by Ronie Kendig
At first, Fekiria strained to make out shapes, forms. Desperate to make eye contact with her friend, to find reassurance. I’m an ANA soldier! A pilot—surely they won’t harm me.
But she knew the truth. Knew the Taliban would take great pleasure in making an example of a woman who dared take a man’s role. And these girls…she could not imagine what horrible things men like that would do to such beautiful, innocent children.
Beside her, she noticed the trembling of Sheevah. Though the girl had been a strength when Fekiria had fumbled, now she, too, sat fully aware of the horrors that could swallow them up. In a move to comfort the girl and offer reassurance that she would do everything she could to protect them, Fekiria put her arm around her.
Sheevah shoved her face against Fekiria’s shoulder and shuddered.
The minutes fell like anvils against her thudding heart. Each creak, each thud, each distant voice snatched her breath. Reminded her of the tenuous line they walked as women in a country where some men sought power and domination.
Above them came the unmistakable sound of voices. The clopping of feet. What if they walked over the trapdoor? Would they notice a variation in the sounds on the floor? If she and the girls were discovered, they could throw in a grenade or IED and there would be nothing to bury. Nothing to hold against them.
Her heart ricocheted off her panicked thoughts.
Sheevah pressed harder against her, as if trying to escape the fear through Fekiria’s embrace. Fekiria tightened her hold on the girl. She should give her reassurance. Tell her everything would be okay. But that was rarely the truth.
Dirt dribbled down on their heads.
She ducked, burrowing her face against Sheevah’s hijab. What surprised her was that where she had expected to smell a homeless girl, she smelled lavender soap. Fekiria closed her eyes, thinking of all Mitra had done for these girls.
And what good will it do if these girls die here?
Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan
3 February—1320 Hours
“The world is some kind of messed up, Granddad.”
Wizened, creased eyes smiled back through the grainy iPad stream. “Only if you let it be, Brian.”
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he glanced at the dirt floor. “I’m not sure how to change it. I’ve never felt so powerless.”
“I think you have,” Granddad said. “You just don’t want to remember—because that feeling is a terrifying one.”
Brian grunted. “Right between the eyes again.” He hated to admit how right his granddad was, but truth was—he’d take a wide mile around those memories. Why was he even here anymore? What good was he when he couldn’t save his own team members?
“Listen, I’ll be praying for you. I reckon there are things you can’t tell me, but God knows them. I’ll have fireside chats with Him every morning and ask Him to show you, to protect you, to give you wisdom.”
Brian nodded. “I’m not…not exactly religious, Granddad.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
Looking up through his brow, he frowned. How was that? Granddad was one of the most religious guys Brian knew. His mom had been the same until Dad went to prison. Then her life crumbled. And so did she, right into the grave.
“God isn’t about religion and performance. He’s about relationship. Talk to Him. He’s waiting for you to do that. I thought that would’ve gotten in your thick skull back when we took ya to Sunday school.”
“Slow learner, I guess,” Brian said with a smirk. Nana and Granddad had taken him to Sunday school every week he lived with them after his mom’s death, but there was so much he’d had to work through that church, which was always too quiet, left his thoughts and guilt screaming. And what did God have to do with some terrorist hack dismantling the U.S. military’s super-secure computers? Compromising communications?
Forcing me to watch one of my team members die when I could’ve stopped it.
He’d obeyed the command.
The one that wasn’t legit.
The one that cost Davis and Parker their lives.
Brian closed his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose. When he’d first hit the base, he thought getting back to Raptor would solve everything. Then he found out he wouldn’t be reuniting with them. He missed those guys. Missed the connection. But he wasn’t sure about that anymore. To be fair, he wasn’t sure about anything. He was just fed up.
“I’m sending you some verses,” Granddad said. “Promise me you’ll read them each night. Can you do that?”
Religion. A fake Band-Aid on wounds that didn’t heal.
“If I can promise to get up early and talk to God on your behalf, the least you can do is promise to read a few words each morning, too. Can you do that?”
“Of course he can, Jack,” Nana’s sweet voice called from somewhere in the background and brightened Brian’s mood.
“Okay,” he said, knowing Granddad would not let up.
“Need you to hurry home, son. This Mustang is hurting for a good drive again.”
Brian smiled. “Hooah.” And felt the smile warm him. Maybe it was time to go home. Weird—when was the last time he thought of anywhere as home? But yeah. He was ready for something different. Was it worth it? Was any of it?
His phone chirruped.
“That’s the verses.”
“Don’t waste time, do you?” Brian snickered as he glanced at the screen. Sure enough, his granddad had sent two verses. He scanned them, his heart thumping on the second one:
“Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? To not become weary?
Too late.
“Bledsoe!”
At the shout of his name, Brian sat straight on his cot and looked over his shoulder.
A specialist stood at the tent opening and thumbed over his shoulder. “Command wants you.”
With a two-fingered salute, Brian shifted his attention back to the iPad. “I have to go.”
“Okay, son. Take care. I’m praying for you, and know this—God’s with you every step you take. He gives His angels charge over you!”
“Yessir.” He wasn’t sure he believed all that, but it sure made him smile to hear his granddad say it. “Thank you, sir. Bye.” After stowing his iPad, Brian grabbed his gear and weapon. Weapon slung over his shoulder, he tried to shake the depression that had clung to him.
The mess with the terrorist, watching Davis die, and whatever was happening with the system/communications…
“You sure move slow for a Special Forces operator.”
Brian pivoted, stunned to find himself staring at— “Captain,” he breathed. “What…?” No way he was here for Brian. Had to be a coincidence. “Everything okay?”
“No, actually, it’s not.” Hands on his tac belt, Captain Watters shook his head. “I need my communications specialist back.”
Brian’s heart kick-started. “Seriously?”
With a one-shouldered shrug, the captain said, “Unless you want to recommend a replacement.”
Hesitation killed. But things were so messed up. Brian just wasn’t sure what he wanted and didn’t want anymore. What mattered. “No, sir.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not sure what it’s going to take to bring this freak down. Or if I have what it takes.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Brian nodded.
“I heard about the supply run ambush and those two soldiers who died.”
“Davis and Parker.”
“Right.”
“I could’ve saved them.”
“No doubt.”
“But they’re dead.”
“Which is how I’d like to make our enemy.”
“Hooah.” Brian looked around the base. “How do we know…? How do we make sur
e our coms are secure so this piece of crap doesn’t screw with us again while we hunt him down like the dog he is?”
Watters grinned. “We’ve been working some tricks, but I hoped you could come show us.”
Dare he hope? “I can come back?”
“I thought that’s what I said. Do you want to?”
Be with his brothers? Be with the men who thought and warred the way he did? Men who acted as a single unit with power and precision? Those who were actively working to bring down the psycho having entirely too much fun beating the snot out of them?
“Hooah.”
BORIS
Son of tortoises! They completely turned the tables on me. Trapped me. Forced me into doing what they wanted. Even now I can feel their Chinese breath blowing hotly down the back of my neck. I didn’t leave, though I sat in the dark for hours, debating. Arguing with myself.
Some might say I’m a big fat chicken.
They would have two of those right. But I’m no chicken. It’s more a duel of wits with these power-hungry types. Or maybe it’s more about revenge, because I am smelling a whole lot of personal stink with this whole endeavor to sabotage the American military.
The thing of it is—I’m the expert hacker. Sure, whoever the cashlord is—he’s got some serious geeks behind this. Like the chick. Clearly she has some serious skills to be able to track me down, so running would be a moot effort.
“Have you found them?”
“No!” I have no patience for her anymore. And there’s no need to show the deference I once did. Not with the way they pulled down my pants in front of God and everyone. Figuratively, of course. “No, I have not found them. You ticked them off. Now they’re off grid. This isn’t like running passports at Customs, okay?”
“No, it is not okay. You find them. Or we will—”
“I said I would, and I will.”
“Osiris wants them found.”
“Look, one thing you might need to learn about Americans is if you attack them, if you ambush them, they’re going to be pissed. And if they’re pissed, it’s going to come back to bite you in the a—”
“You are wasting time, Mr. Kolceki.”
“I’m sorry. Who started this conversation that has gotten us nowhere?” Raising my eyebrows can’t be seen, but the motion puts more emotion in my voice. Like it needs more. “Are we through here? Because you’re interrupting my progress.”
The line went dead, and though I feel a squirt of fear at upsetting them—because clearly I had; Asians aren’t one to take disrespect lightly…they have that in common with Muslims—I am just glad to have her off my back.
“Now I know what a nagging mom is like,” I mutter as my fingers continue over the keyboard.
The systems behind me are running facial recognition against the video feeds I’ve intercepted from the various bases. Surely, one of these guys has to report in or something. I mean, I know Hawk is sitting pretty—well, pretty ticked—after the stunt Kung Fu Madame pulled on him. It was pretty surreal, watching as he just lay there and did nothing.
Never thought I’d see a soldier like that lie down and play dead.
Yeah, yeah—I know he was obeying orders. But seriously? What kind of guy just sits there and does nothing? That is some serious kind of messed up.
Beeping draws my attention to the far-right system and I turn around. There on the screen is an enhanced image of Hawk. “Oh, for cryin’ out—” Wait. I scoot my chair toward that monitor. It’s Hawk, but he’s not alone. Right next to him is his boss man, Captain Watters.
Heart in my throat, I double-check the time. Ten minutes ago. Holy cow! My fingers are flying as my heart ramps up to a speed that makes me wonder if I’m going to end up at the hospital. If I’m quick enough, those two will still be on the base. If that’s true, then I can get Fly fly to hitch a ride. I giggle, which is sad, really. A guy my size should not giggle, but it’s too much to endure.
Scanning…scanning…scanning. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I mutter as Fly fly scours the base for—“Bingo!”
Hawk is jogging toward a building, and his captain steps out into the snow-laden mess.
It’s cold and wet. Fly fly might object so I double-check his systems. Confident my mechanical fly will survive the elements, I have him over the unsuspecting idiots. Right to the nondescript vehicle they climb into.
“And away we go.” I salute the two soldiers and thank them for making my job oh-so-easy, then I lift my phone. Punch in the phone number for Kung Fu Madame.
“What?”
“I’ve got them.”
CHAPTER 20
Kandahar, Afghanistan
10 February—1820 Hours
You have to move away from here.”
Mouth slightly open, Mitra stared at her.
“It’s the wise thing to do. You aren’t safe here.” Fekiria motioned to the children working on their math. “Neither are the girls!”
Mitra’s glance slid behind Fekiria to the the long hall that led to the front. “How could you bring him here? You have endangered everyone!”
“He’s a friend, Mitra. An ally!”
With a caustic laugh she turned and fled to the small kitchen area. “You, calling an American a friend and ally.” She shook her head, her yellow hijab dull against her beautiful complexion.
“He is a good man.”
“But not good enough for you to consider for marriage, and yet you want to throw my life and the girls’ lives into his hands?” Narrowed, angry eyes held hers. “If word of our location gets out to the American soldiers, it will make it to the ears of the ANA.” Her nostrils flared. “It will only be a matter of time before the Taliban raze this building!”
“What of last weekend, Mitra? They were so close, and you cannot live like that!”
“What do you know of our plight?”
“I was here! I know how close they came to discovering us.”
“You make too much of it. Do you know how many times they have come and searched?”
Fekiria drew back. Considered her friend. “They’ve been here before?”
“Often.” The fight seemed to leach out of her friend. She whirled around and dropped against one of the small shelves as she touched her temple. “But they have never come so quickly, nor have they searched the bathroom as they did when you were here.” She shook her head.
Fekiria went to her knees and took her friend’s hands. “Let us take you out of here. Captain Ripley can get help from the Americans. We can move you and the girls safely to another location.”
“Then it will just start over.”
“But it is a start. A chance to be free.”
“I…I will pray about it. But I must tell you, it does not feel right.”
Pray. Fekiria wanted to roll her eyes. “Every day you are here is a day they could find you.”
“If we leave, we have nowhere to hide. No friends who will shelter us.” She sighed and lowered her gaze. “We fight for what we have, but we do have it. This is our home. We have no money to start over.”
“But—”
“If it was only me, I would go. No doubt. And I would thank you. But there are six of us. Five children. They cannot flit from place to place.”
“You could get killed!”
Softness and what looked like sympathy crowded Mitra’s face. “We could get killed anywhere. It is safest for us here.”
“If I can find a place in another town, will you go?”
“I will pray about it. That is all I can promise right now.”
Pray. When lives were in danger. Fekiria wanted to scream. Instead, she gave a nod as she considered the girls—and stilled. Captain Ripley squatted next to the table, smiling at Aadela, the six-year-old with dark, expressive eyes that could captivate anyone. And she apparently had captivated the captain.
The little one asked if he was Fekiria’s husband. Then she went on to explain that he must be because he was here with her alone.
The p
revalent male-dominated world was much more prominent in the south, where the Taliban had taken hold again.
Captain Ripley looked up at Fekiria, and she saw his hopes as clear as she could see the snow-capped mountains that stood in the distance, beyond the window, abutting the city. He pushed to his feet then joined her, touching her arm lightly. “Are you okay?”
“She will not leave.”
“I agree with her.”
Fekiria frowned. “They are in danger!”
“They will be in danger anywhere in the country, especially if they are being educated. That doesn’t change.”
“It is safer in the north.”
His gray eyes probed her response, and she knew he was thinking of Zahrah. Of what happened at their school. “It was different with my cousin.”
“How?”
“She drew their attention because she has a degree in quantum cryptology.” Fekiria folded her arms. “I do not know what to do.”
“You help her,” Captain Ripley said, his voice gentle but firm. “We can probably get some people at the base to donate items. We’ll do it quietly so we don’t draw attention. Little by little, we can get them supplied.” Fekiria stared at him, surprised and impressed at his consideration. His willingness to help them. “Why would you do this?”
He smiled at her, his touch once again warm against her elbow. “Because it means a lot to you.”
Tugging her elbow free only fueled her irritation. “Do not do this to get me. Do this because it is right!” With that, she crossed the room and said her good-byes to Mitra. They must return to the base. “I’ll come tomorrow and help.”
Mitra hugged her. “Please do not be angry with me.”
“I just want you to be safe.”
“Thank you. God will protect as He sees fit. I trust Him.”
“Even when your husband is dead?”
“Jacob is not here. God is. He has never left me. Never made me go without. And now, He has sent you.” Mitra’s smile was full and almost ethereal. “I am blessed!”
They hugged again. Fekiria could not help the laugh that bubbled up. “For once, I understand how frustrated my parents and cousin were when I refused to do what they wanted.”