Chapter One
I could already feel the perspiration dewing on my skin as the stars faded and the sweltering desert sun replaced it. I stayed by my post until Smith prepared the squad for transit. Nearby, I heard Jenkins' familiar groan of protest at being woken up.
"Ahh, shit. My back is fuckin' killing me.", Jenkins' back loudly agreed with several cracks. I rolled my eyes and scoffed.
"Miss your tempurpedic? Don't be a bitch." I barked at him.
He glared at me and I laughed out loud. He hated when I teased him about his manliness. He was a good soldier, but he whined almost constantly. We met back in Twentynine Palms, when we found out we were going to be part of the same squad that was deployed to Afghanistan. He was the closest thing to a best friend that I had out here. The closest thing to home, I guess. We all missed it; we just never spoke the words.
"We get any mail today, Smith?" Spencer asked the squad-leader, Lance Corporal Aaron Smith. Spencer was a small guy, the guy you wouldn't expect to see in a place like this, doing the things we do. He looked like he could be working on the new Apple product, not handling a machine-gun. He had his reasons for joining the Corps, he just never seemed up to talk about it, so nobody ever asked.
"Yeah, we got some yesterday but we rolled in late, so I saved them until today." Smith grabbed a duffel bag and started handing out envelopes to eager soldiers.
They were from wives, girlfriends, parents, siblings, sons and daughters and were sometimes the only salvation we could get from the hell we experience out here. Not that I ever got any. I had no girlfriend. I had no family to speak of, except for an Uncle that lives in Montana that has no idea I even joined the Marines. My dad walked out before I was born and fell off the face of the planet. My mom had been diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer when I was seventeen and died about 6 months later. Since I was the only kin left, I was granted the medical bills after I turned eighteen. So, I joined the Marines as an outlet for my pain and anger and for the paychecks to pay off the bills.
Jenkins was definitely a feely sort of guy, more than most guys. He knows my situation and likes expressing his feelings, so he takes to calling me his brother. He got usual letters from his parents and his little sister. He let me read them, If I ever wanted to, just to fill the void a little bit. When the emptiness gets overbearing, Jenkins is always there making me feel better. I'll always be grateful for that.
Everyone opened their letters with gusto. Smith eyed me with something akin to sympathy. I ignored it. After everyone ate a little and packed up, we gave the check for any damage we caused to the home owner and made our way through the brush to the open fields. I was watching the surroundings with my scope on my rifle.
We walked for about two and a half hours straight, only stopping for 5 minute intervals under the shade of a tree for relief from the blistering sun. We all had almost 15 pounds of gear on and that wasn't making it any easier. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. We weren't allowed to take our helmets off while on patrol so I had no hope of cooling down any time soon. We started walking again, endlessly checking for mines and threats. It was extremely quiet, until Jenkins yelled out suddenly.
"Woah, Captain! Look what we got here!"
About ten, or twenty meters away, there was what looked like a cargo cabin that came off a train. Nothing attached, just the box sitting out in the middle of nowhere. There were a couple trees shading it, but other than that, there was nothing around it at all. How the hell did it get out here?
"Scan the perimeter, don't go near it until we know for sure there is no energy traces inside." Sgt. Smith yelled out orders. The men fanned out around it. We walked around the front and stopped short. There was a series of locks and chains blocking anything from getting in or out. These weren't just some locks; these were industrial-sized locks that you might use at ship decks or zoos.
"Damn." Spencer murmured.
Spencer took out an ETD and Energy Tracing Device and walked around the crate, scanning. There was no trace of anything inside that was nuclear or set for a detonation when the door was opened.
"Captain, are we gonna see what's in there?"
The Captain looked uncertain. He looked like he was gonna say no until we heard a thump from inside. We all raised our guns and pointed it at the cabin. A muffled cry sounded out and kicked us into high gear. The Captain gave the go and the locks were shot off. We unraveled the chains from the door and raised our guns and had them at the ready. Jenkins kicked the door open and I took lead pointing my gun into the darkness. I switched on the flashlight and shone it into the depths of the cabin. I blinked twice to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. There was a girl…woman, huddled in the corner, bound and gagged. The rest of the cabin was completely empty. I lowered my gun and slowly walked through the cabin towards her. Her eyes were wild and terrified, full of tears. She kicked out at me in desperation, her breath coming in pants. I knelt down beside her. She backed away further against the wall.
"It's alright, we're not gonna hurt you. Let me try to get these ropes off you." I tried to soothe her while I got out my Swiss Army knife and cut the ropes around her feet. She had on a long dress made out of a light material that looked like it was white once, but was now dirty and tattered. Her pitch-black hair was disheveled, long, and curled around her face. I looked closely at her. She was beautiful, I could see that clearly. Even with a dirty, tear-streaked face. Her features were pronounced, her cheekbones high, her nose slim and finely tipped. Her lips were bee-stung and red from the gag. I shook myself and paid attention to getting her out. A sliver of light caught my eye. There was a black, circular stone on a slender, silver chain around her neck. The skin surrounding the stone was angry and red; some parts bleeding. I had no idea what it was and I had to get her out first. There were ropes around her knees as well. Whoever did this really didn't want her to get out of them. I moved to the ones around her hands. They were bound so tight, they rubbed her skin raw, drops of blood leaking out of the abused skin. She whimpered as I pulled them off as gently as I could. She lifted her hands and ripped the necklace away from her, pieces of skin coming off with it. Jesus, it looked like it was branded into her. She threw the necklace away from her in disgust. I let it go for now and moved to the gag around her mouth. I cut it quickly and pulled it away from her mouth. She licked her dry, reddened lips and looked me in the eyes. She sobbed hoarsely and threw her arms around my neck. I held her for a moment, trying to give her a sense of trust and security. Her body felt tiny and frail. I untangled her slender arms from my neck and sat her back.
"Let me clean that up a little bit for you." I nodded to the wound on her chest, right below the hollow at the base of her neck.
"First Aid!" I yelled towards the squad who were waiting eagerly outside the opening of the cabin. Spencer threw the kit towards me and I snatched it out of the air and popped it open. I took off my gloves and set them beside me. I wiped my hands off with an antibacterial wipe and got the peroxide and swath of cloth out.
"This is gonna sting." I warned her before I placed the soaked cotton ball on the wound. It looked bad. Like it just burned away her skin. She flinched when it made contact. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and didn't make a sound. I gave up trying to clean it all with the cotton ball. I lifted the small bottle of peroxide and poured a small amount onto the wound directly. It sizzled like crazy while I got the excess droplets with the cloth in my hand. I would clean it more once we got somewhere more secure. I dabbed Neosporin on it and put a heavy bandage across it. I looked up to see if she was okay and found her staring directly and unflinchingly into my eyes. There was an emotion I couldn't read clearly.
"All done. Let's get you out of here."
I picked her up and set her on her feet.
"Can you walk?" I asked softly. She gingerly lifted a bare foot and took a step. She put her weight into it and collapsed. I caught her around her waist and hoisted her into my arms. She laid her head onto my shoulder, exhausted. I felt her soft breath against my neck as I carried her out to the men.
"Shit, it's just a girl!" McShane exclaimed. She lifted a pale hand and shielded her eyes against the harsh sun. I stood with her in my arms while the men looked on in shock.
"What do you want to do with her, Captain?" I asked anxiously. She was too physically exhausted to talk, definitely dehydrated and might be in the early stages of heat stroke. Smith considered for a second and decided.
"We'll take her with us to the next camp and see what her situation is. We don't have any other choice, we can't leave her here. Let's hurry and move out, she can't stay in the sun long."
The men took a long look at her and started moving out. McShane took my position and we walked for a good half an hour. She was barely conscious, her head lolling to and fro. I tried talking to her a couple times to keep her awake.
"Do you have a name?" I asked her gently. She lifted her head and cleared her throat and tried to speak, but only a rasp came out. "It's alright, don't strain yourself. We'll get you some water and food when we get somewhere secure, okay? Just hang in there." I felt her nod and rest her head back on my shoulder, her black hair spilling down my chest. I held her a little closer.
We saw the cement walls surrounding a house in the distance and knew that rest was coming soon. I stayed back as the men searched the perimeter and talked with the owner of the home. After everything was settled, I brought her into the courtyard. I set her down on a tree stump. I put a canteen of water to her lips and tipped it back. She drank several swallows greedily and pushed the canteen back, wiping her mouth. She nodded at me, thanking me silently. Smith walked up to us and put a blanket around her bare shoulders, covering the V shape of her dress. I knew he wasn't doing it for warmth or comfort since it was still about 85 degrees out at dusk. We shared a knowing look. We were still in Afghanistan and men still weren't crazy about women showing skin. I told the translator, Corporal Diaz, to explain to the home owner that we have a suspected P.O.W. with us and if his wife could help clean her up a bit. I shifted her in my arms. She wasn't heavy but after two hours of carrying her, it was taking a toll on my arms.
We met with the homeowner, Abdul. He was about a head shorter than me and had a salt and pepper beard and kind eyes. After Diaz explained the situation to him, he ushered me inside. The house was immaculate. Colorful rugs and vases added to the appeal. The furniture was old and worn but clean. He yelled for his wife and she hurried around the corner at his urgent call. She was in the usual Afghani women's attire, so only her pretty coffee-colored eyes were visible. They were filled with concern once she laid eyes on the girl in my arms.
Diaz turned to me, "This is Abdul's wife, Nyawela. She'll take care of her." I nodded sharply. Diaz walked through the archway back out into the courtyard.
Nyawela spoke in her language to her husband and they both led me into the wash room. I put her on the stool by the sink. She slumped a little, and her eyes were glazed. She definitely wasn't all the way here. I turned to leave. A slim hand gripped mine and stopped me. I looked down at her and she was staring up at me with a lost look that tugged at my heart.
"Please, don't leave me." She pleaded hoarsely in a voice that sounded tired from screaming. I grabbed her hand in both of mine.
"It's alright, I'm not leaving you. I'll just be right outside the door, okay?" I reassured her. I could clearly see her eyes now. They were a light violet, a color I had never seen before outside of colored contacts. I watched them for a moment and then turned and waited outside the doorway. The door closed shut and I heard Abdul's wife fussing over the girl. I remembered that I never asked her name. I would ask her once she was up to talking and taken care of. A trickling of water echoed through the door. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened up and Nyawela came through, mumbling excitedly to herself. She had a strange look in her eye. She hurried further into the house. Nyawela came back with a bundle of clothes. She brushed past me back into the bathroom, shutting the door again. I leaned against the doorjamb.
What was she doing out in that train cabin? It didn't look like a random abduction. If the gags and multiple bindings weren't enough to keep her in there, the door was locked and the key thrown away. Whoever put her there didn't want her to be found, let alone rescued. She was meant to suffer and die out there.