by Taki Drake
Pam’s excited shout ripped the woman out of her introspection and sent all three friends running back toward their sentry as soon as they understood what she was saying. Repeating it again, Pam yelled even more loudly, “Come quickly, the vultures are circling on the other side of the road from you, but I just saw a stone thrown from the ground at one of them. I think Jumal is alive!”
Mary ignored the sharp pain in her ribs and the rapid beat of her heart as she sprinted toward where the bird circled. Unable to run and yell simultaneously with her constricted chest, the woman was pleased when both of her friends began to call out his name.
When his bloodied and contorted form came into view, Mary began to sob. Slamming to the ground by his side, the sharp stab of agony from her ribs became a minor consideration. Now openly weeping, she clutched his shoulders and hugged him to her chest, murmuring nonsense words of comfort as she felt the reality of his heart beating.
Connie and Naomi worked as a coordinated team, first checking his injuries and then trying to contain those that were still bleeding. Their young escort had been shot at least six times, some of them resulting in nasty wounds that had ground in dirt and grime. Naomi’s face was stone, but the pain in her eyes told Mary that the situation was serious.
While the other two women worked to make him transportable, Mary’s mind chewed on the problem of moving him. Catching sight of his downed motorcycle, her ideas started to percolate. Abruptly, the group leader asked, “Can either of you drive a motorcycle?”
In a surprising response, Connie said, “Yes, I can. Although it is more correct to ask if you can ride a motorcycle.” When Naomi muttered a distracted negative, Mary raised her voice and yelled over to Pam the same question. Again surprising the group leader, it turned out that Pam did indeed know how to ride a motorcycle.
Mary began to smile as her plan came together.
It was less than a half-hour later when Geri heard the growl of two slow-moving motorcycles. Looking around her nervously, the woman could see nothing that would help defend her two sleeping patients. Luckily, before she could panic completely, the first motorcycle came into view, making a slow and careful zigzag down the side of the hill that their bus had tumbled. Precariously perched on the motorcycle's back was a trio with Jumal’s unconscious form sandwiched between Connie and Naomi.
Helplessly, Geri began to sob, the relief that she felt triggering an explosion of emotion that she had not been capable of releasing until now. Almost making her eyes pop out of her head, the second motorcycle followed closely behind, driven by Pam with Haji’s body slung over the back and piled high with the recovered weapons.
The oldest group member shook and sobbed, her hands muffling the sounds so that she did not wake either of her two patients. When Mary sank down to sit beside her, Geri saw the profound exhaustion in the woman’s face and the careful way she braced her ribs.
Apologizing, Geri stammered, “I am sorry. I have just been so worried about everybody.”
Wearily but gently, Mary whispered, “It is all right. This is your time to break down and cry. Just make sure that I get a turn also.”
Chapter 16 – Encountered
Naomi and Geri had managed to set up two lean-tos using some of the bigger rugs and fabrics they had gotten on their trip. They and the twins had even cleaned out the smaller, sharper rocks on the ground and laid plenty of smaller rugs for padding.
The most protected of the two shelters was also the biggest. Abdul and Jumal had been carefully carried over to the new location using lash together stretchers that Naomi had put together using metal from the wrecked bus and braided cord one of the women had purchased the previous day.
Jean had stubbornly insisted on not being carried. Instead, the pale-faced woman had limped her wobbly way over to the new shelter, desperately clinging to Mary and Geri’s arms. Easing the panting woman to the third pallet that they had prepared, the two women had exchanged dismayed glances as they saw the new trickles of blood that snaked around her arms and legs.
Patty came over with a bottle of water and cajoled Jean into drinking some. Turning to say something comforting to the injured woman, the three friends saw that she had fallen asleep or unconscious. Mary murmured, “We may have to send somebody out on one of the motorcycles to try to find help. I do not want to run that risk, but with three seriously injured people and the rest of us walking wounded in one form or another, I do not see how this situation is going to improve.”
Involuntarily, the three women looked at the two young injured men. Both were unconscious, although Abdul had awakened several times for a brief period. Mary took solace in the fact that the young man was coherent but weak when he woke, but his repeated periods of unconsciousness worried her greatly.
Jumal was not doing as well. Geri had first washed out his wounds to the best of her ability, but it was not enough. Some of the injuries kept leaking. In desperation, the older woman had covered the gaping holes with sanitary pads to absorb some of the trickling fluids before applying pressure with compression bandages.
In between the tasks of setting up the camp and gleaning what they could from the bus, the women had taken turns patching each other up. There were so many scrapes, scratches, and cuts that they would have run out of items in the first-aid kit, so they just concentrated on the ones that looked the most dangerous.
There was not much they could do about Jean’s injuries. Geri and Mary spent an hour carefully pulling off and out the glass pieces they could see, but neither had the expertise to probe and retrieve anything from the deeper cuts. Mary was desperately worried that she had no way of treating infections. Her old friend’s temperature was going up, and her flushed face and increasingly disoriented look when she opened her eyes told the group leader that her patient was rapidly going to need more expertise than she could provide.
Leaving Patty sitting in the shade among the three patients, armed with several water bottles, Mary and Geri joined Pam in finding the best place to move the motorcycles and the weapons they had collected. They finally decided on placing that cache next to the invalid shelter, reasoning that it would be easier to conceal it there and the person sitting with her injured members could keep a close eye on the guns and transports.
Connie and Naomi were sorting through the bits and pieces of food and water that had been scavenged from the bus. Luckily, Abdul had been thoughtful and careful about always having water. They managed to extract six large intact water containers and two partially broken ones that they had carefully dragged to the campsite to use for cooking.
Mary was standing on the edge of their camp, trying to make sense of the pile of random bits and pieces. There was no way that she could picture a bus falling off the side of a hill, rolling, and crashing as it had, that would produce this type of damage to so many things. She was holding some shredded fabric and suitcase material when a harsh voice from the hillside startled her into dropping her handful of debris.
توقف و قرار دادن دست خود را تا سر خود را! a male voice shouted.
The stress and strain of their tumultuous day had been held back by Mary’s control, but the harsh and demanding tone of the unknown language was just more than the woman could handle. Fury erupted along each nerve and every muscle of Mary’s body. Setting her hands onto her hips as she turned, the woman shouted back, “If you want me to understand, you’re going to have to speak English because our translators are dead or unconscious!”
Mary refused to back down and stood defiantly, staring toward the direction of the voice.
There was a moment of quiet before the voice was heard again demanding in English, “Drop all of your weapons and put your hands in the air!”
Mary was beyond reason, driven to the absolute brink of rage. She took a small step toward the voice and stopped shaking with the power of her fury. The woman put all of her fear, anger, and grief into her answer, “Don’t be ridiculous! I told you our translators are dead or unconsciou
s, and although we still have their weapons, the only one of us that really understands anything about them is also unconscious. If you think anything differently, you have been out in the sun too long! Either come in and help us or get the hell away from here!”
With that, she bent over, picking up the pieces and scraps that she had dropped and turning back toward camp. Dead men and accidents in a foreign land were confusing new experiences, while misbehaving males were a familiar challenge. After all, she had been married for decades and raised a male child.
Stalking back with steps powered by her anger, Mary joined the rest of her group around a pile of wood that Naomi was attempting to use for their cook fire. She met their astonished gazes with a twisted smile and shrugged her shoulders. Waving them to sit down, the group leader joined Connie on a makeshift bench and began helping to sort out the foodstuffs.
Naomi met her gaze and silently mouthed, “Go, girl!” as they waited for what came next.
Their camp was invaded with a rush of what seemed like a horde, one that was comprised of large, uniformed men with guns in their hands and festooned with belts, patches, and the confusion of unfamiliar accessories. With a precision that spoke of many repetitions, they spread out to surround and target the women with their weapons. The rapid movement and the shouting that accompanied it disoriented the seated group.
Naomi was so startled that she dropped what she was holding and took a couple of steps backward. One of the soldiers, seeing her movement, spun around and jabbed his weapon into her stomach, causing her to drop to her knees in pain. Clutching her belly and retching helplessly, the injured woman was a pitiful sight.
Mary’s fury was reignited. Jumping to her feet and ignoring the involuntary movements of two of the soldiers as they aimed their guns at her, she yelled, “Shame on you! We have just survived a horrible bus accident, and now you’re poking people in the stomach? What sort of idiot gave you a gun?”
The enraged woman had found an outlet for the fear, pain, and grief that had been building for so long. She handed the can of beans she was holding to Connie and advanced furiously toward the soldier. Seemingly oblivious to any danger that she might be in, Mary continued, “Any idiot could see that we are not holding weapons and that we are definitely not fighters! Now you apologize to Naomi and help her stand up. She needs to be in a hospital bed, not clutching another injury!” With that, Mary stood with her hands on her hips and stared at the soldier.
The man was so taken aback that he didn’t know what to do. He glanced between Mary and another, slightly older soldier with an agonized expression, clearly torn as to what his next action should be. His decision was made for him when the older man said, “Jarvis, secure your weapon and assist the woman.”
The relieved soldier immediately slung his gun and went over to Naomi, words of apology tumbling out of his mouth. The breathless woman nodded in acknowledgment but continued to struggle for breath against the pain, causing the embarrassed man to speak even faster. He helped her to her feet and then guided her to a nearby rock to sit down.
Mary snorted and said, “Geri, could you please go make sure that Naomi is okay and help the untrained idiot to check her out?”
Geri nodded her head and moved over to join Naomi and Jarvis.
Turning her attention to the force’s leader, Mary asked, “Shouldn’t they be better trained?”
The man, whose uniform showed both Corporal rank and the last name of Simmons, stared at her intently for a moment. He seemed to be searching her eyes and face for the answer to an important question, one that he wasn’t ready to ask out loud. Finally, he said, “Yes, ma’am. However, I think you have to cut him a little slack. Of all the things that we have encountered in our tour here, you all are the very last thing anyone would have expected.”
“Then perhaps you should have the rest of your men stop pointing guns at us and start looking the other way for possible problems,” Mary contributed.
Smiling broadly at her response, Corporal Simmons raised his voice and ordered, “Franks and Jones, picket east, Marx and Johnson, take West, rest stand down.” As his men moved to obey, the Corporal gestured to Mary to take a seat on a convenient rock and said, “Now perhaps ma’am, you can tell me how a group of what looks like my grandma, mama, and their friends end up in the middle of Afghanistan. And please leave nothing out.”
With a relieved sigh, Mary seated herself on the rock and began to fill in the story of exactly how they got there.
Chapter 17 – Situation Summary
It had taken Mary about an hour to fully explain how they had ended up on a mountainside in Afghanistan next to a damaged bus. She noticed that quite a few of the soldiers were shamelessly eavesdropping, but it didn’t bother her. What did irritate her was that a couple of them made disgusted sounds at various points in her account. The most derisive of the men seemed to be especially critical of their very presence. She noticed him mainly because of a similarity to her son, Matthew. A pang of oft-repeated pain shot through her like a lightning bolt to the heart when she realized why he looked familiar.
Several of the women had come over to add their contributions to the accounting. They filled in information that Mary had not known or had forgotten. Corporal Simmons had looked more bemused as their story unfolded. When their explanations had finished, he ordered several men to examine the bus and their medic to look at their wounded.
The young NCO, who had requested Mary to please call him by his first name, Peter, asked for clarification on a couple of points, including the accident’s timing and if any of them had noticed the sound of a weapon firing right before the bus had seemed to jump. None of the women sitting or standing around the fire remembered anything that had seemed strange.
Before Corporal Simmons could continue his questioning, the corpsman that Peter had sent to check out the wounded shouted from the inside of the shelter, “Corporal, the woman here says that right after the explosion happened, she heard two guns firing in the distance that then were answered by their escorts’ weapons. She seems pretty positive, and the lady sitting here with her says that she knows what she is talking about.” After a pause, he added, “She says that the sound was higher in tone and sharper. Something about it being similar to a Heckler and Koch MP5.”
The Corporal’s face showed doubt, so Mary explained, “Jean is our gun nut. She not only hunts every season but has a sharpshooter rating from the local club. She loves weapons, and I would trust what she says, but you might want to look at the weapons we pulled off the dead bodies.”
Peter’s face went slack, and his mouth hung open. Mary heard gasps from the other soldiers that have been eavesdropping. One of them asked in a shaking voice, “Ma’am, do you mean you searched dead bodies?” Before Mary could respond, Pam interrupted ruthlessly.
Fire in her eyes and her mouth pulled into a straight line, the motherly-looking woman harshly demanded, “Of course, we did. Before Abdul lost all consciousness, he made us promise to retrieve his friends’ weapons so that they did not go to arm dangerous people. When Mary and I went to check on our two escorts, we found Haji dead, pinned under where his motorcycle had fallen. Jumal was barely alive and trying to avoid being lunch for a black vulture. I had to shoot at the blasted thing before it would leave him alone.”
Murmurs of sound came from their audience, but nobody asked anything specific.
Mary took over the narrative, saying, “Naomi and Connie had followed behind us when they heard Pam shooting. We saw signs of the ambushers and went to investigate. Both of those men were dead, and we decided that it would be stupid to leave their weapons to supply some other pair of bandits, so we took those too.”
Connie chimed in, adding, “We gathered the personal possessions and put them in individual sacks, in case there was someone who should receive the property.”
More harshly, Mary stated, “I hoped that the contents would help someone figure out where they came from and if they belong to a larger group.”
Corporal Simmons shifted uncomfortably in his seat, asking, “Could you describe the scene for us? Since you have moved the bodies and the weapons, it would be difficult for us to reconstruct what actually happened.”
Naomi had been sitting by the fire quietly, refusing to go lie down even though she remained curled over her aching gut. Mary knew that her curiosity was currently greater than her pain, but kept a careful eye on her in case she needed assistance. Hearing the Corporal’s comment, she straightened up slightly and stated, “I took pictures of the site before we moved things. If you would like, I can send you copies of those images.”
Smiling in gratitude, the young NCO offered effusive thanks, commenting, “That would be very helpful. I am trying to put this all together in my head but still have blank spots. Even if the pictures are very general, I think they will give us better insight.”
Naomi smiled a bit wryly, saying, “Just make sure that you have room on your device for more than 600 pictures. They follow typical forensic patterning, starting with general landscape pictures and then going down two more detailed levels of everything we moved or noticed. I just need to go get my camera, and I can download them for you.” When the group’s main photographer tried to get up, she gasped in pain and tightly clutched her abdomen.
Jarvis had jumped up as she gasped and rushed over to her, saying urgently, “Just tell me where your camera is, and I will go get it for you. You should just sit there and rest!”
Tears from the pain pouring down her face, Naomi nodded her head, telling him softly where to find her equipment. The young soldier rushed off, and the group around the fire was silent while he ran his errand. Mary could feel a complex swirl of emotion as it filled the air with threads of amazement, disbelief, and confusion. I wonder what their problem is? she thought to herself.