The Colonel's Daughter

by Lili Tufel

An insurgent holding an AK47 rounded the corner and with a grappling move, Dallas brought him to the ground then knocked him unconscious. Avoiding the use of his left shoulder, he stumbled as he dragged the body into the darkness of the cave and stripped the terrorist of his clothes.

  And with Daphne’s help while exhaling quiet painful grunts, Dallas removed his uniform shirt. “I’m not doing it. There’s no way I’m putting the enemy’s clothes on.”

  “You have no choice. It’s our only way out of here.”

  “I’m not dying in those clothes. If I’m gonna die, it’s going to be with the honor of my uniform.” In order to bandage his shoulder, he ripped his under shirt and used it as a tourniquet while tightening it with his teeth.

  “This is what I don’t understand, you have an infant child who needs a father and you’re more concerned about your own honor?”

  “My daughter would be proud to have had a father who fought and died with honor.”

  “Rubbish. My father thought that way. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the British army. He sacrificed everything for the sake of honor…including his own heart.”

  Dallas sweated profusely and his breathing became erratic, and when he tried to turn around, he fell to one knee and drifted into a dreamlike state. He focused on an inner vision of Abby’s beautiful face, her porcelain skin glowing, like that of an angel. It was the day he said goodbye. She held Grace wrapped in a blanket and begged him, “Don’t go Dallas don’t go.” She pouted with her perfect lips and he was able to take in her scent and kiss her salty tear.

  Daphne, a steadfast woman who was now wearing the dead man’s long chemise and headdress, spit into the palm of her hand and making a mud mask rubbed it onto her face then loosely tied his wrists.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dallas mumbled.

  “I’m getting us out of here, that’s what I’m doing.” She picked up the AK47 and nudged Dallas along.

  Without making eye contact, they managed to walk past a group of insurgents loading a wagon full of explosives then covering it with hay. Dallas hung his head wearing only his pants and boots, shirtless with an improvised bandage around his shoulder he struggled to maintain his footing. As they entered another passage in the elaborate tunnel, they came upon a set of stairs carved into the rock. One of the armed men who had been loading the wagon studied Daphne’s horrid disguise and called out in Pashto. He suggested that she didn’t go in that direction to transport the hostage—meaning Dallas—because those stairs led to a post that had been recently occupied by British soldiers. He pointed in a different direction and told the mud masked Daphne to take her prisoner down another tunnel. She waved her weapon in the air in response then turned to Dallas, “We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”

  Dallas grabbed the AK47 to cover for her while she ran up the steps and through the darkened path in the hopes of making it into the British camp. The armed men took off, which would only mean one thing they’re going to get reinforcements, thought Dallas.

  Weak and barely holding on to the weapon he stumbled towards Daphne as the underground bunker became smaller and smaller. Frantically, Daphne picked up large boulders and tossed them aside trying to open a hole large enough to crawl out. Using his right arm, Dallas pushed against a coarse uneven rock rolling it sideways, then helped Daphne crawl through. He crawled out after her but had difficulty getting back on his feet. In a fog, he glanced at Daphne who stripped off her disguise and flagged down a platoon of British soldiers.

  She caught every soldier’s eye, happy to see a beautiful redhead flagging each one down. Daphne Mellinger had the entire platoon at her disposal. They placed Dallas on a stretcher and after the medic had tended to his wounds and had stabilized him he asked, “Who is he? Is he an American soldier?”

  “No, he’s my photographer.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  The sun had begun to set as the last guests from the funeral reception said their good-bye and Abby despite a degrading conversation with her mother-in-law and her altogether miserable state, managed to put on a pleasant smile.

  “We have plenty of room for you and the baby here. Are you sure you won’t stay?” Her mother-in-law gave her a half smile. Although back when she was Mrs. Star, she had been a very loving mother to Dallas, the now Mrs. Billingsworth directed all her love and attention to her beloved schnauzer who growled at any human that got near its owner.

  “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” Abby adjusted the strap of the diaper bag while gripping an infant carrier. “Maybe Grace and I can visit for a few days once we get settled.”

  “Absolutely darling, we would love to have the both of you here. And you can stay for as long as you’d like.” She turned to her schnauzer, “Isn’t that right Guinevere?” The high-energy dog barked, jumping up and down on the marble foyer.

  Meeting Abby outside at the front steps between the white marble pillars, Javi helped take the infant carrier to the rental car where Jasmine and Samantha were already waiting. Abby took one last look at the majestic house, as if to get a feel for Dallas’s presence, but the place seemed cold uninviting, which left her empty inside. And while sitting in the backseat next to Grace and Samantha, she turned to Javi as he adjusted the driver’s seat, “Javi, I saw you on the phone earlier. Please tell me, are they still looking for his body?” She glanced into the rearview mirror, caught sight of her swollen eyelids, and frizzed out hair.

  Jasmine turned to the back seat and looked at her sister. “Sweetie, he was on the phone making hotel reservations. You’re exhausted. We’re all tired. We decided to take a flight back tomorrow instead of going straight to the airport. That way you can get a full nights rest and Javi and I will help take care of Grace.”

  “I can help too momma.” Samantha fidgeted with the ribbon that had been replaced in her hair a dozen times.

  Jasmine looked at her daughter, “Sam, I want you to get a good night sleep like Auntie Abby. Tomorrow’s gonna be a very long day. And please put that ribbon back in your pocket.”

  “Ok momma.” Samantha placed the ribbon in her coat. Out of the same pocket, she took out a small object. “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot to give this to you Auntie Abby. Here is the necklace you dropped on the floor.”

  “What?” She took hold of it immediately recognizing her childhood pearl necklace. “Where did you get this Samantha?”

  Preoccupied with the love song playing on the radio, Javi held Jasmine’s hand and kissed it several times.

  Abby insisted, “Well, Sam? Where did you get it?”

  “From the man eating cake, he said you dropped it on the floor.”

  “What else did he say? Did you see who he was?”

  “He had big ugly sunglasses. I ran away from him.”

  “That’s it? Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah, he said you should go to the church.” The little girl shrugged her shoulders, “I’m glad you didn’t lose your special necklace auntie.”

  “You did good Sammy, you did good, thank you.” Abby clutched the necklace close to her heart and looked out the car window.

  At the hotel, Abby lay in bed wearing the necklace and fidgeting with the small pearl. She thought about Dallas and the possibility that he may still be alive. She made up her mind not to travel with Javi and Jasmine directly to Miami, but to stop at the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe. She hoped to find answers in the place where Dallas had declared his love for her.

  In the hotel room next door, Samantha slept peacefully on her bed while Jasmine paced back and forth rocking the baby in her arms.

  “Why don’t you sing one those beautiful lullabies I’ve heard you sing to Samantha? You sound so sexy singing.” Propped up on pillows, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas Javi lied on the bed browsing the internet on his laptop.

  “Javi, sexy and lullabies do not go together.”

  “Look at this…I got an email from a photographer in the UK.”

  Ja
smine changed the baby’s diaper. “Are you sure it’s not spam from one of those online dating sites?”

  Javi sat upright reading the sole sentence in the body of the email.

  You should’ve castled to defend.

  He immediately thought of Dallas, the only one interested in beating the Captain at a good game of chess years before when he was just a kid fresh out of Ranger school, full of theory but so green to the ways of the world, the ways of the jungle, the sand, the war. Javi thought about Dallas being like a little brother to him. He remembered teaching him how to take a punch knowing that lesson was a seed that helped him years later in captivity when the hanging flesh on his back from the lashings didn’t stop him from staying strong, on course. “I taught Dallas how to castle when we first started playing chess together. He would play all the guys in the platoon and whenever he would win, he would always say you should’ve castled to defend. Some of the guys eventually caught on to his strategy but not before he won a lot of bets.”

  Having left the baby in the playpen, she sat at the edge of the bed. “Well did he castle long or short? Most people castle short on the king’s side but they never develop their game on that side of the board. So it doesn’t always work to their advantage.”

  “Your knowledge of chess is really turning me on right now. Come here…” He moved the laptop aside.

  She slowly crawled up the bed, in her matching flannel pajamas, and rested her head under his arm.

  “So tell me more about why you’re not a friend of castling?” He joked.

  “Well,” she played along. “Sometimes people don’t even move their king first, which is easy to catch, they were obviously only moving their rook and not really castling…then they try to play it off but not with me, I don’t let them get away with it.”

  He turned on his side and gently kissed her feeling his tongue against hers and then stopped and said in a mimicking voice, “Javi…stop…the kids.”

  “Hey I didn’t say that, you’re the one stopping. There’s nothing wrong with a little kissing.”

  “You like it when I kiss you?”

  “I love it when you kiss me, Javi. You’re an amazing kisser.”

  “Now you’re just humoring me.”

  “I was honest about castling why wouldn’t I be honest about your kissing?”

  He kissed her some more.

  “Javi,” she tried to get his attention while he kissed her neck, “Javi?”

  “See, I knew there was something bothering you…you don’t want me kissing you.”

  “Why would you say that, Javi? It’s not that.” She pecked his mouth. “It’s just that there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “There’s been something on your mind this whole trip and you have me guessing, Jasmine. Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

  “You’re not doing anything wrong. I was giving you space to mourn the loss of your best friend. You shouldn’t suppress your grief.”

  “I mourn in my own way. I’ve been mourning the loss of friends for years, Jasmine. You wanna know how many friends I’ve lost in my life time?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He held her tight. “I’m sorry too.”

  “Javi, we’re going to have a baby.”

  Pulling away, he raised his eyebrows, “What?”

  “We’re gonna have a baby.”

  He held her tighter than before, in blissful rapture and humble gratitude for having been given the greatest consolation during such a painful loss. “Now I can hear your lullabies every night. I tell you, if I could go back and have your voice with me, inside me, just imagining you singing to our baby, all those years out in the sand, those lonely nights on patrol, in the spider hole…I would’ve felt so different.”

  She pulled away and looked at him. “Javi, if you could go back, wouldn’t you just want to not be in any of those places? Forget about taking my voice with you.”

  “No, I don’t have any regrets fighting for my country. I’d fight all over again. I’d just take your voice with me, right in here,” he pointed to his heart.

  * * * * *

  On the kneeler of the fourth pew at the Virgin of Guadalupe Shrine, Abby buried her face in a tissue. Grace slept bundled up in her infant carrier by her mother’s side. Wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and a helmet under his arm, he strolled up to the holy water font and removed his black gloves. He dipped his calloused fingers into the font and made the sign of the cross. Stopping short of Abby’s pew, he put down his helmet and gloves then paused to study the sleeping child. Getting on one knee beside Abby, he extended his palm as if holding his heart in his hand.

  “Dallas, it’s like a miracle.” She kissed his palm, “Your heart’s been with me always. Nothing has changed.”

  He grazed her cheeks with his thumbs. “You have no idea what I’ve been through just to be here, to feel you in my arms.” He held her tight then took a seat on the bench. “I extend my hand to you because, after you hear what I have to say, you may not want my heart.”

  “Dallas, that’s impossible. I love you no matter what.”

  “I got pretty much all of Al-Qaeda after me. I have to lay low ‘til the smoke clears, assume a new identity, I have to disappear. Just by talking to you, I’m putting you and Grace in harm’s way. But I couldn’t bear to watch you in that kind of pain anymore. I just had to tell you.”

  “Take us with you, Dallas. Grace is just a baby, she doesn’t know any better. We can settle anywhere, as long as we’re together.”

  “That’s the point Abby, we can’t settle. I have to be constantly on the move. What kind of life is that for you and Grace?”

  Looking up at a crucifix, she gave a deep sigh. “I won’t let you go alone. Does my dad know you’re alive?”

  “No, and you’re not gonna tell him either. No one can know, Abby.”

  A deep voice called out, “You should’ve castled to defend.” Javi dipped the tip of his fingers in the holy water font and made a quick sign of the cross before trotting down the aisle.

  “So you’re a photographer now? I didn’t peg you for CIA material, Dallas.”

  “It’s not like that, Jav.”

  “Then what is it, Dallas. You got us all mourning your death. For what? I actually thought I lost my best friend.”

  “Dude, that guy Faisal Shahrivar sent my picture to all of Al-Qaeda around the world. I was the most wanted guy…and probably still am because from what I hear, they won’t believe I’m dead ‘til my body is found.”

  “I helped you kill Shahrivar father and son. Don’t you think I have a right to know if someone’s after me and my family, Dallas?”

  Upon hearing the word kill, Abby looked up at the crucifix with raised eyebrows, initially begging for mercy, then she remembered Dallas’s words after he had rescued her from the clutches of evil, it’s not about killing it’s about protecting and she hoped that an all knowing God would understand the circumstances.

  “They’re not after you Javi. Faisal thinks it was all my doing.”

  “The Colonel and I had Faisal at gunpoint, bro. Once he finds out…” He placed both hands on top of his shaved head pacing the church aisle.

  “Listen Javi, I’m sorry. But, bro, you cannot tell the Colonel.” Dallas ran a hand over his crew cut scratching the top of his head then insisted, “Can I meet you some other place where we can talk?”

  Taking a seat behind Abby, Javi swung both arms resting them on the top of the bench. “Sit down and talk right here. You’re not going to lie to us before God, are you?”

  Dallas sat next to Abby then turned to face them both. “Look, I understand you’re upset, Jav. But I want a few minutes with my wife and daughter. Please.”

  Abby, placing a hand on her husband’s back, whispered, “Let him stay Dallas. He’s just been through your funeral. It wasn’t easy on any of us. He loves you a lot.”

  Dallas explained how he and Daphne Mellinger found the complex of intricate under
ground tunnels and how he had been shot and when he and the British journalist had made it out, she told the surgeon and everyone else around them that Dallas was her photographer. Then he explained to them how Daphne Mellinger had previously worked with the CIA and how she called the Deputy Director, and how the Deputy Director flew to meet with Dallas in London and offered him a position with the CIA and along with it a new secret identity.

  Paying close attention, Javi tilted slightly forward. “Looks like your secret identity ain’t a secret no more.”

  “Very funny, Jav, the reason why I made contact with you is to get you to come join me, as my partner. They’re gonna offer you a job.”

  Abby protested. “What about my sister?”

  “You can bring your family into protected custody if you want to or if they want to.”

  “Jasmine’s not going to want to leave the beach house, I’m sure of it.” Javi sighed.

  “She doesn’t have to, Javi. She can stay where she is. Trust me, bro.”

  Javi thought about it for a moment then smiled. “I see you’re driving a motorcycle now. What happened to always choosing a pick-up truck?”

  “It’s my new identity, brother.”

  “Alright, I’m in.” Javi stood up and shook his hand. “I still think its messed up you made me go through your entire funeral not knowing.”

  Abby interjected, “Maybe you should go talk about it with my sister first.”

  Javi cupped the palms of his hand over his face and tilting his head back he sighed. “You’re right. I need to talk to my wife.” She’s having my baby, he thought. Javi left with his head hung low thinking about what to say to Jasmine.

  Dallas turned to Abby and stared at his wife’s beautiful round breasts. He was feeling guilty for doing so while inside the church, but he had so much guilt over everything else, that he repeatedly said the words, have mercy on me in his mind. He continued to stare at his wife, longing for her to ease his anxiety. If he could only hear her tell him once more, as long as we’re together.