Path of Jen: Bloodborne

by Sidney Wood

  The man in brown stood transfixed on the money for a moment. His eyes were opened wide in surprise, and a smile spread across his face as he reached for it. The doctor pulled the money back and nodded his head toward Jen with his eyebrows raised. The man in brown hurriedly agreed and waived for Jen to come over immediately.

  Jen wrinkled her brow in concern and confusion, but she walked toward the men as ordered. When she was near to them she dropped her gaze to the ground and waited nervously. The doctor handed the money to the man in brown and took Jen by the arm. Jen allowed him to lead her to the vehicle, where he assisted her into the back seat. He whistled and all three guards returned to the vehicle. The suitcase was placed in the back and they all climbed in. Jen was sandwiched between two of the guards in the back seat while the doctor and the driver sat in the front. The driver fired up the engine and they drove out of the compound and headed south and then east.

  “Dear God,” she prayed silently as she traveled east and north along the border between Turkey and Syria, and toward Iraq in an air conditioned vehicle, “Thank you! I don’t know where I am going, but I don’t care either. Please, give my parents comfort and let me go home soon!”

  As they traveled through Syria and passed into Iraq Jen was fed well and treated much better than at the compound. She was even given privacy to go to the bathroom, although one of the guards was always close. The doctor asked her more questions as they travelled. He seemed quite interested in her overall health and the fact that she had received all of the standard immunizations that school kids in America get.

  Once, when they were alone in the car together, the young looking doctor asked her, “Jena, have you ever been with a man?" She fidgeted in her seat, unsure of what consequences her answer would bring. He rephrased the question. “I am sorry to be direct, but are you a virgin?" Jen was instantly on guard, and feared that things were about to turn for the worse.

  Timidly, she said, “I am still a virgin." She cringed and waited for him to reveal his true intentions.

  “Fantastic!” he said, and clapped his hands. “I promise you Jena, no one will touch you in that way." He leaned close and said in a conspiratorial whisper. “You are very special Jena, and only I can afford you this protection. You will remain a virgin so long as you are in my care.”

  “What?” She stared at him dumbfounded and then suddenly wept with relief as the words sunk in. She closed her eyes against the tears. “Oh, God, thank you!” Jen prayed.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Good morning, Mrs. Ahmadi?” Tom Davidson asked when he heard someone pick up.

  “Mhm,” she answered in a groggy voice. She lifted her head and saw “8:01am” on the alarm clock. “Ugh, two hours of sleep."

  “Mrs. Ahmadi, I have news about Jena!”

  Fouzia threw the covers aside and leapt out of bed. “What? You do? Please, tell me!" She paced next to the bed and then ran to the closet while holding her cell phone to her ear. She began stripping out of her sleeping clothes as Tom filled her in.

  “Ma’am, the Congressman was in a very high level meeting yesterday, and your daughter’s name was on a list." There was a pause before he added, “It was a ransom list. The good news is this is a strong indicator that she is still alive."

  Fouzia froze. Just hearing him say those words, “…she is still alive,” was enough to fill her with so much emotion that she couldn’t move. She held her breath and listened as he continued. “We believe she is being held somewhere in Syria, or possibly Iraq. The origin of these lists is always a bit mysterious, but our intelligence indicates she is most likely being held by ISIS sympathizers or supporters." There was another pause. “Mrs. Ahmadi? Are you still there?”

  Fouzia realized she was still holding her breath. “Yes!” she said. “I am here! Are you doing anything to find her? I mean, now that we know she is alive, what is the next step?" She bit her thumbnail as she waited for his reply. It was a habit she let go of as a girl, but lately she found herself doing it often. Fouzia didn’t bite though the nail, she just nibbled at it softly when she was concentrating.

  “Well…uh…officially? Officially, I can’t say. But, ma’am, if I was allowed to tell you what the country is doing to get your daughter back…" He sighed on the other end of the phone, as if weighing a heavy decision. Fouzia held her breath again. “If I was allowed to say, I’d probably tell you something like, we have people on the ground in both of those countries working the issue. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” she said softly.

  Tom continued, “The people I’d be telling you about are some pretty resourceful guys. I’m sorry I can’t tell you something like that, but if I could, I’d tell you to have hope. If anyone can find her, it’s those guys."

  The phone disconnected and Fouzia stood in the closet as if in a trance. She still held the phone up to her ear as she replayed the conversation in her head. “He said to have hope,” she thought. “Hope!" She let the hand holding the phone fall to her side and the motion caught her attention. She looked down her nearly naked body and remembered she was going to get dressed. “I have to tell Najid the news,” she thought. Fuze hurriedly picked out her clothes for the day and headed for the bathroom.

  Fouzia looked into the mirror over the sink and tried to picture Jena staring back at her. “Be strong Little Bird!” she said. “Help is on the way!”

  Forty-five minutes later, Fouzia was applying eye liner in the same mirror. She felt butterflies at the thought of seeing Najid. It was nearly four months since he packed his things and moved out. Despite all of her patience, reasoning, and then begging and pleading, he refused to come home. He accused her of living with a ghost and cursing their family. Fouzia knew he was just hurting. He was grieving in his own way and she was determined not to let him force her out. They were still married after all. Fouzia put her makeup away and took one last look in the mirror. “See your wife Najid. See that I am worthy of your kindness and patience,” she thought. She flipped the lights off and went across town to speak to her husband.

  In a small village a few miles south of the Syrian and Turkish border, a man in brown traditional dress stood peering into the afternoon sky. “What is that?” he wondered. His dark and deeply sunken eyes stared at a speck soaring high above the compound. “Is it a bird or a plane?” he thought. “No matter, it is much too far away to be of concern."

  His gaze shifted to the vehicles stirring dust in the distance as they approached. It was a few hours earlier than he expected this group of soldiers, but they would be welcomed just the same. He turned and surveyed the compound. The food was being prepared, the sleeping quarters clean, and the girls were out of sight. One of the new girls, only fourteen he was told, was well endowed and would be quite a distraction to the holy Jihadists coming to his compound for rest and resupply. “Perhaps there is a warrior among them who deserves a bride,” he thought. “Then I can get rid of her before she becomes a problem in my compound.”

  He turned back to the road and saw four SUV’s traveling fast. He stood confidently in the center of the road as they approached. They did not slow as they entered the compound. “Are they traveling straight through?” he wondered. “Why have they come out of their way if they are not stopping?”

  The man in brown ran and pressed himself against a building to avoid being run over by the first vehicle. He saw no faces on the men in the vehicles. Their faces were covered by wrapped scarves and they all wore dark sunglasses. “How dare they behave this way in my compound!” he thought indignantly as he squinted to see through the dust.

  The vehicles, spaced about five meters apart, stopped suddenly and the doors burst open. He heard shouting as the men swarmed out like bees attacking in all directions. They carried short black rifles and rushed in teams of two into each of the buildings, all the while shouting. “Infidels." The man in brown put his hands above his head and got on his knees. “Allah will strike you down,” he muttered under his breath.

&
nbsp; The door nearest the man in brown opened and two of the masked soldiers came through. One of them shouted something at him while pointing his black rifle. The man in brown defiantly spit toward him. The other took two quick steps forward and raised his boot. The man in brown saw the man start to move and then the waffle printed sole of a tan leather boot blocked out the world and everything went black.

  “Not so tough now, are ya bud?” said Staff Sergeant Dustin “Deep South” Parks, to the unconscious haji in brown lying on the ground at his feet. “Number three clear! One D!” he shouted across the compound. His teammate, Sergeant Mason “Preacher” Ricks, moved to the outer corner of the building and took a knee facing the southwest while Deep South zip-tied his detainee’s hands behind his back. There was a single pop from the northeast corner of the compound.

  “Number four clear!” shouted Captain Jim “Skinny” Denny. He and his teammate took up watch positions on the inner and outer side of the northwest corner.

  “Number two is clear, three Vic’s, one D! D’s Down!" Shouted the team from the northeast corner.

  “Number one is clear, three Vics…" There were two distinct pops from the building on the southeast side. “Make that three Vics, and one D! D’s down!” shouted Sergeant First Class Frank “Frankie” Banner.

  “All clear!’ shouted Skinny. “Bring all Vic’s and up D’s to the center! Soup’s on for a reason! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jen stared into a mirror for the first time in a year. She was actually surprised that she recognized the face looking back at her. “I thought I would look so much different." The burka she wore for the past year was in a heap on the floor nearby. She was standing in a tiny bathroom, wearing only her underwear, and finally feeling safe. The doctor gave her assurances that no one would be allowed to enter her room without her permission as long as she behaved herself and did what she was asked. There were no windows, but Jen actually preferred that after so much time with no real privacy. There was a single bed just inside the door, a small closet to the left, and a desk and chair on the right. The bathroom was straight ahead and had a sink and mirror, a toilet, and a tub with a shower and curtain. It was absolute luxury compared to the compound. “Thank you dear Jesus,” Jen prayed for the hundredth time since arriving this morning. She was in the city of Mosul, in northern Iraq. Aside from that, she had no idea what this place was, or why she was chosen to come. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that she was alive, and for the first time in a whole year, she was unafraid.

  Jen stripped out of her remaining garments and stepped into the shower. She turned the knob above the faucet and pulled the plunger on top. Ice cold water immediately blasted her and she gasped. “Oh!” she managed to shout. She laughed at her own antics as she tried to block the icy spray long enough to push the plunger back in. She pushed it in and the deluge erupted from the faucet near her feet instead of from the shower head above. Jen breathed a sigh of relief. “I forgot how to work a shower,” she mused as she waited, covered with goosebumps, for the water to get warm.

  After a long shower with warm water Jen dressed in clean white underwear, a starched white linen dress, and a matching hijab the doctor had ordered brought to her room. Jen looked in the mirror when she was dressed and felt beautiful for the first time since her capture. Her light hazel eyes and black lashes stood out starkly against the white linen, even without makeup. Her skin was darker than before, but still fresh and vibrant as a seventeen year old girl’s should be.

  There was a knock on the door and Jen hurried to answer it. She opened the door to see a smiling woman, not much older than her waiting on the other side. She wore a gray hijab and matching dress and carried a basket of bread and fruit. “Salam,” she said politely and gestured toward the room. Jen smiled in return and stepped back to allow the woman in.

  “Salam,” she said. “Esmee Jena.”

  “Maria,” said the woman as she set the basket on Jen’s desk. “We can speak English if you like,” she said. “The basket is for you,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you,” said Jen, her mouth watering.

  Maria took off her hijab and also set it on the desk. She turned and faced Jen. “Jena, I am here to be your friend. You are an esteemed guest here. There are rules, of course, but I will be your guide and your companion. Would you like that?"

  Jen couldn’t help but smile. “A friend? Yes!” she nodded emphatically. “Maria, what is this place?”

  Maria smiled and considered her words before answering. “This is a special place. Only very special people are brought here. Like you must be, Jena. I don’t know much more than you do about why you are here, but I know the doctor. He only brings special people here, and they are always treated well." She took her hijab in her hand and said, “Now, would you like to take a walk and see for yourself?”

  “Yes! Please,” said Jen with a genuine smile. “Shouldn’t I be taking a purse or a phone or something?” she thought. She glanced around the small room looking for anything she should take along, but there was nothing. She chided herself for reverting back to an American teenage girl so quickly. “One shower and I’m thinking about my cell phone again!" It was actually a little bit liberating to know she didn’t have anything to keep track of or lose.

  She followed Maria out of the apartment and down a hallway. There were other doors like the one leading to her apartment, and she assumed they opened to rooms similar to hers. “I wonder who my neighbors are?” she mused. At the end of the hallway there was a locked door. Maria pressed a call button next to the door and the door buzzed open. Jen noticed a small camera above the door.

  Jen followed Maria out into a wider, brightly lit hallway. The floor was paved smooth with polished white tiles and the walls had bumper rails on either side, running the entire length. “Is this a hospital?” Jen asked.

  “Very good!” praised Maria. “This is a clinic of sorts,” she said with a smile. “Come on, the doctor asked me to bring you to see him." Maria swept her arm toward the far end of the hall to a pair of double doors.

  Jen walked beside Maria to the end of the hall and through the doors. Through the passageway they stepped into a cluttered laboratory. Jen saw the doctor leaned over a microscope just left of the doorway. He looked up and smiled at Jen and Maria. “Welcome!” he said with enthusiasm. “Jena, please come and sit." He gestured at a chair just beyond where he was standing. “I would like to take a sample of your blood, if that’s okay. We are doing some very important research and it is rare to find a subject around here that has not had a smallpox vaccine. You also contain different antibodies, being American, than the subjects I am usually provided with." He gestured in a broad circle to include the whole place.

  Jen nodded in agreement and took a seat in the chair the doctor indicated. She pulled up one white sleeve of her dress and lay her hand, palm up on her thigh. The doctor hurried to gather the phlebotomy supplies he would need to make the draw. While he was looking for his materials, Maria moved to stand next to Jen.

  “Are you okay with this Jena?” she asked. She looked at Jena with concerned eyes and placed a hand on her arm.

  Jen smiled reassuringly to her and said, “I don’t mind needles. Really, I am okay.”

  The doctor returned and scooted over to her on a rolling chair. He took her arm and checked the inside of her elbow for a prominent vein. He seemed to find what he needed and quickly applied a rubber tourniquet above her elbow. He took a large needle out of his lab coat and discarded the protective sheath. With steady hands and practiced movements, he pricked her arm and pierced the vein. Within a few seconds he had a full draw tube and removed the needle. With his other hand he pressed a cotton ball onto the wound. “Hold this,” he instructed. “Keep pressure."

  Jen held the cotton in place obediently until the doctor placed a piece of white tape over it. She watched as he injected her blood into three smaller vials. He placed them into a little
stand with holes just the right size to hold the vials and turned toward the microscope. Taking the needle once again, he pressed the plunger to squeeze one last drop onto a clear glass slide. He placed a thin cover glass over it and placed it under the scope. Looking at Maria he nodded his head slightly toward the door and then bent over to peer into the microscope.

  Jen felt Maria gently take her arm and pull her to her feet. Maria held a finger to her lips for silence and motioned toward the door. Jen thought it was a bit strange, but obeyed without hesitation.

  Once they were outside in the hall, Maria laughed, “I’m sorry Jena. I should have warned you. The doctor is a little strange sometimes, but he means well. You should have seen your face!”

  Jen’s guard immediately went down and she giggled along with Maria. She was actually having fun! “What’s next?” she asked. “Is there anything else to see? Am I allowed to go outside?”

  Maria stopped and looked at her surprised. “Yes! Of course you are!” she said. “Come on! Let’s go outside,” she said. She took Jen by the arm and walked close beside her like a good friend. “Now, when we go outside there will be men, Jena. We have to be modest and proper at all times, okay? We can go outside, but that privilege depends on our behavior." Jen nodded in understanding.

  “One more thing Jena,” Maria said. “While we are outside we are going to visit a very important man." Jen turned to look at Maria as they walked. “Don’t be afraid, Jena. He is a gentle man. He is a holy man. I’m sure you will like him." Maria led her to a lobby where two men dressed completely in black, stood guard. They wore military style cargo pants tucked into the tops of their boots and held AK-47 rifles at the ready. Jen looked down politely. She noticed Maria do the same. The guards paid no attention to the two women walking by.