A smart rap comes at my door, and I smother a yawn. It’s early morning. Dawn hasn’t even broken. We’re leaving today, heading back to base. My thoughts are filled with Jake. He’s probably gone now. I’m already kicking myself for walking off, cutting short our conversation.
“Murphy?” It’s Connor.
Miss you, I add quickly.
Love, your best friend.
I hit send and rise to answer it.
“There was a Taliban attack during the night,” he says through the closed door, his voice loud. “In the village,” he adds.
My throat tightens with a sense of dread. I stalk to the door wearing my army pants and white tank top, not fully dressed. My feet are bare and my hair is out and tousled from sleep when usually it’s pulled into a sleek plaited knot at the nape of my neck. I’ve always cared about looking respectable around the guys, the less feminine the better, but right now I couldn’t care less.
I yank the door open. “A Taliban attack in the village?”
His eyes skim over me quickly, but he says nothing about my disarray. His face is pale. “Yeah.”
“Jesus.” I swallow. “How bad?”
He shakes his head. “We don’t know. Suit up. We’re heading out.”
I’m tense during the drive. It takes too long, as if time has slowed to a crawl. I feel like I could get out and run faster. Instead, I sit there, hands fisted on my lap, potential IEDs not even a thought in my head.
We screech to a stop at the west end of the village, dust flying up and coating my skin as I leap from the truck, turning to grab my medi pack. I’m shouldering it, running behind Marsh and Connor as smoke rises from buildings, the scent singeing my nostrils. Wails render the air. Sobbing. I don’t know where to start. Bodies litter the ground everywhere. Burnt, stabbed, bleeding out. There are kids. God, little babies cut down and bloodied.
Bile floods my throat. The soldier beside me veers off and bends at the waist, vomit flying from his mouth.
I turn in a circle, frantic and lost.
I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I can’t.
“Doc!” I stop turning and my eyes find Marsh kneeling on the ground beside a body, checking for a pulse. “He’s still alive.” He looks up, brows snapping together. “Doc, goddammit! Get over here now!”
His shout jolts me like an electrical current. I start towards him, spurred into action. The man is on his stomach. I press my fingers to his neck. He has a pulse but it’s thready. “We need to roll him over.”
But when we do, his insides spill out all over himself, covering my hands. There’s no hope. I shake my head at Marsh, and we move on to the next body. And the next. Then there’s a shout through the village, my name being yelled in a high-pitched Afghani accent.
“Jah-mee! Jah-mee!” I stand quickly, searching in the direction of the sound. It’s Arash. “Jah-mee!”
He’s running towards me, and I’m so relieved to see him alive that my legs almost give out. He yells again, frantic. “Jah-mee!”
I reach for him and he grabs my hand, tugging me backwards with all his might. “Fix!” he shouts, desperate. “Fix!”
He drags me and I follow along with a glance behind me. “Marsh,” I jerk my head in the direction I’m going, indicating for him to follow.
We reach a man on the ground. Arash drops to his knees in the dirt by his side and looks up at me. It’s his father. “Fix!”
I crouch beside Arash, pressing my fingers to his neck. There’s no pulse. The man is cold to the touch, his eyes closed and lips purple. I lift his bloodied shirt. Two bullet wounds decorate his chest, both not bleeding. His heart has stopped pumping. Likely hours ago. I can’t fix this.
“He’s gone, Arash.” My jaw trembles. “I’m sorry.”
“Fix!” he screams, gesturing violently at the man. His face is twisted in anguish, not understanding my lack of action.
“I can’t, Arash. I’m sorry.” I shake my head and he seems to get it. “I can’t.”
His little face crumples. “Jah-mee.”
Marsh puts his hands on his hips, cursing under his breath. His struggle for composure is almost lost, and he turns his head.
I rise to my feet and fold Arash close, brushing my hand over his soft dark curls. I know what it feels like to lose a father so violently, and my heart aches for him. I take his face in my hands and he looks up at me. “Where is your mother?”
He shakes his head, not understanding, tears a river down his cheeks. I wipe at them. “Madar?” I try. “Maman?”
“Nekyehr!” he says in Farsi. “Nekyehr!”
It means no. He has no mother.
“Private Murphy.”
I shake my head at Marsh. I can’t leave him.
“Private Murphy,” he says again, harder this time. “There are injured people here. You need to help them.”
But Arash is clinging to me, his fingers twisting in my uniform.
“That’s an order,” he barks.
I set my jaw and peel his little fingers away, feeling sick as I set him aside and walk away. Yet Arash screams and clings to me, not letting me go. “I’ll take him,” Marsh says and grabs the little boy up in his arms, freeing me to leave.
I walk away, knowing I shouldn’t glance back, but I do. His arms are outstretched, reaching for me. He’s crying and screaming as if I’m all he has left in the world. My heart breaks into pieces as I leave him behind.
14
JAMIE
It’s early, not even five a.m. I’m in the gym back on base with only two other people doing their own thing, sweating through my long-sleeved fitted sports shirt and full-length tights, ear buds in and iPod blaring Cold Chisel because the music reminds me of home. It’s Australia. “Flame Trees” more so than any other song. It was Dad’s favourite.
Winter has hit, and while it’s not quite snowing yet, it’s freaking cold. My hair is piled in a messy knot on top of my head, and my face is flushed and damp.
I’m on the stair climber after finishing up a weights session, and it feels good, stretching out my legs, taking step after step, muscles working, thighs straining, calves burning. There’s little else you can think about during a workout. Your mind is focused on your reps, your form, your breathing, and pushing through the burn.
My legs start to wobble. I’m reaching the point where I can’t continue, but I don’t want to stop. I flick to an upbeat song and close my eyes, holding on to the rails as I push through, squeezing every last drop of energy I have left until I achieve fatigue. Maybe then I’ll sleep tonight.
The music reaches an end. I open my eyes to find a soldier standing in front of me. A big one. I don’t recognise him for a moment. There’s a distinct lack of dirt and beard. His jaw is clean-shaven and strong, his face startlingly appealing. And his eyes. They’re focused on me, clear and striking and fringed with wonderfully thick lashes. I jerk, almost falling off the climber. It’s Kyle. Chest hair peeks out from the muscle shirt he’s wearing, and biceps thick with corded muscle are on display. A towel is slung over his shoulder and drink bottle in hand, proclaiming him workout ready.
“You look like you’re done,” he says.
Damn him. I am done. But the way he says it, as if I should just run along now like a good little girl, means I have to keep going until I pass out. I don’t know what it is about this dude that rubs me the wrong way. He just leaves me feeling like I have something to prove.
I hit the speed button and the stairs ratchet up another notch. Then I point to my ear buds and shake my head as if I can’t hear him.
The jerk has the gall to laugh at me. “Your iPod isn’t even playing.”
I look down. The screen is black. The battery life on the stupid thing has exposed my little lie, and he seems thoroughly entertained.
“I’m not done.”
Kyle doesn’t move. The stair climber is popular. The training is necessary for those on constant patrol. “I can wait.”
I climb a few more steps a
nd my legs scream in protest. “Seriously? You’re just going to stand there?”
He shrugs. “You won’t be much longer.”
“I’ll be ages yet,” I reply, trying for a ‘sorry not sorry’ smile and failing because I’m puffing as if I’m in the final leg of a triathlon.
“When did you get back?” he asks, folding his arms. Muscles bulge everywhere and it looks ridiculous. Is he aiming for The Hulk aesthetic?
I pull the earbuds from my ears. “How did you even know I was gone?”
“I haven’t seen you around.”
My brows knit, confused. “You were looking for me?”
“No. Tanner mentioned you’d been assigned off base somewhere.”
“Has he—” Crap. I was going to ask this guy if Jake had mentioned me. I’ve truly lost my mind.
Kyle grins as if he knows exactly what I was going to ask. Damn him. “Maybe you can ask him yourself,” he says, jerking his head towards the gym entrance. Jake is walking in. I almost miss a step. He’s just so … golden. It’s like basking in sunshine. He sees us and a happy smile lights his face. He starts our way and I’m suddenly realising how much I stink, lamenting the sweat patches on my workout clothes and the hair sticking to my face. I free a hand to swipe at the damp strands and almost lose my balance.
I quickly grab the rail as he reaches my side. “Hey. When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.”
“How was it?”
An ache grips my belly, the simple question undoing everything my workout was designed to achieve. I paste a smile on my face. “It was great.”
“Are you sure about that?” Brooks interjects, cocking his head as he watches me gasp and puff through my steps.
I shoot him a dirty look, not even having to wonder how he knows. This base is a cesspool of gossip, as if there’s nothing better to do than act like a bunch of high school kids with too much time on their hands.
Jake looks between us both, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“I heard the village was—”
“He means nothing.” I hit stop on the machine and it powers down, the stairs slowing to a stop. I grab my towel where it’s slung across the side, my legs almost giving out beneath me as I climb off.
It puts me in close proximity to Jake who, thankfully, doesn’t take a step back after getting a full whiff of my sweaty stench. I look up at him from beneath my lashes with what I hope is a sultry smile, though it probably looks like I’m having a stroke. Either way, it distracts him from asking any further questions. “Machine’s free if you want it.”
“Thanks.” Jake grins down at me. “Maybe we can catch up this afternoon? Play some cards or watch a movie?”
A ripple of pleasure flutters over me. “That sounds fun.”
“Great.” He jumps on the stair climber, placing his water bottle in the drink holder before looking at me. “I’ll come get you later.”
“Wait. I should wipe the machine down.”
“I’m not worried about a bit of sweat, army girl,” Jake says, punching the buttons on the machine to fire it up. “Especially from you.”
“Well okay then.” I start walking backwards to leave, wiping at my face with my towel. “Catch you later.”
I glance over my shoulder before exiting the gym. Jake winks at me, his eyes dropping to my ass. Kyle is watching my face as if he knows exactly what that was all about.
I shake my head in warning, and his lips press flat. With Jake now occupying the stair climber he was waiting for, he moves off towards the squat rack. I jerk open the door, cool air blasting me as if I opened a freezer door. After a shower and breakfast, I spend the day at the hospital, assigned the task of stocktake, alongside Wood and two admin staff, for our medical supplies. It’s tedious but joking with my best friend makes the day go faster, and I have Jake to look forward to this afternoon.
When we’re done for the day, I race back to my room and tidy myself up, which basically means re-doing my hair from a bun to a braid. I’m lamenting the fact I can’t change into something a little sexier than a bulky uniform in desert camouflage when a knock comes at the door.
My pulse leaps. I open it and Jake is on the other side. I want to fist my hand in his shirt and drag him inside my room. The gleam of frustration in his green eyes suggests he wouldn’t be averse to the idea. “Ready for a game of cards?”
I sigh audibly, the tone inferring I’d rather be doing something so much more fun. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I step out into the hall because all hell will break loose if he steps one foot inside, and he gestures in front of him, letting me lead the way towards the games room.
“So, I’m assuming you’re based in Brisbane or Townsville?” he asks as we walk.
“Townsville. And you’re Perth, right?” Because that’s where the SAS are stationed. Campbell Barracks at Swanbourne.
“Yeah, that’s me. The other side of the country to you.” His tone is rueful. “We had to fly all the way to Afghanistan just so we could play a game of cards together.”
I laugh, brushing at my neat braid when I’d rather be reaching for his hand. “FYI, I’m just as good at cards as I am at Call of Duty.”
He grins. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
We start with a simple game of Snap, just the two of us, but sexual tension crackles in the air every time my hand slaps his or his mine. And then he’ll slide his palm away slowly, a caress that sets my blood on fire.
My eyes meet his over the cards I’ve held up to cover my hot face. “Maybe we should try a different game.”
He swallows. “Good idea.”
We move on to Gin Rummy, and Wood joins us soon after, taking a seat at my side. I’m about to introduce him when Kyle joins us, followed by one of the other SAS soldiers who joined us at the breakfast table the morning I first ran into Jake.
It turns our cosy twosome into a rowdy group as introductions are made all round. I half-rise, reaching across the gaming table to shake the hand of the infamous Ryan Kendall, the best friend Jake grew up with, before I let go and sit back down. He’s clean-shaven, his cropped hair dark and eyes darker, though they’re friendly as he takes my hand. “You’re the one who blew up the fridge.”
Ryan laughs as he takes the seat opposite mine, slapping his friend on the back. “Ahhh good times.”
Wood is taking his time looking at Jake, eyes narrowed as he rubs at his jaw. “And you’re the one who—”
My elbow jabs him sharply in the side. Obviously he knows who Jake is after Erin ran her mouth off after basic training. My friends have a lot to answer for.
“Who what?” Kyle asks.
Wood snickers from beside me, and I want to punch him in the nuts. “You’re so immature,” I hiss under my breath so only he can hear.
“Who pounded my friend here at Call of Duty,” he says across the table.
“Pounded?” I hiss again. “Nice choice of words, Wood.” He snickers again as if he’s having a merry old time. “Why are you here?”
“To play cards,” he tells me with an innocent expression before speaking louder for the whole group to hear. “How about poker?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of soft, chewy jelly beans. My eyes narrow on the large plastic packet he tosses onto the table. I know for a fact that Erin sent him those. She sent me a care package with the same exact things. “Jelly beans are the stakes.”
“I’m in,” Jake says.
“Same,” Kyle echoes.
Ryan simply reaches across and takes the packet, ripping it open. He tips the colourful, squishy beans on the table and counts them out into an even group of five.
I cup my beans in both hands and drag them towards me. Jelly beans are a high commodity here. The sugar hit is enough to keep a soldier going for hours. “You all are gonna lose.”
“No offence, GI Jane, but you don’t have a poker face,” Kyle taunts from across the table.
“You think you can heckle me?” I fl
ick one of my jelly beans at his face. It pings off his forehead and onto the floor. The soldier on the couch by our table snatches it up and pops it in his mouth, grinning as he chews before returning his attention to the movie playing out on the television. I’m pleased with my aim. It was worth the loss. “Don’t call me GI Jane.”
There are various ‘oooooh’s’ around the table, and I roll my eyes as the cards get shuffled and dealt. The rules of the game get looser as the afternoon progresses and our group a little rowdier. Jelly beans ‘accidentally’ get eaten by sore losers—which is mostly me—some roll off the table and get snatched up by vultures, and others seem to mysteriously disappear.
I’m down to two beans when it comes time for dinner. “Brooks was right,” Wood jokes. “Your poker face is for shit.”
I look across at Kyle’s pile, which is non-existent, while Jake’s haul of jelly beans is a mini-mountain. “It’s not the worst though.” I smirk at Kyle. “Tanner whooped your ass.”
Everyone laughs and Jake eyes me across the table, waggling his eyebrows. “Looks like you’re my good luck charm.” He halves the pile with his hand and pushes them across to me. “You can be my poker buddy any day,” he says to a burst of ribbing from his mates.
My face burns hot because all I can think about is gladly being his buddy any day where there’s poking involved. I know Wood is hearing everything I’m not saying by the way he kicks me in the ankle while smothering a shout of laughter.
“Thanks, Jake,” I say sweetly and pop one in my mouth, chewing and grinning at him as I pocket the shared half.
We finish up and eat dinner in the mess hall as a group, though Jake seats himself at the end of the table next to me, which means we have our own private conversation and manage to tune everyone out.
It’s late when I realise they’ve all gone, even Wood, leaving just the two of us. I glance around. The dinner rush is over. There’s only a sporadic bunch of soldiers left grabbing a bite to eat. “We should go.”
Jake stacks my tray with his and dumps it off. Then we leave together. I look up as we step outside. The stars are bright tonight and pretty. Even here in a war zone there’s beauty to be found somewhere.
Fighting Absolution Page 13