“We don’t ####-ing kill them or lock them in their houses.”
“No, Western men just discard women and abandon their children.” Jessica kicked the bathroom vanity. The door broke off its hinges and hung cross-eyed.
Kaleb jumped out of the closet, risking concussion by falling tile the same as the irate woman sharing this bathroom with him. “Don’t defend ISIS!”
“I’m not.” Jessica turned back to him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t have slept with me.”
“You consented and you’re an adult. Legal as all get-out.” He gestured up through raining plaster particles and the all-consuming buzz of airstrikes crashing overhead. She’d been the one who initiated the whole #### thing. He certainly wouldn’t have if he thought Jessica meant marriage by it. Marriage! As if he’d marry a crazy chick he’d met all of a week ago.
Jessica turned away from him.
Great. Now he had her anger to deal with along with ISIS. He should have insisted she go with the Yazidi mom. The woman and all the kids should be safely behind coalition lines by now.
Falling plaster dust stuck to Jessica’s tear-moistened cheeks. Her bloodshot eyes were wet with tears too.
Guilt, something he’d learned from a Torah passage as a kid, shifted uncomfortably through his chest. “Therefore a man shall . . . be joined to his wife,” the rabbi had said at a circumcision ceremony.
“ISIS uses immoral Western guys like you on their recruiting pages to get converts like your sister.”
“Shut up.” He clenched his hand. Ava’s face flashed in front of him, only this time instead of seeing her in a minion T-shirt, he saw her dressed in black, announcing a pregnancy. His sister might die here in Mosul. “I get that you’re angry because of a misunderstanding, but my sister’s life is at stake. It’s not the time for bitter jokes.”
“It’s not a joke. ISIS does use Western men like you to recruit. I’ll show you.” Jessica yanked an Android out of her back jean pocket, elbows stiff.
“Where did you get that phone?” It would have GPS, which they could use to get out of here.
Pink tinged her ears as Jessica eyed the tiles. “I stole it from Raja’s house along with the AK-47.”
####. When she wasn’t acting crazy, Jessica sure was hot. Her resourcefulness was probably how she’d survived this long in ISIS without dying or having a nervous breakdown. He did admire her strength.
The buzzing of airstrikes subsided for a few moments as Jessica yanked up a webpage. The black flag of ISIS emblazoned the blog’s heading.
“That’s your sister’s comment, I think.” Jessica pressed her finger against the glass. “PrincessAva14 was her screen name.”
ISIS slogans filled PrincessAva14’s blog comments. Die in your rage. Death to the infidel. Kaleb’s stomach revolted. He’d messaged Ava under that screen name all the time.
Jessica scrolled down to another PrincessAva14 comment and pressed her finger against the second paragraph.
His sister had been doing what with 8th grade boyfriend! If he got out of this alive, this Tyler basketball team captain was having a come-to-Jesus meeting with him in an abandoned lot.
What the ####? His gaze glued to the next sentence that his little sister had posted on an ISIS blog.
Tyler is a #### idiot, totes western ####Only ISIS legit values women Allah Akbar may west die in there rage!
The bathroom door caved in. He jumped for the somewhat-more-stable shower stall.
Jessica stood frozen. “I’ve seen things, terrible things. Maybe Allah is punishing me right now.” She trembled. The smell of fear rose from her sweat as she shook. Her flowing shirt flapped against her quaking limbs.
Kaleb groaned. Sliding his hands around the girl he’d slept with last night, he pulled her into the shower stall, away from raining plaster. “It’s all right, Jessica. We’ll get out of here. Allah’s not punishing anyone.”
“How can you be sure?” She stabbed her finger up to the ceiling where exposed pipes and attic walls now showed through a gaping hole. “Look at what ISIS did to the Yazidis, the Christians. Surely they must have had some all-powerful deity on their side to win. What if Allah’s rage turns against me next?”
“Look girl, if these men’s deity is real, we’re all toast anyway.”
Jessica quavered beside him as sweat poured off her body. Classic panic attack symptoms, triggered by spiritual symbols. The girl needed a psychologist. Satisfying one’s sexual urges was so much easier stateside. Like with no-name lawyer. Only, had Ava really joined ISIS because of a one-night stand with some middle school boy?
If he ever got his hands on this Tyler . . . but instead of visualizing the boy with a broken ulna and a whiplash brace on his neck, he saw over-a-decade-old memories as they forced themselves into his mind.
When he’d been fourteen, he’d had zero parental supervision, zero sex-ed, and an unhealthy impulse to hang out with the “bad kids” in his class. Looking back, he was kind of shocked he hadn’t contracted HIV in high school. He’d never inspired any junior high girl to join ISIS, but if a girl’s big brother had gotten his hands on him in an abandoned lot when he was in junior high or high school, he imagined he’d probably have had more than one broken bone.
Jessica opened her mouth as if to scream. She shook instead.
“Shh, girl, you’ve got PTSD. I’ll get you help once we get out of here.” He wrapped his arm around Jessica’s waist, but still she shivered. Therapy, Jessica might benefit from that or some meds. He tried to ignore the guilty feeling growing inside his abdominal cavity.
Ding. The doorbell rang. Who was out in this? Kaleb circled out of the bathroom and pushed aside the curtain over the front window.
ISIS soldiers stood at his front door. Adrenaline raced through Kaleb. He turned the handle. The door creaked. “Hello?”
The translator stood by another man who’d been at the hospital earlier. Omar, the others had called him. “Our men are dying. You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”
If he got stuck at the hospital, he’d never save Ava. “The streets haven’t been safe.” A giant piece of plywood blew down the concrete pavement, proving his words. An airstrike landed somewhere close. The ground shook.
The translator lowered his AK-47. “I think you’re a traitor.” Omar stepped around the translator, a scimitar at his belt like some medieval warrior.
No! “I am so sorry for my delay. I’m coming right now.” Kaleb stepped through the doorway. His stomach clenched tighter with each step he took. How would he save Ava now? What about Jessica?
The translator nodded and lowered his gun. “Hurry.” Omar gestured with his rifle to the street and the other soldiers fell in line.
A blaze of light exploded from the door. With a booming sound, bullets shot through the air. Omar fell to the ground, drowning in his own blood. A bullet pierced the translator’s heart. As the other soldiers whipped toward the noise, bullets felled them too.
In the doorway, Jessica leaned on the AK-47 as smoke rose from the barrel. A face veil obscured all but her eyes, making her just another anonymous black-veiled woman in the streets of Mosul. But she’d just shot four men.
“Quick,” she ran into the yard. “Get the corpses into the house before someone sees.”
Kaleb grabbed a thick leg and hauled Omar’s big frame through the doorway. He dropped the body and it thudded, blood sopping into the carpet. Behind him, Jessica dragged the translator by his feet. Her face veil blew back from her face, but she didn’t show any sign of dismay as she rolled the bleeding corpse onto her living room carpet, smearing bits of small intestine over the turquoise pattern.
He shook his head, unbelieving, as he grabbed the last two bodies and dragged them off the empty street through the doorway. Jessica had just shot all these men in cold blood and, rather than having a panic attack over it, she was now calmly washing her hands. The girl had nerve.
Had any civilians seen the carnage from c
urtained-over windows? Would they report the incident to ISIS if they did?
“You’re the only doctor in the city.” Jessica wiped blood off her arms with a kitchen towel, face composed. “Even if these men aren’t missed, other ISIS soldiers will be back to get you.”
Outside, fiery blasts still exploded, the sound of gunfire so steady, he’d begun to tune it out. “Okay, let’s go.” He threw their last three bottles of water into his medical bag and heaved his duffel over his shoulder.
The AK-47 gleamed in Jessica’s hand as she flipped her veil down over her face.
The back door creaked. To the north, fire exploded in the sky. A tall concrete building crumbled like a house of cards. The ground shook as the debris hit the ground.
He ran into the empty streets with Jessica as mortars exploded on every side.
No cars drove down the streets. Kaleb sprinted faster. A pace behind him, Jessica managed to keep up despite how little oxygen must penetrate that veil. Apartments rose high around them.
With a boom, a massive fireball exploded to the left. Rubble blocked off the streets in every direction and the airstrikes were increasing. Kaleb twisted to Jessica. “What now?”
Jessica held the Android with the map of the city. Her face contorted as she looked at the map. Terror shone in her eyes. Above them, the apartment buildings shook. Her arm trembled as she clutched the phone tighter. “Pray?”
“To who?” Kaleb snorted.
“Don’t you believe in God? It’s in your Torah.” Jessica ducked down another alley.
Maybe there was a God. Probably even, there was one, the God of the Torah, no less. But what did that have to do with him today? Joining a synagogue cost a lot of money. It all seemed like way too much bother when one could enjoy the pleasures of life now. Good job, good food, good sex.
If only he were back enjoying those things in Denver, Colorado, right now. But he’d come for his sister and he would get her out. Or die trying.
Scaffolding shook against the closest apartment. A child ran out of the apartment building onto the street.
A man cried out in Arabic and pursued the child. The apartment quavered. The scaffolding fell from the building. Down, down, the metal toppled through the air. Grabbing Jessica’s arm, Kaleb yanked her back against the trembling concrete wall and hoped the apartment complex would hold.
Another mortar exploded to the south. The metal bars fell toward the earth. The Iraqi man threw himself over the toddler. Rebar smashed on top of the man, pinning his legs to the ground. With a shattering noise, more concrete and metal dropped on the man.
Ducking away from the apartment building, Kaleb ran to the man. As concrete debris rained around him, he felt for the man’s pulse. The Iraqi’s ribs caved in, his chest crushed. Struggling against the weight of the metal scaffolding, Kaleb twisted the man off the child. The toddler’s face bones were crushed into his skull, pieces of his brain oozing out of cracks in his cranium. Kaleb’s gut clenched. He’d dealt with enough adult fatalities in ICU to not let them get to him, but kid fatalities were always worse.
Closing the man’s eyes with one hand, Kaleb ducked out of the scaffolding. The sight of the crushed toddler still hovered in front of his brain as the desire to be sick churned inside of him.
“Are you the doctor of Mosul?”
Kaleb jerked to a halt as two men appeared from nowhere, or more reasonably probably from the apartment complex behind him. No ISIS symbols marked their clothes and they looked as emaciated as most of the civilians.
“Please,” the younger one, who looked like a teen himself, said, “My wife need doctor. Doctor!”
Ahead of him, blasts decimated the construction yard, upturning the crane and blasting boulders around like pebbles.
He needed a half-hour break in the airstrikes to get to Ava. “Okay.” Kaleb nodded to the teen and gestured to Jessica. They followed the men into a tiny apartment stuffed with furniture.
A young girl lay on the couch, knees curled up against her chest, a red veil covering her entire body. She cried out in pain. An older woman and man hovered over her.
Upon seeing him, the couple started wringing their hands and speaking in rapid Arabic. Kaleb swiveled to Jessica. “Are they saying anything intelligible?”
“The woman said her son’s wife is not pregnant, but every day the pain increases in her chest.” Jessica emphasized the word “wife,” an edge in her voice.
The whole point of a one-night stand was to not have to see each other the next day. This was like one of those sick TV shows where the person you got laid with happened to be your partner at your new job.
Zipping open his medical bag, Kaleb poured antiseptic on his hands and started the preliminary examination, but the guilty feeling inside of him refused to dissipate. Surely Jessica didn’t feel as betrayed by him as his baby sister had by the juvenile delinquent moron at her school? Jessica was a legal, consenting adult.
Red spread across the Iraqi girl’s face and she shivered from a high temperature. Thrusting a sanitary plastic casing over the thermometer that he’d finally located in Mosul hospital while sewing up mujihadeen, he stuck it in the girl’s mouth. The mercury rose to 104 degrees.
####. This wasn’t good. Her pulse felt steady enough, all considering. As the girl’s in-laws glared at him, he yanked away layers of her clothing to probe her internal organs. He palpitated her back. She cried out as if from flank pain. Seemed like the pain was coming from her kidneys. “Ask her if she’s had any discomfort or difficulty urinating.”
Stepping in front of him, Jessica spoke in Arabic. The feverish girl only moaned, but the teen boy answered in Arabic. Jessica turned to Kaleb. “Her husband says yes.”
“Operate?” The teen husband raised both eyebrows, expression hopeful.
“Tell him not a chance.” Kaleb gestured to Jessica. “She doesn’t need surgery, she needs hydration and antibiotics.” Even if she had needed surgery, cutting someone open in this environment with no transfusion blood and non-sterile conditions was asking for death.
Twisting the lid of a med box of antibiotics, Kaleb placed two pills on the girl’s hand. “Two pills every four hours. I’m thinking she had an UTI that spread to her kidneys. She should have intravenous antibiotics, but this is all I’ve got.” A simple urine dipstick and microscope sample could confirm pyelonephritis, but he lacked any standard medical equipment in this ####hole.
With a nod, Jessica turned to the older couple and spoke. “Her father-in-law says he will pray for her at the hunchback mosque.”
The old man nodded and pointed out the broken glass to the crooked mosque minaret that towered over the city.
“That sounds ridiculously unsafe.” Kaleb zipped his medical bag shut and swung the bag over his shoulder.
“He says the hunchback mosque is the symbol of Mosul. It has lasted for thousands of years. Allah would never allow ISIS to destroy it.” Jessica stood stiff, still obviously displeased with him.
Guilt tried to worm its way into his conscience, and with each hurt look she shot at him, it was getting harder to resist.
The teen husband turned away from his feverish wife and gestured to a kitchen. “You stay. You and your wife, you eat.”
The window panes shook from the impact of airstrikes. The shelving rattled. “Okay,” Kaleb said.
If he left to get Ava now, he’d end up dead the same as the man on the scaffolding.
CHAPTER 19
“When are these #### airstrikes going to let up?” Kaleb said once again as they sat for the sixth hour in this ten-foot-by-three-foot kitchen as the Iraqi family made themselves busy in the rest of the house.
Jessica grunted and continued dashing spices at as fast a rate as if what she put in that pot of beans had a prayer of making it edible. She hadn’t spoken one unnecessary word to him since this morning’s conversation about marriage and sex.
He felt oddly responsible for her silence.
It was just sex. The girl had consen
ted, even initiated. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself again.
Sex with no strings was one of the great things about his life, including, a great salary, a job he loved, and trying out Denver’s finest breweries. He had the young urban professional lifestyle that teenage pregnancy and incarceration had assured his own mom and dad had never achieved. He was living the good life.
He took the steaming bowl of something that made goulash sound appetizing and sat at this Iraqi family’s midget-sized dining table.
The family had offered Jessica and him food although they fasted for Ramadan, hospitable even as they died at ISIS’s hands.
Maximizing the Android screen where Jessica had pulled up a map of the city, Kaleb pointed to ISIS’s ever-shifting frontlines. How were they going to get from here to Ava’s house through the constant bombardment of airstrikes that had blocked the majority of the roads?
“What if I’m pregnant?”
Kaleb jerked his gaze up. ####, that better not be true. In the back of the hospital supply closet, he’d spotted contraceptives. He could only imagine what the ISIS fighters were using them for, but he definitely should have stolen some along with IV antibiotics. “I’m a doctor. Getting pregnant after once never happens, unless you’re reading a cheesy romance novel.” He smiled at her as he willed his own pounding heart to calm.
“Would you abandon your child? Is that the kind of man you are?” Jessica clashed a pot against the stove so hard the stovetop rattled. He’d compared her hair to fire before, but that was nothing compared to the detonating explosives in her eyes. She looked about ready to grab the AK-47 leaning against the table and point it at his heart.
Here they were trying to stay alive in a war zone as the floor shook from airstrikes and this girl wanted to fight about a one-night stand? Kaleb sighed. “I don’t have kids.” At least, he was about ninety-seven percent sure he didn’t.
“ISIS men at least don’t abandon their children.”
“Letting them explode in bomb blasts or marrying them off at age nine to your friends is so much preferable?” Kaleb found himself shouting. Something exploded outside. The window cracked, sending shattered glass across the kitchen, but did that make Jessica focus on the real crisis at hand? Of course not.
Veiled by Choice (Radical Book 3) Page 15