Soul's Survivor

by Navi' Robins

  Racing through the night, Patrick was on his way to the hotel with a truckload of soldiers behind him. At this point, he was desperate, and he didn’t care how it looked when he stormed the hotel and took the two women working for the UN. He needed some kind of bargaining chip, just in case the doctor showed his face at the courthouse.

  Corporal Williams looked through his night vision goggles at the two speeding vehicles headed straight for the hotel and silently signaled his platoon to stay alert. Sergeant Edwards briefed them on the possibility that Patrick Wek was compromised and could attempt to kidnap the two UN representatives, Mss. Burundi and Quinn. His strict orders were “under no circumstances was anyone allowed inside the hotel.” Corporal Williams knew what that meant. He and his team were locked, loaded, and ready to cut down anyone attempting to force their way inside the hotel.

  The corporal swallowed hard as he braced himself for anything. Once the car and truck filled with about fifteen soldiers pulled up in front of the hotel, the UN soldiers stationed at the hotel’s entrance stepped forward, attempting to stop the men.

  “Hold on, Mr. Wek. The hotel is on lockdown. No one is allowed to leave or enter here until further notice,” the soldier warned with one hand up and the other firmly holding his sidearm with the safety off.

  “Get out of my way, Soldier. I would hate for you not to return home to your family,” Patrick snapped back. His threat caused the other two UN soldiers hiding in the tall bushes on either side of the walkway leading into the hotel lobby to jump out and surround Patrick, with their weapons aimed at his head. Patrick’s entire body froze in place as he found himself surrounded.

  “Gentlemen, let’s relax. For the safety of Ms. Burundi and Ms. Quinn, I was instructed to take them to a more secure location after what happened to Dr. Bennett.”

  “The safest location for either of them is here with us. No disrespect, sir, but if any of your men attempt to force their way inside the hotel, you will be the first to die.”

  “What! Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, sir, and I will kill you, all the same, if you or any of your men attempt to get past me.”

  Patrick gave the corporal an evil grin before he began backing away with his hands raised over his head.

  “This isn’t over. I will get inside that hotel and get what I came for.”

  “If a bullet in your brain is what you came for, then I agree, but if you try to get anything else, it may not work out as you planned. Now, clear this area immediately!”

  Patrick continued to back away. After about five minutes of dead silence, the corporal noticed that the vehicles weren’t leaving, so he backed away toward the front entrance of the hotel. The other soldiers, noticing his reaction, began to move in defensive positions as well, awaiting his orders. Corporal Williams placed his hands over his ear communication piece and advised his team to ready themselves for an assault, right before the first wave of bullets rang out toward them. The corporal immediately kneeled behind a large concrete pillar that held up the walkway’s overhead cover and placed his assault rifle’s night vision scope over his eye. Once he was able to locate his attackers, he yelled out, “Weapons free!” and his comrades began to return fire.

  Hell erupted in front of the hotel as bullets tore into the concrete and shattered the massive windows that covered the entire front of the elegant, yet small hotel. Corporal Williams used his night vision scope to pick off one Sudanese soldier after the other with precision, making sure he conserved ammo while maintaining his position in front of the hotel. Patrick was hiding behind his vehicle, yelling out orders for his soldiers to push forward. In his anger, he didn’t notice that their numbers were dwindling fast, and soon, only a handful of his soldiers remained on their feet, cowering behind the now-demolished truck they had ridden in. Still unable to see that he was overmatched, Patrick kept demanding the soldiers push forward, but they all remained in their hiding places, pretending they couldn’t hear him over the gunfire.

  Seeing that the Sudanese soldiers were retreating behind the truck, Corporal Williams silently signaled for his squad to advance to finish off the remaining soldiers and capture Patrick Wek. The soldiers posted on the roof of the hotel began to lay down cover fire so that the Sudanese soldiers couldn’t peek out from behind their hiding places and notice the UN soldiers were advancing on their positions. Signaling for flanking positions, Corporal Williams ordered the team of five UN soldiers to move silently around Patrick and the remaining Sudanese soldiers. Once they had them directly in their sights, the UN soldiers aimed their weapons at the men’s heads. Patrick, ducking behind his Mercedes, looked up just in time to see Williams’s weapon next to his temple; then Patrick did something that startled the soldier for a split second. Williams was expecting an expression of fear or surprise on the traitor’s face, but what he did, instead, was smile so brightly, Williams could see his ultrawhite teeth in the pitch-blackness of the night.

  Then from the top floor of the hotel, multiple gunshots rang out, and Williams’s communication earpiece erupted with the sounds of the remaining team members in the hotel, yelling what the corporal already knew. The frontal assault by Patrick and his soldiers was a distraction. Another force of Sudanese soldiers was storming the hotel toward their objective. Refusing to look away toward the hotel, Williams kept Patrick in his sights, while demanding an update from his second-in-command on the roof.

  “How many are there, Soldier?”

  “There are about thirty soldiers, sir. What is your situation?”

  “We have Mr. Wek and five of his soldiers captive. We can move inside to assist.”

  “No, sir, there are a lot of these muthafuckers, but we’ll give ’em hell, sir. If you assist, Mr. Wek will escape, and we can’t have that. I’m going to move inside the hotel and assist.”

  Williams didn’t want to lose any soldiers, but he knew they had to hold this position until morning, so he gave the soldier the okay, and he immediately fired a warning shot close to Patrick’s head. The whistle and heat from the passing bullet caused Patrick to scream in a high-pitched tone that sounded like a hyena or whining puppy.

  “Are you crazy? You almost killed me!”

  “Almost don’t count. Call off your men or the next one will.”

  “Kill me. Go ahead. It won’t stop the obvious, and if you kill me, my men have been ordered to kill everyone in that hotel, and I do mean everyone. All you had to do was turn over the women, and no one would have to die. But since you provoked me—”

  Williams fired another shot, and this time, it found its intended target, which was Patrick’s right ankle. The pain and burn of the bullet tearing through such a sensitive and fragile part of his body sent Patrick reeling back onto the ground. Screaming and cursing, he rolled back and forth, holding his leg in agony.

  “You fucking pig! How dare you—”

  “I may not be able to kill you, but I will make you suffer if you don’t call off your men. The next shot will go into one of your kneecaps. Now, if you want to be able to walk again, I would suggest you call off your hit squad. I won’t ask you again.”

  “Fuck y—”

  The loud ear-splitting crack of Williams’s assault rifle going off shook the resolve of the other captured Sudanese soldiers, and they all jumped, while raising their hands even higher than they were before. Tears began to pour out of Patrick’s eyes as the pain and visual devastation of his kneecap sank in. He began to feel faint as his body tried to cope with so much pain from two different locations on his body. Noticing Patrick losing consciousness, Williams quickly turned his rifle around and savagely struck him on his wounded ankle, springing Patrick back into consciousness.

  “I can do this all night, you piece of shit! Call them off now!”

  “You can’t do this! It’s against the UN rules of engagement! We are your prisoners,” Patrick screamed while weeping in pain.

  “I don’t see any UN commissioners around, do you? You weren’t quoting int
ernational rules of engagement when you attempted to murder Dr. Bennett, nor did I hear a peep about any code violations while you attacked us.”

  Then without warning, Williams fired another bullet in Patrick’s other knee, tearing open flesh and shattering bone. Patrick was now out of his mind in agony, and he began to howl like a wolf, trying to get his body to comprehend the extreme levels of pain the corporal’s torture put him through. With both knees damaged beyond repair, Patrick’s lower body went limp, and he lay on the dirt as if he were in a casket, ready for burial.

  “I got a full clip. You only have two nuts, and with this scope, I could hit them with my eyes closed.”

  Patrick’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars as the corporal’s threat sent his body into a frenzy of terror.

  “No, no, no, no, no, please. Enough! I’ll call them off! No more! I can’t take anymore!”

  “You have five seconds.”

  “I’m in so much pain I can barely lift my arm to speak into my radio . . .”

  “One . . .”

  “Wait! Wait! Okay!”

  “Two . . .”

  Patrick began to slowly lift his walkie-talkie toward his mouth while staring at Williams, his eyes begging for compassion. Williams stared back coldly and unmoved. For Williams, each second could be another one of his team members getting wounded or worse, and he wasn’t going to give Patrick any more time.

  “Three . . . four . . .” and then Williams moved forward, stepping down hard on Patrick’s thigh and pointed his rifle at his genitals, readying himself to fire another torturous shot.

  “Stand down! Stand down! Drop your weapons now,” he screamed into the radio while squeezing his eyes closed tightly, bracing himself for another round of horrendous pain. The sound of gunfire ceased immediately, and Williams could hear the familiar voices of his team ordering Patrick’s men to get down on the ground.

  “Report!” Williams yelled while activating his ear-mounted communication device.

  “All threats have surrendered, sir, and are being detained.”

  “How many team liabilities?” he asked while swallowing hard, preparing himself for the pain of losing men under his command. The pause after his question increased his anxiety, and he braced himself for the worst.

  “Four wounded, two critical, and six KIA, sir.”

  Williams stumbled slightly as the numbers sank in, and the realization that he would have to answer to the soldiers’ families—men with wives, children, parents, siblings, and planned futures. All snuffed out too soon because the bastard squirming at his feet wanted more . . . It was always about more and not about who would suffer while they got more. Shaking his head, the humidity of the African heat seemed to make his head spin.

  Patrick looked up at Williams while begging for medical attention, fearing he would bleed out and die. Williams was in a daze, and by the time Patrick’s annoying whine snapped him out of his confusion, he’d already decided that Patrick wouldn’t see another sunrise. He knew he couldn’t kill him now, but he also knew he didn’t have to save him. So, he turned around, heading toward the hotel and left Patrick bleeding in the dirt. The other UN soldiers that were watching him understood his intentions. No one said a word and pretended the wounded man on the ground was invisible.

  All this death and the women aren’t even in the hotel . . .

  Chapter 26

  Rumble in the Jungle

  While Sergeant Edwards drove the Hummer toward West Juba, he periodically looked over with an uncomfortable amusement at Ayana expertly handling the AK-47. She was cleaning it and loading the clip with such ease that he wondered if she could take it apart faster than he could.

  Damn, she’s good.

  Looking up, she caught the sergeant staring at her with his mouth slightly ajar.

  “I was ‘the wife’ of a ruthless warlord. It was smart of me to pick up a few useful things,” Ayana said while shaking her head. “I first learned how to clean the weapons, and then I learned how to shoot. By the time I was able to escape, I was a better shot than Kronte, and he used to be an elite sniper in the Sudanese army.”

  Edwards nodded while tilting his head. He was clearly impressed with her résumé, but he still wasn’t comfortable with her and Meagan accompanying him to locate the doctor. However, once Meagan whispered to him that their room was bugged, he understood just how dangerous it would be leaving them there, so he reluctantly brought them along. He ordered Corporal Williams and the remaining men to keep all communications “dark” until the morning. He knew that Kronte’s puppets would be monitoring all communication channels, and he needed time to get into the city undetected during the night. He prayed that Patrick wouldn’t be so bold as to attack the hotel, but he knew desperation makes people do some insane things, and he dreaded getting the first update at sunrise.

  Looking at his watch, he noticed it was just after one in the morning. They were almost in the city, so he decided it was time to brief the ladies and the other four soldiers he brought along with him.

  “When we get into the city, we need to move quickly and silently. If we run into any opposition, we should seek to avoid conflict, but if we have no other choice, we need to take out the opposition as quietly as possible. That means I need everyone packing something sharp and shiny. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldiers responded in unison.

  Noticing neither Ayana nor Meagan responded, he looked at both of them awaiting their responses.

  “Oh, yes, sir,” Ayana giggled while playfully saluting the sergeant. Her playful and relaxed demeanor made him very uncomfortable, and he slightly adjusted himself in the seat while clearing his throat. Meagan tapped Ayana on the shoulder, trying to get her attention and find out what her problem was. Ayana looked at her friend, rolling her eyes while shaking her head. Meagan knew now wasn’t the time to lecture Ayana about the dangers of the city, but she was hoping Ayana wasn’t losing it. The last thing they needed was for her to get into the city and start acting as if she were Rambo.

  “We are getting close to Juba Bridge. Everyone, get down now,” announced Edwards, right before he began to accelerate. He didn’t want to be moving so slowly that anyone walking by or standing alongside the road could see inside the vehicle and notice the precious cargo he was carrying. While leaning down, Ayana looked up at the top of the newly constructed Juba Bridge through the window. It was a sign that things were changing for her people, yet the fact they were traveling across it like smuggled contraband reminded her that much was still the same. The burn of determination was scorching her soul as she calculated the odds of her ever seeing Daniel alive again. The image of the doctor’s mutilated body left to rot on the side of an unpaved, obscure road flashed across her mind, and she gripped the AK-47 in her hand so tightly, her wrists and arm muscles began to ache.

  Before long, the ride became increasingly rougher as the sergeant maneuvered through the dense crowds of a city that appeared never to sleep. She could hear the chaos of the night seeping into the vehicle, and she yearned to see if her people were having fun or suffering. Then the vehicle stopped moving, and the sergeant quickly climbed out of it, shutting the door quietly behind him. After a minute, he gently tapped on the window, and everyone began to make their way out of the Hummer. Ayana felt the moist mud give way to her weight, and the sounds of insects and wildlife filled her ears. It was pitch dark, and her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust before she discovered the sergeant had parked the Hummer in the swamps near the foot of the Juba Bridge. There wasn’t much light or dwellings in this area due to the insane amount of malaria mosquitos that made the still and muddy waters of the swamp their home.

  Edwards raised his left hand in the air, pointed to a small group of dimly lit homes in the distance toward the western side of the city, and the group began to move quietly. Meagan was beside herself with anxiety and wanting to slap herself for being so stupid to suggest they tag along with the sergeant on this search-and-rescue miss
ion. She was a boardroom warrior, having no place in the thick of things, and her trembling legs made it clear she was out of her element. Watching Ayana move through the swamp in front of her and holding her AK-47 with relative ease made it clear that Ayana was now in her element, and seeing her like this shook her to her very core. Suddenly, the sergeant held up his hand, making a fist, and everyone except Meagan immediately crouched down into the tall grass of the swamp.

  When she finally noticed she was the only one standing, she dropped to her knees, making a lot of noise in the process. Ayana turned back to look at her, aggressively biting her bottom lip and shaking her head.

  What am I doing here? Meagan thought to herself.

  After several minutes, she heard the rustling of the rest of the group moving again in the darkness in front of her. After taking a few deep breaths, Meagan returned to her feet and followed, this time much closer while keeping a mental note of certain hand signals the sergeant made so that she could react correctly.

  Soon, they reached the homes, and the UN soldiers split up, leaving the sergeant with Ayana and Meagan. They were stooping behind a makeshift outhouse, and the smell was unbearable. Several times, Meagan almost puked all over herself as she covered her mouth and nose, trying to keep the smell and her twisting stomach under control. The soldiers returned within minutes and began whispering things to the sergeant Meagan couldn’t make out. Once they were done speaking, the soldiers walked farther in between the houses. Edwards made his way over to the women, smiling. Although the situation was far from a smiling matter, his smile warmed Meagan’s heart, and she felt good news was coming.