Honor Courage Commitment

by Jordan Danzig

  He gave her a thumbs up.

  “Kept me going.” Logan mumbled in staccato phrases. “Told me ’bout England. Told you ’bout Texas.”

  Amanda understood in an instant. She’d whiled away the dark hours telling him about the local towns, villages, and points of interest around her hometown in the Midlands of England. She’d told of the granite outcrops that were the Malvern Hills, and the dozens of spring water spouts where, for no charge, people could collect the allegedly health-giving waters. She told him of the natural brine of Droitwich Spa that was seven times more buoyant than the Dead Sea. She’d described Birmingham and its canals; there were more miles of them there than in Venice. She told him of the tiny market town of Ludlow, home to more Michelin-starred chefs than anywhere else . . . or something like that, she was sure.

  Their captors said they couldn’t break him. Was it telling me about Texas that kept him going? She tipped her head back in an attempt to stem another bout of tears and ran her hands down her cheeks, culminating in pulling her lips into a fish pout. Releasing them, she stood and addressed Mason.

  “Is he one of you?”

  “In the sense that he’s a brother Marine. But he’s not Spec Ops.” Mason stroked his chin. “Though he looks like he’s made of the right stuff.”

  Rivera returned with the news that a thorough search of the compound by the rest of the team had uncovered IED-making equipment, a stash of weapons, radios, and mobile phones. He said the photographic evidence had been gathered and Kage was waiting for Mason to ‘go make things safe’.

  Biting her bottom lip, and wincing at the answer that might follow, Amanda asked Rivera, “Do you know what they did to him?”

  “I can guess,” he said.

  “Tell me.”

  “Amanda—”

  “Please”—Amanda tentatively reached toward Rivera—“tell me.”

  He sighed. “Looking at his hands, I’d say they stomped on them with their boots, or maybe smashed a rifle butt down on them.”

  Amanda put her hands over her mouth. “His back?”

  Kalinski spoke. “From the fibers I’ve cleaned out of the wounds, I’d say a knotted rope.”

  “His feet?” she whispered.

  Kalinski looked at Rivera. Rivera shook his head.

  “Domingo, please?” She held his gaze.

  “Something like a bicycle chain.”

  Amanda’s head moved side-to-side in a jerky motion. Her hands still covered her mouth. Any sympathy she may have once entertained for the Afghan people’s feelings towards the American ‘occupiers’ of their country had long since evaporated. “And what about Tonya? Is she all right?”

  “Ski.” Rivera signaled something to Kalinski.

  Kalinski closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She was roughed up pretty good too.”

  Amanda fought the rising nausea. “Oh, no. No. No.”

  Kalinski had removed his weapons and ruck to deal with Logan. He stood and enveloped Amanda in his arms. She sobbed into his tac vest in silence for a moment, her body heaving against Kalinski’s embrace.

  She pushed herself away from his hug, wiped away her tears with a grubby fist and in a brusque voice said, “Right, let’s see what we can do for him, Doc.” She helped tend to Logan’s broken hands, tenderly supporting them while Kalinski applied splints and bandages. Logan slipped back into unconsciousness, so Amanda asked if it was OK to go outside. Rivera nodded. At the threshold, she paused and examined the door. There were no means of securing it. It had never been locked.

  “A prison doesn’t always need bars,” Rivera said.

  Amanda stepped into the new day’s air. The bodies of the insurgents had been removed and only the darkened patches of earth told of the dawn’s events. She stretched her arms above her head and drew in a deep breath. I never knew freedom had a smell.

  Captain Venneford was sitting on a low wall talking to someone lying on a stretcher at his feet.

  Has one of his men been injured? Amanda started walking toward them. Tonya! She ran the rest of the way, dropped to her knees at Washington’s side and took her hand. “Tonya, it’s Amanda.”

  Washington’s bruised eyelids fluttered open, then closed again.

  “Our corpsman has sedated her and made her comfortable,” Venneford said. He then spoke into his radio. “Make it so, Mace, but inform the helo it’s you.” He turned back to Amanda. “There will be a small explosion soon. It’s just my guys tidying up.”

  Amanda squeezed Washington’s hand. “Did you hear that, Tonya? Don’t worry, you’re safe now. No one can hurt you anymore.”

  Washington’s hand twitched. Amanda jumped at two loud bangs nearby.

  “It’s OK,” Venneford said. “Those were the fireworks I warned you about.”

  Rivera and Kalinski came out of the hut carrying Logan on a litter and were joined by Mason and Lowell returning from their destruction of the weapons cache.

  “Right, gentlemen,” Venneford said, “let’s get moving. The helo’s inbound for the hostages and our ride out of here will be at the exfil point as scheduled.”

  Amanda’s face fell. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “No,” Venneford said. “There isn’t room for all of us.”

  “When will I see you again? Are you coming home? Is Angel with you?”

  “You’ll probably be on a flight to Germany today or tomorrow. We have loose ends to tie up. We’ll see you back Stateside soon.”

  39

  Amanda didn’t object to the in country military debriefing by the Marines and U.S. Army and even though she didn’t think she was much use in that department, she easily recalled the minutiae that interested them. However, the interrogation in Germany annoyed her. She thought some of the questions in her psychological debrief intrusive, but she supposed they needed to know if she had been sexually assaulted and how mentally scarred she was likely to be by the trauma of it all. The interview in Afghanistan was led by a captain from Intelligence who had been clinical, yet concerned for her welfare. She found the psychological aspect, conducted in Germany, to be on the melodramatic side, but she answered all of the questions, some of which were way outside her comfort zone, in as much depth as she could. She assumed that Psych was running stress tests on her. Naturally, she was relieved that the ordeal was over, but she was also elated; Logan and Washington were safe—and she was going to see Angel again.

  The mental health professionals were a little nonplussed by her request to return to California. They expected her to want to be flown home to her family in England, but complied with her wishes, on condition that she speak with Commander Gant at the earliest convenience. The Marine Intelligence Officer she spoke with in Germany seemed pleased, even proud, of her decision. He said he’d heard about Commander Gant’s psych work and knew she would be in good hands. Her inquiries about the men that rescued her only met with a non-committal response about them ‘being home soon’. She asked if she might visit Washington and Logan. Washington had been sent on to America, but Logan was still here at Landstuhl. She had a long chat with her parents, who were kept informed throughout. Amanda reassured them that no, they didn’t need to fly out to see her, and no, she didn’t need to come home to ‘get over it all’. Yes, she was fine, really. Nothing happened. HAH! She promised to talk to someone if she needed to. She told them she loved them and would see them in the New Year. But right now, I’m looking forward to seeing Angel and Zanna again.

  * * *

  Amanda stood outside the door to Logan’s hospital room waiting for her nerves to settle. She squared her shoulders and entered. It was a semi-private room. The second patient lay propped up in bed; a large bandage covered the stump that had been his right hand. Amanda smiled at him as she passed, but he stared right through her.

  Logan cradled a cell phone between his ear and shoulder and was holding an animated conversation. His unbandaged hands were encased, palm down, in open-fronted splints that reached half way up his
forearms. His face lit up when he spotted Amanda, and he waggled a splinted arm at her to come join him.

  Goodness, he looks well, considering.

  Logan’s body was still a rainbow of colors from the beatings, but the swelling in his face had reduced somewhat. His lips were no longer chapped and cracked, but Amanda was most pleased about his hands. The last time she saw them, a couple of the fingers had been grossly misshapen. Although still swollen, they had all been straightened out and the sutures on the backs of his hands showed he’d already had surgery on them.

  “Yeah, babe,” Logan said into the phone, “love you, too. And tell l’il Jake, daddy’ll see him in a few days. Bye, sugar.”

  Amanda moved in to take the phone from him and place it on his bedside table. “You’ve got a son?”

  “Yeah,” he said with pride. “L’il Jake’s almost two now.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Yep. Shelley.”

  Amanda put her hands together. He deserved someone special in his life. “Can I ask how old you are?”

  Logan gave her a sideways look but answered anyway. “Twenty-three.”

  Omigod, twenty-three and you did what you did back there . . . and you don’t even know me! She pointed at Logan’s hands. “How are you doing? You look great.”

  “I got surgery on my hands yesterday morning. They thought they might have to remove my spleen, but they say I’m responding well to the drugs they gave me for the inflammation, so we’re watching and waiting on that one.” He waved a splint at the foot of his bed. “The feet are hellish sore, but no bones broken there.” He smiled at that. “The kidneys and liver got the shit, excuse me, kicked out of them, so while I might look great, I sure as hell don’t feel it.”

  Sounds like they’ve got you on some pretty potent pain meds too. “Bless you,” Amanda said, bending over and kissing him on the cheek.

  A broad grin spread over his face. “They say I’ll need more surgery on my hands to fix them, and they’ll start soon as I get back Stateside tomorrow.”

  “Do you know where they’re taking you?” she asked, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  “Walter Reed.”

  “Oh.” Amanda did nothing to hide her disappointment. The Walter Reed Army Medical Center was on the east coast. She’d hoped, at the very least, he might have been sent to the Naval Medical Center at San Diego where she would have been able to visit him. Putting on a smile, she said, “I’m sure you’ll be up and about in no time.”

  “You know what they say, pain is just weakness leaving the body.” He tilted his head. “Say, do you know those guys who rescued us?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, they sure seem to know you.”

  “What do you mean?” He’d been completely out of it. How could he remember?

  “I spoke to a couple of them yesterday and they said—”

  “They were here?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t give me their names . . . and they wore sterilized cammies.”

  “Sterilized? Should I have gotten deloused or something?”

  Logan laughed. “No. I mean they had no insignia or names on them.”

  Amanda groaned with embarrassment. I’m never going to learn their language.

  “They said they’d hitched a ride on a MEDEVAC flight and were going to pick up another flight home. They just looked in to see how I was.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They told me they were the closest mission-ready Spec Ops unit when the call came down to rescue us.” He narrowed his eyes. “Said they were conducting Green Ops—but I reckon more likely Black Ops that close to Pakistan—and I got the clear impression no further questions were welcome on that subject.” He smiled. “They said they’d been given a good idea where to look for us. A man from the village we were at came asking for help for his daughter. She’d been caught in the crossfire or something.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “She got hit in the leg and this hot-shot Navy surgeon, I think they said he was, operated on her. Anyway, this guy with a funny smile says he reckons that’s why the folks helped. Once the parents knew she was going to be OK, they told him they had an idea where they might take us. Not the exact location, just the general direction. We never had no trouble from that village before . . . maybe they ain’t all bad people.”

  “Maybe they also think that about some Americans now.”

  Logan hung his head. “Yeah, maybe.”

  A doctor and nurse came in to attend to the other patient. The doctor indicated the door with an open palm. “Would you mind?” he asked Amanda.

  “Not at all.” To Logan, she said, “I have a plane to catch, Jared. You get some rest now.”

  “The name’s Jarhead,” he called after her, laughing.

  In the corridor, two doctors walked past her discussing a patient. “ . . . Walter Reed, but Will said he would like to take a look at him.”

  Amanda trotted after them. “Forgive my rudeness, but were you by any chance talking about Jared Logan and Commander William Gant?”

  The first person, a young male looked Amanda up and down with distrust. “And you are?”

  Instead of her usual blushing and stammering, Amanda straightened her spine and said clearly, “Amanda Wilks, Critical Care Nurse. I work closely with Commander Gant at The Hacienda.”

  The other doctor, a thirty-something, woman smiled warmly and said, “Please tell Will, Jessica Chen said hello. I missed him when he was here yesterday.” She touched Amanda on the arm. “He didn’t leave Afghanistan until he heard you were safe. Yes, Logan was due to go to Walter Reed, but Will somehow got wind of it and said he would take the surgery himself. Reconstructive surgery being Commander Gant’s specialty, we’re delighted to be sending Logan to San Diego.”

  Reconstructive specialist? The hot-shot Navy surgeon Jared mentioned? It made sense; he practically rebuilt Rivera’s lower leg. Then there was D’Onofrio’s shattered shoulder from a Taliban sniper bullet. Bailey needed an awful lot of work too. And, just before they came away, there was McCloud with the multiple fractures of both arms from a Humvee accident. All those trips he does to Afghanistan and Germany. I thought he was going out there to learn. Is he actually the one doing the teaching?

  * * *

  Amanda scanned San Diego Airport’s arrivals area. He’s here! Angel stood at the rail with Zanna and Noa Lana.

  Zanna got to Amanda first, smothering her in hugs and kisses and welcoming her home. “I’m so happy to have you back safe,” Zanna said. “If there’s ever anything you need or want to talk about, you know I’m here for you twenty-four-seven.”

  Amanda thanked her while keeping her gaze—and most of her attention—locked on Angel.

  He released Noa Lana’s hand and she ran toward Amanda in the same way she did to Rivera, arms wide and giggling. As much as Amanda just wanted to fling herself into Angel’s arms, she bent down to cuddle Noa Lana first.

  “Hello, sweetie. Are you all ready for Christmas?”

  “Yes, but I missed you soooo much,” Noa Lana said, locking her hands behind Amanda’s neck and kissing her.

  Zanna led Noa Lana away so Angel and Amanda could have a moment together.

  “I didn’t expect you to be here,” Amanda said.