Offer of Revenge

by Jason Kasper

  “I ran out about a mile ago .”

  “Lucky thing we won’t have sweat stinging our eyes much longer .”

  “Lesser men would call that a medical emergency .”

  I nodded. “Stalwart warriors always look for the bright side. At least we don’t have wives to come home to .”

  “You’re too young to get married anyway .”

  “My fiancée was sleeping with my best friend. That count ?”

  “Come talk to me when your wife leaves you for your stepbrother .”

  “You’re kidding .”

  “I’m not .”

  “You kill him ?”

  “No. I wished them the best and left .”

  “Don’t fuck with me .”

  “Have you ever let anybody down ?”

  Karma’s head exploded in the seat beside me, the slap of her brain matter hot and stinging against my face. “Yes .”

  “Did you mean to deal them a crushing disappointment ?”

  Her body jumped in a gruesomely animated motion as the truck sped away. The acid rose in my throat. “No .”

  “If you could go back and change what you did, would you ?”

  “I’d give anything in the world .”

  Jais nodded, his point made. “We’re all the same victim and the same perpetrator, David. Before any of us is guilty or persecuted, we are all human. The people who wronged us are having the same thoughts as the people we’ve wronged. So what’s our responsibility to others? It’s to accept their humanity, whether it benefited us or not .”

  I saw Karma again, this time in the glowing room of my dreams as she handed me the revolver. I said, “Maybe you just haven’t failed anyone badly enough .”

  “I’ve done worse than you ever could .”

  “Try me .”

  “My old team used to do outsourced work, like I said. My ACL injury got worse—like it is now—and I finally had to get surgery. My team went on a mission while I was recovering, and they were all killed. The Outfit gave me a call to come try out after that .”

  “Goddamn, I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” But my sympathy soon faded behind a flash of anger .

  The Indian was wrong .

  The single source that Ian had blindly trusted, now in exile far outside the organization, was receiving reports so diluted by the time they reached him that they were now the copy of a copy, their edges blurred into obscurity. The Indian had prophesized a lone survivor that I would come face-to-face with. That much had come true, I realized—just not with someone from Boss’s team. Nor was Jais a betrayer, but instead a regretful survivor haunted by the same lifelong curse of shame and remorse for living that I was .

  Jais continued, “I keep it together most of the time. But not a day goes by that I don’t wish I got killed with my team .”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said hollowly, speaking the words I knew I should .

  “Survivor’s guilt is a motherfucker, David. And there’s no outliving that .”

  “What about everything you just said about empathy ?”

  “That’s the part I struggle with. I can forgive my worst betrayers, but never myself .”

  I tried to swallow, feeling my parched throat contract. Then I stared at the bones amid the dirt before speaking again. “Last summer, after I got discharged from the Army and before I got the call to try out for the Outfit — ”

  A crashing noise tumbled thinly across the desert like the sound of faraway thunder .

  We squinted toward a tiny plume of dark smoke in the distance rising upward like a lighthouse .

  I said, “Guess they found our truck .”

  Jais writhed his arms out from under the straps of his combat pack, grunting as he knelt beside it to open the flap and withdraw the satellite phone. Then he palmed a second item from the same pouch, something metallic that he quickly stuffed into his pants pocket .

  “Come on,” he said, struggling to his feet. “Ditch the pack; we’ll need all the speed we can manage. Break time’s over .”

  * * *

  Lightheaded, I trudged forward, wistfully dreaming of the moment when I could plop down and savor two minutes off my feet .

  The heat was taking its toll in full—my brain felt like it was boiling in my skull. Within a few miles, I was completely incoherent and shuffling along over the scrub brush as the last of my sweat oozed from a dwindling reservoir in my body. It felt like we were fighting our way through an oven from which there was no escape. My left boot came untied, and as I watched the laces bouncing, I murmured, “One fucking job to do, is that too much to ask ?”

  “What?” Jais asked .

  Every inch of ground passed painfully, slow beyond comprehension. Breathing was like sucking oxygen from a hairdryer .

  There were no visible clouds and yet the sun descended into a murky crimson haze well above the horizon, its image rippling with heat as if it were being washed away by ocean waves. At times, everything went blurry. I had to blink hard, restoring clarity for a minute before the dissolution of my surroundings repeated .

  I was obsessed with the thought of water .

  I kept reaching for a drinking hose that wasn’t there, having left it behind inside my combat pack miles earlier. Then I’d feel pangs of remorse for abandoning a water supply, that there was somehow liquid remaining and a mere kink in the hose had stopped the flow. I dreamed up forgotten bottles of water stashed in my pockets; I patted down my chest rig over and over for some hidden vessel filled with liquid .

  Instead I found AK magazines, now useless bricks suspended across my chest that would, at best, allow us to die in a blaze of glory .

  My face began to go dry, feeling hot and flushed and soon without a drop of sweat to show for it. I said, “All the water in the world last night when we didn’t want it. And not a shot glass full when we need it most .”

  Jais said nothing. He was walking sluggishly now, still limping forward with resolution, but his steps were becoming sloppy and aberrant. I was doing no better, save the limp, and had twice caught myself drifting far off course and veering east for no reason other than the delirium pounding my brain .

  Our pace trickled to a staggering gait as we closed within three miles of our landing zone. When Jais collapsed for the third time, it wasn’t with a scream of profanity or even a grunt. He just slammed into the ground on his left side and lay there, motionless .

  I turned in a slow circle, scanning the darkening landscape in all directions .

  The vegetation had thinned to nothing but barren scrub brush. There was no place to hide, no way to conceal our tracks. I thought of dying out here, alone in the desert, beside the man who was supposed to mentor my debut in the Outfit. Then I thought of my former team, and Karma .

  Ophie’s words returned to me. It’s all random and meaningless, boy, and I think you know that much by now .

  It didn’t matter anyway .

  The Indian had been wrong about nearly everything, and whether Ian had been acting as his puppeteer or not seemed almost beside the point. I had left the Dominican Republic with the sole purpose of killing the Handler, and the resulting journey couldn’t have taken me further from my goal .

  I was now uncertain whether Ian was the betrayer or, barring that, if there had ever been a betrayal at all. I couldn’t care less at present, while standing next to a collapsed partner on the far side of the world. We had a much greater chance of death by any number of factors than getting the case we sought, much less returning to America, both of which were now a distant afterthought to the simple ecstasy of a glass of tap water .

  Walking to Jais, I set down my rifle and rolled him onto his back. His eyes were open, and through the exhaustion I could see a deep shame within them .

  “You need to keep moving,” he said, his voice raspy. “Three miles. Get the case .”

  Reaching under his shoulders, I propped him up to a sitting position. Then I sat behind him and leaned my back against his, achieving an
uneasy equilibrium until I shifted my weight to compensate for his immense size .

  I breathed a sigh of relief, the feeling of sitting on the hard-packed Somali desert as comfortable as a mattress of any price .

  Grabbing my rifle, I set it atop my lap. I faced north and he south as we sat back-to-back with the sun setting beside us .

  Finally, I said, “Not leaving you alone out here .”

  “Send someone back for me .”

  “Militia would get you before that. You’ve got the satellite phone…tell them we can’t make it any farther .”

  “That’s worse than the militia. Keep moving. Get the case. That’s an order .”

  “Almost a hundred miles. Nonstop. Through this…shithole. We can rest a minute. That’s my order .”

  “We’re going to get killed here .”

  “Jais.”

  “What.”

  “How did you catch me ?”

  “Huh?”

  “Last night. In freefall .”

  I felt him lean back his head as he replied, “Goddamned sky ninja .”

  I tried to laugh, but the air felt trapped in my chest. “You are .”

  “What happened with that…Somali? On the road .”

  “Dunno what you mean .”

  “Staring at that body. I had to walk over and…shake you out of it. On the road .”

  “Grenade blast. Rang my bell .”

  “Liar.”

  I asked, “What’s in the case ?”

  He was quiet for a long time after that. Then I heard him exhale wearily. “The key to war .”

  “What?”

  He dry-heaved twice, and then all was silent .

  “Jais?”

  No response .

  “Jais?”

  Hearing nothing, I leaned my head back against his, painfully closed my sun-scorched eyes, and had a sudden vision of him being escorted to meet the Handler upon our return from Somalia .

  I saw Jais walking down a long hallway ending in a single door. It was flanked by twin men in suits, their hands hanging open at their sides in the manner of all bodyguards. As Jais approached, one reached for the handle and pushed open the door to reveal a long black desk centered before a high-back chair that faced the opposite direction. More guards emerged to stop and frisk Jais, who waited patiently until they were done. Jais proceeded forward, coming to a stop before the desk .

  The chair slowly rotated to face him, revealing a slim white man seated comfortably. He wore a dress shirt with cuffs rolled two turns up lean forearms, and his eyes calmly appraised Jais behind the clear lenses of frail eyeglass frames. Delicate veins stood out on either side of his forehead .

  Ian.

  Before my thoughts could continue, I lapsed into a dark and weighted sleep .

  * * *

  When I woke up, the world was on fire .

  My eyes scraped open to a blazing inferno sky of blood orange. I floated above the earth, my body as weightless as if it were sinking inside the steel drum, my senses warped to the ragged edge of functionality .

  I saw my surroundings moving, was vaguely aware of shadows around me, though I felt nothing. Hands grasped at my body, lifting me upward as a rush of lightheadedness swept over me. My feet dragged behind me as I was pulled along the dirt, and despite my best efforts I couldn’t recall where I was or what I was doing there .

  The view darkened suddenly as I felt my weight being supported by some kind of surface beneath me. Although I could observe a peculiar play of light upon the indiscernible space, I soon lost my vision altogether .

  A thin circle was pressed to my cracked lips, and I felt, for what seemed like the first time in my life, the rejuvenating flow of warm water into my mouth .

  The circle vanished, and I weakly tried to grab for it. An eternity later it returned again, allowing me to take one sip before disappearing once more .

  The cycle continued, with periodic sips punctuated by intervals of panic where I searched for the source of life like a newborn reaching for its mother’s breast. But the process kept occurring, and gradually the drinks of water occurred between sips of a salty liquid I couldn’t identify .

  This occurred for perhaps a dozen repetitions, until one particular sip had the effect of none preceding it—in a split second, I was weighted, conscious, and sensing that I was sitting upright in the interior of a vehicle speeding over bumpy terrain .

  With a rush of fear, I realized I was in Somalia and had been captured .

  My eyes were covered with cloth, and I groped at the blindfold until two hands took mine to stop me .

  “Jais!” I yelled, frantic with newly regained urgency. “Jais !”

  Then I heard Jais’s unmistakable voice beside me sounding as calm as always .

  “David. Leave your blindfold on. We made it .”

  The hands lowered mine to my waist and then let go. The plastic circle pressed against my lips once more. I gratefully inhaled a pull of water before it disappeared again .

  A deep, elderly male voice carved by the African continent said, “My friend, drink too fast and you will die. Allow me to help .”

  “Who are you ?”

  The man’s voice sounded both assured and grateful, with a trace of humor lingering beneath the surface. “I am Elnaya. We have been looking for you for some time. You are now under the protection of the Silver Widow .”

  SALVATION

  Altissima quaeque flumina minimo sono labi

  -The deepest rivers flow with the least sound

  10

  The blindfolds remained over our eyes for the entire journey. This precaution amused me to no small end—for hours prior to our rescue, we saw no distinguishing features other than endless desert and scattered bones anyway .

  As soon as I heard Jais’s voice, my concern immediately returned to hydration. My mind was now somewhat restored by the endless succession of measured amounts of water and the unidentifiable salty liquid .

  I felt my wrists, discovering that my watch and GPS had been removed. “How’s your leg doing, buddy?” I asked Jais .

  “Better now. How you holding up ?”

  “Starting to feel like myself. But I wish that — ”

  Elnaya interrupted, “My friends, save your strength. You may begin to eat a little now. When we arrive, you will get a proper meal. Until that time, remain silent and rest .”

  Two rough hands placed a small triangular shape into my palm. It smelled like a pastry, and I took a cautious nibble .

  A cacophony of flavors exploded onto my palette, spiced meats and vegetables giving way to onions and potatoes in the single most amazing bite of food I have taken before or since .

  Stuffing the rest into my mouth, I held out my hand for more but only received them rarely, and one at a time, between sips of water. Our vehicle crossed from the uneven desert surface to a smoother passage on what felt like a dirt road before returning to more uneven terrain .

  I determined that we were sitting inside a vehicle that, judging by the noise, was a manual transmission, 8-cylinder diesel. The truck was large, which I could discern from the cumbersome creaking and the swaying as much as from the seating capacity—only Elnaya’s voice addressed us, but I heard at least three other men either clearing their throats or quietly conversing in Somali .

  The smell within the truck wasn’t body odor, per se, but a strange and pungent scent that could only come from the bodies of men. It was a thick, smoky, woody scent, as if clothes had been baked in musky incense and then worn unwashed for days on end .

  After much water and a little food, my body suddenly and deeply craved sleep. Within seconds of my mind lapsing into this groggy state of consciousness, I passed out .

  When I came to, the vehicle was still moving, and I felt the weight of Jais’s broad head resting on my shoulder. I fell back asleep and then awoke an indeterminate amount of time later to find myself slumped against him .

  We stopped only once, when I awoke with a bladder
that felt like it was about to rupture and said so .

  The truck rumbled to a stop, and as soon as the engine fell silent I could hear a discord of birdcalls outside. Jais and I were helped out of the vehicle and led a short distance away to pee, and I could smell the humidity and hear the chatter of stationary birds coming from above that indicated tall trees. As we were led back to the vehicle, I thought I recognized the rush of moving water, but it was too faint to know for sure before the engine started again and our drive continued .

  Several sips of water, a few more pieces of food, and I slept again .

  * * *

  At our journey’s end, I wasn’t sure if I was awake or asleep, only that I felt the truck coming to a stop. I heard vehicle doors opening and Elnaya’s throaty voice saying, “Please, come with me.” Jais’s weight vanished from the seat beside me before I felt hands on my arm, guiding me sideways .

  I was helped out of the vehicle and onto a sandy surface. I saw dim traces of light beneath my blindfold but was unsure whether it was radiating from sunlight or flame. A hand remained on my arm, and I followed its gentle forward pull, taking small, shuffling steps to places unknown .

  The surface beneath my feet changed from sand to stone as the air around me became cooler. Footsteps echoed in front of me as I was led down eight steps. The hand turned me left and then forward again until it brought me to a stop, releasing my arm altogether. Footsteps shuffled on a dusty surface, and then I heard the dull bang of a heavy door closing behind me. The sound echoed broadly as if we were in a large, enclosed space .

  Then my blindfold was removed .

  I squinted amid the sudden light, blinking to adjust my eyes as I looked left to see Jais hunched beside me, his wrists also bare of his watch and GPS. He looked me up and down before we began examining our surroundings .

  We stood on one side of a square room lit only by torches mounted on stone walls that were ornately engraved with primitive-looking symbols I didn’t recognize as the script of any language .

  In the center of the room, a circle of food platters and clay pitchers were arranged on the floor around a single delicate tree with a crooked, slender trunk that supported bursts of small green leaves .