Come Back To Me

by Melissa Foster

  He nudged Abdul Hadi’s arm and asked in Arabic, “To where are we going?”

  Abdul Hadi did not answer. He looked warily at the soldier, whom he knew was part of the underground movement and was there to assist them, but still he did not fully trust the man.

  “What will happen to us when we arrive?” Zeid pushed.

  Abdul Hadi spoke without taking his eyes from the soldier’s, “Hush. We are going where they take us.”

  “Where? To our city?” Zeid ignored the pinched look of frustration on Abdul Hadi’s face.

  “We will go where they take us,” he repeated.

  Suddenly the brakes screeched, and the group was thrown forward. Athra cried out in terror. Edham clenched his mother’s arm, his nails tearing into her skin. Suha reached out to right Zeid, who’d crumpled forward. The soldier jumped from the truck, gun drawn. Outside the vehicle the men shouted angrily, unfamiliar male voices catapulted through the thin tarp that covered the rear of the vehicle.

  Beau shot a worried look to Abdul Hadi.

  He held up his hand, commanding silence.

  They listened.

  “We’re at the airfield,” Abdul Hadi whispered.

  “That’s it? We’re done? Now we’re safe?”

  Abdul Hadi looked incredulously at Beau. He shook his head, his tone serious. “We are not safe until we are out of the country.”

  Samira protectively covered Athra’s ears.

  The rear of the truck swung open. Two Iraqi soldiers spat instructions in Arabic. Suha pushed Beau forward, guiding him toward the intended location. He kept his head bent low. Edham tugged at Beau’s pants leg. He lifted the boy easily into his arms, feeling Edham’s heart pounding against his thin chest. Abdul Hadi whispered to Beau to follow his lead.

  Three armed men stood before a small plane. Two of them approached, staring at both Beau and Abdul Hadi. Abdul Hadi spoke rapidly, pointing to Beau, then motioning to his ear.

  Suha translated in whispers, doing her best to hide her words by angling her face down toward the ground.

  Abdul Hadi told the men that Beau was hard of hearing due to a recent explosion.

  Suha whispered to Beau, “Not a word. Silence.”

  The men circled Beau, eyeing him up and down. It was not a stretch for Beau to play the part of being injured or shell-shocked. Memories of the recent months were fresh. His eyes remained low, watching the boot-clad feet of the men scuff along the sand. His nerves were live wires. He expected to be torn from the group at any moment and shot.

  From a nearby vehicle came another large dark-skinned man. Beau stole a glance. The man looked more American than Iraqi. For a split second, Beau was tempted to speak to him in English, to explain how he had landed amongst the group. Before he could utter a word, the man shoved papers into each of their hands, speaking forcefully in Arabic, “Identification.”

  In the distance, a truck dusted up sand as it sped in their direction.

  Suddenly, the men aimed their rifles in the direction of the approaching vehicle, shouting and pushing Beau and the others toward the airplane. Beau carried Edham, snagging Zeid’s collar with his free hand and pulling him toward the plane. Athra clung to Samira’s chest, sobbing loudly. Gunfire rang out seconds before they reached the plane. The engine roared, concealing the men’s wild shouts and the pops of the gunfire. Beau threw Edham and Zeid into the open door of the airplane. Abdul Hadi hoisted Samira and Athra into the plane. They scrambled across the airplane floor. Abdul Hadi lifted himself into the airplane and grabbed Suha’s arm, Beau lifted her from behind, into the belly of the plane. He jumped on the edge as the airplane lifted from the ground, falling atop Samira as the plane careened sideways. The door slammed shut. Gunfire rang out beneath the belly of the plane.

  The children’s frantic screams and sobs echoed in the small plane.

  Abdul Hadi hushed them, grabbing Zeid by the shoulders and commanding him to get a hold of himself for the good of his mother.

  Beau checked Samira for cuts, broken bones. Beyond the screams, Beau heard a moan. Suha lay across a seat, her body oozing blood from several dark holes. He rushed to her, lifting her across his lap, pushing his hands into the holes in her ravaged body.

  “Suha!” His shout was drowned out by the roar of the airplane and the pilot’s incessant curses. Beau frantically tried to stop the bleeding, clinging to Suha’s body as his own was thrust from side to side from the turbulent ascent of the plane. Blood seeped through his fingers in thick, steady streams. He tore apart the fabric that had hidden his face and pressed the rumpled cloth into the wounds. “Don’t you leave me,” he pleaded through gritted teeth. “Come on, come on!”

  Samira shrieked, crawling to Suha’s side. She ripped the remaining fabric and pushed it against Suha’s chest, desperately trying to cover the three bullet holes that spewed blood across her body, praying frantically in Arabic. Her hands shook, blood pooling beneath them.

  Suha’s eyes opened, then slowly closed.

  “Suha!” Beau yelled. He pushed her matted hair from her eyes. “Abdul Hadi!” he yelled.

  Abdul Hadi took Beau’s hands from her wounds, Beau fought him. Abdul Hadi shook his head.

  Tears streamed from Beau’s cheeks, his body quaked. “No! No!” he shook Suha’s body, shaking Suha. “Come on! Damn it, Suha! Come on!” He grabbed her hand and squeezed as hard as he was able.

  Suha’s eyes fluttered beneath her lids. She tried to suck in air, gurgling, emitting a painful, choking sound.

  “Ja…meel,” she managed.

  “No!” Beau yelled and pulled her body against his heaving chest.

  Samira threw herself across Suha’s back, oblivious to her children’s wails. Beau sobbed, holding Samira with one of his blood-soaked hands and pressing Suha’s lifeless body against him with the other.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tess fished through her closet looking for just the right outfit. Her bed was already covered with cast-offs—a little black v-neck dress? Too revealing. Black slacks and a blouse? The pants would never fit around her expanding waist. A blue sheath? Too matronly. The phone rang. She instantly regretted not checking her frustration before saying hello.

  “Uh-oh,” Louie said. “Something’s got you tied in knots.”

  If you only knew, Tess thought. “No, I’m just…finishing some last-minute work,” she lied.

  “So we’re still on? Eight o’clock?”

  Tess nervously bit her lip, “Mm-hmm.” Tess made arrangements to meet him at the movie theater in case she chickened out of what she knew was coming. The relationship was developing into something more, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to stop it.

  ***

  They sat in the dark theater, their forearms pressing against one another’s on the arm rest. Tess felt like a high schooler in a pair of jeans, a low-cut blouse that showed off her newfound cleavage, and heels that would even make Shrek feel sexy. Despite her best efforts to ignore her desires, the simple act of crossing her legs when wearing heels suddenly seemed to hold a sensual connotation—the way her foot arched, her leg appeared longer, sleeker. What had she been thinking? Concentrating on the movie was out of the question. She had all she could do to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. She felt more than saw Louie glance at her—damn him, all relaxed and confident.

  He laid his hand on hers, and heat rose to her neck. She hadn’t felt that way since…Beau. Beau! What was she doing? She took a deep breath and shook her head. Oh, my God, I’m a slut. She slipped her hand out of his and set it in her lap.

  When the movie ended, Louie stood and stretched. Trying to quell her inner turmoil, Tess fumbled with her phone, concentrating on turning it back on, having turned it off for the movie. It vibrated immediately. She answered as they made their way to the exit.

  Kevin’s panic-stricken voice made her heart race. “Tess? Where the hell are you? Get to Sibley Hospital as soon as you can. It’s Alice.”

  ***

&nbs
p; Tess pushed through the emergency room doors and made a beeline for the receptionist. “Alice Workm—”

  “Tess! This way.” Tess followed Kevin through a set of electric doors. The worry in his eyes told Tess this was no minor injury. They rushed down the sterile hallway, overwhelmed by the smell of antiseptic, dodging white-clad nurses.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  The look Kevin gave her sent a chill up her spine. He stopped in front of a curtain.

  Tess tried to push past him. He grabbed her arm, “Tess,” he swallowed hard. “It’s not pretty. She’s holding up okay, but—”

  “What happened?” she pushed past him, opening the curtain and stopped dead in her tracks. Gauze covered Alice’s left eye, her chin was deep red and swollen. The ends of her hair were matted with blood.

  “Oh, my God,” Tess shrank into a cold metal chair next to the bed feeling as though she’d been kicked in the gut. She reached under the sheet for Alice’s hand. Thick bandages covered her wrist. Tess dropped her eyes to Alice’s other wrist, also covered in a thick bandage. “What happened?”

  Alice opened her mouth slowly, her voice a whisper, “He…” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

  Tess gently wrapped her arms around Alice’s trembling body. “Never mind, don’t try to talk.”

  “You warned me,” Alice said to Tess.

  “Oh, honey, no. This isn’t your fault,” Tess said.

  Alice nodded. “You asked if I worried, and I blew you off. I was scared. I was scared with every man I brought home,” she sobbed.

  Kevin turned away.

  “It’s true!” she said to Kevin. “I’m pathetic,” she cried. “A fool.”

  Kevin turned back toward her.

  “You are not pathetic, Alice,” Tess said. She glared at Kevin.

  Kevin’s clenched jaw muscles twitched.

  “Whoever did this, he’s pathetic,” Tess hissed. She held Alice until she calmed down.

  A nurse came in and read Alice’s chart. “How’re you doing, honey? I see that you refused a sedative earlier. Are you ready for one now?” Her sweet tone didn’t fit her bleached-white skin and pitch black hair.

  Tess lifted an eyebrow at the piercing in the young nurse’s eyebrow.

  Alice reached for the pill with trembling fingers. She put it on her tongue and gulped it down with a quick shot of water, wincing at the pain as it slid down her throat.

  “Al, I’m going to talk to the doctor, will you be okay for a minute?”

  Alice clenched the sheet in her fist, nodded.

  “I’ll just be a sec,” Tess said and grabbed Kevin as she walked through the curtain. “What the fuck happened? Who did this to her?” she seethed. Tess paced outside the curtain, her insides boiling with rage.

  “I found her in her condo. I stopped by on my way to the movies, and as I got off the elevator, I saw the back of some guy running toward the stairs and caught her door before it could close.” He turned away, shaking his head.

  “What?” Tess demanded.

  “She was tied up, Tess, naked. The fucker beat the shit out of her.” Kevin slammed the side of his fist against the doorjamb.

  “Easy,” a nurse said as she walked by.

  “Jesus, who would do this to her? Did you call the police? Did they get him?”

  He nodded. “They came and took a report, but I only saw him from the back. She knows him, Tess. He’s one of her…”

  Tess felt nauseous. “Oh, my God. But she was just at my house this morning.”

  “He was waiting for her when she got home—inside.”

  Tess bit her lower lip. “Poor Alice.”

  “She’s not talking. She won’t tell them who he is.”

  “She has to! He’ll do this to some other woman,” she said.

  “She knows that. The police have gone over everything.” He gave Tess a look of apology. “She called you.”

  “What? When?” Tess’s mind ran a mile a minute. The movies, her phone had been off. She pulled her phone out of her purse—one voice mail message. “Oh no. Oh God.” She chewed her fingernail while listening to the frantic message: “Help!” Alice’s voice piercing; indecipherable struggling noises; Alice screaming; an angry male voice, snarling, “My turn, bitch!” The sound of flesh pounding flesh cracked through the line, followed by Alice’s shriek. The line went dead.

  Tess slid down to the cold linoleum floor, her back against the wall, face buried in her hands.

  ***

  For the first time ever, Tess walked tentatively into her home, wondering who, or what, might be waiting for her behind the closed doors. He was out there somewhere—Alice’s attacker. A chill ran down Tess’s back. Tess couldn’t help but think that Alice must have known this could happen, and just as quickly hated herself for thinking it. She ran from room to room, closing curtains and opening closet doors. She checked to be sure all the doors were locked, and finally fell, exhausted, into a hot bath.

  ***

  Tess lay on the bed, staring at the empty closet. She could feel Beau everywhere. Her body ached for him, for closure, and at the same time, she hoped never to receive closure because that would mean he was truly never coming back. Yet, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t dismiss her growing desire for Louie’s touch. It had been so long since Tess had felt the heat of another, smelled the lingering aroma of sex. She wrapped her arms around her burgeoning waist and rolled over onto Beau’s side of the bed, burying her head in his pillow. “Oh, Beau,” she whispered, “you promised to come back.” Tess drifted into sleep, and finally, into a dream. She stood in the middle of the street in the pouring rain, shivering, wearing a drenched t-shirt and maternity jeans, her belly protruding like a mountain. In one direction was Beau, battered and bloody, his hand outstretched, his sunken eyes pleading, fading. In the other direction, Louie beckoned, life emitting from his very being.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Samira clung to Suha’s lifeless, bloody body. How would she manage without her, without the woman who had rescued her from her abusive life and promised her a life without fear? She was riddled with trepidation—leaving the only country she’d ever known without a man to support her or Suha to guide her. Her stomach ached worse than when Safaa had beaten her. She watched her children, huddled together, their tear-streaked cheeks swollen and red. Suha’s death brought a broken look to Zeid. Paralyzed by the fear that prickled her limbs, she could not let go of Suha’s body. She could not go to her children, comfort them, when she herself could not accept Suha’s senseless death.

  ***

  Beau pried Samira’s trembling fingers from Suha’s body. He pressed her against him, slowly guiding her to her children’s side. He laid Suha’s body in the back of the airplane, going through the motions without thought, and returned to Samira’s side. Samira laid her head against Beau’s shoulder. Athra climbed into her lap, her thumb jammed into her mouth. Edham inched his trembling body next to Beau. Zeid remained at a distance.

  “She was a strong woman,” Abdul Hadi said.

  Samira stared at the floor before her, feeling her heartbeat against Beau’s side, gathering what little strength she could from him.

  “She accomplished her goal, Samira,” Abdul Hadi said. “She was a strong woman.”

  “Her goal was never to die,” Samira whispered in Arabic.

  “She saved you and the children. That was her goal,” he paused. “She was not afraid of death.”

  Samira looked away, ashamed. She’d been the cause of Suha’s death.

  Zeid’s high-pitched voice broke through the thick curtain of grief. “It’s his fault!” He pointed to Beau with a look of disdain.

  “Hush, Zeid,” Samira demanded, no louder than a whisper.

  “He did it! We should never have left Iraq. I hate him! I hate you!”

  Abdul Hadi turned stern eyes in the boy’s direction. “Your father would be ashamed, boy! Suha saved your life. She gave you what many children of the war will
never have—safety. She gave her life for you, child, not for him. She gave her life for your brother and sister, for your mother. Do not disrespect your mother or Suha again in my presence.”

  Zeid shrunk back, jaw clenched, his eyes shooting darts.

  Beau could not understand many of the words he spoke, but he understood the looks he received from the terrified boy, and he did not blame Zeid for his hatred. Instead, Beau wanted to try harder to ease the child’s pain.

  ***

  The flight went on for many hours. The pilot’s deep voice rattled on and on as he spoke into the radio.

  As Abdul Hadi translated, he methodically washed the blood from Samira’s cheeks and hands, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He used the bottles of drinking water and scrubbed the floor of the airplane where Suha’s body had left its mark, then he covered her body with blankets so the children would not be forced to bear witness any longer.

  Beau watched Abdul Hadi, embarrassed by his inability to help Abdul Hadi. His head dripped perspiration. The rumbling of the engine made his stomach queasy.

  “He’s warning the airbase that we’re coming in on a private plane,” Abdul Hadi explained. “He’s begging them not to shoot us down.”

  Beau pulled Edham close, memories of the helicopter crash careening through his mind.

  When the small plane had rumbled and tipped, Beau saw flashes in his mind of the men he’d traveled with in the helicopter: Gary Marks, the lanky young reporter who rued being away from his family but who was indebted to Mr. Fulan for giving him a job ten years earlier without education or experience. Gary had sat across from Beau, his head back, eyes closed.

  “Hey, man,” Beau had said. “It’ll be okay. We’re almost done.” Beau could see the terror in his eyes.

  Gary didn’t respond.

  “Is it the flying?” Beau asked.

  He nodded.

  “Shit, that’s the easy part. Getting these people to trust us, that’s the hard part.”