Captive

“Not only was he fearless, but Josh was also a leader and role model of diligence, a soldier who was always prepared, ” Andrew read the eulogy he wrote for my brother’s funeral to the 300 family, friends, and brothers in arms who were in attendance.

“He anticipated and calculated every possibility. He even sketched the details of his own funeral. He was the type of guy who would remember your mother’s birthday and would cut you some slack when you missed your family. I am proud to say that I served alongside Josh Shaw. I speak for everyone when I say that Josh will be missed, but never forgotten.”

As the choir sang “In Flanders Fields,” my mother stood dry-eyed, clutching to her chest the folded flag that was draped over my brother’s coffin.

It had been a week of pain and loss. On the day of my brother’s funeral, she chose to say goodbye to him as the person who he had always known her to be – strong and proud.

She was the woman who would carry the whole world over her shoulders without a single complaint. She was the fierce, protective mother that had only spoken a few words the day she said goodbye to her firstborn.

“Josh has answered his callings and followed his dream, and he is proud of what he’s accomplished for our country, let us always remember that.”

*****

No Flanders Fields will be sung and no Lost Post will be played at my funeral because I did not plan on dying in the battlefield, nor will I be killed in a battle that was not ours to fight.

I was a soldier who was ready to die but only on her own terms. I was a soldier who was not afraid because she’s earned her stripes time and again.

Warriors had their rituals the night before surrendering to their fate in the battleground. I had none. But like all good warriors, I stayed up all night with my “brother in arms” strategizing and calculating every single possibility.

At two in the morning, a potential ally unlocked our cell.

“Come,” Zahra whispered. She had a flashlight, with no gun in sight. We exchanged looks and decided to follow her.

“No noise,” she whispered again.

As we followed close behind her, there were no handcuffs, guns, or blindfolds holding us back from sprinting down that hill. But that was not the plan. So, we walked side by as we entered the dark house.

I trusted that she knew where the two bastards were, but I still asked.

“They sleep in other house,” she spoke with a low voice.

“What happened?” Crosby asked. “Why did they hurt him?”

Instead of answering, she took my hand and pulled me towards her father’s room. Crosby followed close behind.

The light of one candle lit the room. I could see her grandmother sitting at her son’s side, her face contorted in worry.

The mailman had a large bandage over his left shoulder and one over his leg. He was conscious but seemed quite weak.

“Gunshot?”

Zahra shook her, “knife.”

“Like a dagger?” Crosby asked terrified.

“Was that only a warning? If they wanted him dead, he would have been by now,” I said to Zahra, but again she did not provide an answer.

The grandmother started talking to me and crying. I didn’t understand a word, but Zahra explained that she was begging me to save him.

“Why would we help him?” Crosby asked, his face stone cold.

“Because if we don’t, he’s going to die,” I said that loud and clear once I was done with my quick check-up.

Zahra’s eyes widened, “I help you escape,” she answered, holding a familiar first aid kit in one hand and car keys in the other.

I smiled triumphantly.

“Okay, but first, I need to know the whole story of why your dad got attacked. Also, how are we gonna escape without alarming Hassan’s men?”

As I tended to her dad, Zahra explained to us the conflict that apparently involved her. I was quite sure she left some details out. She also proposed an escape plan that was not too far off our own plot. Though risky, it was a decent strategy, one that reassured us that the teenager would not be able to stab us in the back.

“How far is Baghdad from here?”

“Four hours,” Zahra said and I frowned.

“Four? How far is the nearest hospital then?” I asked.

“Two hours, in village, but Daesh on road,” Zahra said.

“Okay, two hours is not so bad. Let’s go!” I said hurriedly.

Crosby pulled me to the side, “are we sure of this?”

“It’s the best option we have. She is not going to risk her father’s life.”

“What about Daesh, that’s another word for ISIS, right?”

“We’ll find a way. We can’t miss out on this opportunity. Now, we need to transport her dad, do you think you can help?”

“It’s not about if I can, it’s about if I want to,” Crosby muttered. “But fine, I trust your instincts. I’ll be the muscle and you’ll be the brains.”

As we discussed how we’re going to proceed, Zahra’s grandmother came running back to the room and spoke with fear.

“What is it?” Crosby asked.

“She see light there,” Zahra said pointing in the direction of the other house.

We turned off the candle and stayed quiet. Zahra and Crosby surveyed the source of light as I reassured the grandmother who was freaking out still.

“They must have went back to sleep. It’s off now,” Crosby said.

“Let’s wait a few more minutes, just to be safe. Zahra, ask your grandmother if she gathered what we need.”

“Yes,” Zahra said.

The moment to make our exit has come. That was it.

Crosby carried the mailman in his strong arms as we walked the bumpy trails of the dark orchards. I helped Crosby carry the mailman down the steep hill at the bottom of which a rusty old truck awaited.

We were five and the truck can fit only three in front. Two of us had to stay in the cargo bed. The mailman was obviously one of the two since he had to stay in a lying position.

Crosby offered to be the second, but I couldn’t let him. He wouldn’t know what to do if the mailman’s condition worsened. But the main reason was that the person sitting there would be the most exposed.

“And you want to be that person?” he asked aggravated.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” I asked him to prove my point. “Didn’t think so.”

Zahra had a problem with me staying in the back, too. She didn’t trust me with the gun, the real gun she managed to snatch. I have learned that – funnily enough – the guns that she and the mailman used to bluster us into submission were loaded with blanks. It didn’t come as a surprise given that they were pretty much prisoners like us.

“Zahra, we’ve talked about this. We’re in this together. We need each other to escape. Do you understand my words? I will not hurt you, but if someone decided to fire at us, your dad will be in danger. I will need this gun if we were to save him!” I said getting impatient.

We were wasting precious time on something that we have already discussed back at the house. Thankfully, she had no other choice but to finally trust me.

While the teenager helped her grandma into the truck, Crosby secured the tailgates closed behind me. He grabbed my hand, “be careful,” he whispered.

I nodded and squeezed his hand before settling at the other end of the truck, with the mailman in my lap. I gave Crosby the thumbs-up. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Zahra sat between Crosby and her grandma. From behind the wheel, Crosby looked at me one last time through the rear panel before starting the truck, a determined look on his face.



We kept the lights off as Crosby followed Zahra’s directions and slowly navigated the unpaved roads below the gardens. I stayed alert on the path behind us, making sure we didn’t have company.

Once we took the main road, I glanced up and caught a glimpse of our prison standing empty on that hill. So long, I thought.

Other than Zahra giving Crosby directions, we were quiet during the ride. When we were at a safe distance from the house, I exhaled a sigh of relief. The mailman was quite but stable.

Crosby seemed to have relaxed a little, too. He was no longer gripping the steering wheel as tightly as before. We had a little over an hour drive to get to the nearest village according to Zahra. So we crossed the dark deserted land as fast as the gravel roads permitted.

“So, you’re the muscle and I’m the brains, eh?” I yelled into the broken rear window. I chuckled when Crosby’s sparkling eyes looked briefly my way. He shook his head and laughed.

Following this brief happy moment, I remembered an important detail. “Hey Zahra, where would Daesh normally be?” I shouted so she could hear me.

“Not sure, sometimes on road sometimes not. Night maybe not,” she says.

“They don’t come out at night you mean?”

“Yes, but not sure,” she answered.

That was confusing, but I guess the gist was that we don’t know what to expect and that was not very reassuring. While Crosby may be able to pass as a local, I will stick out like a sore thumb with my red hair and blue eyes, despite the veil that Zahra gave me. Oh, shit, I should wear it just in case.

I took it out of my pocket and wrapped it around my head as best as I could in the wind gust. I lost my balance briefly and the mailman yelped as his body shifted out of my grasp.

“Slow down a bit!” I yelled. Crosby stopped the car abruptly, panic in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he yelled with the two other women looking my way.

I readjusted my seating arrangement, “you don’t need to stop, I just stumbled a little. Go, go!”

Before Crosby could start the car, we saw headlights approaching and then heard the distinct sound of a motor vehicle.

“Shit, shit! Go, fast, Crosby!” I yelled to the sound of our tires screeching.

I took out the gun and got ready to fire as I felt the vehicle getting closer.

“They’re still at a good enough distance for us to dodge them,” I yelled. “Turn off the lights and go off-road!”

“We won’t see anything!” he yelled back as he sped further on the road.

The Iraqi flora wasn’t the greenest, which meant fewer obstacles for off-road adventures. However, that also meant fewer hiding spots.

“Look!” Zahra said as she pointed to a small exit to the side of the road.

Crosby turned off the truck lights and took the exit without any hesitation. We had no idea where it led but we drove down the road. I could still see the other vehicle on the main road.

“Yes!” I shouted when the offending truck passed our exit and continued down the main road.

“I don’t think they were going after us,” I said relieved.

Crosby pulled the truck to an abrupt stop, “we may have another problem.”

Notes

Happy weekend my dear readers :) Hope you're enjoying this story. I have been in the "flow" as of late, so the next chapter should be ready soon :D

Charlie