Captured 3

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Is the food to your liking, Lieutenant Commander?”

  Joe took another mouthful. “Yes, it’s very good. You seem to lack nothing in comfort. Don’t think I’ve ever been to a military station where the food was this good.”

  Ayoud let out a sharp chuckle. “Ah, you Americans have no idea how to treat a guest.”

  “But you grew up in America,” Joe said, wondering if Ayoud would tell him more.

  “My mother’s people raised me from a teen, but my father’s money, his influence, brought me back. There’s something about living in America, where everyone believes they’re untouchable—the arrogance, the lack of patience.”

  “What part of the country did you grow up in?” Could there be many more like him, living as Americans but loyal to this ideology?

  “Trying to figure out what method there is to my madness, or maybe trying to figure out where America went wrong with me?” Ayoud said. “I can assure you neither hold true. My father made sure my guardians educated me by the Quran, and I understood the word of Allah.” The man appeared so civilized as he ate. The sterling silver, the crystal, the china—none of it was lost on Joe. It was unusual.

  “So how many of your fighters are prepared to sacrifice themselves in your name?” he said. Maybe he had gone too far, but he needed to get inside this man’s head and figure out what he expected of his followers.

  Ayoud didn’t look up as a hint of a smile touched his lips. “Don’t mistake us for zealots who convince young, foolish boys to be martyrs. We’re not martyrs. Those fools, that’s their mistake, and it’ll be their downfall. We will fight in the name of Allah. We will destroy to build a brand new nation. Make no mistake, our numbers are far greater than yours.”

  “But you still need women to build a nation.”

  “Women are only wives, and they’re married to the fighters and provide many children, more boys to build and conquer,” he said, as if they were an item of little value, as if one could easily replace another.

  Should he ask what happened to the daughters? No, he couldn’t know the details, because he suspected it was worse than he could imagine. Girls meant nothing. They had no value except to be passed off to the other men or married off. “And what happens to the wives when you’re done with them and they’ve done their duty?”

  Ayoud shoved a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed. For a moment, Joe wondered if he was irritated. Maybe he thought Joe was challenging him. “They’re women, Joe. You Americans hand over power to a gender who were never meant to have a voice. Allah has spoken.”

  Seriously? Joe wondered if Ayoud really understood what the Quran was about.

  “Your downfall, Joe, is your women. Understand their place, and you will be a great soldier.”

  “What about Grieger and Dunlop, the women you took from my camp? They were mine,” he said. Was it smart, trying to state things in a way this man would understand?

  Ayoud wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and pointed. “Joe, Joe, your true colors are starting to show through. Well, forget the blonde. She was sold and is the property of another man. But the dark one…I may be able to gift her to you. However, I have given her to my guards, and she’s one of their favorites right now. They may not be willing to give her up.”

  The bite he’d taken soured as he pictured what Ayoud meant, what Grieger would be enduring—gang rape? He wanted to vomit but forced himself to swallow. “I would consider it a personal favor if you returned Grieger to me.”

  Ayoud leaned back in his chair, watching Joe as if trying to figure him out. Before he could say anything, one of his men—wearing a scarf around his head, the same black pants and light green shirt—strode in and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Ayoud gestured with his hand and wiped his face with a napkin, and the man left. Joe wondered what that was about, but these men were good at what they did, letting nothing slip.

  “Come, I have a surprise for you,” Ayoud said. He pushed back his chair, and Joe needed a second, as his legs had started trembling. It made him furious, this seed of fear Ayoud had planted in him. He didn’t know what to expect, and he started to wonder if his heart was going to give out on him. Maybe he’d pushed too hard, asked for too much. He could very well be walking to his execution.

  “Joe, wipe that worried look off your face. You have to see this,” Ayoud said. He slid his arm around Joe’s shoulder and started walking with him out the door. They were in another hallway when he patted Joe’s back and led him outside to the lit compound. There stood a hundred, if not more, boys in their mid to late teens. They were white, black, all wearing some manner of Western clothes—jeans, T-shirts, some with backpacks. Joe didn’t know what to make of it when Ayoud clapped his hands together and yelled, “Yes!” as if he’d won the lottery.

  “This would be the success of social media,” he explained. “Our newest members, who’ve just arrived from their countries: Canada, Great Britain, America, Hungary…They’re all looking for leadership, some meaning in their lives. They’re all here to fight and become part of JILA, to raise a nation. They’ve left disillusionment, depression, hopelessness, poverty behind. We’re growing faster, and JILA will be the new world. Every other nation will cease to exist.” Ayoud raised his hand in the air, instantly holding everyone’s attention.

  How could he explain how all these teens had simply gotten on a plane and flown to the other side of the world, leaving everything behind to join a monster? It was beyond anything Joe could imagine. Ayoud had embraced and used a tool of social media to connect with the most vulnerable, the lone wolves. Of course these kids had no idea what they were in for, and he figured maybe some would only need a few hours before the reality of their situation sank in. Then they’d be begging to go home. Some were probably so naive that they’d go along with anything this man said or did. Joe couldn’t imagine so many lost youths, so many who figured joining a monster was better than staying and fixing their situations in countries that still provided them freedom and will.

  “Welcome, my children, my family,” Ayoud said. “Look around you, for you are now home. Most of you have never experienced what a true family is, what a true nation is. It looks after its young, nurtures them, and provides rules and structure. You will have meaning in your lives for the first time.”

  Joe watched in horror, realizing many of the young men believed what this man was saying.

  Chapter 15

  Cassidy had been right. For Eric, being forced to admit his weak points had been a hard pill to swallow. He had always prided himself on being able to lead, but he’d realized, as the team walked through their outline of the camp and their plan to find Joe, along with the body of their fallen team member and the women, that this team had skills that far surpassed his. He wondered if Cassidy was able to read his mind, because after every member of the team learned their positions, their moves, their responsibilities, Eric had been ordered to wait at the extraction site.

  Accepting the duty had been humbling, but admitting he was limited in his ability to help this team…well, he’d had no choice. The five special ops personnel could outlive a situation this ugly, this destructive, this hopeless, and have a better chance of coming out the victor. Being a good leader only went so far. Being a great team member meant he had to follow the lead of someone who knew better.

  Although he wouldn’t be going into the insurgents’ camp, Eric knew that if they couldn’t reach the extraction site in time, this mission would be lost. Timing was critical, as this was the last hope Joe had. It wasn’t said out loud, but it was assumed the women were lost. Eric hoped Cassidy was wrong. DeLaurie, too, seemed all too willing to write them off. Maybe it was the memory of what Abby had gone through, being sold and bought and violated in a way that was similar to this, that made Eric pray the two lieutenants would be found. This was the first time he felt as if he was seeing firsthand what his wife had survived. It was humbling.

  “Roadrunner, we’re at the party.”


  Eric listened to Cassidy as his men all announced their positions. “Roadrunner, here,” he said. “The neighbors are still asleep.”

  Eric knew now that whatever happened would be fast and quick, and he swore under his breath, pleading that by some miracle they could get in, find Joe, and get out without having this entire militia after them.

  It was all quiet on the headset. He could hear them moving, their breathing, and he waited. They had one small window. He checked his watch from where he crouched in the dark. One hour was all they had, and then the chopper would be there. It wouldn’t touch down, but it would come in fast, not stopping long enough to leave tracks. Nothing could go wrong or they’d be screwed.

  “Echo Team, Echo Team, this is base camp.” It was DeLaurie calling in. Eric thought he heard the master chief swear in the background.

  “Roadrunner here,” Eric said. He was the only man on the ground who could talk.

  “Airstrike has been ordered. I repeat, airstrike has been ordered. Get out of there now.”

  “Are you kidding me, DeLaurie? You were supposed to hold them off for another hour. Damn you!” Eric said, but he stopped talking when he heard the unmistakable sound of jets, an airstrike that would be right on top of them.

  ****

  Joe was escorted back to his room after all those teens, many of them only speaking English, had been assigned to a team leader and then a group, then been assigned bunks. It was an organized approach, as if they’d done this before many times. The Westerners were led over to a series of tents the soldiers slept in, and it was then that Joe stepped back into his room and discovered Grieger had been returned.

  She was chained to the wall, the same spot where she’d been the first time. Her face was bruised and swollen, and she had marks all over her body. She was naked and huddled against the wall, her back to him. It sickened him to see her like this, and he stopped himself from going over to her when he realized he wasn’t alone.

  He turned to one of the soldiers in the room and stared at him a moment, then said, “If you don’t mind, I would rather not have an audience.”

  The man appeared amused. So he understood English. He stepped out of the room and shut the door. Joe didn’t know if he was being watched or if there was surveillance in the room, but he also needed to somehow let Grieger know she was safe—for the moment, anyway. He started toward her, and he could hear her whimpering. She was trembling, from cold or fear or both. He undid his shirt and slid it off. Wearing only his T-shirt, he went to put it around her, but he worried she would start screaming.

  “Grieger, it’s Lieutenant Commander Reed. I’m just going to put my shirt on your shoulders to cover you.”

  Would she freak out? He knew enough about rape victims to know some couldn’t stand to be touched by a man, by anyone—and those were women who hadn’t been passed around by an entire army.

  He felt her stiffen and sob, her body jerking with grief. Joe squatted down beside her and tried to look at her face, but she refused to look up at him. “I need you to hear me,” he said. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise you I’m going to do everything I can to make sure they don’t touch you. I need you to listen to me. Nod if you understand what I’m saying.”

  She was still whimpering. She jerked her head, nodding.

  “Good. Right now you’ve been given to me, and I need you to go along with whatever I say. I won’t hurt you, I promise, but I can’t get you out of here unless you follow what I tell you to do. Can you do that for me? Just nod once.”

  She was still crying, but he could tell she’d heard him. She jerked her head roughly. He wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder to reassure her, and maybe she knew, as she pulled away, shrinking closer to the wall. He had stood up and was looking around for a blanket when he heard gunfire and commotion. His door burst open, and he saw the gun first, then the uniform, before the lights went out.

  Chapter 16

  He heard the whistle overhead and was behind a rock when the airstrike hit the other side of the camp. That was right before he heard the chopper, their last Hail Mary coming in behind him.

  “Striker two, striker two coming in. We touch down in two,” came the voice over the radio.

  Eric didn’t answer. They were coming in fast, and the team had seconds to get in the chopper before it left.

  “We’re a hundred yards out,” Cassidy said. Eric heard him before he saw him.

  “They’re here and ready,” Eric said into his mic to the pilot.

  Cassidy was carrying someone over his shoulders. As he came closer, Eric saw it was a woman, naked except for a shirt over her, and she was crying and pleading. He couldn’t make out her words. The others followed, and that was when Eric saw Joe. His arm was looped over the shoulders of one of the master chief’s men, who was helping him to the chopper. Eric knew every second counted, and he expected to see an army and the hounds of hell on their heels. One by one, they got on board. Eric, his weapon ready, climbed in last, and the chopper took off.

  “Get us the hell out of here!” Cassidy shouted to the pilot.

  It was fast. Eric heard another explosion and saw a flash of light. For a moment, he wondered whether the blast had caught the tail end of the chopper. It was hot, and they moved. Everyone had to hang on.

  “Holy shit, get us out!” Cassidy yelled again.

  Eric looked over at Joe. His head was bandaged, his face dirty and cut. He wanted to reach out and hug him. “You look like shit,” he said, and Joe smiled—not from happiness but relief, sadness, and shock. He followed Joe’s gaze to the woman wrapped in a blanket. Her face was bruised and cut, and she was crying, keening, from where she sat between two of the soldiers. She pulled the blanket tight, and Eric swallowed as he remembered how he’d found Abby, beaten and in a condition not far from this poor woman’s.

  “Shoot me,” she murmured. She was looking out the window, away from them all. “Shoot me, shoot me…”

  He was sure that was what got to all of them, the hopelessness of her plea. It became a silent flight, as every person on that chopper was aware of and sickened by what had been done to Grieger. No one touched her, no one reached out to her. Eric had no doubt that if they hadn’t been there to stop her, she’d have jumped to her death.

  When the chopper landed back in the camp, he listened to the screams when Grieger was lifted onto a gurney and taken into the field hospital. He knew she’d be sedated and most likely sent to Germany before being shipped home on a medical discharge.

  Eric stepped out of the chopper and helped Joe down, and he did something he’d never done before. He hugged him. “My God, I cannot believe we got you out. You have no idea what was going through my mind when we saw the video of Tucker.”

  Joe gripped Eric’s shoulder. “Same here. I didn’t believe I’d get out. I hoped, but I didn’t think it was possible. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m grateful. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Of course I’d come. Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to kick your ass for choosing a dumbass posting like this. What the hell were you thinking?” He hadn’t planned on saying anything yet, but now that he had, he had to know.

  “It was a change I needed. You should understand that,” Joe said. He was swaying a bit, unsteady on his feet. Eric grabbed his arm.

  “Come on, you need to see the doc and get off your feet.”

  He was just leading Joe to the field hospital when there was a commotion behind him. He turned with Joe just as the master chief’s fist connected with DeLaurie’s face.

  “What the hell was that for?” the commander called out—and he was damn mad.

  “Oh, shit!” Eric left Joe standing where he was and hurried over to break it up between Cassidy and the commander.

  “You were supposed to delay the airstrike! You damn near killed us all. We can still feel the scorch marks from that last detonation on our asses.” The master chief was in DeLaurie’s face just as Eric moved b
etween them. Testosterone and adrenaline was still pulsing through all their veins.

  “Knock it off, both of you.” He pushed in and grabbed Cassidy by the lapel—perhaps not the smartest thing he’d ever done.

  “Hey, I did my best, but the order came from Washington,” DeLaurie said. “They want no more boots on the ground and are planning airstrikes to eliminate this parasite. They wouldn’t listen to me. I warned you.”

  “A five-second warning, are you fucking kidding me? You’re a piece of work.” Cassidy was provoking the commander, quickly landing himself in hot water.

  “Walk it off, Cassidy!” Eric yelled in his face. Was Cassidy going to hit him, too? He shoved him instead and went after his men, heading into one of the tents.

  “Lieutenant Commander, glad they found you and Grieger,” DeLaurie said as he walked over to Joe. He patted his shoulder, and Joe looked at his hand and then his face. He took a breath, his hands at his sides.

  “Just in case you’re wondering, Commander, Dunlop is gone,” Joe said. Then he stepped away from the commander with a lost look, and he turned away from both of them.

  Chapter 17

  Joe was resting in his hospital bed in Germany. He was scheduled to go home today, and both he and Eric would be on a military transport by nightfall. Other than a severe concussion and bruised ribs, Joe was fine. But the Joe who was sitting in the hospital bed seemed far from it.

  “I spoke with Mary-Margaret,” Eric said. “She’s anxious to speak with you. She needs to hear your voice, Joe.”

  Joe grunted and looked at Eric, then away, around the room. There were other personnel, some wounded, lying in the other beds. Joe was in a white hospital gown and rested his arm behind his head. He appeared indifferent, or was it angry? Eric couldn’t really tell.

  “What gives, Joe? I’ve never seen you like this. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine,” he said again.

  “Well, let’s see. We have four ‘fines,’ a ‘great,’ a ‘peachy’…anything else you want to add?” What he really wanted to do was yank Joe out of bed and shake him until he decided to start talking. More than anything, Eric wanted Joe to be grateful that he was alive, and he wished he could tell him what was going through his head.