by Cat Johnson
“Um, yeah. I guess I did know.” Darci closed the door and walked to where Ali stood near the kitchen island. “You still haven’t heard from him?”
“No! I’ve gotten not one phone call or text or email or anything.”
“I’m sorry, Ali. I can’t believe he didn’t get any word to you at all.” Darci turned to Chris, who was sitting suspiciously quiet on the sofa.
His attention seemed completely glued to the TV. Since the show on screen was a cooking program, and not some manly chef either, it seemed extra odd. There was no way Chris was that enthralled by the snooty lady chef from New York who cooked for all her rich friends at her house on the beach.
Darci frowned at her fiancé. “Chris. Do you know anything?”
“Nope.” He shook his head and delivered that single definitive word firmly.
Eyes wide, Ali strode to the living room area. Darci beat her there. Together, they presented a united front as they stood between him and the television.
“You know something,” Darci accused.
Weeks of worry had Ali torn between anger and tears. “Chris, please. If you do—”
“I don’t. Ali, I swear to you on my momma’s life.”
“Then why are you acting so weird?” Darci asked.
Chris pressed his lips together before saying, “Because if Jon has gone dark it has to mean he’s involved in something big. It’s not like him that he disappeared without Zane or Rick or me knowing where he was going.”
Darci’s eyes flew wide. “So, what are you saying? You think he was kidnapped?”
“No. Why would you think that? He told Ali he had a job. He took his go-bag. He left under his own power, just in complete secrecy. At least as far as we’re all concerned.”
Darci folded his arms. “So what do you think is going on?”
Chris shrugged. “He must have taken a job on his own.”
“What kind of job?” As Darci fired the next question at Chris, Ali stood by and watched.
It felt a bit like a bad dream. Like she was an observer, outside the situation. Unable to talk. Frozen in place. Invisible to those in the room.
“I don’t know. He left no trail, no evidence of what it is or where he is. And believe me, I looked. I ripped that office apart, right down to searching the ceiling tiles and the vents.” Chris shook his head and finally turned his focus to Ali. “You a’ight?”
“No.” Ali shook her head. When she stopped the small motion, she realized the room hadn’t stopped swaying.
Stumbling, Ali reached for the arm of the chair.
Darci stepped forward. “Whoa. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Besides all the stuff with Jon stressing her out, she was now having fainting spells? Lovely. What the hell else could the universe throw at her? Hadn’t she already been going through enough?
“I’m fine. Just dizzy.”
“Sit down.” Darci guided Ali into the chair. “Have you eaten today?”
Ali frowned as she tried to remember. “Um . . .”
“If you have to think that hard about the last time you’ve eaten, then it’s been too long.” After that declaration, Darci spun toward Chris. “Chris—”
“I’m on it. I’ll run out and get something. What do want?”
“Chinese?” Darci asked Ali. “A nice eggroll and some hot soup? And some vegetable dumplings and beef and broccoli maybe?”
“Whatever you get is fine. Thank you.”
Darci turned to Chris. He nodded as he reached for his keys on the counter. “Got it. Be back shortly.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“No problem, darlin’.” Chris dropped a kiss on Darci’s forehead before he was out the door.
Once they were alone, Darci’s full attention was back on Ali. “I’ll get you some water. Or maybe hot tea? Which do you want?”
Darci was a caretaker by nature. If she even got a whiff of the fact that someone wasn’t feeling well she would be there with food and support.
After years of being her friend and coworker, Ali knew this. Ali also knew it was pointless to try and stop Darci from trying to help. It was just simpler and easier on everyone to let her fuss.
“Tea maybe. Thanks.”
“I’ll put the kettle on. Herbal or regular? Actually, if you’re lightheaded, you should probably have herbal.” Darci asked and then answered her own question.
“Okay.” Whatever made Darci happy was fine with Ali.
As long as she stayed sitting and didn’t move her head too fast, the room didn’t spin and that was a good thing.
Darci was back in a couple of minutes. She sat on the sofa and leaned forward, eyeing Ali. “Just waiting for the water to boil. You feel any better?”
“A little.” Ali bit her lip. While Darci had been in the kitchen, she’d had some time to think and she realized there was one thing that she’d been ignoring, but in light of the dizzy spell and the wave of nausea when Darci had mentioned greasy eggrolls, the thought niggled again at the back of her mind. “I’m late.”
“Late for what?” Darci asked. “I don’t think you should drive if you’re dizzy.”
“No, not late for an appointment.” Ali let out a short laugh. If only that were the case. “I’m late for my period.”
Darci widened her eyes. “Oh my God. You think you’re pregnant? How? Aren’t you on birth control pills?”
“Yes. And I’ve never missed taking them. Ever. So I don’t know how I could be. You’re right. That can’t be it. It was stupid. It has to be the stress. That’s what is making me late.”
Darci’s brow creased. “Are you taking anything that could interfere with the pill? Like prescription meds?”
“No. I mean I started taking St. John’s Wort every day, but that’s all natural.”
“Ali, I remember reading something about that. Hang on.” Darci jumped up to grab her laptop off the dining room table.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s a plant for God’s sake.” Ali waved off Darci’s concern.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Even a bad drug like heroin starts out as just a flower.” Darci’s voice rose in tone and volume.
Ali rolled her eyes and waited, not believing an herbal supplement available on the shelves of any local store could render her prescription birth control ineffective. Surely there would be a warning label if that were true.
But when Darci sucked in a sharp breath, Ali started to worry. “What?”
“Holy cow. Ali, that stuff messes with birth control pills. Listen to this. ‘There have been cases of unintended pregnancies in women taking St. John's Wort and birth control pills.’” As her eyes grew wide, Darci raised her gaze to stare at Ali.
Ali’s heart pounded as the ramifications of what her friend had discovered hit her.
Her boyfriend was not only against marriage and having children, but he was also missing. There was no other word for her to use since she didn’t know where Jon was and neither did his business partner.
And now she might be pregnant.
Alone and pregnant. Ali tried not to panic. She didn’t know for sure yet, but her period was late. That she did know for certain. She’d need to buy a test.
God, she hoped this was a false alarm.
But what if it wasn’t? The thought was too overwhelming. She’d have to force that worry out of her head because she couldn’t deal with it now.
“What are you going to do?” Darci asked.
Ali drew in a bracing breath and met Darci’s gaze. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m positive I’m late because I’m so worried about Jon. Look it up. I bet stress messes up women’s cycles.”
“Yeah, it probably does but—”
“If I don’t get it in a couple of days, I’ll buy a test just to make sure. Okay?”
“How late are you?”
“Just a couple of days.” Ali waved her hand to dismiss Darci’s concern.
Or a week. Ali kept that internal count to herself.
Finally Darci and her narrow-eyed glare seemed satisfied with Ali’s answer. She nodded. “Okay.”
“Please don’t tell Chris about any of this.” The teakettle chose that moment to start to whistle. Darci got up to tend to it, which forced Ali to have to call after her. “Darci, promise me you won’t tell Chris.”
“I promise.” She glanced back at Ali for barely a second before she focused on the kettle and Ali wasn’t sure if she believed her friend or not.
The last thing she needed was for Chris to tell Jon about this. Then again, since no one could get in touch with Jon it didn’t really matter, now did it?
It seemed both Jon and her period were missing in action.
Ali let out a sigh as the pile of her worries grew higher.
“Honey?” Darci asked, the little plastic honey bear held in her hand.
Even a mundane decision such as that seemed overwhelming when her life was completely upside down.
For lack of a real preference, Ali said, “Sure. Thanks.”
CHAPTER 12
Two truths and a lie.
Wasn’t that the name of some sort of icebreaker game people played at parties? Jon was pretty sure it was.
If so, it was the game he was currently playing with Abu Salah, only the other man wasn’t aware he was playing.
Jon fed him tidbits. About past US troop movements. Training protocols. Things that were true but pretty innocuous. Nothing that couldn’t be found with a little digging on the internet. Definitely nothing that would risk American lives, but things that would lend credence to Jon’s cover as a recruit dedicated to the Islamic State’s cause.
The best way to lie was to put as much truth in it as possible.
But then Jon would throw a whopper of a lie in for good measure. Things he pretended to be privy to accidentally. From a drunk officer who had a big mouth at a bar near base. From a service member breaking OpSec and bragging.
Jon’s one bright spot during the day was seeing Abu Salah’s eyes widen at the tall tales. And if ISIS acted on the false rumors and it cost them time and money as they tilted at windmills, all the better. That would mean less resources they could use against the actual coalition forces.
That was how things went for the first few days in Jon’s new position as the camp’s chief source of information about their opposition. But today seemed different.
He felt it the moment he walked through the door. The energy coming off Salah was tangible. The man vibrated with excitement.
Something had happened or was about to.
“Good morning, my Warrior. Come, sit. We have much to discuss.”
Much to discuss.
Jon’s gut feeling had been dead on, right when he really wished it hadn’t been. Something was up. Now he needed to know what—and what, if anything, he could do to stop it.
ISIS was willing and able to adapt quickly. They’d proven it repeatedly. It was something he’d always wished the US military was better at. But in spite of ISIS’s quick pivots and abilities, he’d be damned if he let the organization hurt even one more person without doing everything he could to prevent it.
Even if he died trying.
Memories of the Paris and Brussels attacks sat in the forefront of his mind as he asked, “Yes, Abu Salah?”
There was a knock on the door and Jon had the urge to kill whoever was outside interrupting Salah’s answer to his question.
After he called for the intruder to come in, Abu Salah smiled. “Ah, good.”
Jon twisted in the chair and got an eyeful of a man carrying a weapon and ammo. An American military weapon.
He drew in a breath to calm the anger of seeing up close what he’d already known—that when ISIS took control of this part of Iraq they also took control of the equipment the American’s had supplied to the Iraqi army.
Salah jumped up from his seat and moved around to Jon’s side of the desk. He lifted the machine gun and grinned wider. “Nice, no?”
“Very nice.” Nice for ISIS. For the US? Not so much.
It was a US Army machine gun valued at approximately four thousand dollars new, and now in the hands of an ISIS leader.
Jon noticed Salah held the weapon awkwardly, like it was unfamiliar to him.
Hyper vigilance. Noticing even small things. It was Jon’s legacy from years of deployments in a war zone where he had to expect the unexpected every second. It, among other things, were the skills that had kept him alive, and they’d stuck with him.
Today, noticing Salah was a novice in handling the weapon fueled Jon’s courage and determination.
“You’ve used one before?” Salah asked.
Jon nodded. “Yes, I have.”
“Good. This one is yours.”
Jon felt his eyes go wide. “Mine?”
“Yes. You will accompany us on the attack.”
With a sick feeling in his gut, he asked, “What attack?”
“The one we shall make against the American dogs to our south.” With two hands, Salah thrust the weapon forward.
Jon took it. Just the feel of the weight in his hands brought a feeling of calm. Whatever happened, at least he’d be armed. He could work with that.
He raised his gaze to meet Salah’s. “When do we attack?”
The man met his comment with a smile. “Soon, Warrior. Very soon.”
Salah’s words haunted Jon for the remainder of the day. Through target practice with his new weapon where his accuracy blew away that of all the others alongside him. Through the afternoon rest and the evening meal.
Those words made falling to sleep that night nearly impossible.
Jon had too many questions with no answers. There was too much thinking to do for him to rest. How could he prevent an event he didn’t have nearly enough information about?
The answer didn’t come. Finally, as it usually did, exhaustion won out.
CHAPTER 13
Jon didn’t know how long it had been since he’d fallen into a fitful sleep in the fighters’ barracks when he was roused from sleep.
The shouted instructions, delivered in a language he didn’t speak but was familiar enough with to understand, instructed them to assemble in the courtyard.
He had the fleeting thought that they’d discovered his true purpose for being there. That he’d be the next beheading on the morning news.
That Ali and his parents would all have to watch—
He remembered the machine gun next to him on the mattress and pushed that thought aside. He wasn’t helpless. If he had to, he’d go down fighting.
Since he’d slept in his clothes, Jon only needed to pull on his boots and grab the weapon and ammo.
Outside, he saw that Salah hadn’t been lying about the attack being soon. If the dozen Humvees, two Howitzers, and small army of fighters already assembled and outfitted with various weapons was any indication, this was happening tonight.
A familiar rumble had Jon turning and—mother fucker—an M1A1 Abrams tank padded slowly into view.
His heart pounded as Jon took in the scene of a well-equipped army about to go to battle, all while he stood on the wrong side of the line.
Equipment alone didn’t make a fighting force. He reminded himself that it took well-trained men and Jon knew most of these men were not. He was though, and it struck him that in spite of that they were planning to throw him out there with the rest of the cannon fodder.
The very leaders who called him Warrior and lavished him with praise were going to sacrifice him along with the rest of these men in an attack that was probably going to result in massive casualties on this side.
He knew even if the jihadists did manage to surprise the US-led forces with this attack, it wouldn’t take long for the allied forces’ air support to arrive and mow them all down.
Jon supposed his less-than-esteemed leadership figured they’d gotten all the information they could out of him and he too was now expendable.
Maybe they thought he’d at least take out s
ome of their enemies before he perished.
Or hell, maybe they thought he was some sort of superman and might actually make it out of this alive. It could be. They were bat-shit crazy, at best.
He didn’t know what their motivation. But bruised ego aside, he had to be happy they were sending him on what amounted to a suicide mission because it would put him close enough to the action to hopefully do something about it.
Exactly what he could do was the question.
He’d racked his brain for a valid plan of action ever since Salah had dropped the bombshell about an attack without providing any details. But unlike earlier, Jon now had additional information.
As soon as they grew nearer to the point of attack, he’d have even more. Weapon in his hands, he loaded into the vehicle with as many of the other fighters as would fit inside and prepared for the unexpected.
Jon’s mind spun with possibilities during the hour plus drive.
Makhmour.
That had to be where they were headed.
Jon had timed the drive so far and it was just about an hour. They’d traveled first due south before swinging to the east.
If his best guess was correct, they were smack in the middle of what was the Makhmour farming district—before ISIS arrived and changed the lives of the locals.
Now, the area was also the home of Fire Base Bell. A full company of US Marines occupied the fire base to provide force protection for the nearby Camp Swift, a US forward operating base set in the middle of the larger Kurdish Peshmerga camp.
It was a region Jon knew well. After one of the Marines had been killed by an ISIS rocket that struck inside the wire at the fire base, Jon and Zane had researched the hell out of the region. They’d put together a proposal for a GAPS team to assist the US military there.
ISIS had had enough information to stage an attack on the Marines before the rest of the American public, which included Jon and Zane, were aware the newly created fire base even existed.
That wasn’t such a surprise actually. When the US had first entered Afghanistan small outposts were thrown up with little notice from anyone except for the troops building the fire base and the Taliban enemy observing them.
This wasn’t ten years ago in Afghanistan. This was today in Iraq, and the coalition had already fought for and won Fallujah and Ramadi and Mosul—before ISIS.
