by Kahn, Denise
“Mother-fuckers!” He screamed. “This is supposedly a safe zone, and this was a nurse bringing supplies and checking out patients. She wasn’t even a combatant! This is what she gets for all the years of studying, caring and risking her life. Well she sure accomplished that last one! And she sure got a big thank you! Didn’t she?” The soldier ranted on, screaming at the top of his lungs to the blank walls of the houses, to all who were supposedly listening around him. His eyes were huge and round, red and crazed. His trigger finger on his M16 itched, trembled with the anticipation of pulling back the little lever, to get even for this nurse he hadn’t even known, to give her justice for the life that was cut short.
“Take it easy, Man,” another of the soldiers said.
“Let me just kill the mother-fuckers!”
“Hey, I said take it easy. These people didn’t kill the nurse. Get it together, Man.”
“Yeah, yeah, alright.”
“I just phoned it in. Apparently her name was Samantha Baxter. She was from the CSH.
♫
LANDSTUHL, GERMANY
CHAPTER 39
The Marine Corps provided transportation to Germany, but Davina and Alejandro graciously declined. They were, however, granted permission to land their private jet at Ramstein Air Force Base. Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, the largest American Military hospital in Europe was only a few miles away. They were greeted by the military delegates and driven to the to the medical facility.
A young officer escorted the elegant couple to Max’s room, but it was empty.
“Are you sure this is the right room?” Alejandro asked the Lieutenant escorting them.
“Yes, sir, that’s what they told me, but let me get more information. I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Alejandro said.
The soldier left Max’s parents standing in the hallway.
“What does this mean?” Davina asked, worried.
“Now don’t worry, I’m sure they just moved him to another room.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Davina, mi amor, let’s just wait for a few minutes. I’m sure there is an explanation.
The Lieutenant came back. “Mr. Ambassador, Mrs. del Valle, your son is on another floor. I’ll take you to him.”
“Is everything alright?” Davina asked.
“I don’t know what his medical condition is, Ma’am, but the doctor will be able to give you any further information.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re very welcome, Ma’am.”
They met the doctor outside of Max’s room.
“I’m Doctor Levinson, Max’s physician.”
“Very pleased to meet you Doctor,” Alejandro said, “please, how is our son?”
“It’s an honor to meet you as well,” the doctor said. As you may know Max sustained an injury to his leg from an IED but the CSH in Iraq was able to…”
“Cash?” Davina asked.
“CSH, Combat Support Hospital.”
“Oh, I understand. Sorry, please continue.”
“They were able to save his leg. They operated, and did a great job. He had another operation when he arrived here and everything looks promising. He will have full use of it, although I don’t think he’ll be doing anything marathons any time soon.”
“That’s very good news, Doctor, thank you,” Alejandro said.
“It also means that he won’t be able to go back and serve.”
Davina was secretly thrilled at the news. Her little boy was safe and would stay out of harm’s way. “Can we see him, Doctor?”
“Yes, however, during the last operation there was a complication.”
“Complication?” Alejandro asked.
“I won’t get into all the medical details, but during the operation his heart stopped.”
Davina’s own heart stopped. “Oh, my God! What does that mean?”
“We were able to bring him back, and everything seems to be fine, but…” Davina braced herself. She knew there was more. “Your son is in a coma.”
Davina’s mind flashed back to her best friend Monique. She, too, had been in a coma, and it had lasted almost a year.
Alejandro looked at Davina. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He inwardly cringed at the memory at what they had been through, and for what he knew was ahead of them.
“So, as I said, physically he’s as well as possible, young and healthy.”
“You’re saying, Doctor, that you really don’t know when he will be out of this coma,” Alejandro said. He could feel Davina’s hand on his arm. He touched it, trying to comfort her in any small way he could.
“That’s correct, Sir.”
“May we see him?” Davina asked.
“Of course.”
The doctor led the way into the room. Max was laying peacefully in the bed, seemingly very relaxed and just asleep. Several transparent tubes hung from their posts and the drops flowed into his veins. They were keeping him alive. Davina was strong and stoic. She knew her son would come out of this, and she would do everything in her power to help the outcome. Alejandro was thinking the same thing. Both he and Davina had experience when it came to comas, and as bad as it had been with Monique he was now glad they had some knowledge.
Davina went up to Max, caressed his hand and kissed him on the cheeks. “Hello, Max. It’s Mom.”
“Basically we are just waiting for him to wake up, Doctor?” Alejandro asked, watching his son and wife.
“That’s correct, Sir. I’ll leave you alone with him. If you need anything the nurse’s station is just down the hall.”
“Thank you for everything, Doctor. I know you’ve all done your best.”
“Yes, Doctor, thank you.” Davina repeated.
The doctor nodded and left the room.
Alejandro went up to his son, and as Davina had, kissed him on the cheeks and held his other hand. “Hijo mio, you will be back with us soon. I promise!”
“I promise too.” Davina said, and looked at Alejandro. “Time to get to work.”
“Yes,” he simply said. He knew what the days ahead would entail.
♫
BAGHDAD
CHAPTER 40
Sam and Hamid ran hand in hand through the mesh of deserted back alleys and broken houses. Felled trees blocked sidewalks, grotesquely deformed cars lined parts of the streets, while the odor of gun powder and exploded mortars lingered in the fetid air.
“Over here,” Hamid whispered to Sam as he pulled her toward a dark, wooden door. She followed him. The kid had good instincts and was a survivor. Besides, he had lived in this metropolis his whole life.
They entered into what Sam presumed was the back of what once could have been a leather shop. The smell gave it away, but it was empty.
“We can stay here. There is no more store, everyone was killed.” Hamid’s young eyes turned somber again. Sam was sure he was thinking of the members of his own family that had been taken from him far too soon. “When it is dark we can leave, try to find the Americans and go to your hospital.”
“It’s a good plan, Hamid.” Let’s find a place to hide until then.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
Sam and the boy went to what looked like it could have been a storage room and sat in a corner. Hamid leaned up against her. It was the first moment he felt safe, and he promptly fell asleep. She held him close to her, caressed his hair and watched the peacefulness in his face until she too succumbed from exhaustion. A couple of hours later Hamid stirred and then got up.
Sam woke up as well. “Where are you going, Hamid?”
“To the bathroom.”
“Be careful.”
The bathroom was outside, an outhouse of sorts. He went in and closed the dilapidated door. And then he heard the sounds of deep, frightening voices. He looked between a crack of the decrepit wood and saw them—the men who killed Fatima—and they were still looking for him and Sam. Hamid held his breath whe
n they entered the store. He couldn’t risk warning Sam, there was no time, and they would both be caught. Please don’t find Sam, he begged. But it was not to be. He heard the American woman screaming and ran out of the outhouse. He couldn’t let another person he loved get killed. He rushed into the store and a pair of big, rough hands lifted him in the air. Hamid screamed and kicked and tried to get away. He managed to scratch the murderer‘s face and the man yelped as he dropped the boy, but he managed to hold on to him. The man punched the child in the face and the boy passed out.
“Stop it!” Sam screamed. “Leave him alone, he’s just a boy!”
Two men held her in place and the man that had hit Hamid punched Sam in the stomach. She hadn’t expected the force or the pain that tore through her entire body. She doubled over and fell on her knees. The men roughly pulled her arms and dragged her out to a waiting car. Sam wiggled and squirmed trying to get loose but a perfectly landed punch to her face stopped her. They threw her in the trunk as if she were a sack of potatoes, slammed it shut, and hurriedly took off.
Sam woke up a little later, probably from being tossed around the back end of the car. From the jostling, the heat and the darkness she understood where she was. Her lips were dry and she tried to moisten them, but as soon as she moved her tongue she felt the searing pain in her face. She gently touched it. Her cheek was twice its normal size and she thought that maybe they had broken her jaw. Suddenly the car stopped. She heard footsteps shuffling toward the trunk and it flew open. She squinted from the transition of total darkness to the intense light of the sun. Rough hands lifted her out and pushed her ahead of them. Sam looked around. They were in a courtyard lined by three levels of cell lockups on all four sides. She could hear women wailing from their cells, a melancholic, hopeless howl that put fear in a new perspective. She understood she was in a woman’s prison. The foul energy made her skin crawl and elevated her blood pressure. One of the men pushed her ahead of him and led her into a room. She looked around. It was dark and she could just make out four walls. She also realized the room was filthy and reeked of sweat and old blood. As a nurse she was used to these smells, but these scents were somehow evil and made her stomach turn. The man slammed the door shut and Sam jumped. A few minutes later three different men showed up. One of them had a black patch over one of his eyes. He turned on the light, a naked light bulb in the middle of the room. Sam let her eyes adjust. The other was the Captain. He had that air about him, that indifferent cold killer look, and Sam was sure he had done just that many times over. He was what she would refer to as a soul-less being. The third man wore a checkered keffiyeh on his head, held in place by an agal, a circlet of rope.
She looked down at the floor. She knew that the worse thing she could do was look into their eyes. She realized she was right about the floor. There were large, dark brown spots all over the room, especially in the middle, exactly where she was standing, and no one needed medical knowledge to understand that this was old, dry blood. But she didn’t move, she didn’t want them to see how scared she was. Sam watched as the Captain went to sit on a wooden chair behind a steel table. He looked at her, slightly squinting his eyes. She didn’t like the hungry look on his face, the one that said: I’m going to enjoy our evening together. She also had this sinking feeling that these men were going to torture her.
♫
LANDSTUHL, GERMANY
CHAPTER 41
Davina paced back and forth in front of Max’s bed.
“Davina, Amor, you’re going to make a hole in the floor. Why don’t you take a break, maybe get a cup of coffee, or even better go to the cafeteria and eat something.”
“I’m sorry, Alejandro. You’re right. I’m not hungry, but I know I have to put something in my stomach, keep up my energy.
“Good, you go and I’ll stay with Max.”
Davina nodded, kissed her husband and left.
Alejandro pulled up a chair next to Max’s bed. He looked at his handsome boy, a beautiful young man, he thought, with so much life to live. He has to come back! He has to. He took Max’s hand and brought it up to his heart.
“It’s been a long time since you and I sat down together, Hijo mio. Your teenage years were difficult, at least for your Mother and I. You did some pretty bad things, especially to yourself. I know about the drugs and the alcohol. I knew what you were doing because I always had somebody following you. I know, not cool, and maybe a little creepy, but you have to realize that I am a political figure and your mother is an international celebrity. And most of all I wanted to make sure you were alright and that no one might want to do you any harm, or even kidnap you. As much as a singer is loved there are always people who are jealous, might try to hurt her, or might find an opportunity to make a quick profit. And I as a political figure, well that’s even worse.”
Max wasn’t moving. He was immobile, just ‘sleeping’.
“Work with me, Max. I’m sure you can hear me. Right?”
Max just lay there, his eyes closed.
“Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?” Alejandro waited. “You can answer any time you want.” He paused for a moment, giving Max time to respond, not really thinking that his son would just ‘wake up’ that easily. Alejandro continued. “You mother and I saw you on the television. Isn’t it amazing how mothers can always tell which child is hers? Of course I think I’m pretty good at it too.”
A nurse came in to check on Max. She checked the machines, wrote a few things in the medical notebook and leaned closer to the patient. She turned to Alejandro. “Physically he is doing very well and his leg is healing nicely. All he needs now is to come back to us.”
“I’ve been talking to him.”
“That’s really important, Mr. Ambassador. I personally think that Max can hear us. Maybe he’s just not quite ready to wake up.”
“I understand. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“It’s my pleasure, Sir. I’ll be here if you need anything,” the nurse said as she walked out.
“Thank you again.”
“You’re very welcome. Just keep talking to Max.”
Alejandro nodded and watched the nurse leave. He turned back to his son. “Did you hear that? I should keep talking to you. Okay, so I will, although it would be great if you answered back, Hijo mio.” Max of course was not responding. “There’s something your mother and I never told you. Should I tell you now?”
“Okay, I will. A few years before you were born, and we were all wonderfully young at the time, not that were still aren’t,” he chuckled, “your Aunt Monique was becoming a famous singer.” Davina and Alejandro did not have any siblings but Monique and Jacques, who were married, were like family. “We went to Cairo where she was due to sing. The concert was to be at the foot of the pyramids in Giza. The day before we took a small plane to go see the Valley of the Kings, but we never made it there. We were hijacked by the pilots. There were six of us—your mother, Monique and Jacques, Adam and Eric, our own pilots, and myself. It was a group of extremists and they took us out deep into the desert. They held us for ransom to further their cause. They sent the note to your grandfather, William, who was the U.S. Ambassador in Paris at the time. You can imagine what the poor man went through! Those days and nights we were hostages were probably the worst of my life, especially for what they did to Jacques and Monique.” Alejandro’s eyes darkened at the hideous memories. “They beat your uncle Jacques very badly, even broke his arm. And what they did to poor Monique was the ultimate horror. They mutilated and raped her, and your mother and poor Jacques were made to watch. And then it was Davina’s turn, but she somehow managed to find a knife and killed her assailant. She is the bravest woman I know. What she did took a lot of guts. We were rescued just in time by an elite commando group. If they hadn’t I know none of us would be alive today.”
Alejandro looked at his son. Had Max been listening? He wondered.
“Jacques recovered physically but never forgave himself for not being ab
le to defend Monique. We kept telling him that there wasn’t anything he could have done, but he got himself into drugs and almost died himself. Monique recovered as well, but she was in a coma for almost a year.”
Alejandro remembered that painful year, the months Davina spent going back and forth to the hospital to visit Monique, and the only time they had fights.
“I’m telling you this, my son, because I want you to know that you come from a long line of amazing individuals. Warriors all, from your great-grandfather Nico, who fought and was wounded in Verdun during WWI, your grandfather William who helped the resistance in Greece during WWII, and even your mother with the hijackers. And you, my Max, you have warrior blood in your veins, from your ancestors and from your heroic heart. What you did was amazing. You saved many lives, and I’m sure not only on that particular day. Oh, Max, if you only knew how much I love you! I know you love me too, but it’s a different kind of love. When you have children you’ll understand.”
♫
WOMEN’S DETENTION CENTER, IRAQ
CHAPTER 42
Sam was wearing the clothes she put on that morning before leaving the hospital to go see Hamid and his aunt. The t-shirt, combat boots and pants were filthy from that day’s events. She thought of Fatima, that wonderful woman who had fatefully donned Sam’s jacket. Poor Fatima, poor Hamid… Hamid! What happened to the boy? She also figured that since the explosion had destroyed everything around and including the jeep no one would know that Sam was still alive, and that Fatima had been the one killed. No one would be looking for her and would list her as killed in action.
“What is your name?” The Captain asked in broken, but understandable English.
