by Sidney Wood
When her time was up, she ran back to the SUV and hopped in the driver’s seat. She put the key in the ignition and rotated it forward until she heard the engine come to life. “Yes!” she shouted. Jen held onto the steering wheel and bounced up and down with excitement that it actually worked. “Okay, this is too easy, I got this,” said Jen as she located the shifting lever and placed her foot on the brake. Jen already had her learner’s permit, and she was ready to take her driving test after her birthday. Her dad wasn’t exactly happy about the idea of her driving, but he didn’t forbid it either.
Jen moved the lever to “D” and slowly let off the brake. She guided the vehicle around the compound without headlights since the generator powered floodlights were still running, and stopped at each building to retrieve the supplies she had staged. As soon as she was done, she turned around and drove for the compound entrance. She pulled the SUV up near the gate and stopped. “Which way do I need to go? Oh man, I don’t even know which way is…wait a minute,” she thought as she realized there was a compass heading displayed in the corner of the rear view mirror. Driving straight out of the compound gate would be heading northwest. “You are doing alright Rocky,” she said as she patted the dashboard affectionately. “Yep, Rocky is your name from now on. Okay Rocky, let’s do this.”
Jen reached for the switch to turn on her headlights and froze. There were four vehicles coming toward the compound and moving fast. Jen panicked and shut off the engine. She laid her seat back and scooted down, hoping they would pass her by and she could leave. She fought the urge to sit up and see who they were, and in seconds their bright headlights passed her SUV and moved into the compound.
Jen heard the engines stop and doors open. She scooted up in her seat slightly and used the toggle on her door to tilt her side mirror down far enough that she could see what they were doing behind her. She saw men with guns and tactical gear moving in teams to secure the area. Most went to the building where all of the bodies lay.
While the others tried to make sense of what had happened, two of the men, one big and one small, were heading Jen’s way, toward the front of the compound. The big man held a longer rifle and swept it side to side as he walked. The smaller man held a short, mean looking rifle that he held level in front of him, just below his eyes. He kept facing forward, eyes trained on the buildings and vehicles near the front gate. They were heading directly toward the SUV. Jen held her breath.
“Hey! What the hell? Back off Frankie!” came a shout from the dark building.
Two shots rang out, and the two men approaching Jen’s vehicle spun around.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Deep South swung his rifle around just in time to see Frankie’s head snap back sharply as two rapidly fired shots hit him in the forehead. He immediately brought his rifle up and acquired Frankie’s assailant in his scope. “No way,” he whispered as he dropped his rifle to look over the top. There in front of Frankie’s corpse stood Skinny, with his pistol drawn and still pointed at his dead teammate. He jerked the rifle up and looked through the scope again. “No!” he said louder. Then he shouted, “Skinny! What the hell is going on?”
Skinny ignored him and stepped cautiously toward Franky. Deep South watched as their commanding officer dropped to a knee and checked Frankie’s pulse. He took him by the shoulders and shook him. Deep South could hear him yell, “You made me Franky! I had no choice!" Skinny stopped and wiped blood from his hands onto his trousers and hung his head. Suddenly he looked up with a terrible rictus on his face.
Deep South and Preacher were running back toward the building when Skinny let out a terrible scream. He leapt to his feet and tackled the ISF soldier reaching out to help him up. The soldier, managed to squeeze off one round before the Captain knocked the rifle from his hands and bit into his neck. The wild shot hit the second ISF soldier in his chest and he collapsed in a heap. Deep South skidded to a stop and held his arm out to stop Preacher, but the smaller man ducked under it and passed him by. “Preach, wait!” he called out to his friend.
Preacher raced to the fight and threw his weight into pulling Skinny off the ISF soldier. He put an arm around the Captain’s neck and pulled back hard. Skinny launched his body backward at the same time, knocking Preacher off balance, and landed on top of him. Deep South watched helplessly as Skinny thrashed and clawed against the smaller man until he was facing him. He began to tear at Preacher’s face with his teeth and hands while Preacher flailed his arms and legs helplessly.
Deep South brought his rifle up and flipped the safety off. He smoothly pulled the trigger to the rear and watched Skinny’s head explode into red mist. Preacher was screaming and thrashing on the ground under the heavier man’s corpse. Deep South started forward and then stopped. “What the heck is happening?” he wondered frantically. “This is happening too fast, and it started over there." He began backing up slowly, keeping his rifle pointed toward the danger.
Preacher finally pushed Skinny off of him and stood up. He was screaming in the same way Skinny had a few seconds before, and his face was a bloody mess. His head jerked back and forth, looking in all directions. When he saw Deep South, his eyes locked on him and he began growling viciously.
“Preach? You okay buddy?” asked Deep South as he continued backing away.
Preacher sprinted toward Deep South with a snarl.
“Oh man,” Deep South whispered as he brought his rifle up to his cheek once more. He pressed the trigger and his whole body tensed as he absorbed the familiar recoil. Deep South looked over the top of his scope and saw his buddy lying face down in the dirt. The back of his skull was gone. It was hard to believe the dead body laying on the ground in front of him was the man he called Preacher. The nick-name was earned during a particularly intense firefight in which Preacher, who was barely holding it together, recited Psalms 23 over and over. It struck everyone as significant because Preacher was anything but religious. In fact, of all of them, he had the worst temper and used the foulest language. Deep South had jokingly called him Preacher after the fight, and the name stuck. Deep South realized he was distracted and shook his head. “Come on!” he snarled at himself. “Get your head in the game!"
Deep South turned a slow circle, scanning near and far. His gaze passed the gate and a tan SUV sitting empty next to it. “Wait,” he thought. “What was that?" He saw something move in the front seat. He lifted the rifle to just below his cheek and walked forward, determined to find out what was going on. His walked with his feet spread shoulder width apart, as if tracing railroad tracks, for maximum stability and balance. He rolled each step heel to toe, to keep from tripping as he kept his eyes focused on the threat ahead. Deep South only took his eyes off the SUV to glance side to side and over his shoulder every few steps.
Deep South approached from the rear quarter of the vehicle on the driver’s side. When he was within ten feet of the door, he stopped and said, “Ain’t no use hidin’ Achmed. I saw your dumb ass moving a minute ago. Why don’t you save us both some trouble and put your hands up nice and easy, where I can see ‘em." He stood his ground and waited, weapon ready.
For about ten seconds there was no reply or reaction. Then, two smallish hands raised slowly above the driver’s seat. Deep South blinked. “Are those a woman’s hands?” he wondered. He took another step closer and to the side to get a look in the driver side window. “You,” he said, surprised to see the same woman he had observed from his vantage point at the building outside of Mosul two days before. She kept her hands up in the air and turned her head slowly to look at him. She looked confused and maybe scared.
“Keep your hands in the air and don’t try anything funny. I am not in a good mood right now. You get me?” he said forcefully. “I’m going to open the door and you’re going to do exactly what I say or I will put a big freaking hole in your pretty little head. Are we clear?" Jen nodded.
Deep South stepped closer and grabbed the door handle. He watched her closely as he carefully opened
the door and stepped back. “Okay then. Come on out.” he ordered. Jen did as she was instructed and stepped out with her hands held up. Deep South saw the cuts on her wrists and his brow wrinkled. “What is this girl’s story?” he wondered. He asked, “You understand me?" Jen nodded. “Can you tell me what happened here? What happened to my team?" His rifle was still trained on her head, and she shook her head slightly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he growled. “Maybe you can answer this one. Give me one reason I shouldn’t put a bullet in your haji ass right now!” he snapped. He held the rifle tightly in his shoulder and his knuckles were white on the pistol grip. His trigger finger pulled the slack out of the trigger and all that remained was a slight rearward press to send the firing pin slamming forward.
Jen swallowed hard and closed her eyes. The big tough guy staring her down, with a rifle in his hands and a deadly look in his eyes, was an American soldier. For the first time in two long years, Jen was near someone who could help her get home, but he seemed more likely to kill her than help her. Tears threatened to escape and roll down her cheeks. “Please Lord, give me the right words.” she prayed. Jen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her lips trembled, but her will hardened and she knew she could do it. She opened her eyes and looked straight at the big southern soldier. “I did this,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Deep South and Jen sat opposite from each other on crates near the front gate. She was unarmed, and so far, unrestrained. The big Special Forces soldier was angry and confused. This teenage girl in front of him was responsible for spreading a deadly virus that just killed his entire team. “You know this isn’t her fault,” his conscious shouted. “She’s as much a victim here as they are. Can I even imagine what she’s had to endure? What would it feel like to know I was a danger to everyone I loved and to think I might never be allowed to go home?" He started to soften, but then he looked past her and saw the bodies laying on the ground and his blood started to boil again. “How do I know she’s innocent in all of this? She could be playing me right now!”
Deep South held a pistol held in one hand and his rifle leaned against the crate just next to him. He flexed his hand and gripped the pistol over and over unconsciously. One of the team vehicles was parked next to the tan SUV, and there was a Satellite Phone sitting on the hood. The gas powered generators running the flood lights droned in the background, while the two Americans spoke.
“Okay, listen,” Deep South said. “Even if I do believe you, and I’m not saying I do, how do you expect to get home? You’re carrying a dangerous pathogen. No country is gonna let you within a thousand miles of their border." He shook his head. “You’re truly screwed lady."
“My parents might be Iranian Americans…but I’m from Texas, sir. I won’t just give up." Jen said with her chin held high. Despite her bravado, she was shaking, and the soldier noticed.
Deep South sighed and holstered his pistol. “Damn. She is all bad news, but there’s something about her…"
“Alright ma’am,” he said, still shaking his head. “Here’s the deal. I can’t leave you here…for a whole bunch of reasons. But, you gotta know that coming with me is not a free ticket home for you either. You’re on the top of everybody’s list, and it ain’t the good list. My question for you is, are you gonna give me any trouble? I need to know if I ought to tie you up and throw you in the back, or if you can behave yourself." He raised an eyebrow and waited for her response.
“Geez, I feel like a kid around this guy,” she thought. “Staff Sergeant Parks, I promise I won’t give you any trouble. I just want to go home, but…I’m dangerous. I don’t want to make anyone else sick." Jen looked into his intense gray eyes with concern. “I want to go home so bad, but maybe I’m not meant to." She felt like she was about to cry again and it made her mad. “Oh come on Jen! Quit feeling sorry for yourself and do the right thing!” she thought. She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin defiantly.
“Now come on,” Deep South said, letting his guard down. “Where’s that Texas grit you showed me a minute ago? Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t give up?" He stood up and motioned for her to do the same. “Get in the truck, we got a lot of ground to cover.”
Jen stood up. Somehow, just the act of getting up made her feel more confident. She forced an awkward smile as she walked by him toward the vehicle. She climbed into the passenger seat and stared out of her side window, embarrassed.
Deep South stood frozen for a moment. “Was she smiling at me?" he wondered. He felt his face flush red and he checked himself, “Oh come on Dustin! Keep it together! She’s a pretty girl, but really?" He picked up his rifle and snatched the Sat-Phone off the hood of the vehicle. He took a deep breath and climbed in the driver’s seat. He pushed the key into the ignition and was about to turn it when uncertainty hit him. He looked over at Jen and asked, “I can’t get sick from just being next to you right? It’s not airborne?"
“What?” she turned and faced him. “Oh, that. No, it’s in my blood and I was around people everyday. The only times people got infected was when my blood got on them, or into a cut or scratch. It spreads the same way once someone else gets infected. You have to get their blood on you." A thought occurred to her. “Oh, hey! They made a vaccine too!" Then more quietly, “I mean, they said they did, and they were planning on giving it to everyone…well, Muslims." After a short pause, her eyes lit up and she said, “But maybe that means we can make a vaccine too! A better one! Maybe our doctors can cure me!"
Deep South frowned at her as he considered what she said. “More likely, they’ll lock you up in a secret prison cell and try to one-up the bad guys in virus making,” he thought. “Yeah, maybe so. Well, one thing’s for sure; we don’t want to be out here alone. I’m going to call in an NBC alert on this compound and see if we can link up with some friendlies up the road a bit."
He used the Sat-Phone to call in their position, and he gave an abbreviated report of what happened. Jen noticed that he didn’t say anything about her role in the deaths of all of these men. He simply reported her as a civilian.
“Dear Lord, I hope I can trust this man. Did you send him to save me? I sure hope so…” Jen prayed silently.
Ten seconds after Deep South hung up the phone it started to buzz. He answered it. Jen couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but she saw Staff Sergeant Parks’ expression turn black. “Roger that, we’re moving,” he said. He tossed the phone on the dash and grabbed a pair of night vision goggles from under his seat. He slipped them over his head and switched them on. After a few looks up and down, he dropped them in his lap and slammed the SUV into gear. He spun the tires pulling out of the compound. They drove without headlights down the dusty gravel road. When they were about two hundred yards from the compound, Deep South picked up the night vision goggles and slipped them back over his head. He didn’t pull over or slow down.
Jen reached for her seatbelt and tried to put it on, but kept getting short pulls from the bouncing. She waited for a smooth spot and was able to pull it out far enough to pass over her waist and click it into place.
Jen stared at the rough looking soldier next to her. He was a big man, strong and handsome. She noticed earlier that his eyes were as intense as they were attractive, and it made her wonder, “What made them that way. What terrible things had he seen?" He glanced at her with the strange, sci-fi looking goggles and she turned away briefly. After a moment she asked, “What was that about? Is something happening?”
Deep South grunted and kept driving. He looked at her questioningly for a second, and then turned back to watch the road. It was hard to make out facial expressions in the dark, but he had a scowl on his face and Jen thought he looked conflicted.
“What is it?” she asked again. “Please, tell me.”
“You’re going to see for yourself in just a minute or two, I’m afraid." He pressed harder on the accelerator pedal. Jen held on as they slid around a corner on the dirt road and continued on, leaving a c
loud of dust behind them in the dark. From here, she could see the highway, and a column of headlights coming from the west.
She looked at Deep South and asked, “Is that what the call was about? Are those enemy soldiers? Is that an ISIS convoy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “To all of it.”
They bounced up onto the highway about half a mile in front of the convoy and Deep South pushed the SUV as fast as it would go. Jen couldn’t see the road in the dark so she closed her eyes to avoid freaking out.
“Look,” said the Staff Sergeant.
Jen opened her eyes and still couldn’t see anything in front of them. She checked her mirror and gasped. A long line of headlights was behind them. Jen turned in her seat and tried to count. “I count at least ten trucks,” she said. “No, wait…more like twenty!" She sat back down and asked. “Can we outrun them? What are we going to do?"
Deep South grinned and said, “Look again.”
Jen turned to look behind them again and saw the convoy turning north onto the same dirt road they had just left. “They’re heading to the base!” Jen said with excitement.
“Yep,” said Deep South. “I’m gonna pull over for a minute. It’s about to get really bright out and that’s not cool when your wearing night vision." He slowed and moved to the south side of the road before swinging the SUV in a tight u-turn and facing roughly toward the compound. “This is gonna be a good show. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Jen stared at him in disbelief. “There’s a whole convoy of bad guys super close! Why are we stopping?" She hit him on the arm and shouted, “What if they turn around?”
Deep South chuckled and pulled the night vision goggles off of his head. He handed them to her. “You wanna take a look?” he asked. “Just make sure you take ‘em off as soon as you see the freedom birds.”
