Hung

by Holly Hart

  "Happily," I reply with a wicked grin on my face, having made my mind up not to listen to a word he's saying, "as soon as you tell me that you're going to shoot me and my friend here. Would you do that? Kill a fellow soldier and a pregnant nurse?"

  The soldier’s face jerks slightly at the mention that I’m expecting. I don’t want to come across as a frail damsel in distress, but in this scenario, I’m more than happy to use every tool at my disposal.

  "Ma'am – I really advise you don't test me here," the soldier replies. Judging by the rank tabs on his arms, he's in charge here, but looking at him, I know that he doesn't want to be doing what he's doing. He's clearly been asked to take the pair of us into custody, but it doesn't look like he's too happy with his orders.

  "You sure you know what you're doing, Katie?" I hear Mike say behind me, not a hint of concern in his voice. I feel kind of proud that he's willing to trust me to this extent – after all, if I make a wrong move right now, I could be torpedoing his career. Even worse, however unlikely I think it might be – they could just light us up with the machine guns…

  "Think so," I call back, keeping my voice light and airy, so as not to give off any impression to the soldiers that I'm worried.

  "All right then," he replies, leaving me to it.

  "Lopez, O'Reilly – take the sergeant into custody," my conversation partner orders gruffly.

  "Belay that order, Lopez," I say, only to hear Mike start chuckling almost immediately.

  "What are you laughing at?"

  "You, you idiot. We aren't Marines, you know!"

  "So you don't say stuff like belay?" I say with surprise.

  "No, not since like, the eighteenth century anyway…" he chuckles.

  "Oh, okay."

  In the midst of this light-hearted discussion, I notice that the two soldiers who I assume must be Lopez and O'Reilly haven't moved a muscle since their initial, aborted surge towards Mike. I decide to keep plowing on, figuring that I've somehow found an advantage, and that it would be a shame to waste it.

  "Listen, soldier – sergeant?" I say, noticing that his rank tabs are similar to the ones that Mike normally wears. He nods guardedly.

  "Okay, sergeant – let me break this down for you. The way I see it, you're in a pretty sticky situation here…"

  Maybe subconsciously, he nods ever so slightly in agreement. I take it as a cue to keep going.

  "I really don't think you want to arrest us. How's that going to look on the news – the army heavy handedly arresting a kidnapped, pregnant nurse – not well, I don't think. Am I right?"

  He nods again, with a little bit more force this time.

  "What I don't understand is why you've been sent here to do this?" I don't say anything else, just leave the silence hanging in the air and wait for him to fill it. It doesn't take long.

  "Your boyfriend there," he jerked his head at Mike, "is AWOL. The army doesn't take too kindly to deserters."

  I turn to look at Mike. "AWOL?"

  "Absent without leave," he replies – the color draining from his face. Even when the monster who kidnapped me was shooting at him, I didn't see him look anywhere near this nervous.

  I turn back to the sergeant in front of me. "This deserter, as you put it, seems to be the one who came after me once I got taken. Are you really going to stick a hero like that into jail?" In my head, I’m worriedly thinking: What if he’s locked up when the baby’s born?

  "Orders are orders, ma'am," the sergeant replies, but I can tell he's neither happy about, nor in agreement with, the ones he's been given.

  "Tell you what, did your captain say you needed to bring us in in cuffs?"

  The sergeant considers my question for a second, his eyes lighting up with agreement as he grasps the meaning behind my suggestion.

  "Not exactly…"

  "Then how about we come with you peacefully – we aren't going anywhere. Mike here needs medical treatment, so we were heading back to the base anyway."

  "That works for me," the sergeant agrees with relief evident in his voice. I can almost sense the visions running through his head – images of his face on the nightly news, his bosses angry with him for overstepping precisely the orders he was given. Not a particularly pleasant situation to be in, but definitely one that I can use to my, our advantage.

  "One last thing, sergeant." He looks at me inquisitively. "He's my patient, not your prisoner – got it?"

  He sighs, and his shoulders sag with pent-up frustration. "Anything you want, ma'am."

  Behind me, I hear Mike chuckle. I let out the breath that I didn't even know I was holding. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he says.

  I don't say anything in reply. Honestly, I didn't know I had that in me – but as soon as I saw him being threatened, after all he's been through to get me back, there was only one thing on my mind. Still, I can't imagine that this is going to be the end of things…

  Chapter Twenty Three - Katie

  "Oh my God, Katie – what are you doing here?"

  My head spins around immediately as I hear the unmistakable sound of my best friend’s voice echoing down the disinfected corridor of the hospital.

  "Sophie – you're okay!"

  "I'm okay? Of course I'm okay – you're the one who got taken off into the mountains! Seriously, what are you doing here? Are you injured?"

  "No, nothing like that," I say as she wraps her arms around my body, burying her head into my hair.

  "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again…" she says in a plaintive, scared tone of voice, a tone which makes me consider whether I've really come to terms with what happened to me over the last few days. Truthfully, I'm pretty sure I haven't.

  "Me either," I confide, taking a deep breath in and in the process, filling my nostrils with the unmistakable lavender scent of Sophie's shampoo. It's hard to wrap my mind around something as mundane as washing my hair after everything I've been through over the past few days, hard to believe that Sophie was safe on the base, while I was being dragged through boulder fields and up mountain paths.

  "They didn't…" Sophie tails off before she finishes her question, as though she's worried either that I might not be ready to answer or that she might not want to hear it.

  "Hurt me?" I finish, allowing a comforting smile to warm my face. "No, nothing like that. Just a few scrapes – cuts and bruises, that kind of thing."

  "Has anyone taken a look at you?" she asks, typically businesslike. I suppose that it's easier to bury yourself in your normal routine than deal with an unrelenting, often painful reality.

  "Me?" I reply, half distracted by watching a soldier in camouflage fatigues walk up to the door of Mike's hospital room and exchange words with the man already standing guard. Surely they aren't planning on taking him anywhere, are they?

  "Katie!"

  "Hmm? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

  "I was asking if you've let anyone check you over yet? What's on your mind?" she asks, looking inquisitively at me, sharp as ever – instinctively registering that something’s changed with me.

  I can see it in her eyes.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, doing my best to beat around the bush. I haven't told anyone yet – hell, I haven't even taken a pregnancy test to confirm what, in truth, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. No one knows their body like a pregnant woman – and there's that small matter of somehow missing my period for three months. That should have been a dead giveaway…

  "You're different…" she says. "They didn't do anything to you, did they?" she asks worriedly, a horrified look on her face. I realize that I'm going to have to come clean – if only to spare her from her own imagination.

  "No, nothing like that," I hasten to say. "Sophie – there's something I have to tell you, something I was planning to say before – well, you know."

  "Well, what is it?" she asks expectantly.

  I decide just to say it. "I'm pregnant."

  The silence hangs between us for a few seconds as a s
tunned Sophie processes what I've just said. I try and put myself in her shoes, thinking about how I would react if that kind of completely unexpected piece of news had been given to me after I'd been panicking for two days about my best friend's kidnapping.

  I'd be surprised…

  "You're what?" she says, her mouth opening and closing like a lost goldfish. "Pregnant – how?"

  "Mike," I say simply.

  "It was him!" she exclaims excitedly. "He was the hunky piece of meat you slept with a few months ago – the one you wouldn't tell me anything about. And then he went and saved your life! My God!"

  "Well," I smile, "I guess when you put it like that, he is kind of a catch – isn't he!"

  "He's more than a fucking catch, girl!"

  I break away from the conversation, realizing that a couple of soldiers are blocking the corridor. Sophie looks a bit surprised, before she quickly follows the direction of my stare. "Who are they?" she asks.

  I keep staring, ensuring that it's just a change of guard and that the Army isn't planning on taking Mike anywhere just yet. I told them he would need to be under medical care for a couple of days – and the officer in charge seemed grateful that he had a couple of days breathing room to figure out a solution to the problem Mike's posing.

  "They’re here to guard Mike."

  "Mike? Why the hell would he need guarding? He was the only one who did anything to try and help us – I mean for Christ's sake, he saved your life! And apparently he did something even more impressive – he got you to loosen up…"

  My eyes flick away from the back of the departing military policeman and back to Sophie's outraged face.

  "Tell me about it. Listen, Sophie?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I need you to do me a favor," I say. She leans in towards me conspiratorially.

  "Anything, you know that!"

  "I just need a bit of, I don't know – thinking time. Do you mind keeping an eye on Mike's door? If they try and march him off anywhere, kick up a fuss – okay?"

  "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?" she asks, as though this isn't exactly the kind of favor she was expecting me to ask for.

  "No, I just need to go for a walk and clear my head."

  "Are you sure I can't take a quick look at you first? Maybe check out the baby?" she asks worriedly.

  I reach up and grasp her arm, giving it a friendly squeeze. "Seriously, I'm fine. I gave myself a tetanus shot as soon as I walked through the door, and I’ve checked its vitals. For the rest of it, I just need a week's sleep!"

  Sophie looks at me doubtfully. "Well – if you're sure…"

  "I am," I say, turning on my heel. "And Sophie – thank you."

  ***

  I think I know Mike well enough now to know what he'd want me to do in this kind of situation – and I highly doubt that it would be to sit by his sick bed weeping. And even if he was that kind of guy, I'm certainly not that kind of girl. I'm the kind of girl who needs to get shit done – and fast. And if there's one thing that I know that a hero like Mike would be doing if he wasn't stuck in a hospital room, it would be checking up on Jake.

  So that's what I'm going to do.

  I walk briskly back to the section of the place where the pound is located, not wanting to waste any time. I'm pretty sure that the soldier won't have soon forgotten my last visit, and I allow myself a small grin as I picture his terrified face. Then again, if he doesn't have those dogs in tip-top condition, I think, then he's going to have more than just me to deal with…

  "Hello…" I call out, rapping on the same bland door as last time, hearing my voice echo out into the vast warehouse space beyond, "is anyone in there?"

  This time Fred fairly leaps out of his office, looking like – well, a cowed dog, with none of the predatory swagger that he enjoyed last time I had the misfortune of acquainting myself with him.

  "How you doing, miss?” he asks, almost bowling me over with his polite attitude, which certainly wasn't on display last time. "I heard about what happened to you…"

  Oh, I think to myself – that's why. Perhaps he thought he might be able to get away with treating the dogs in the abominable manner he had, given that I've been kidnapped by the Taliban. I allow myself a small, fleeting grin, imagining how disappointed he must've been when it turned out that I had returned to Bagram safe and sound.

  "Well, thanks, Fred," I say noncommittally. "What about you – and more interestingly, what about the dogs?"

  The way he reacts to what is, in truth, a fairly mundane statement is extremely interesting – he has an almost physical reaction, like he's being scalded. I get the sense that he's even more nervous of me than the last time we crossed paths, which is hard to believe. Maybe, I think, it's because of the enormous amount of media attention that I'm vaguely aware has been focused on me since the kidnapping. That would make sense, anyway.

  "In tip-top shape." He nods obsequiously, doing his best to avoid looking directly into my eyes as though afraid to meet them. "They've had everything they could want."

  "Good," I say, stepping through the doorway into the warehouse and looking around. I don't give Fred the chance to protest my entrance, not that I think he's got the balls to do so right now, anyway. "Show me to them?"

  "Of course."

  I could get used to this, I think, unable to stop a smile creeping to the corners of my mouth. Luckily for me, Fred has his back turned, so doesn't notice my quiet moment of self-satisfaction. I notice as I walk behind him that he's almost physically hanging his head in shame, and his shoulders are hunched over and sagging.

  I can barely believe that this is the same man who tried so aggressively to force me to perform sexual favors on him! It's almost unbelievable! I form my hand into a fist, squeezing down gently. It might not be much of victory – but it's mine.

  He leads me down the long road of cages, and I can scarcely countenance the change. Where before the dogs looked scared and limp, their fur dull and eyes jaded, now the beautiful animals are just that – beautiful. Every single one has a full bowl of water, and sitting just by that, a plate of clearly recently emptied food.

  "Hey, Charlie!" I call out, recognizing the dog in the nearest cage. The change from last time is astounding – his cage is clean, with no evidence of the dog mess that befouled it last time, and his fur is clean and glossy, his eyes excited and full of life as he jumps at the front of the cage, standing on his hind legs and resting his front paws on the metal grate.

  "Fred, get Jake out for me," I order, making sure that not even a hint of doubt enters my voice. Somehow, I feel like we've adopted some kind of pack dynamic – like I'm the alpha dog, and he's a former leader who's now cowering before me!

  I feel, deep down, that Fred must've suffered some kind of trauma in his past to make him turn out like this, and the caring part deep inside me, the part that spurred me to become a nurse in the first place, and then sent me out to the middle of a war zone, clenches as I realize that I'm basically manipulating the man.

  Still, it's all for a good cause, I think to myself, looking around at the transformed warehouse. No longer do the dogs look scared, or worse – depressed – but they look full of life, and they've clearly been out for long and frequent bouts of exercise.

  "Charlie, stop that!" I say, unable to stop a hint of amusement creeping into my voice as the happy dog slobbers all over my fingers, curling his tongue so that it fits through the small metal grate. I reach a couple of fingers in and give him a scratch under the collar, and he rubs his neck against the cage gratefully.

  "Miss?" Fred says behind me. I spin and see him holding Jake on a collar, and notice that Jake's looking at me, ears pinned back, as though he's ready to pounce. I don't blame him; no matter how much conditions have improved in the pound, Jake's a smart dog – and I have no doubt that his memory stretches back long enough to remember how he was treated last time…

  I reach out my hand, palm up. "Hey, buddy, how you doing?" I ask gently, injecting a tone
of concern into my voice. I see his ears flicker, as though he's processing my unexpected presence. He cocks his head to one side and looks at me in confusion. "That's right, it's me! Fred, let him off the lead, will you?"

  Fred does as he's told without raising a hint of concern, and Jake leaps towards me – all of his momentary doubts forgotten, and smothers me with affection, jumping up and placing his paws on my chest. "Down boy," I say, after allowing him to lick me for a few seconds, and turn back to Fred. "I'm going to take him with me – okay?" I say, making sure I phrase it as an order, rather than a question.