by Sidney Wood
“Matt says there’s a doctor the boat captain knows at one of our stops. He’s agreed to send for him once we get into port,” said Jen, trying to change the subject.
“That’s good,” said Lance Corporal O’Bryan. “I’m not so worried about my leg, but I am pretty sure an infection in my orbital socket would be…less than optimal." He chuckled and said, “I am pretty happy about one thing."
Jen raised her eyebrows.
“I wasn’t able to wink before. The best I could do was a lopsided blink of both eyes, but now…problem solved,” he said, pointing at the bandage over his damaged eye.
Jen couldn’t help but laugh with him. It was a terrible situation, but his humor was infectious. “If only my infection was humor,” she wished. “Do you need anything, Nathan?” she asked. I can hunt you down a snack or a drink if you like.”
“Nah, I’m fine, Jen. Thank you." When Jen was just leaning back to stand up, he reached out and touched her hand. “Hey, Jen…about what I said. You know, about Sergeant Lynch blaming himself.”
Jen nodded.
“The same goes for you. This wasn’t your fault. Me getting hurt wasn’t your doing,” he said emphatically.
Jen pulled her hand back and hung her head. She shook it side to side, refuting his assertion that she was blameless.
“I mean it, Jen. Knock that crap off. You didn’t ask for any of this and you sure as heck didn’t plan it." He touched her hand again and said, “Remember, I’ve seen you play Halo and Call of Duty. Let’s just say you’re no great military planner or operator." He pulled his hand back and laughed when Jen tried to punch his arm again.
“You’re a brat, Nathan,” she said as she laughed through the emotions his kindness brought to the surface. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Thank you for protecting me,” she said softly.
Jen climbed up onto the top bunk and rolled into her hammock. The steel frame held the canvas hammock taught, but years of moisture, sweat, and heavy sailors made it sag in the middle. Even so, it was surprisingly comfortable, and combined with the gently rocking boat and rumbling engines, Jen fell asleep in just a few minutes.
Jen’s dreams took her to a place she had been avoiding. She was traveling down a hot deserted highway, with her bare feet on the dash and her seat leaned back slightly. She looked out the window to see rows and rows of palm trees rushing by. The trees gave way to lush farmland where shepherds walked with sheep and goats, and young boys bathed in man-made canals. Women dressed in black burkhas watched over naked toddlers playing in the dust and dirt near small homes built of mud and brick.
Jen looked to the left and her breath caught in her chest. Her heart began beating faster, and she felt a smile appear involuntarily on her face. A big, strong, and ruggedly handsome soldier sat next to her, driving the SUV they traveled in. He glanced at her, flashing his blu-gray eyes at hers, and making her feel suddenly warmer. Deep South reached across the center console and put his hand on hers. Their fingers interlaced naturally, and Jen felt an electric current race through her body.
He turned his eyes back to the road ahead, but drew their hands toward him. He softly kissed the back of her hand, and Jen watched his lips curl into a warm smile. Her heart melted and she sunk back into her seat, overcome with happiness.
“Jen,” he said in an urgent voice.
She looked at him with concern, wondering what was wrong.
“Jen,” he said again. While she looked at him, his face changed. The SUV and surrounding countryside melted away into darkness, and the man calling her name was no longer Dustin. Sergeant Lynch gently shook her arm and called her name again, “Jen! Wake up!”
She was back on the boat with Sergeant Lynch and Lance Corporal O’Bryan, but the noises she had become accustomed to were different somehow. Angry voices topside, filtered down to the berthing area they occupied. Jen raised her head quickly and felt a sharp, jarring pain. The pipes and conduit above her bunk were hung too low for her to sit up. “Ouch!” she said, rubbing her sore head with one hand while carefully sliding out of her bunk sideways.
“What’s going on?” she asked Sergeant Lynch when she was on her feet. “Is something wrong?" She ducked down and looked at the bottom bunk. Nathan was gone. “Matt! Where is Nathan? Is he okay?”
Sergeant Lynch grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a hard, level look. “Nathan is topside. He’s in custody already.”
Jen’s heart seemed to stop and she shook her head, “No!”
“Jen, there’s nothing we can do for him. Heck, at least this way, he’ll get treatment for his injuries." His hands were still on her shoulders, and he held her firmly but gently. “We have to get you off this boat, Jen. So far, they don’t know you’re here.”
“But how will we get away? Who is up there?” she asked nearing panic.
Sergeant Lynch stared into her eyes and said, “I’m going to get you out of here Jen, but you have to trust me." To her surprise, he pulled her close and wrapped her in a warm hug. She didn’t pull away.
Chapter Forty
Jen waited at the bottom of the ladder-well anxiously as Sergeant Lynch peeked his head out the top. He had his service pistol in one hand. He held his other hand behind his back and gave her a thumbs up as he pushed up and through. Jen scrambled up the steps behind him and stayed low in the darkness as they ran to the starboard railing. She crouched in the shadows behind Sergeant Lynch, wedged between a welded steel box and a coil of braided cable. Mounted on the railing above them hung a reinforced steel arm and pulley. Jen leaned into him, and felt grateful for the comforting warmth of his body against the uncertainty of the moment and the chilly night air.
Beams of light criss-crossed the deck as silhouettes of men searched with flashlights. The powerful lights mounted atop the wheel house switched on and Jen could see the bow and foredeck lit up as bright as day. She counted three men searching the top-side of the vessel. They were all dressed in black tactical gear, and armed with short barreled assault rifles.
Sergeant Lynch leaned his head back and whispered over his shoulder to her, “We’re going over the side. Don’t worry about the water; I’ll help you. Just cross your arms and legs and try to go in feet first. Once you hit the water start kicking and make your way to the surface."
Jen wanted to scream. “Jump overboard? How high up are we? How far do we have to swim?" She gripped his shoulder and squeezed tightly.
“I’m a Marine, remember? Trust me, Jen,” he said softly and he placed his hand over his shoulder, on top of hers.
Jen leaned her head against his back and nodded. Her eyes were closed tightly and she prayed, “Dear Lord, please, help us! I don’t know if I can do this, but I trust you. I trust this Marine you sent to me.”
Sergeant Lynch tapped her hand and they stood up, slowly, into the light. He pointed at the railing and whispered, “Just crawl over and fall in, Jen. I’m right behind you."
Jen swung her leg up and laid lengthways across the rail. She saw the dark water below and turned her head away, frightened. As her gaze settled on the deck of the boat, she saw the nearest man in black raising his rifle toward them. Before she could shout a warning, the muzzle flashed and Sergeant Lynch grunted. He tipped forward and fell over the railing, just missing the hoist boom behind them. His hand snagged her leg and pulled her along with him. As she was pulled overboard, her eyes found the camouflaged face of the man who shot her protector. He was bigger than the others, and his head was uncovered. It was his eyes that struck her. They were an intense gray, and instead of angry or vicious, they looked tortured.
“Oh my God…why?” Jen thought as she fell. The fall seemed to take hours. Her arms and legs hung limp. She didn’t think about the water, just the face she glimpsed before falling. When she hit the water, the air was knocked from her lungs. Pain exploded throughout her body, but her mind didn’t put any of it together. She simply sank, eyes open and lifeless, as her heart broke into a thousand pieces.
A strong
hand grasped her wrist and pulled her to the surface. “I…I got you…Jen,” Sergeant Lynch said through short, methodical breaths. He positioned himself behind her and wrapped an arm around her torso, dragging her backward through the water with powerful leg kicks and one arm strokes. Jen could hear his voice, and see lights searching the surface of the water, but she was cold and disconnected from all of it. Her eyes fixed on the tall figure standing at the starboard railing and getting slowly smaller as they swam away.
Once they were far enough from the boats, Sergeant Lynch turned them toward shore. Jen could tell he was struggling. Her feelings gave way to the reality surrounding them, and she said, “Matt, I’m okay, let me swim. You’re working too hard carrying both of us."
He let go of her and she turned over onto her stomach. They swam in fits and starts for what seemed like hours. Jen rotated between swimming on her back and swimming on her stomach. At times they rested by holding their breath and floating still in the water, face down with arms and legs spread wide. Finally, the rocky beach was looming in front of them and Jen felt like crying with relief.
She crawled up onto the rocky shore beside him and they collapsed next to each other.
“We made it, Jen. We’re going to be okay,” he said.
She was exhausted in every way. His arm slipped over her and she buried her face against his chest. A deep sadness enveloped her and she began to cry. His arm pulled her closer and she sobbed uncontrollably. Everything hit her at once. She cried for her parents and the loss of her best friend, the girls she was imprisoned with and the innocents who died from the deadly pathogen she still carried, and for the heartbreaking betrayal by a man she thought she was falling in love with.
After a few moments, Jen felt him touching his side gingerly, and she raised her head. Blood soaked his shirt, and a finger-size hole pierced his side. Jen pushed away from him, afraid to be near the open wound.
“Oh no! Matt, are you okay?” she asked with worry. Jen checked her hands and arms for any scratches or cuts. The smallest transfer of fluid could be life threatening to him.
“I’ll be okay,” he said with a grimace. “We need to get moving, Jen. They know we’re close, so they’ll keep looking.
“I know,” she said softly. The tears came again, and intense sadness crashed over her. “Matt,” she said choking back sobs. The man that shot you…It was Dustin.”
To Be Continued…
Note from the author
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?
Thanks!
Sidney Wood, Author
About the author:
Sidney Wood is a career military and law enforcement professional with a degree in business and a background in engineering. He lives in Alaska’s scenic Mat-Su Valley with his beautiful wife, Nat, and their many children.
Discover other titles by Sidney Wood
Thicker than Blood Series:
Book 1 - Stronger than Bone
Path of Jen Series:
Book 1 - Bloodborne
Short Stories:
The Well
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