Not Another Soldier

by Holt, Samantha

  We eye each other for a moment. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. I’m banking on the fact this guy probably plays a legit business man and doesn’t want a mess on his doorstep. Finally, he releases Sienna and shoves her into my arms. I instantly take her into them and she emits a small sob into my neck. I kiss her face and murmur into her ear as I unbind her hands. “Get in the car ASAP. If anything happens, just drive.” Then louder, I say, “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

  Johnson smirks and holds out his hand. “The drugs are in the car I take it?”

  I nod, shove Sienna behind me and make a show of fishing in my pockets for the car keys. I reach around the back of my trousers and carefully wrap my free hand around my gun. In my other, are my room keys. With a grin, I throw them at Johnson. They go wide and the larger guy jumps for them.

  As quickly as I can, I force Sienna into the car and draw out my pistol. Skinhead brings his gun up so I fire. He goes down, a bullet in his leg and his screech is pretty satisfying though I don’t have time to think about it. Sienna has already scrabbled over and is screaming at me to get in.

  I duck to clamber in and that’s when it happens. My ears are still ringing from my shot but another bang crashes through my skull. Hot, searing pain explodes through my chest. I grimly remember the feeling though weirdly I’m sure my leg hurt more. I glance down, half expecting to see my chest torn in two. Instead there’s blood seeping across the green of my T-shirt. Sienna’s cries are fuzzy to my ears and my legs shake.

  “Go,” I manage to mumble. “Go!” I say again before collapsing back. I don’t even feel the ground strike my head.

  Soft hands scrabble at my clothes. Sienna. Why is she here? She should be safe. Wasn’t that what I was meant to do? Make her safe. She sounds like she’s crying. I try to pull open my eyes because I want to see her face but my body won’t cooperate. Darkness pulls me under and the pain is quite distant now.

  I remember why I ache now. I wish I could look at her again. If I’m going to die, she’s definitely the last thing I want to see. Her hands are gone now and coldness swallows me. Far away, Sienna screams my name.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sienna

  That moment I expected—the one you picture when you first say yes to a solider. The one you imagine when you’re dancing at your wedding. The one you see in war films. That was now. It was the one where the man in uniform knocks on your door and tells you your husband has been killed in action. Except I never expected it to happen like this. Crippling agony consumes me when Nick falls back. My knees give out and I clamber out of the car to his side. Hands flat against his chest, stickiness coats my shaking palms.

  Blood. So much blood. The sound of the shot still rings in my ears and even my own cries are muffled. Rough hands wrap around my arms and haul me away. I fight against them, my focus remaining on Nick’s motionless form. I can’t even see him breathing.

  This is that moment.

  My life has just fallen from beneath my feet.

  I need to get to him but now another set of hands is on me. I scream and fight the hold of the two men. Everything’s a whirl. The hands trying to control me, the angry shouts of Mr. Johnson, the sight of Nick.

  Dead.

  Is he dead? I scratch and struggle. A hand comes across my lips and I bite down. The metallic tang of blood invades my mouth and Al yells in surprise and releases me. Though he still holds me, it’s enough for me to tear forward and come to Nick’s side again.

  “Nick? Oh, Jesus, Nick! Wake up,” I beg. I put a hand briefly to his chest again, hoping to feel the rise and fall of his breathing but I’m hauled away again.

  I sag against the arm pining me across the waist. It’s Al—Meathead. The fight has gone from me. I’ve got nothing to battle for now. The high-pitched sound in my ears is slowly dissipating, bringing back with it the real world.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Mr. Johnson comes to stand in front of Nick and motions angrily to Mike—Skinhead—who is rolling around on the ground, hands clamped around his side. “What the fuck were you thinking? What are we going to do with him? I’m going to have the cops swarming this place soon and I’ve got a damned dead body lying around.”

  I retch at the way he refers to Nick so dismissively. I can barely hold back the bile in my throat.

  “We’ll stick him on the ship. Throw him overboard. Same as we said we’d do to her,” offers Al.

  Mr. Johnson stares at him and the nods. “Get her on board and then come back for him. And get someone to grab that idiot.” He motions to Mike. “And have someone clean up this fucking mess before the cops get here. I’m going to tell the captain to get a move on. We need to get the ship out of here.”

  Al presses his arm into my waist and I retch again as it digs into my stomach. I fight briefly to break free of his grasp but my energy has gone. Without Nick, I’m nothing. He drags me up the gangplank to the ship and the smell of grease and stale air invades my nostrils.

  Cold white walls greet us. I’m barely walking, just being dragged. I’m aware of pain in my feet but it’s not really registering. Maybe if it did, I’d try and walk properly. At the moment, all strength has been sapped from me. I think Nick took it with him.

  Is he really dead? Images of blood and his pale face swim in front of me. He can’t be. How am I meant to continue on without him? Not that it matters. I’ll be dead before long. What was it they said? They’re going to throw me overboard?

  He continues down a maze of barren corridors. Metallic sounds and the loud rumble of the ship’s engine echo around us. He shoves open a door and flings me onto a single bed. The sheets are rumpled and are tinged with the odor of sweat. Al doesn’t even bother to say anything as he slams shut the door.

  I push up to sitting and clamp my arms around myself, willing the nausea to calm. I’m going to die, all alone. Drowning in the middle of the ocean. It’s got to be the loneliest of deaths. Maybe I’ll be lucky and break my neck or something when they throw me over. Or perhaps I’ll freeze first? I’ve heard freezing can be quite peaceful once you get over the cold. But drowning… you hear these things from the guys at the morgue. Drowning is meant to be agonizing. My lungs ache thinking about the sharp stab of water invading where it shouldn’t.

  Or is that just the pain that still lingers in my chest? I’m tense, my body throbs with the need to cry but I can’t seem to. I’m numb in some ways and wrapped in this incredible blanket of despair in others. It is nothing like when Rob died. This is like an actual chunk of me has been torn away.

  I scan the grim room. The only sign of color is the blue bedding I’m on and a matching couch. It’s not a nice one. It’s hard and leathery. It probably converts into a bed. Everything else is cheap fake pine. A freestanding closet sits in one corner and even the door to what I guess is the bathroom matches. The chill that’s been invading me since I was snatched has truly taken hold and I can’t stop shaking. What a place to spend your last moments alive. This really wasn’t how it was meant to happen. I’m a nobody. Hardly any friends and no family nearby to worry about where I am at the moment. I work, sleep, eat, that’s it. There is nothing remotely interesting about my life. At least there wasn’t until Nick. When I end up missing, everyone will be baffled.

  I straighten as the door clicks open again and this time Al is carrying someone else.

  Nick.

  Well, barely carrying. Nick’s a big guy and Al might be wide but he’s clearly not strong enough to lift Nick. So he’s being dragged. He dumps him on the floor and glances at me, a sick smile on what has been an expressionless face up until now.

  “Enjoy your time together. We’ll be leaving in a while. As soon as we hit open waters, you’re going for a little swim.”

  I barely acknowledge his words. I can’t take my eyes off Nick. The door slams shut and I jump to his side and roll him over. Blood already stains the floor. Those tears that wouldn’t come hit me with full force. I sob—big ugly gagging sobs, the kind where you can
barely breathe. I flatten my head against his chest. He’s still warm. God, I wish he wasn’t so stupidly heroic. I wish he’d just left me alone. Then he’d still be alive.

  I wish I’d not been so scared and treasured every moment with him.

  Through my erratic cries, the rumble of the ship increases and another noise sounds—a groan. I hold my breath for a moment and become aware of my head moving slightly. I leap back and flatten my palm against Nick’s chest.

  He’s breathing.

  “Shit!” I scrabble to tear back his ragged shirt. “Fuck.” I can’t believe I’ve been sitting here, letting him bleed to death. The shock must have knocked him out. “Nick, wake up,” I beg and grimace as I expose his bloodied shoulder.

  I see raw flesh and lots of blood. Pressing the fabric of his T-shirt down on the wound, I manage to pry him away from the floor enough to view his back. It looks like the bullet went through his back and out the front but I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. I may be a nurse but I’ve never worked the emergency department and we don’t get many gunshot wounds in the stroke center.

  He groans again and I jump to my feet. I need to stop the bleeding. Dashing over to the closet, I tear open the door but only spot an orange life vest and some overalls. I swipe along the top shelf, but it’s empty. With a cry of frustration, I stumble into the bathroom and throw open the medicine cabinet. A few band aids, that’s it. Then I duck under the sink and toss aside the few toiletries on the shelf underneath.

  “Yes!”

  A first-aid kit. Snatching it, I hurry back to Nick’s side and drop onto my knees beside him. He’s still making incoherent noises but he’s not awake. I tear open a wipe and set to work cleaning the wound. There’s a lot of blood but I keep myself detached, pretend it’s just another patient. Nick’s expression contorts into one of pain which must be good, right? Once the wound is cleaned, I’m relieved to see it doesn’t look as bad as I thought. The blood flow has slowed and I doubt it hit an artery or I’d know about it. I peel apart a gauze pad and press it firmly to the gash before lifting his shoulder and working on the entrance wound. This is harder as I can barely lift him but I manage to pry him away from the floor enough to clean and dress it. I apply two more pads to both sides, just in case.

  Drained, I slump back and study him. His skin is ashen and he looks like he’s aged a couple of years. Whether the dark circles under his eyes are from the gunshot or worry or stress, I’m not sure, but they must match the ones I have.

  I lean forward and press my palms across his cheeks, as if trying to warm him. I don’t know why but I guess I’m hoping it will wake him. The sounds of the ship filter in again and my exhaustion disappears. Instead, anger and determination fill me. I feel all hot and tense, my breaths grow ragged.

  Nick loves me. I’m sure of it. I saw it in his eyes when he came to meet us and if those dark circles are anything to go by, he’s been missing me as much as I’ve missed him. He was willing to die for me. Just like I would for him.

  But now I need him to live and if we don’t want to die today, we have to get off the ship.

  “Nick,” I try again and this time I press a firm kiss to his lips. A grumble emanates from him and I draw back, hands still clasping his face.

  His eyelids come slowly open but his eyes are unfocused and dimmed.

  “Wake up, Nick. I need you,” I urge.

  His lips move soundlessly and air rasps between his lips. I see the cloud of unconsciousness clear from his eyes and he snaps his gaze to me.

  “Shit, I died.”

  A hysterical burst of laughter bubbles up from inside me, I clasp his face gratefully and kiss him furiously. Nick makes a noise of protest and I release him, offering him an apologetic look. I can’t help myself though. I’m shaking from head to toe with… I don’t know what. I feel like crying and dancing all at the same time. Or maybe just killing the people responsible for hurting him. Either way, he’s alive.

  A furrow appears between his brow. “I’m dead, right?” he asks hoarsely.

  “If this is heaven, then you’ve not been a very good boy.” My voice comes out slightly high-pitched and strained.

  He shakes his head. “Nu-uh, looks like heaven to me.” Gazing up at me, he puts a hand to my cheek.

  I pin it to my face with my hand and nuzzle into his palm, enjoying the warmth. Then I lift his tattered shirt and eye his wound, satisfied the gauze seems to be doing the job. But we still need to get him to the hospital.

  “Nick, we need to get you help. And we must get off this ship. They’re going to chuck us overboard if we don’t.”

  He rolls his gaze around and his frown deepens. “Ship?”

  “Yeah, they dragged us on board. Nick—” My voice cracks. “I thought you were dead. What were you thinking?”

  “Just thinking of you, babe,” he replies flippantly as he struggles to sitting but I hear the strain in his voice. He’s in a lot of pain and trying to hide it.

  I rummage in the first aid box and hand over some pills. “Take these. They’re not going to do a lot but they’ll help eventually. Hopefully. You’ll have to swallow them dry.”

  Nick puts a hand to his shoulder. “It doesn’t feel that bad at the moment. What happened?”

  “You’ve got a hole in your shoulder, Nick! Just take these. It must be the adrenaline or something. It will hurt soon enough.”

  He takes the painkillers from me and chucks them back, grimacing as he swallows. We both clamber to our feet and Nick takes a moment to find his balance.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course.” He winks at me. “I’m Superman, remember?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t remember ever admitting to thinking that about him. “Let’s just get outta here.”

  “Deal. I don’t much like the sea anyway.”

  We approach the door and I suck in a breath. “I don’t think it’s locked. I mean there’s no locks on the outside so unless it’s barricaded…”

  “I guess they were relying on me not being able to do much and…” he shrugs, “you not getting very far on your own?”

  “Or there’s someone outside,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, more likely. Okay, stay behind me and keep your head down. I really don’t want to be ducking bullets again. And, short stuff?” He hooks an arm around me, his hand burning into the base of my back, so alive, so strong. “If I say run, do it, okay? No arguing this time.”

  “If I’d have left, you’d definitely be dead.”

  “And I’ll thank you later, but for the moment, please just do as I say. I may not deal with drug dealers everyday but I’m still trained to handle hostile environments and, babe, this is a real hostile environment.”

  I nod. I’m not sure that I’d run and leave him, but I’ll cooperate as much as I can. Nick does have the upper hand here after all. He releases me and pushes me behind his back. With one swift movement, he pulls open the door.

  Sure enough, a white-haired man is standing on guard. I don’t recognize him and he looks just as surprised as he turns to see us. Nick swings at him, striking him across the jaw and he goes down. Before the man can react, Nick jumps on him and brings his fist across his face. Though his opponent tries to fend off the blows, there’s no way he can defeat this soldier. In spite of his injury, Nick is clearly stronger and more determined. It’s frightening, the ferocity behind his punches but I don’t feel any sympathy for the man when he finally sags, unconscious.

  Nick pats him down and comes to standing with a grin. His knuckles are bleeding and he’s breathless. He flashes the pistol he’s procured at me and I let out a shaky breath. At least the odds are a little on our side now.

  “How do we get out of here?” He takes my hand.

  “That way,” I point down the corridor. “We need to hurry. They wanted to leave quickly when you said the cops were on their way. I guess it takes a while to get a ship ready.”

  “I can’t believe the fucking cops aren
’t here already. I was worried they were going to burst in and get us shot but I didn’t think they’d sit with their thumbs in their asses and let us take on the bad guys,” he mutters while we race up the corridor and to the stairs.

  We pause and listen. I hear footsteps and voices but have no idea if it’s just crew members or what. Surely not every person on the ship is an armed criminal? Nick keeps his grip strong around my hand and the pistol ready. We edge up the steps and my heart thumps in my chest. I’m sure if there’s anyone up there, they must be able to hear it.

  Then Nick drags me up the final few steps in a rush and we come face to face with two startled crewmen. Both in overalls, they are scruffy and clearly working men. And surprised to see us.

  Nick motions with the pistol. “Go down those steps. And stay there unless you want to get shot.”

  They raise their hands and step cautiously down the stairs, moving backward so they can keep Nick in their view. I don’t know if they’ll stay there but I’m hoping they don’t want to get involved.

  We race down the next corridor and the wash of fresh air coming through the still open door whispers over my skin. Exhilaration forces a grin across my face and my heart picks up, even though we’re not out of the clear yet. I’m hoping Johnson is on the bridge or in his quarters and won’t even notice we’re gone.

  The sight of sky and dock teases us at the end of the corridor but Nick pulls me to a stop and shoves me to one side. He peers around, his back pressed against me in the small confines of the passageway. Looking over his shoulder at me, he whispers, “Two guys. Both armed.”

  I swallow hard. How are we meant to get past two armed men? “Are you… are you going to shoot them?” I know this is what he’s trained to do and I know they wouldn’t think twice about doing it to us but still… I shudder.

  “Just stay here for a moment. I can’t aim with you right behind me.”

  I nod and he disappears out of the hatch. Two shots ring out quickly and a third. There’s a slight gap and one more shot sounds. I have to force myself to remain still and wait as my insides shrivel up. I’m waiting for the armed guys to come storming up the boarding steps and find me. I’m waiting to find out Nick is actually dead this time.