Path of Jen: Bloodborne

by Sidney Wood

  “I know dear,” said Fouzia. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jen was in heaven. Cool water cascaded over her body, washing away days of dirt and grime, dried blood and salt. She picked up a bar of homemade soap and lathered her skin and hair gently. The cuts and bruises she endured in the IED attack were surprisingly minor, but they stung and made her wince when she touched them. Even so, the pain and discomfort was nothing in comparison to the luxury of fresh running water and the privacy to enjoy it.

  The boy brought them to a farm in the country with many acres of well tended fields and large herds of goats and sheep. Jen even saw a cow. The house was surprisingly modern, with a walled in courtyard, two SUV’s in the drive, and a beautiful granite accented kitchen. Ahmed’s father greeted them graciously, and invited them to stay and rest. Ahmed’s mother immediately set to preparing a meal for their guests, while Ahmed raced out to complete his evening farm chores.

  Jen was thankful to use the shower when it was offered. As soon as she was finished rinsing the soap away, Jen shut off the water. She didn’t want to waste the precious resource or run their well dry. She stepped out and toweled off with a fine cotton towel Ahmed’s mother had brought out just for her. There was a pair of comfortable looking women’s jeans, underwear, and a stylish drab green tunic and matching hijab laying out for her where her dirty clothing had been. Jen sighed. “How can these people be so kind! Can I accept such kindness?" She closed her eyes and said, “Thank you Heavenly Father, for providing yet again." She felt deep gratitude as she slipped into the clean clothes.

  She looked into the mirror and adjusted the hijab. She thought of Dustin and wondered if she looked okay. “Anything has to be better than those dirty old clothes I was wearing. They were soaked in sweat and blood,” she thought. “Oh no!” she said out loud.

  Jen raced out of the bathroom and shouted for Ahmed’s mother. “Asiya!” she called out. “Please don’t touch those clothes! They are khaTir! KhaTir!”

  Jen rounded the corner in the kitchen to see Asiya standing quite startled near the stove, holding a wooden spoon in front of her like a weapon. “Oh thank God you’re alright! I’m so sorry for startling you,” she said with her hands held out palms down and sightly toward Asiya. She smiled apologetically to put the older woman at ease.

  Asiya held her hand to her heart and let out a nervous laugh. She was obviously frightened by the shouting, but understood that Jen meant her no harm.

  Jen asked Asiya where her dirty clothes were. Asiya gestured for Jen to follow and they walked outside to the side of the house. There was a small, open faced room with a washing tub and two hanging clothes lines stretched from wall to wall. A girl Jen had not been introduced to was bent over the tub, scrubbing Jen’s clothes by hand. Dustin’s clothes were already washed and hanging on one of the lines.

  “Please, let me do that!” said Jen in panic. She rushed forward and reached in the tub to take the clothes away from the girl.

  The young girl, who appeared to be seven or eight years old, looked frightened and ran to her mother. Jen apologized, but inside she was relieved that the girls was okay. “She must not have any cuts on her hands, or maybe the soapy water is disinfecting the clothes?” she thought.

  The girl buried her face in her mother’s dress and they turned to go back inside. The woman gave Jen a disapproving look, but didn’t say anything to her. She just comforted her startled daughter and led her inside. As they were rounding the corner Jen saw the girl reach up and wipe tears from her eyes. Jen held her breath. “Dear God, please, no! Don’t let that little girl get sick!”

  After a few seconds, Jen didn’t hear anything so she went back to scrubbing the clothes. “Thank you Lord,” she prayed, once again feeling grateful. Just then a shrill scream came from the house. It was followed by shouting and more screams. They were terrible screams of fear and pain, and Jen wanted to simply run away. She closed her eyes tightly against the noise and prayed briefly “Father, please forgive me! I was careless! I am so sorry!"

  Jen stood up and ran to the house. She bypassed the kitchen and ran straight to the back room where she had stowed the rifle at the request of Ahmed’s father. She picked it up and charged it automatically. She placed the buttstock in her shoulder and flipped the safety off as she hurried back to the kitchen. Ahmed’s father was holding his daughter down as she thrashed and screamed and tried desperately to bite him. Ahmed’s mother was on the floor next to them, bleeding out onto the floor with a knife in her side and a wound in her neck. Jen raised the rifle to her cheek and looked down the sights at Asiya’s twitching corpse. She put a bullet in her head with a loud bang. Her ears rang as she swung the rifle toward the girl. Ahmed’s father let go of his daughter and raised his hands to block Jen. Small bloody hands grasped his face from behind and he screamed as she bit into the back of his neck with her small teeth.

  Jen didn’t waste any time. Another loud bang and there was a small hole in the front of the man’s head. He fell back and Jen fired again this time into the girl. It hit her in the chest, but she kept fighting to get up and making a horrific gurgling sound. Jen pointed the barrel at her head and squeezed the trigger again. The girl’s head snapped back and she lay still.

  Jen backed away, still pointing the rifle at the trio of corpses on the floor. Her back met resistance sooner than she expected and she realized someone was behind her. She tried to turn with the rifle, but she was like a child compared to the person behind her and they easily snatched the gun away from her and wrapped her in strong arms.

  “Jen, It’s okay. It’s just me, relax,” Deep South said soothingly as she struggled in his arms. She managed to turn toward him and looked up to see it was Dustin.

  “This is my fault!” she said collapsing against him with tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry!”

  Deep South held her in his big arms and let her cry it out. “I know. It’s okay. You didn’t mean to. I know,” he repeated.

  The door flew open and Ahmed burst into the kitchen from outside. He immediately saw his family on the floor and rushed to them. Deep South shouted, “No! Kid, stay back!” but it was too late. Ahmed threw himself on top of his father and hugged him tightly. He touched his sister’s bloody face and wiped the sticky residue on his own clothes.

  Deep South cursed under his breath and stepped away from Jen. He brought the rifle up in one swift movement and fired two rapid shots into the boy from behind. He stood there for a moment and then cursed again. He dropped his head in disgust and walked outside. Jen followed.

  He was leaning against the hood of a silver SUV in the driveway, and Jen walked over to him. “What do we do now?” she asked. She wanted to be close to him and to feel the comfort of a friend, but at the same time, she knew she was dangerous. “He must find me repulsive,” she thought. “I can’t blame him." She leaned against the vehicle about an arm’s length away from him.

  “We burn this place so nobody else gets sick, and then we get you somewhere safe." He looked her in the eyes and said, “The more I think about it, the worse I like the idea of bringing you onto a base. What if…this happens there? We could be looking at hundreds dead, or even thousands."

  Jen turned away and hid her face. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry. “I know she said. I just wanted to go home, but now…" She wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her tunic and stood motionless. “I feel so hollow,” she thought. “Why is this happening, Lord? Why do you let me live when this keeps happening? Are you waiting for me to be strong and kill myself?”

  She sniffed and turned toward Dustin. Her eyes were red rimmed and filled with tears. “You should put a bullet in my head and burn me with them. God can’t want more of this to happen. It has to be his will that I die here too.”

  Deep South shook his head. “No, Jen. I can guarantee you that is not what God wants. Why would he let me save you if he wanted you dead? Why have you stayed alive so long if
that wasn’t what he wanted? Jen, I believe God put me in your path for a reason. I’m not going to give up on you, do you hear me?" He stepped close and bent his head down to look her in the eye more directly. “You have to stay alive if we’re going to find a cure for this. There might be other people out there carrying this by now. Do you get that? I’m on your side Jen, and in my mind, you’re the most precious resource on the planet right now. Because, if this is out there…if it spreads…you might just be the only way to save us.”

  Jen looked into his eyes and slowly nodded. “Okay, thank you Dustin. I’m sorry for being so dramatic. It’s just…really hard sometimes." She smiled at him bravely and said, “Now, what can I do to help?”

  Deep South looked at her with admiration. “I can’t even imagine what this girl is going through. God, if you let me, I promise to be her guardian angel and see her through this." He took a breath and let it out. “Go see if you can find the keys to one of these things,” he said, while pointing at the vehicles. “And see if they have a cell phone hidden somewhere. I’ll go get us some more food and water to bring along. Oh, and grab some blankets or anything else we can use for clean bandages. I’ll have to keep changing this,” he said, pointing at his leg. “When we’re ready to go, I’ll set the fire. Let’s try to be ready in fifteen, okay?”

  Jen nodded. “Okay, got it. See you out here in fifteen." She walked quickly toward the house and disappeared inside.

  Deep South stood quietly and watched her walk inside. He shook his head, thinking about the impossible situation they were in, and then set out to find supplies.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hours later, they were nearing Baghdad. Deep South pulled out the cell phone Jen had found in the farmer’s bedroom, and dialed. “We’re about ten clicks away. ETA is thirty mikes,” he reported to his contact. He explained to Jen that his unit, although Army Special Forces, operated with US Marine Force Recon from time to time. He was setting her up outside the city with a group of operators with a reputation for being brutally efficient at killing anything that needed killing, and one hundred percent trustworthy to their brothers in arms. “If you ever need help killing some bad guys and then hiding the bodies, these are the guys to call,” he told her. Jen couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

  Earlier, after leaving the burning farm, Jen asked him about using the phone to call her parents. Deep South wanted to say yes, badly, but it wasn’t safe. The feds were certainly listening to her parent’s phone calls, and if they got ahold of this number they could use it to track them. “I’ll get word to them soon,” he promised her. “You just keep your head down until I get some assurances for your safety, and then I’ll come get you and bring you in.”

  Deep South pulled the Toyota Land Cruiser off the main road and followed a dirt path into the hills. It was morning and the sun was in their eyes as they crested the first rise. As they dipped into the low ground beyond, the sun disappeared and Jen could feel an immediate drop in temperature, even inside the vehicle. They drove off-road to the east, just north of Baghdad, for another half hour before coming to a small, hidden compound under camouflage netting.

  They stopped as soon as Deep South made out the netting in the early light. It took Jen another minute of careful looking to see the compound. Deep South opened his door and stepped out with his hands raised.

  A few yards in front of them, on his side of the vehicle, a US Marine stepped out of the bushes with his weapon raised. Jen heard a noise behind her and turned to see another Marine reveal himself on her side of the vehicle. They were dressed in a dark multi-cam and wore green balaclava’s against the cold morning air. The masks had a skull painted on the front, making the men look like menacing ghosts or demons. Jen felt a chill, and it wasn’t from the temperature outside.

  “Staff Sergeant Parks,” Deep South said to the Marine in front of him. “You guys should be expecting me.”

  The Marine immediately lowered his weapon and motioned them through. Deep South climbed back in and shut the door. “Okay, let’s park this thing,” he said. “Don’t worry, Jen. These guys are a little intimidating, but they're hard as hell. Nothing will touch you as long as US Marines are watching over you."

  He drove under the camouflage netting and turned the Land Cruiser off. They both got out and four more Marines walked forward to greet them. They had emerged from two different tents and were dressed more casually than those out front. Jen noticed that each of the men was armed and they looked combat ready despite their lack of uniform tops or head gear.

  Deep South shook hands with each of the men and introduced Jen to them as well. The senior Marine in the outpost was Sergeant Lynch, who was about the same height as Deep South but much thinner. He had extremely close cropped red hair, a red beard, and his arms were covered in colorful tattoos over corded muscle. Sergeant Lynch invited them into his tent, which was on the left. Jen followed Deep South and the Sergeant, and was relieved to find that the air was much warmer in the tent.

  Once they were inside, Deep South laid out his plan to leave her there for a few days under their protection and come back for her later. Sergeant Lynch looked at Jen with a raised eyebrow.

  “Sorry to be rude, but why the hell is she so special?" he asked while looking Jen in the eyes.

  Deep South explained, “She’s a High Value Target for ISIS, is all I know. She has some valuable intel, and they want her back. The problem is that she is an HVT for us too, which is crap, but I aim to change that before I go parading her through the city. I need to clear a path for her and get some assurances from higher before I make the reveal. She’s 100% blue blood American, but the bad guys passed some seriously tainted intel that put her on our radar. She’s had a rough time of it Sergeant, and that’s why I need your help.”

  Sergeant Lynch chewed on that for a minute while continuing to stare at Jen. He turned to look at Deep South. “Alright then. She can stay, but this ain’t a hotel." He looked back at Jen with a hard stare. “No games, and no hooking up. Are we clear? The last thing I need is a freaking soap opera out here. You clean up after yourself, which includes keeping yourself clean. I don’t want to smell your B.O., clear? Breakfast is at 0600, lunch is when you take it, and supper is when the patrol gets back. No stealing, no fighting, and no complaining." He paused and seemed to relax bit. He said, “We have an Xbox and some movies in the other tent, but I’m warning you, this is a grunt unit. We thrive on being a little sick and twisted. Out here we aren’t used to exercising proper manners. When you walk in there, you’re as likely to see somebody naked in the tent as not. You’ll have to have thick skin and be on your best behavior." His serious look returned and he leaned forward toward Jen. “If there is any trouble, you’ll be the one to go, clear? These are my boys and you’re a visitor. Does that make sense?"

  Jen sat quietly and listened respectfully while the Sergeant laid out his rules. When he was finished, she looked at Dustin to see his reaction. He just sat there with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face, waiting to see what she would do. “Gee, thanks for the support big guy,” she thought.

  She turned back to the Sergeant and said, “We’re clear Sergeant Lynch. For the record, I’m not a hooker or a drama queen, and I know how to pull my weight. As far as thick skin, no problem. If you can tolerate me being a girl, then I’m sure I can tolerate you men being men. Where do I sleep?"

  Sergeant Lynch smiled and slapped his knee. “Alright then. I think we’re going to get along just fine. You’ll sleep in here. I’ll have the fellas put up a cot and a curtain for you. We have a spare sleeping bag you can have, and some snivel gear too.”

  Jen looked confused. “Snivel gear?” she asked.

  “Stuff to keep you warm,” Deep South explained. He turned to Sergeant Lynch and said, “Thanks brother. I’ll be back in three days, tops. I owe you guys.”

  The two men stood up and shook hands again. Jen worried that he was going to just leave her there without another word. Deep
South looked at Jen and nodded toward the door. “Come to the truck for a second, Jen.”

  They sat in the SUV together in silence for a minute. Jen finally turned to Deep South and said, “Dustin, I just want to say thank you for watching out for me." He shook his head, and she said, “No, I mean it! You saved my life, and you didn’t judge me.”

  Deep South raised his hand and stopped her. “Jen, wait. Forget all of that for a minute. I mean thank you for saying so and all, but…" His words failed him for a moment, and he tried to work up the courage to be frank with her. “I want your word that nobody here is going to get sick." He waited for her to answer.

  The question was a reality check, and it hit her like a punch to the gut. She tried not to let her emotions get the best of her, and she bit her lip and looked away long enough to be sure she wasn’t going to cry. “Okay,” she said when she turned back toward him. In a shaky voice she said, “I promise." Jen felt vulnerable and her confidence was rattled. “Does he not trust me any more?” she wondered.

  “Thank, you,” Deep South said. Then, to Jen’s surprise, he smiled and touched her hand. She tried to pull it away.

  “Dustin, no, you could get sick!” she warned.

  Deep South ignored her protest and held her hand firmly. He calmly looked into her eyes. “I’m coming back for you, Jen. I promise. Whatever happens, I will come back for you. Do you believe me?”

  Jen covered her mouth with her other hand and cried. “Dustin, I prayed…for two years I prayed for God to save me…” she choked up and had to stop for a moment. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably. When she could continue she said, “I prayed, and he sent me you." Tears flowed freely down her face and she took her hand back. She used both hands to wipe the tears away. “I believe you, Dustin,” she finally managed to say. She laughed at getting so emotional, and Deep South couldn’t help but join in.

  Jen knew Dustin had to get going, so she opened her door and climbed out. She walked around to the driver side as he started the engine. She stood by his window trying to think of something clever to say as he put it in reverse and turned to back out. He looked at her one last time and gave her a wink with his intense gray eyes. “Please, Lord, bring him back safely,” she thought. Jen turned to walk back to her tent.