by S L Shelton
“I know. Do the best you can. We’ll all stay together,” I said as we ran.
To be honest, I was grateful for the slower pace. My chest was throbbing, and every movement was sending streaks of pain down my arm and torso like hot lead was being poured on me. It suddenly occurred to me that Kathrin was probably having difficulty with her twisted ankle as well.
The dressing Nick had put on my chest was starting to work loose, and blood began trickling down my belly again.
Kathrin was in the middle, helping the woman, but she looked back over her shoulder to check on the others. Seeing the blood running down my chest and torso, she slowed in front of me.
“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed.
I handed her the rifle I had slung across my shoulder. “Let’s get down this hill and out of sight. We need to keep moving,” I said with labored breaths, ignoring her observation—I wished I could say I was just being cavalier about it, but the truth was, I didn’t want to think about it. Even looking down was causing a panic attack.
I looked over my shoulder and saw men pouring out of the cargo plane. They were splitting into small groups and going in all directions.
Good, they haven’t seen us, I thought as we started descending down a steep embankment.
Just then a piece of tree splintered over our heads.
“Move!” I yelled.
Everyone picked up their pace as we crested the hill and then began to slide down the slope toward a fast-moving stream below. When we reached the bottom, there was a moment of indecision as I quickly took stock of the situation: I’m wounded, hostages have no shoes, hill on both sides, water running rapidly.
The water was our best hope for escape.
“In!” I yelled.
No one hesitated. Everybody was suddenly in the water, splashing and trying to keep their heads up as the current swept us along. It had been the best option, but I failed to guess how difficult it would be to hold my head above water with only one working arm or how painful it would be to try.
The water took us around a bend just as I looked up and saw several men reaching the top of the hill we had gone down. A couple shots were fired, but they impacted nowhere near us. I could see Kathrin trying to help the wounded security man keep his head above water as they rounded a narrow bend.
I could hear, though not yet see, rapids in front of us. I looked back to see if any pursuers were visible after I rounded the same bend, splashing and twisting to try and keep my head above water. There was no sign of anyone behind us.
Thank God, I thought. I need a damn break at some point.
It would be a few minutes before they could run around the stream’s edge to get a view of us. If, however, they decided to jump in, they would be much closer behind.
I saw the older man drop out of sight in front of me, followed by the woman, Barb, Kathrin and the security guy, and finally Mr. Whitney.
When I went over the edge, I landed in deep water with a smack to my exit wound. My feet were no longer touching the bottom, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was not able to swim in my condition.
Thankfully, the current continued to drag me forward until my feet touched bottom. I pushed with my feet so that my head popped above the surface for a breath.
The stream continued to move rapidly, and we had just created a few extra moments of invisibility going over the fall. Unfortunately, the water kept coming up over my face, trying to swallow me beneath its cold dark surface. Each attempt I made to push my head above the water was met with less success as wave upon wave of panic began to fill my chest and mind.
“Monkey Wrench. This is Momma. Where are you?” John’s voice spoke into my ear.
I opened my mouth to answer but instead swallowed a mouthful of river. I coughed and spit, wheezing, trying to clear my throat. “In the water!” I gasped.
Just then I heard a helicopter pass over. The cavalry! I thought joyfully. It’s about fucking time!
It slowed as it crossed the water but then tipped forward again, blasting the tall trees with wind from its rotors; there was no way for them to land near us with all those trees and the steep bank. We’d have to keep moving…and I’d have to keep my head above water a bit longer.
“Monkey Wrench. There’s a clearing half a click downstream from you. We’ll extract you there.” John said.
“Momma. Be advised. Mean fuckers in pursuit on foot,” I gasped, swallowing another mouthful of water.
“Acknowledged,” he said as I coughed to try and get some of it out of my airway, only to let more in.
Fifty meters. We can make that, I thought to myself.
Then I realized that didn’t seem right.
Wait…Is it fifty? I’ve lost too much blood. Five hundred meters. Whoa, that’s way worse.
The other six were still moving rapidly down the stream. The water was gaining speed, which was good news for us as a group, but bad news for me—really bad news. The current had turned me around and the water was now washing over me almost constantly. I was already having difficulty keeping my head up. I began swallowing more and more water.
Turn yourself around, said a voice into my ear.
The others were much farther ahead now. I was slowing down as I hit each rock, unable to navigate around them. I dropped my heel into the sandy bottom of the water, and then drug my hand, turning myself sideways. Finally, I thought as I was able to take a breath.
“Three hundred meters,” I heard in my ear. “Monkey Wrench.”
Another bump. I looked up just in time to see Barb and her dad go around another bend.
Good. They’re making good time, I thought.
“Two hundred meters,” someone said, but when I looked around, I didn’t see anyone. I was having a hard time focusing on where the sound was coming from.
“Monkey Wrench!”
I know that tune, I thought to myself.
I felt sand on my neck. Sand and water. It felt really good as the cool water splashed on the side of my face and the sand seemed to rise up, cupping my back and neck, like being lifted by strong hands. I was feeling better already.
“Monkey Wrench! Please advise,” I heard from a distance.
“Don’t want to be your monkey wrench,” I sang weakly. “One more indecent accident. I’d rather leave...”
The Foo Fighters friggin’ rock, I thought, and then I saw someone on the bank. Oh look. Someone’s here to help.
Four men with rifles approached me, walking down the bank. A man with a scar on his face lifted his arm toward me.
Is he offering me a hand?
No, came a whisper.
“SHOOT!” another voice screamed into my ear.
My hand slid along the sand beneath the water to my hip, searching my side for the holster.
There you are, I thought as my fingertips closed around the grip.
“Monkey Wrench! Shoot that bastard now, or he is going to kill you,” I heard someone say.
“Momma? Is that you?” I said weakly.
The men turned to each other and laughed.
Do guns work underwater? I wondered.
I squeezed the trigger to find out.
Blood gushed from the man’s throat. A flash of light came from his hand and then something heavy hit me in the stomach. The other three men lifted up their arms...
No. Wait. They have guns too, I thought. But theirs are dry.
Pops and cracks filled my ears, and then one of the men fell on top of me. He was really heavy.
It hurt. And worse than that, he was holding my head underwater with his weight. I could taste blood in my mouth. It was not pleasant at all.
I decided to sleep until the dream was over.
**
I could hear voices. Screaming. It sounded like Kathrin screaming, “No! No!” But I couldn’t be sure. I tried to tell her it was okay—that the pain had stopped—but my mouth didn’t move.
There were hands on me. Dragging me.
Oh yeah, I though
t. It does still hurt.
Someone poked my chest and it felt like fire was burrowing into my flesh…like a finger of lava had come to life and was tunneling into my gut.
Stop! That hurts!
But they kept doing it.
It was a second—or an hour—before I realized I hadn’t actually said it. No sound came out when I spoke.
More hands. Pressure on my chest. Someone was pushing on it.
I really wish you would stop doing that. It hurts, I said.
“Nope. No sound,” a voice in my head replied. “When you speak, there is sound.”
Then the pain stopped.
I couldn’t hear my heart in my ears any more.
I was floating. I heard splashing, more screaming and crying. Or was it laughter?
A moment later, the pain came back for a while and someone was pressing on my chest again.
I heard whump, whump, whump, whump.
I wondered if it was my heart, and I thought how fast it was beating. I better try to slow it down, I thought, and then the pain went away again.
“That’s better,” the voice in my head said.
I recognized the voice. It was me—or rather the other me I remembered from the torture garage in Amsterdam.
I began to float.
This is much, much better, I thought.
I felt warm and all my stress was gone.
Someone—a woman—was calling my name. “Scott. Where are you?”
It was Kathrin! I saw her walking through a field of tall grass and wildflowers, calling out to me as if we were playing hide-and-seek. The ground was soft and warm. There was a gentle breeze, and the sun was on my face. I was so content. I didn’t want to play, so I called her over.
“I’m here, Kathrin!” I responded lazily. I thought, Ah, I must have my voice back. She’s coming toward me.
She was wearing a long, flowing, beige skirt—the kind you see stoner girls wearing at music festivals—and a loose-fitting white peasant blouse with puffy sleeves.
She should wear girl clothes more often, I thought. Her hair was flitting gently in the breeze, her long, golden curls glowing and dancing in the sun.
She was smiling at me. Hmm. Where are her piercings? I wondered. No matter. She’s beautiful and she’s coming toward me.
“You can always count on Kathrin,” she said softly into my ear. It was a comforting thought… Someone who would stay with me always, no matter what, no matter how tough it got, no matter how confusing.
Her face materialized above mine.
“There you are,” she said, smiling.
Then something occurred to me.
Suddenly I was standing in front of a house.
I’m here to see Barbara! We have a date, I realized, panicking. I have to get ready for my date. I’m not dressed.
But wait.
That bitch left me...and after I got shot! FOR HER!
I was standing on her doorstep. I heard her walking toward the door on the other side.
I’m not dressed. This is all wrong. I have to hide before she sees me. I dove into the bushes—Kathrin laughed at me.
The door opened and then Barb called out, “Is someone there? Hello? Scott, is that you?”
How could she not see Kathrin standing there?
“If it IS you, you’d better be ready in ten minutes, or we won’t be going out tonight,” she said. “I have it all worked out, and there is no room for lack of commitment, mister.”
I stayed quiet. She looked at her watch. “Nine minutes out and not responding,” she said, and then she turned around and walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
I ran. Behind the house, over the hedge, through the neighbor’s yard. I jumped the fence...
Then I heard a shot.
A shot.
Oh shit. I shot someone. I wonder if I’ll get in trouble for that. I’d hate to go to jail.
“You can’t get in trouble for that,” the other me said. “They were bad guys.”
Then I felt guilty for thinking of myself when someone’s son or husband or brother was dead because I shot them. I thought, I’m so goddamned selfish. I don’t deserve Kathrin...I mean Barb.
I started to cry. I robbed some poor mother of her baby boy. Somewhere, right now, a mother is crying because of me.
Then I saw Kathrin’s face again. She was smiling at me. Holding my hand. Comforting me. “You stayed with me the whole time! Why did you do that?” I asked.
“Because I love you, silly goose,” she said, her accent like music in my ears. “Still no pulse, hit him again.”
That was an odd thing to say.
The sun and sky silhouetted her smiling face and her long, golden curls. They were tickling my nose.
Then her hair started to go into my nose. “That’s not comfortable. Please stop,” I said.
A thump on my chest. BOOM. Then another. BOOM. That one hurt.
Then suddenly the pain in my body returned.
“Would you please stop doing that,” I said.
Did I say it?
Yes! Said my other voice. There was sound that time.
As I started drifting into dreamless darkness, I could hear the whump, whump, whump again and someone said. “He’s back.”
Who’s back? I wondered. I hope it isn’t the bad guys. I’m too tired to fight again.
Then, the darkness swallowed me.
twelve
Aftermath
7:25 a.m. on Tuesday, May 18th, 2010, Two days after rescue—Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, Landstuhl, Germany.
When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the pain in my shoulder and chest. In fact, I believe that’s what brought me out of my slumber.
The second thing I noticed was the jungle of wires and tubes coming out of my body, hooked to various machines and bags. I was in a hospital. The sun was shining through the window and though it had not filled the room yet, I could feel the first warm rays kissing my toes beneath the sheet.
I saw Barb sleeping in a chair at the corner of my bed. I tried to turn toward her, but a sudden flash of pain through my abdomen stopped me and sent one of my monitors squealing. Barb opened her eyes at the sound and then lurched toward me.
She saw my eyes were opened and then turned to lean out the door.
“Can I get some help in here?” she called.
A moment later, a nurse ran in and came to my side. She moved her hands over one of the gadgets behind me and the alarm ceased its noisy discharge.
As she turned her attention to me, she smiled. “Well hello, sleepyhead,” she said sweetly.
I tried to respond but quickly realized there was a tube down my throat.
“Just a second and the doctor will have that out,” she said, indicating I shouldn’t attempt to speak.
A moment later, a doctor came in. Barb moved to the side and began peering over her shoulder nervously.
“Good morning, Mr. Wolfe. I’m Doctor Chhatre,” she said, ripping open a package of sterile gauze.
She was a short woman with shoulder-length, coal-black hair and a bright, broad, white smile across cocoa brown skin that made her likable at first sight.
“I think you don’t need this anymore,” she said as she placed the gauze over my mouth and began to withdraw the tube.
The gagging reflex was strong as it left my throat. I tried clearing my throat and hocked up what seemed like a pint of phlegm.
I tried to speak. It hurt. “Day.” The single word was all I managed to grind out of my gravelly voice box.
“It’s Tuesday, Mr. Wolfe,” the doctor said. “You’ve been through a lot, so I need you take it easy. Can you answer some questions for me?”
I nodded.
“Do you know your name?” she asked.
“Wolfe,” I rasped, smiling.
An amused but impatient look appeared on her face. “Your first name, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Scott,” I said.
“Do you remember your birthday?”
she asked.
“May 20th,” I responded.
“And what do you do for a living?”
“Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” I replied, smiling.
“Okay, Mr. Wolfe, you are clearly in a better place than you were twenty-four hours ago. I’ll come back to check your dressings in a while,” she said and then turned to Barb. “He really needs to rest, so not too much all at once.”
Barb nodded, looking at me pensively. She looked as if she were about to explode a million questions at me.
“It’s good to see you looking so well, Mr. Wolfe. I’ll be back to check on you shortly,” Dr. Chhatre said from the doorway before leaving with the nurse.
The nurse touched Barb on the shoulder as she left and winked at her.
Barb walked cautiously to my bedside. “Hey,” she said, smiling weakly. Judging by her expression, I must have looked horrible.
“Hey,” I croaked back at her.
“You sound awful,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Well, at least I look awesome,” I joked, prompting a nervous burst of laughter from her.
“Why?” she asked. “Why did you put yourself in so much danger?”
I felt as if she were asking me to say, “Because I love you.” But I could tell she wanted a real answer.
I was not feeling right. I suddenly had no answer for her. Then I realized that I’d never had an answer. I did what I did because I felt it needed to be done. There was no emotion behind it. “Girlfriend” was an excuse for being there, not the reason.
But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell her that I was numb from the heart up…I couldn’t feel anything.
“I had to,” I rasped. “You owe me twenty bucks for breakfast.”
“You’ve put me in a difficult position, you jerk,” she said jokingly. “Now I have to totally re-evaluate what I think of you.”
“Don’t go to too much trouble. I’m still an asshole,” I said with a smile.
She laughed, tears streaming down her face. “Rest,” she said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And I did. I slept for nearly four hours before I was awakened by Dr. Chhatre peeling my bandages back.
I was able to get a good look at what the big deal had been all about. I was surprised to see a long line of staples across and up my abdomen. The sight was a bit of a shock.
