Chapter three
"I think we're out of the minefield," Jack said.
Irina didn't respond. He wondered if she was sleeping again, or if she had decided to ignore him. Jack carefully eased her down. She moaned, then fell silent again, and he laid her on the ground. Walking for so many hours was wearing on his energy reserves and despite Irina's condition, he needed to rest.
If he could just get them to a farm or a house, he thought, then he could relax.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Despite the early hour, the day was already warm. Jack's shirt was sticking to his skin with sweat and he was willing to give just about anything for a drink of water.
He sat on the ground next to Irina and took the opportunity to study her. Now that there was more light, he could see details he'd missed earlier. Her hair was tangled together and looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. He felt a momentary pang of – something he couldn't quite define. Laura had always taken such good care of her hair. Now it looked like a messy bird's nest, impossible to detangle.
-- he runs his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of it against his skin. She laughs, "Some people call that a fetish, you know." --
He'd known she'd lost weight, but it was entirely another thing to see how sharply her bones stuck out or how hollow her cheeks were. Her wrists were encircled by thick red welts. He could only imagine what she looked like beneath the clothes she wore.
He swore under his breath and forced himself to look away. He didn't want to feel sorry for her. He wanted to hate her. But, faced with the evidence that she, too, had suffered, he couldn't. He could still hear her scream in his head, and he was glad he'd shot those guards.
He'd thought, once, if it ever came down to it, he'd kill for Laura. There was nothing he wouldn't have done to protect her or Sydney. Instead, he'd killed for Irina. He wondered if it mattered that he hadn't known she was Irina at the time.
Once they made it to a safe place, Jack could make contact and arrange for an extraction. His mission to gather intel had failed, but he would come back with another prize, one he was sure the CIA would appreciate.
He looked at her again, and felt a twinge of something akin to regret.
-- "Why'd you marry me, Laura?"
She smiles. "Why'd you marry me?"
"Because you're the most beautiful woman in the world.
"Oh, I see. I'm the trophy wife, right?" she kisses him so fiercely that he has to pull away to breathe. She smirks. "Does that answer your question?"--
She would be better off in CIA custody, he thought. She wouldn't suffer this kind of torture—
She opened her eyes, blinked in confusion, then smiled when her gaze settled on him.
He felt his resolve weaken.
An hour later, they saw a farmhouse ahead. A woman came out, watching warily as they approached. From her attire, it was obvious she was Muslim.
"Good morning," Jack said. His Urdu was worse than his Russian. The woman stared at him blankly.
Irina slipped off his back, drawing from reserves of strength she didn't know she had, and took a step towards the woman. She felt Jack's hand on her shoulder, steadying her, but didn't let her surprise show.
"Can you help us?" she asked in Kashmiri. "We've been traveling all night."
The woman glanced from Irina to Jack, her suspicion still clearly evident. "Who are you?"
"We're Americans," Irina said, unsure how the people here felt about the Russian presence. "We'd just like some water—"
She swayed on her feet and felt Jack grab her from behind. The woman rushed forward. "What happened to you? Did the Russians do this?"
Irina could only nod.
The woman's lips pressed together in a thin line. Switching to Urdu, she addressed Jack. "Bring her inside."
Jack lifted Irina and followed the woman into the house.
"What are Americans doing in Kashmir?"
"It's a long story," Jack said.
"Everybody wants a piece of Kashmir." The woman's tone carried bitterness. "India, Pakistan, Russia, China. Now the Americans too."
"In all honesty, there is nothing I want more than to get out of Kashmir."
The woman glanced at Jack over her shoulder, then smiled.
Irina was on her haunches next to a bucket of icy water. She dipped the rag in the water and scrubbed at her skin with as much energy as she could muster. She could still feel every touch and wondered if she would ever feel completely clean again.
She reached up to touch her hair and tried to separate it so she could braid it. It was hopeless. Rising to her feet, Irina dried herself and dressed in the clothes the woman had provided. She tied the headscarf at the nape of her neck; at least now no one had to see what a mess it was.
What a mess she was.
When she came out of the wash room, Jack was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable. Her gaze moved from him to the plates of rice in front of him. She sat down. When Jack passed one of the plates to her she felt so pathetically grateful that tears pricked in her eyes. She hadn't lied to him earlier; she truly did not know when her last meal was. Brushing the tears away before they could fall, she accepted the plate and scooped a handful of rice into her mouth.
The rice was plain and cold, but it was the best thing Irina had ever tasted. Still, she only managed to swallow a few mouthfuls before her stomach protested. She put the plate down and picked up the mug Jack was holding out. She didn't care about how much she was revealing to him in this moment. She drank greedily, the sweet tea sliding with ease down her throat. Then she set the mug down and looked defiantly at Jack, daring him to comment.
To her surprise, all he said was, "I'm going to go wash up. You should rest."
He stood and entered the wash room. Irina waited until the curtain separating the two rooms had fallen back into place before she moved to the thin mattress in the corner. She lay down, her back to the wall, using her arm as a pillow, and slept.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she woke again to the sound of voices. Jack, the woman, a man she didn't recognize. She kept herself still and listened.
"We can get you across the border," the woman said. "Yusuf crosses often."
"I don't want to endanger you." Despite herself, Irina smiled at Jack's words. Always the hero, she thought, and look what that got him. He wanted to help a woman, and he'd ended up with her.
"You'll be in the back of my pickup truck. You can hide behind the bags of grain," the man – Yusuf – said.
"If you're searched—"
"The guards know me. They never search."
"Okay." Jack sighed. "When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"I – we don't have any way of paying you—"
The woman cut him off. "There's no need. Allah sees all. He will reward us if he feels we deserve it."
Irina heard movement, and someone approached her and sat down. She was reluctant to open her eyes and feigned sleep. She felt a cool hand brush her temple; thought, Jack; and fought to keep her breathing even.
When he left, she waited a moment before she rolled over to face the wall.