrinkled his brow and nodded his
head, but inside he breathing a sigh of relief.
“She’s alive!
Thank you God!”

The doctor spoke up for the first time since
entering the room. “Gentlemen, and lady, this is a problem. It only
takes one mistake for a major outbreak to occur. We need to utilize
all available assets to stop her before she crosses the border.
They could be heading to Saudi Arabia, Jordan, or Syria. The
borders are porous, and the chances of catching her before disaster
strikes are dwindling. I suggest letting me contact my own
resources. Perhaps we can arrange a sort of truce and work together
on this?”

“Are you crazy?” said Deep South, pushing
back from the table.

Lieutenant Colonel Griffin took a sip of Diet
Dr Pepper and said, “Now hold on Deep South. Relax for a minute.
The doctor is working with us now, and like it or not, we need him.
The mess he made is one we can’t clean up without some help. Now, I
don’t like it any more than you, but if he can get us some intel
and maybe a free pass through some hostile territory…" He set the
can down and sat back. “Well, we can’t exactly pass that up can
we?"

Deep South looked at the agents across the
table to see their reaction. They didn’t look happy, but they were
nodding agreement. He looked from face to face, expecting one of
them to suddenly crack and tell him this was all a big joke. They
all sat there with serious faces, looking back at him. He finally
asked, “Where do I fit in to all of this?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said the female agent.
“You are her weak spot. When we find her, we need you to help us
bring her in. She trusts you, so we will use that to our
advantage.”

“So the goal is to bring her in safely?
Unharmed?” he asked.

There was silence and blank stares for an
awkward moment, and then the Lieutenant Colonel answered, “Of
course.”

“
Yeah, of course,”
Deep South thought
sarcastically.
“Great.”

After the meeting, Deep South was not placed
in restraints. The guards were sent away, and Lieutenant Colonel
Griffin walked with him to a different part of the building where
he was given a private apartment. “Not too bad, eh?” said his
commander when they walked into the room. Once the door was closed
he said, “Look, I know this is all kinds of screwed up. I get that,
but there are pieces in play that you and I don’t see. We all have
to do our part, that’s all.”

‘Yes, sir,” said Deep South said dutifully.
“About my team, sir…”

“Taken care of Sergeant. The caskets will be
sent home, and all honors bestowed,” he said. Then he added,
“They’re empty, of course. The caskets, I mean.”

I understand sir,” said Deep South. “Thank
you, sir.”

“Chow is at 0700. You’ll meet the new team
then. Welcome to something new, Mr. Parks. You no longer hold an
official rank, and you can ditch the uniform. There are clothes in
your closet,” he said pointing across the room. “You’ll get the
rest of your gear tomorrow.”

The Lieutenant Colonel turned and left the
room. Deep South closed the door and sat on the bed. He looked
around. “It beats a cell,” he said. He looked down at his leg and
pulled back the bandage. The wound actually looked better, despite
the lack of regular care. He stripped the bandage off, and then his
clothes. Deep South walked into the bathroom and flipped on the
light. There was a shower booth in the corner, a toilet, and a
single sink and mirror. There appeared to be a full stock of
toiletries and towels. He turned the knob in the shower and
steaming water erupted from the shower head. He stepped in and
closed the door behind him.
“As long as I live, this will never
get old,”
he thought as the hot water cascaded over his sore
muscles. He used the soap and shampoo that were provided to wash
away the dirt and grime from the past few days and let it wash down
the drain.

The spray hit his neck and back, as he
wondered,
“Where are you Jen? What are you doing at this
moment?"
He remembered holding her hand and looking into her
hazel eyes as he told her he would come back for her. She had said
he was an answer to her prayers. He remembered how his heart had
stopped at that moment. He felt like maybe it had not started
beating since. Maybe it wouldn’t until he fulfilled his promise and
found her again.
“Please, God…let me find her. Let me be her
answered prayer.”

“Where are we?” asked Jen. She had just woken
up after feeling the SUV stop, and she looked around in confusion.
They were in a city and the Suburban was parked next to a busy
sidewalk. Colorfully dressed people walked by, going about their
daily business. It seemed surreal.

“We’re in Al Aqaba, the port city,” said
Sergeant Lynch. “Are you feeling okay?”

She looked at him sideways. “Really? I mean,
yes, Matt, I’m okay,” she said still groggy. “Thanks. It’s just
that you’ve never asked me that before." She rubbed her eyes and
felt stinging pain in her right index fingertip.
“Oh yeah,”
she thought, remembering the cut.
“I need to be careful with
that.”

“So why are we stopping here? Is everything
alright?" She turned and looked at O’Bryan in the back seat. He was
stirring as well. He had obviously just woken up.

“Everything is fine, Jen,” Sergeant Lynch
said. “There is a hotel here, and I thought we might as well
freshen up, and maybe find a doctor for Nathan while we schedule
our boat ride. What do you think?”