by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
“Why was it so hard for you?” he asked softly.
The whole thing had been her idea and despite the men’s objections, she had held fast to the recommendation that they burn their uniforms for safety reasons.
“I am a soldier who just burned her uniform.”
“Not as an act of defiance but out of necessity to protect the uniform, to make sure it isn’t used against us.”
“I know,” she said in a small voice. He could tell she was conflicted, that it wasn’t sitting well with her.
They walked for nearly two miles before they came to a small village crossroads where they knew they’d find transportation. Luke’s kameez was heavy with sweat and sticking to him, the white cotton almost transparently wet.
While they waited for someone to pass so they could try to hitch a ride, Luke found a tree stump and patted it. “Sit.” He couldn’t see her eyes or her facial expression but somehow he knew she was going to protest. She hesitated but then sat down. Her backpack was underneath the burka and he heard her gulping water. The burka was like a nonbreathable bubble around her body and he immediately felt guilty that they hadn’t stopped sooner for a rest. As hot as he was in the light cotton clothing, she had to be sweltering underneath all those yards of fabric. Not to mention the fact that her shoulder injury had obviously flared up.
“Before you ask, I’m fine,” she said irritably.
He remained standing. If he took a seat on the tree stump, she would be forced to sit on the ground at his feet. Despite the supposed social progress in Afghanistan, the rural areas remained rigid in their treatment of women.
“Why did the uniform burning bother you so much?”
He wished he could see her eyes, read her face, but he’d have to settle for words alone.
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me, Alessa.”
She took so long to respond that he thought the conversation was over.
“When I was growing up, I didn’t have a lot of things that were just mine. Or things that weren’t broken or damaged one way or another. When I left home, it was literally with the clothes I was wearing. The uniform is the one thing that’s been a constant in my life. Something with my name on it that I can be proud of. It’s perfect.” Her voice cracked a little and the weight of what she’d said washed over him like a tidal wave.
Luke thought of all the “things” he and Ethan treasured. Military brats often complained about the lack of permanence in their lives, the need to move from one place to another all the time. He and Ethan had had a special handmade trunk with secret compartments that their father had purchased during a short stint in Japan. The trunk had moved with them to every new post, and the twins had often hidden contraband inside.
The trunk now sat in his father’s home, in the room that his mother had dubbed “the boys’ room” for when he and Ethan would visit. Luke and Ethan hadn’t lived with their parents for nearly twenty years—ever since they left for West Point after high school—but his mother unfailingly decorated “the boys’ room” in every new house they set up. Ethan was the only one who’d really used it.
Alessa had fallen silent and he felt the overwhelming need to touch her, tell her that she deserved to have more than just a uniform to call her own. A deep, dark rage pulsed through his veins, making him wish he could punish her father for everything he had ever taken away from her.
His own father had many faults, but the one thing he’d been very clear on teaching his boys was that there was no circumstance under which it was okay to hit a child or a woman. Luke knew men who hit women. At least five soldiers under his command had been disciplined for beating their wives. Those were just the cases he knew about. Luke considered them to be weak men who couldn’t handle the stress in their lives and took it out on others. He had no use for them and had given them the harshest reprimands the army would allow.
“You still have the uniform, so to speak, but it’s not the only thing you have. You also have…” Me. He was about to end that sentence with me. “The unit,” he finished weakly. What was wrong with him? That would’ve been incredibly inappropriate. He was her superior and an officer. It was his duty was to protect her.
Especially from himself.
CHAPTER TEN
LUCK WAS NOT on their side. After waiting for an hour on the roadside, they’d finally caught a rusted pickup truck to Kabul. The driver had demanded a generous fee and asked way too many questions. Both Alessa and Luke spoke some Pashtun but nowhere close to enough to keep up a conversation or to pass as natively fluent. So Luke had used grunts and nods, hoping the driver would get the hint. Alessa stayed silent because it would’ve been improper for her to talk.
The man made Alessa ride in the truck bed while Luke was asked to keep him company in the cab. Alessa could almost see the steam coming out of Luke’s ears but he smartly realized that he had no choice. If he made a fuss, the man would ask even more questions and get suspicious. As it was, they’d have to alter their plans. A nosy driver meant he’d talk about the strangers he’d picked up and someone could easily follow their trail if they caught a bus from the Kabul stop.
Bouncing uncomfortably in the back of the pickup, Alessa was almost glad to get a break from Luke. Her shoulder was throbbing and there were times when her vision wasn’t entirely clear. She didn’t know if it was the heat or the burka’s mesh covering her eyes. She had practiced wearing the burka, worn it for two days stateside in preparation for this mission, but the temperature was much higher here and something just felt off. Sitting down and letting herself relax was a welcome respite.
She couldn’t let Luke see she wasn’t feeling well. How dare he change the plan on the assumption that he needed to take care of her? A bump on the head and healing shoulder were hardly cause for alarm. She was an experienced soldier, with far more years in active combat than Luke. After working so hard to prove to them that she qualified to be a member of the unit, a proper member, she couldn’t believe Luke would undermine her like that.
The truck hit a giant pothole and her arm exploded into a million pieces as she slammed into the side of the truck. This was no rougher than a ride in a jeep or transport truck. She’d been on thousands of those. So why was her vision all fuzzy? Must be the burka. It would be better once they got into Pakistan and she could switch to a lighter headscarf.
She turned her back to the cab and lifted the veil covering her face, but her vision didn’t clear. Taking several deep breaths, she reached into her backpack and pulled out the canteen. Normally she would take small sips throughout the day to get her body acclimated to the hot weather and conserve water but she downed more than half the canteen, figuring she was dehydrated. She could refill the canteen at the Kabul bus station. It would be a lot worse for her to pass out. Luke wouldn’t make it to the safe house ahead of the others. She couldn’t let the team down.
Alessa had failed at a lot of things in life; she’d barely passed high school, hadn’t held down a single teenage job. Being a soldier was all she’d ever been successful at. Until the incident, she’d regularly been promoted and had nothing but stellar ratings in her performance appraisals. Her integrity as a soldier was all she had, the only thing she could hold on to when her father’s voice snarled at her about how she was nothing, and that the best he could hope for was that she’d find a guy like him who would take care of her.
Perhaps it was that realization that had compelled her to enlist with the army. The horrifying thought that if she didn’t change her life, she’d end up like her mother, a woman who had to rely on her abusive husband to feed and clothe her and her children. Alessa would never put herself in a situation where she needed a man to take care of her.
* * *
THEY WERE AT the Kabul bus station. Luke directed her to a bench.
“Don’t move,” he said ominously. He went to a
ticket booth and elbowed his way through the small crowd gathered in front of the window.
Once he’d bought tickets, he proceeded to a roadside stand. Alessa couldn’t remember if she’d ever eaten at a real Afghan restaurant off the base. The best she’d ever seen was an open kitchen inside a blown-out building with chairs and tables outside on the sidewalk.
Luke brought back two heaping plates of rice. Handing her one, he began eating with this hands, which was the traditional way. “He claims there’s really meat in there.” Luke said. The rice dish was known as kabuli pulao, and could include a combination of various meats, vegetables and nuts. Meat was expensive, but even if there was none in theirs, the hot meal was far better than the MREs they had in their backpacks.
Alessa did the best she could to shovel food into her mouth under the veil. Luke’s eyes sparked with amusement as she tried and failed to get a finger-full of food into her mouth.
“Want me to feed you?” he asked cheekily.
“How about I dress up like a man and you put this on,” she retorted.
He crouched down so he could meet her eyes. “Seriously, Parrino, you scared me back there. I think you passed out in the back of the truck. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I did not pass out! I fell asleep.”
“When I woke you up, you were confused, mumbling incoherent things. Your eyes were unfocused, too.”
She didn’t remember any of that.
“I’m dehydrated, that’s all—a problem I’ve corrected.”
His eyes narrowed. “Parrino, you’re lying to me.” His gaze bored into hers and for once she was glad for the mesh over her eyes. Yet the intensity of his look warmed her. He genuinely cared about whether she was okay. The words to reassure him were on her lips—a platitude to get him off her back—but she couldn’t utter them. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as her throat went completely dry.
She didn’t know how to react to a man who was worried about her well-being. Aidan had been the first man who had shown any concern for her. At some level, she was sure he truly had cared about her, but ultimately, as happened with most men, his needs had come before hers. While he hadn’t exactly thrown her under the bus, he hadn’t gone out of his way to help her, either. Unlike Luke, who was jeopardizing the mission to assure her safety.
“Why did you switch teams?” she asked, not caring that she was skirting his question about her health.
“I was worried about you. Still am. I think you’re in pain and lying about it.”
“I’m in better shape than any number of soldiers currently in combat. Would you have switched places if it were Boots or Dimples or any of the guys that was hurt?”
His hesitation was all the answer she needed and she waved her hand dismissively. “I hate when people assume women are frail and weak. Look around. The men are nice and comfortable in their loose-flowing kameez. Let me tell you, if men had to wear this burka in the heat all day, they wouldn’t last more than a couple of hours. While you were enjoying a nice cushioned seat, I was riding in the back of a truck with no shocks smelling donkey poop.”
“What’re you trying to convince me of, Parrino? I already know you’re a great soldier. I’m not concerned because I think you’re weak but because…”
He looked away. If they were in any other place, she would’ve gotten in his face, challenged him to explain himself. Instead, she set down the nearly full plate of rice and tried to meet his eyes.
“Because what?” she whispered.
“…because I feel responsible for you,” he said finally.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Why? I’m just a soldier in your command. No one special.” It was the role she had played her entire life. She was the expendable one.
“That’s…” He shook his head, then picked up their plates and returned them to the food vendor, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t finished eating. She knew what he was doing. Putting distance between them. It was what Aidan had done when things went wrong. In his case, he’d gone out on patrol, every day, even when it wasn’t his turn, and he’d found excuses to avoid her at the small camp. It was what her mother did whenever she had a rough time with Alessa’s father. The easy way to handle a difficult situation.
When he returned, he finally met her gaze. “I’m not going to pretend that I’m not treating you differently. I am. Why? I don’t know. If I did, I’d stop doing it. All my life, I’ve followed my gut and my gut tells me to keep you close. I dislocated your shoulder and I’m not sure if it’s guilt or something else. All I know is that my concern for you has nothing to do with your abilities as a soldier. You are one of the best I have. You’ve proven that.”
Her body warmed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Luke was a charmer, the kind of guy who always knew the right thing to say to diffuse a tense moment. She’d learned this not only from his reputation but from observing the way he interacted with everyone from the other members of the unit to the obnoxious truck driver. Yet she believed him.
“You want something to worry about? Worry about the mission. Think of how we’re going to skirt the truck driver who has been watching us like a hawk since the moment he dropped us off.”
He seemed relieved that she wasn’t going to push him further. She knew if she did, he’d dig deeper and give as honest an answer as he could. But she wasn’t ready to hear that answer.
Luke straightened and made a subtle scan of the area. She could tell he’d spotted the truck driver chatting with a small group of men by the twitch of his jaw.
“I bought a ticket for a bus tomorrow to Herat. I said something to that truck driver we got a ride from about how you had family in Iran. He’ll assume we’re shady because we’re trying to cross into the country illegally. The bus leaves at dawn, so we’ll get a room tonight, then sneak out in the middle of the night.”
“Won’t we attract attention going to a hotel?”
Only tourists could afford hotel stays in Kabul. Like restaurants, they were a luxury common people who were working to put food on the table did without.
Luke grinned and despite the fake contacts, she could see the twinkle in his eyes. “I took care of that, too. The rice guy told me there’s a locally-operated guest house not too far from here. We’ll make a show of you being sick and check in there.”
Alessa agreed, and they made their way to what turned out to be a flat-roofed structure with rubble piled beside it. The once-white walls were discolored into shades of black, gray and brown and covered in graffiti and haphazard posters advertising products and politicians. A guard stood by the door and Luke gave him a couple Afghani notes. Once inside, they were greeted by an old man with missing teeth who looked at them suspiciously until Luke pulled out more Afghani bills. Then his mouth widened into a big smile.
The man was about Alessa’s height and she didn’t like the way he wet his lips as he studied her. For once she was glad for the burka and the cultural appropriateness of averting her eyes while staying behind Luke and acting frail.
She followed Luke to their bedroom. Once inside, Luke considered the door, which had a flimsy lock that could be opened with a key from the outside. There was no security chain to ensure their privacy. He dragged a nightstand across the room and pushed it against the door.
“It’s not going to stop anyone, but at least we’ll have time to react.”
Nodding, Alessa pulled off the burka. Blessed fresh air. Or as fresh as indoor air could be in Kabul. She looked up to see Luke avert his gaze and she suddenly realized that her kameez was soaked with sweat.
The bathroom was in the hallway. There was no way she was going out there alone with the creepy owner hovering. While she had no doubt that she could teach him a lesson he’d never forget if he ever came near enough to touch her, they didn’t need any incidents. Luke se
emed to understand her dilemma without her having to say anything. “I’m going to look at the wall. Change in here. If you need to use the restroom, I’ll come with you and stand guard.”
She waited for him to turn around, then quickly pulled off her kameez and replaced it with the only other one she was carrying.
“I need to wash this out,” she said quietly, not even wanting to think about how she smelled given the decided odor coming from the wet shirt.
He removed the nightstand from the door and peered out. She put on the burka, then followed him to the bathroom. The toilet was a hole in the ground, and there was no running water, but an empty bucket sat nearby.
“You go outside to fill the bucket,” the owner yelled from down the hall.
Alessa and Luke went into the yard, where they found a hand pump. Darkness had settled on the Hindu Kush mountains and was slowly creeping into Kabul. The hues of orange, purple and gray reflected off the dust in the air, leaving the city in an ethereal fog. It dampened the cacophony of city sounds: honking cars, whistling bicycle bells, construction noises and the hum of daily life.
While Luke pumped, Alessa washed the shirt using a bar of soap she had had the forethought to pack in their bags.
After they were done washing, she plucked a clothespin from a line, while Luke carried the toilet bucket that he’d filled for their use back to the room. She hung the wet kameez on one of the bars that ran across the window. Warm air blew through the room. The room was pleasant and would soon cool as the temperatures fell. The concrete construction of the houses held on to the night chill, making the daytime heat more bearable inside.
There were two chairs and a small table. Alessa took a seat, unsure of what to do next. The bed looked really inviting but she sensed that they needed to talk face-to-face. While the comms system was great for being able to quietly communicate while on the go, it was impersonal. She wanted to look into Luke’s eyes.