Path of Jen: Bloodborne

by Sidney Wood

  She searched his pockets and found what looked like a key card. She tossed it up onto the bed and kept searching. When she had searched all of his pockets, she unbuckled his pants and untied his shoes. Like many of the ISIS soldiers, he wore white tennis shoes instead of black boots. She quickly stripped the shoes and trousers off and shimmied into them. She tied the shoelaces in double knots and then cinched the belt as tight as it would go. It was still a little loose, but her trousers would stay up. Next, she went to the other soldier and unbuttoned his shirt and put it on. Jen hurriedly stuffed the knife in a pocket and the pistol in her belt. She picked up the rifle and ducked her head into the sling. She pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. “Dang it!" Jen looked at the weapon and saw a lever along the upper receiver just above the trigger well. She pushed it down and pointed the barrel at the wall again. This time there was a loud, “Bang!” when she pulled the trigger. “Alright!" Jen pushed the lever back up and checked herself. She remembered the mask and grabbed it from the bed. She pulled it over her head and said, “Okay, I’m ready." One deep breath and she was running down the hall.

  “Just get out of the city,” she thought. “Get out of this building and then out of the city." Jen made it to the double doors and just before the lobby and stopped. Her heart was racing and she could feel it pounding in her chest. Above the thumping she heard shouting and then screaming on the opposite side. Jen held her breath and said a prayer. “Dear God help me now." She pressed her lips together, moved the safety lever to the off position, and pushed through.

  The hospital lobby was a war zone. Soldiers fought hand to hand against each other or died from short range gun fire. Jen saw others in bio suits arriving as she pushed through the front doors and escaped outside. The sun was bright, but she was anonymous in the black uniform. Everyone was focused on the melee in the lobby and paid no attention to the lone soldier running the other way.

  A siren pierced the air as Jen reached the first barrier. She ran out a side road near the mosque that she often saw unguarded. As she ducked under the steel gate and rounded a concrete barrier an explosion knocked her to the ground. Jen blinked and shook her head. Her world was filled with an intense ringing sound and she trembled as she tried to stand on wobbly legs. “Am I okay?” she wondered. “What happened? Am I shot? Did I get blown up?" She slowly regained her senses and began to shuffle forward again. She looked over her shoulder and saw thick black smoke rising from the hospital. The ringing continued, but she heard other sounds too. The siren was still screaming, and there was sporadic gun fire. Jen just kept moving. She stayed close to buildings and ran from shadow to shadow.

  The city never seemed to end. People ran out to see the smoke and some even ran toward the commotion. No one paid her any mind as she ran the other way. Everyone seemed to think “The soldier must be on a mission. He must know what he's doing." Jen ran for nearly an hour before she finally stopped to rest.

  She was still inside the city, but there was a break in the urban sprawl where a wide river split the city in two. “This must be the Tigris River,” thought Jen. “It flows north to south, so that means I’m heading east. Thank you Mr. Simmons!" Mr. Simmons was her sophomore Geography teacher. In his class, which tended to focus on the Middle East, was one of the few times Jen had felt connected to her heritage. Mr. Simmons was a Marine Corps veteran that loved to tell stories, and he always had photos to show the class from his many combat deployments. Jen felt a surge of excitement to think that Mr. Simmons may have stood somewhere near where she was standing at that moment. “He may have stood on this shore, looking across the same river!"

  Jen looked north and south. There was a large bridge spanning the river a few hundred yards to the north. To the south she could see two smaller bridges with a third and larger bridge in the distance beyond. The smaller bridges were a little closer so she began walking southward. She kept to the brush and vegetation near the river, hoping to avoid people as much as possible. Along the way she found piles of rubbish piled near the river bank or thrown over the side. There were feral dogs, digging through or laying on top of the piles. Jen saw worn out clothing and blankets in some of the trash. As it got darker, Jen began looking for a place to hide for the night. She finally leaned against the eastern side of a grass covered dirt pile that protected her from view on the near side of the river.

  Jen would have died two years ago to be sitting in the dirt among snakes, spiders, and other unnameable bugs, but here she was. “I’m carrying an AK47, running through Iraq dressed like an ISIS Jihadi. Ha! Sarah would freak out!" She laughed at the thought. All of the sudden she stopped laughing. “Wait…I’m dressed like an ISIS Jihadi!"

  Jen sat up and looked around the immediate area for anything to change into. “Nothing, of course. Oh yuck. There were clothes in the trash piles I walked past." Jen cringed when she thought of putting garbage soaked clothes on. She tried to forget it for now and lay back again. She slid down farther and tried to get comfortable. “At least I’m on my way to…somewhere." She closed her eyes and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, you have been with me so far. Please stay with me and keep me safe tonight. Tomorrow I need to get out of this city. Please help me."

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was unbelievably cold when Jen woke up. She decided it was best to start moving again. “Maybe I can get across the bridge in the dark without being noticed." She shivered against the cold. The chill would have worn off quickly if she could move faster, but it was too dark to run or even walk fast. The last thing she needed was a broken ankle from hurrying in the dark. To keep her mind off of the cold, she made a list. “I need water and food. I need plain clothes. I need to get to an embassy or find a way to contact my parents. I need a phone." She walked on. “Heck, I need a cheeseburger and large fries."

  Jen noticed her feet were starting to rub in her shoes. They were a little too big and her socks were too thin to provide much cushion. She ignored her aching feet for now, but she knew it would be a problem soon if she didn’t take care of them.

  When she stepped up onto the road and looked cross the bridge, it was like being in a scary movie. The bridge was dark and the river far below was darker. She stood still and watched for movement. She listened for any indiction that someone was ahead of her on the bridge. It was completely quiet except for dogs barking in the distance. Jen walked forward, with her gun at the ready.

  A noise up ahead startled her and she nearly squeezed off a round. Her finger trembled as it rested on the trigger and she continued forward cautiously. She heard a can rattle on the ground as something bumped it. She raised her rifle and pointed it toward the sound. Five more steps and she saw something moving near the guard rail. It was digging through some trash thrown out on the bridge. Jen was truly frightened now. Her heart raced and she began to slowly squeeze the trigger. She stopped suddenly and took her finger off the trigger. “Oh my goodness!” she said out loud. She dropped the rifle to her side as a bristle haired puppy picked its head up from the trash it was digging through and looked at Jen. She squatted down and held out a hand. She puckered her lips and made kissing noises to call it to her, but the puppy growled and ran away instead. “Okay dude. Your loss,” she thought as she stood back up and kept walking. “It must have been a boy. I’ve never had much luck with boys" She took her rifle in her hands and continued across the bridge.

  The eastern side of the river was much like the western side. Not far from the river, the city became dense with buildings and streets. “Just keep heading east and I’ll get past the ISIS controlled territory." She hoped that was true. “Two years ago, ISIS had just taken Mosul, but that may have changed by now,” she thought. Jen knew that Iran also bordered Iraq in the east, but it was mountainous terrain. She didn’t want to try crossing the mountains alone. Maybe once she was out of the city she could find a friendly family to help her find a phone or an American.

  As morning gained momentum and the sun began to warm the
stone and earth buildings, Jen noticed people looking at her strangely. They stopped and stared as if unsure what they were looking at. Some even stepped back inside the doors they had just come out of and quickly pulled them shut. Jen hurried along and hoped she would find the edge of the city soon.

  A block farther on, she saw three military aged men step out into the street ahead of her. She pushed the safety lever off and held the rifle tightly against her. “Please just leave me alone,” she thought. She kept to the edge of the street and continued walking forward. The men closed in.

  Jen stopped and weighed her options. She quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being ambushed from behind. It was all clear, and Jen turned to face the men in front of her. “This is definitely not good,” she thought. “What should I do?" They were only a few steps away. Jen’s finger found the trigger, and she was about to raise the rifle to fire, when one of the men spoke.

  “God’s peace be upon you,” he said with a forced smile. The other two men moved to either side of Jen, surrounding her. “What brings you to this part of the city?” he asked. Then, in a menacing voice he said, “This is a dangerous place for you to be walking all alone."

  Jen jerked the rifle up and almost pulled the trigger before one of the men beside her clubbed her viciously in the head. There was a flash of intense light and then everything went dark. “Not again,” she thought jut before blacking out.

  It was her sense of smell that awoke first. Without opening her eyes, Jen knew she was lying on a stone or dirt floor. The earthy smell filled her nostrils with every shallow breath. There was another smell that reminded her of a car. She opened her eyes and saw the same three men standing nearby, speaking in hushed tones. She could see the opening of an alleyway in the distance. “That means I’m at the back end, hidden,” she thought. She looked around and saw the source of the other smell. There were jugs of oil, gas, and other fluids next to the back of the alley. There was an old beat up motorcycle and a few tools next to it. “This must be some kind of garage or repair shop."

  Trying not to make any noise, Jen felt for the pistol in her belt. Her hands were tied together at the wrists in front of her, so she had to move both arms at once. The pistol was gone. The knife in her pocket was gone as well. “No such luck,” she sighed. She pushed herself up to a seated position. Her head hurt and she gingerly touched her scalp. She felt wetness on the fabric of her black mask above the injury. Jen looked at her hands and saw smears of blood.

  She heard footsteps and looked up to see the three men walking toward her. The center man, who had spoken earlier, held her knife. The two others posted on either side of her as before. One of them held her rifle and another held her pistol. The center man came in close holding the knife in front of him. Jen leaned away as he brought it close to her face, and he held it even closer.

  “What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked. “Where are your friends, eh?" He touched the tip of the knife to Jen’s forehead and tapped it. Jen winced, but kept her mouth shut. “Silence will not save you boy,” he said, and he reached out and yanked the mask off of her head.

  He reeled back in surprise when her long brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders and partially over her face. “Oh!” he laughed. “What is this?" The other two laughed as well, and one of them grabbed her hair and pulled it roughly.

  Jen cried out, which only brought more laughter from the three men. She pushed her hair back and out of her face, and glared at them defiantly. She looked from face to face and looked each of them in the eye. “Don’t touch me.” she said firmly in Farsi.

  The man in the center nodded at the other two and they grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her to her feet. He stepped in close and slapped her hard across the face. Burning pain radiated from her cheek, up the side of her nose, and into her ear. Her head snapped to the side from the impact. She let her head drop, and she opened her mouth and worked her jaw as she recovered from the blow.

  She began to laugh. It started slowly and grew quickly into a full belly laugh. Jen let her legs give out and placed her full body weight on the two men holding her up as she laughed. They angrily jerked her to her feet and tried to make her stand, but she continued to go slack. It was like a child throwing a tantrum and they didn't know how to react. The middle man brought the knife up in a threatening manner, but it was too late.

  Jen suddenly pushed with all of her leg strength toward the man on the left and smashed into his face with the top of her bloody head. His nose shattered and he fell back, unable to see through his own tears and blood. The man on the right still had ahold of Jen, and he jerked her back toward him viciously. She didn’t fight it and the pair tumbled to the ground in a heap. Jen scratched at his face and wiped her bloody hands on his exposed skin. She rolled away from him and onto her knees. She managed to stand up just in time to see the man with a broken nose, tackle the center man while snarling like an animal. The center man shouted as they wrestled and then began to scream as the other man savaged him with his nails and teeth.

  In the melee, Jen saw the pistol on the ground and quickly picked it up. The man she scratched made it to his feet and seemed confused. He pointed the gun at her and then at the other men, and then he just looked down and stared at it for a moment as if he didn’t know what it was that he held in his hands. Suddenly, he threw it to the ground in a rage and his head snapped up to look at Jen.

  “Uh oh,” she thought. Jen gripped the pistol in both hands and brought it up in front of her. She pointed it at the man just as he started charging at her. Her index finger squeezed the trigger straight to the rear and the gun violently exploded in her hands. She managed to keep ahold of the pistol as it completed the cycle of operations and her body absorbed the recoil. In slow motion, she watched her target as his head jerked back and his body fell slack to the floor.

  Jen spun to face the two men behind her and saw them lying still in a death embrace. The man with a broken nose lay heavily on top of the center man. The knife was standing straight up in the back of his neck. The center man’s eyes were open wide and his mouth opened and closed mechanically as blood pumped from gaping wound in his neck.

  She quickly walked forward and put a bullet into each man’s head. Reeling from the blow to her head and the violence of the last few seconds, Jen bent at the waist and dry heaved. “Oh dear God!” she managed to whisper between bouts of retching. The nausea passed quickly and the reality of the situation hit home. “I have to move!” she thought.

  Jen looked down at herself. “I can’t keep going in these clothes." She took the knife from Broken Nose’s neck, and cut her hands free. Next, she looked at the clothes the men on the ground were wearing. “Well, they sure don’t need these anymore,” she whispered. After checking all of their pockets, Jen took the shirt from one and the jeans from another. She quickly changed into the new clothes, keeping an eye on the opening to the alley. She stuffed several bills of Iraqi dinar into her front pocket, slung her rifle, and fastened a hijab out of the black shirt she had been wearing. She tucked the pistol back into her waist and dropped the knife into her pocket.

  As Jen turned to walk out of the alley, she stopped. “I can’t leave them here for somebody else to find,” she thought. “I don’t want anyone else to get sick." Jen retrieved a can of gas and poured it over each of the corpses. She made a trail of fuel connecting all three bodies. Then for good measure, she dumped a bucket of black waste oil on them too. There was a lighter in the pocket of the jeans she put on, so she used it to light a knotted rag. She let it catch fully and as she walked past the two closest to the street she tossed it on them. The gasoline ignited in a “Whoosh!” and black smoke rose into the air. The fire quickly spread to the third man. Jen shouldered her rifle and patted the buttstock. As she walked to the east, she glanced toward the sky and whispered, “Thank you Lord."

  After a couple of blocks, Jen looked back and saw thick black smoke still rising into the air. At first Jen th
ought it was like a beacon screaming “Jen was here! Come and get her!" She kept her head down and walked quickly, zig zagging through side streets to avoid being visible for too long. A while later she looked back and saw the smoke thinning out in the distance. Instead of a beacon, she saw it as more of a warning, “Jen was here. Watch out."

  She steadily worked her way east, and eventually the buildings began to spread farther apart and shrink in size. Before long, she reached a definite edge to the city and she turned to look over her shoulder. The black smoke was gone, and as she searched the skyline for lingering traces of the hospital fire or the smaller fire in the alley, she realized for the first time that she was not afraid. “Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Jen patted the buttstock of her rifle. “Thy rod,” she said. She placed her hand on the grip of the pistol in her belt. “Thy staff.”

  Jen walked away from the city of Mosul and away from the setting sun. In addition to the rifle, she had a jug of water hanging from a piece of rope, and a canvas sack with snack crackers, a piece of flat bread, and two glass bottles of warm orange soda that she bought from a street vendor, slung over her shoulder. Jen knew she had many miles to go before she was past the area of Iraq under ISIS control, but she also knew she was strong enough to make it. “Mom,” she thought. “I am coming home. I am not the same girl I was two years ago, and I don’t even know if I’ll be welcome…but I’m coming."