Path of Jen: Bloodborne

by Sidney Wood

  He remembered the day they died in a fiery car crash, just after he graduated high school. Matt was out all night at a party, drinking and carrying on with his friends, and didn’t make it home on time to leave with them. It was supposed to be one last family trip before he shipped off to the Marines, but he screwed it up. His dad hadn’t been mad when Matt finally woke up in his truck and called. His dad just said, “You have time if you hurry son. Be safe and meet us at the airport. I love you, Matt." Those were the last words he ever heard from his dad.

  Sergeant Lynch left his memories and looked in the rear view mirror at Nathan O’Bryan. The Lance Corporal was still sleeping, but he looked a little better than he had prior to the IV and medicine. “Hang in there little brother,” he said in a low voice. The Marines became his family the moment his feet landed in those yellow footprints, and he thought of all of them as brothers and sisters. He was not unique in that feeling. Marines have always felt a strong familial bond. It’s one of the characteristics that sets them apart from the other services. It’s that bond that makes them so fierce on the battlefield. For Marines, every battle is personal. Every shot fired is to kill someone who would do harm to their brother or sister. Every ounce of blood spilled is in defense of their family.

  He couldn’t help but steal another glance at Jen while she slept. Seeing her resting peacefully, it was impossible to tell that she was a danger. He remembered Staff Sergeant Parks and how devoted he was to her. Now he understood why. He focused on the road ahead and wondered if Deep South was alive or dead.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Deep South leaned against the back wall in his cell and his head spun. “How the hell can the doctor who started this whole evil mess be walking around free while I’m in here and Jen is running for her life?" He took a step forward and punched the cell door violently. It was a heavy wooden door, with a solid core of fire retardant material, and it held fast against his assault. “Are you kidding me?” he yelled. “You’re working with ISIS! You’re helping them get their experiment back! You’ll help them kill us all!”

  Earlier, in the interrogation room, the doctor told him how dangerous Jen was, and that he just wanted to help bring her in so they could manufacture a serum to counteract any outbreak. He told him about their projections for contagion outbreak across the Middle East, Europe, Africa, and Asia if Jen wasn’t captured immediately. Deep South stared at him and refused to answer any questions. The entire time, from the moment he admitted he had been the doctor attending to Jen in the hospital, Deep South imagined getting his hands on the tiny man and ripping him limb from limb. The rest of the time he prayed for forgiveness and patience, and worried about Jen hiding somewhere out there all alone. He hoped the Marines he left her with were able to protect her, and she wasn’t actually alone. It was hard to trust anyone else to keep her safe, but he knew he had no choice as long as he was stuck in here.

  A guard outside the cell pounded on the door and told him to knock it off. Deep South put his head against the wooden door and closed his eyes. It was all so hopeless. There wasn’t any way to get Jen through this alive, was there? He sunk down to his knees and then turned around and sat against the door.

  He thought about the options. “Could I really get her to a safe place? Could I find a doctor and a lab, and keep her safe while the doctor searched for a cure? Can she even be cured?” he wondered. Finally, he stood up and pounded on the door. “Okay!” he yelled. “I’ll help you bring her in!" He pounded on the door harder. “Do you hear me? I’ll help you bring her in!”

  A few minutes later, the tray slot in the center of the door opened and Deep South backed up to it and presented his hands for restraints. A guard placed metal handcuffs on his wrists and told him to kneel on the floor facing the back wall. He complied and the door opened. A guard placed metal leg restraints on his ankles and then helped him to his feet.

  Deep South was escorted out of the cell by two guards and walked down the hall. They led him into a conference room, complete with a long wooden table, executive style chairs, and a widescreen television on each wall. The room was noise insulated, and felt constricting as soon as he stepped through the doorway. The guard told him to stop and the restraints were removed.

  “Take a seat,” the same guard said. Deep South pulled the nearest seat out and sat down. The guards stepped out and closed the door.

  One hour later, the blonde haired agent, the skinny agent, and the doctor walked into the conference room. The door closed and the three sat across from Deep South. The skinny agent looked nervous and kept his gaze averted from Deep South’s face. The woman had a superior look and the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. The doctor sat emotionless, leaning back in his chair, waiting for the situation to unfold.

  The woman was the first to speak. “We’re waiting on one more guest before we begin.”

  As she was speaking the door opened and Deep South tensed.

  “Good evening Staff Sergeant Parks,” said Lieutenant Colonel Griffin.

  “What world am I living in?" Deep South said in disbelief.

  The Lieutenant Colonel chuckled and set a can of Diet Dr Pepper on the table in front of him. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m told you’ve finally decided to play ball. Is that true?”

  Deep South choked down his anger and looked around the room. “Yes, I want to help you bring her in. I want to keep everyone safe, and I want to get help for her too if that’s possible.”

  The blonde agent and the Lieutenant Colonel shared a knowing look, and she slid a folder across the table to Deep South. “Take a look Staff Sergeant, and tell us what you see.”

  Deep South opened the folder and saw aerial surveillance photos. “Drone footage?” he asked. He already knew the answer. He spread the photos out on the table in front of him and studied them. He recognized the area almost immediately. It was the Marine camp where he left Jen. “You already know where this is, why are you asking me?”

  “I didn’t ask you to tell us where it is,” said the agent. “I asked you to tell us what you see in the photos.”

  Deep South looked at the photos again. He scanned them carefully and began to see what she was referring to. “I see the aftermath of a firefight. It looks like an engagement started on the approach road here,” he said pointing at four bodies lying on the ground near the road. “The assault pushed east, and off road to here,” an abandoned vehicle and more bodies. “It looks to me like it ended here." He pointed to an area farther east, where more bodies were scattered along an off road path. “The camp itself looks relatively untouched, but the camouflage netting makes it hard to make out. What I don’t see is…oh wait…there,” he said pointing to what looked like a mostly symmetrical rock. “Someone may have survived. There was a four-wheeler in camp, and I think that might be it. It’s hard to make out, but it looks like someone is riding it." He shuffled through the photos and checked the time stamps. “Yep, look here,” he said sliding two photos toward the agent. There’s a minute gap in these photos, and the four-wheeler moved. Everything else is stationary.”

  The agents looked at each other and nodded. The female agent said, “That matches closely with what our analysts told us. There were a total of three survivors; two men and a woman. They took one of the SUVs the assault team went in with, and went southwest before our drone lost range.”

  Deep South wrinkled his brow and nodded his head, but inside he breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s alive! Thank you God!”

  The doctor spoke up for the first time since entering the room. “Gentlemen, and lady, this is a problem. It only takes one mistake for a major outbreak to occur. We need to utilize all available assets to stop her before she crosses the border. They could be heading to Saudi Arabia, Jordan, or Syria. The borders are porous, and the chances of catching her before disaster strikes are dwindling. I suggest letting me contact my own resources. Perhaps we can arrange a sort of truce and work together on this?”

 
“Are you crazy?” said Deep South, pushing back from the table.

  Lieutenant Colonel Griffin took a sip of Diet Dr Pepper and said, “Now hold on Deep South. Relax for a minute. The doctor is working with us now, and like it or not, we need him. The mess he made is one we can’t clean up without some help. Now, I don’t like it any more than you, but if he can get us some intel and maybe a free pass through some hostile territory…" He set the can down and sat back. “Well, we can’t exactly pass that up can we?"

  Deep South looked at the agents across the table to see their reaction. They didn’t look happy, but they were nodding agreement. He looked from face to face, expecting one of them to suddenly crack and tell him this was all a big joke. They all sat there with serious faces, looking back at him. He finally asked, “Where do I fit in to all of this?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” said the female agent. “You are her weak spot. When we find her, we need you to help us bring her in. She trusts you, so we will use that to our advantage.”

  “So the goal is to bring her in safely? Unharmed?” he asked.

  There was silence and blank stares for an awkward moment, and then the Lieutenant Colonel answered, “Of course.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Deep South thought sarcastically. “Great.”

  After the meeting, Deep South was not placed in restraints. The guards were sent away, and Lieutenant Colonel Griffin walked with him to a different part of the building where he was given a private apartment. “Not too bad, eh?” said his commander when they walked into the room. Once the door was closed he said, “Look, I know this is all kinds of screwed up. I get that, but there are pieces in play that you and I don’t see. We all have to do our part, that’s all.”

  ‘Yes, sir,” said Deep South said dutifully. “About my team, sir…”

  “Taken care of Sergeant. The caskets will be sent home, and all honors bestowed,” he said. Then he added, “They’re empty, of course. The caskets, I mean.”

  I understand sir,” said Deep South. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Chow is at 0700. You’ll meet the new team then. Welcome to something new, Mr. Parks. You no longer hold an official rank, and you can ditch the uniform. There are clothes in your closet,” he said pointing across the room. “You’ll get the rest of your gear tomorrow.”

  The Lieutenant Colonel turned and left the room. Deep South closed the door and sat on the bed. He looked around. “It beats a cell,” he said. He looked down at his leg and pulled back the bandage. The wound actually looked better, despite the lack of regular care. He stripped the bandage off, and then his clothes. Deep South walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. There was a shower booth in the corner, a toilet, and a single sink and mirror. There appeared to be a full stock of toiletries and towels. He turned the knob in the shower and steaming water erupted from the shower head. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “As long as I live, this will never get old,” he thought as the hot water cascaded over his sore muscles. He used the soap and shampoo that were provided to wash away the dirt and grime from the past few days and let it wash down the drain.

  The spray hit his neck and back, as he wondered, “Where are you Jen? What are you doing at this moment?" He remembered holding her hand and looking into her hazel eyes as he told her he would come back for her. She had said he was an answer to her prayers. He remembered how his heart had stopped at that moment. He felt like maybe it had not started beating since. Maybe it wouldn’t until he fulfilled his promise and found her again. “Please, God…let me find her. Let me be her answered prayer.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Where are we?” asked Jen. She had just woken up after feeling the SUV stop, and she looked around in confusion. They were in a city and the Suburban was parked next to a busy sidewalk. Colorfully dressed people walked by, going about their daily business. It seemed surreal.

  “We’re in Al Aqaba, the port city,” said Sergeant Lynch. “Are you feeling okay?”

  She looked at him sideways. “Really? I mean, yes, Matt, I’m okay,” she said still groggy. “Thanks. It’s just that you’ve never asked me that before." She rubbed her eyes and felt stinging pain in her right index fingertip. “Oh yeah,” she thought, remembering the cut. “I need to be careful with that.”

  “So why are we stopping here? Is everything alright?" She turned and looked at O’Bryan in the back seat. He was stirring as well. He had obviously just woken up.

  “Everything is fine, Jen,” Sergeant Lynch said. “There is a hotel here, and I thought we might as well freshen up, and maybe find a doctor for Nathan while we schedule our boat ride. What do you think?”

  “A hotel?" I think you have a big old brain, and I like the way you use it!” teased Jen as she unbuckled and climbed out the passenger door.

  “Why don’t you stay with Nathan while I run in and get a couple of rooms,” said the Sergeant.

  Jen nodded and stretched her legs before climbing back inside the Suburban to wait. She didn’t mind a few more minutes in the truck if it meant a chance at sleeping in a real bed for a few hours, or maybe for the night. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized how hungry she was. “I hope they have good food here,” she thought. She snorted and changed her mind. “Good or bad, I just hope they have food."

  Across the street, near an open doorway, a dark haired, dark skinned man pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket and dialed quickly. He half turned away from the Suburban parked in front of the Hotel, but nervously glanced at it every few seconds as he spoke into the phone. After a few minutes, he put the phone back in his pocket and walked inside the door. A few seconds later, another man stepped out onto the sidewalk and took up the same position next to the door.

  Sergeant Lynch knocked on Jen’s window, startling her. “Come on in,” he said with a smile. “I got us adjoining rooms." He reached back and knocked on Lance Corporal O’Bryan’s window too. “Come on,” he said. His smile faded and he scanned up and down the street. “Let’s get inside where we have some cover.”

  Jen and Sergeant Lynch helped Lance Corporal O’Bryan into the hotel and up the stairs. They made two more trips to bring in all of their belongings, including weapons and medical kit. Once they had everything in the rooms and Lance Corporal O’Bryan was resting on the bed in the main room, Sergeant Lynch said, “Why don’t you take advantage of the shower and get some sleep? I’m going to see if I can get rid of the Suburban, and maybe make us a few bucks doing it." He looked at the Lance Corporal and added, “I’ll see if I can find a doctor too."

  “Just be careful,” Jen said with a worried look. She felt awkward, not sure if she should say more. The gruff, all business Sergeant she was afraid of was finally giving way to someone that seemed to care about her. Jen wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Sergeant lynch fixed her with a look that she didn’t recognize. It was softer than any other look he had given her before. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just keep the door locked and don’t open it for anybody but me.” Jen nodded and he pulled the door closed behind him.

  Jen closed the door to the adjoining room where O’Bryan was resting, but left it unlocked. She walked into the bathroom and turned the knob in the shower all the way to hot. Steaming water sprayed out of the shower head and splashed happily into the tub. She quickly stripped out of her clothes and placed the stuff from her pockets, including her pocket knife, on the counter. After testing the water and adjusting it to a slightly cooler temperature, Jen stepped into the tub. After a moment’s consideration, she stepped back out and gathered up her clothes. She brought them into the tub with her to wash while she showered.

  The cuts Jen received in the IED explosion with Deep South didn’t sting or burn this time. They were closed, and many were nearly healed. Her muscled were sore though. Her shoulders ached as the hot water pounded on them. Jen hung her head and rolled it side to side slowly. Jen used the hotel soap liberally on her body and then on her soiled clothes. After twenty minute
s of scrubbing, Jen stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She gathered up her wet clothes and took them to hang dry in the main room. Lance Corporal O’Bryan was snoring soundly.

  Jen made sure the outer doors were locked in both rooms and then went to the other room to rest She left the door between the two rooms open just in case O’Bryan needed her, and then she slipped under the covers to get some sleep.

  A knock on the door woke Jen from a deep sleep. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was. There was another knock and Jen threw back the covers and swung her legs to the floor. She stood up and adjusted her towel.

  “Jen,” came a low voice from the hallway.

  Jen hurriedly unlocked the door and stepped behind it, peeking out and opening it just enough to let Sergeant Lynch come in.

  “Thanks,” he said as he walked in with a paper bag under his arm. “I think somebody knows we’re here,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “What?” asked Jen, confused and suddenly frightened. “But how?”

  “I don’t know…maybe the vehicle?” he guessed. He handed Jen a Coke and a warm piece of bread from the bag. She took it gratefully. “It’s just a guess, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The good news is, we can leave immediately. There’s a boat leaving for the Suez Canal in an hour, and they will take us aboard. They might even have a medic,” he said looking to the other room.

  Jen was already moving to retrieve her clothes. They were still wet, but that wasn’t important right then. She’d rather be uncomfortable for a little while than be held captive again. Jen got dressed while Sergeant Lynch woke O’Bryan up and gave him some bread to eat. “Let’s just take what we need,” she said looking at their scattered gear. “How far is it?”

  “It’s a hike, but not too bad,” Sergeant Lynch promised. “We’ll make it in fifteen minutes if we hustle, even with gimpy here.”