Captive

A war veteran once said, “Courage is grace under pressure.”

My grace was about to be tested with four civilians to protect, one of which was nothing short of a national treasure. The celebrated athlete just announced that we were not safe yet, and the proof came two seconds later in the form of a fired rifle echoing in the darkness.

We all ducked our heads down and another shot was fired. From the interval between the shots, I could tell that was not an automated rifle. Luckily, none of the bullets have hit us either.

“Zahra, tell them that we’re not armed and that we have a dying man who needs help,” I said quickly when the rifle stopped. I only had 6 bullets in my gun to be wasted on a blind shot.

“Speak, God damn it!” Crosby said between gritted teeth.

Zahra finally mustered the courage to open the window and speak loud enough from the truck where we were still hiding.

It was terrifyingly quiet. I peaked over the wheel tub and saw a short silhouette approaching. To my surprise, it was a young woman. Her rifle was pointed to the passenger side, but I didn’t miss the trembling of her hands.

I may not have been seeing very well, but the stranger had the same issue.

I swiftly jumped over the opposite side of the truck. Before she could react, I had circled around our vehicle and stood behind her, my gun poking her neck.

“Drop it now,” I said firmly.

She hesitated at first, but then followed my orders. I gathered the rifle and handed it to Zahra from the window.

“Is there anyone else here?” I asked her as I pointed to the small house behind us, but she didn’t answer.

Zahra hopped out of the truck and translated.

The woman was shaking and crying.

“She says she alone with two kids. They sleep in house,” Zahra said.

I lowered my gun, “tell her to turn around and look at me.”

The said mother of two did as asked.

“Zahra, go inside and check if she’s telling the truth.”

“What if she lie?” Zahra asked, clearly scared to enter the house of a potentially lying armed stranger in the late hours of the night.

“She dies,” I said frigidly. “Translate that for her.”

The woman knelt down and kept on crying and talking in Arabic.

“She swear, she want kids to stay okay,” Zahra said.

“Then, go on, what are you waiting for,” I said to Zahra then froze when I saw the two innocent faces behind her. The oldest kid was maybe seven and the youngest was too young to go down the small steps of the porch.

“Bring them to her,” I asked Zahra.

I didn’t want the kids to be harmed in any potential fire exchange.

The mother, who was still kneeling, hugged her children in such a protective embrace. I just frightened an already-terrified mother. I don’t get the type of grace Hemingway was raving about. Courage was cruelty under pressure.

“Search for any other weapons in there, guns, rifles,” I said to Zahra on her way into the house.

Crosby was fidgeting behind the wheel and gulping every now and then. The old lady was crying as she kept looking at her son then peering behind me, waiting for her granddaughter’s safe return.

“Empty, no people, I see no guns,” Zahra said when she finally emerged back. She bent down and rested her hands on her knees. It couldn’t have been an easy experience for her, but I wasn’t about to leave the truck, our only escape, out of my sight.

“Stand up,” I said to the mother more calmly now that there were no imminent threats. Protecting local civilians was also part of my duty.

“Do you have a phone?”

The woman looked at Zahra for clarification.

“She say yes.”

“Crosby, park the truck behind the house. We need it out of sight,” I said as I helped the grandmother out of the truck.

“We go to hospital?” Zahra exclaimed.

“We have better chances to save your father’s life if we call for help. I don’t want us risking another armed encounter. It may not go well next time around,” I said monotonously.

I kept the gun at my waist as we walked into the dark house. The house owner lit up a few candles in the small living room.

“Zahra, tell her that we are not here to harm her or her kids. We just need shelter and we need to use her phone. We will leave when help comes.”

As Zahra explained the situation to the scared mother, I watched Crosby walk in, the mailman hanging limply in his arms.

“Where do I put him?” he asked.

The old lady moved around some cushions on one of the couches for Crosby to lay him down.

“Zahra, tell her to put her kids back to bed and to show us where her phone is.

“What do we do now?” Crosby asked me, anxiety evident on his face.

“We call for help,” I said as Zahra pointed to a landline phone.

I couldn’t have reached for that phone any faster.

I dialed the familiar number. Two rings later, “identify yourself and your location, soldier.”

The operator’s voice almost an indescribable amount of relief.

“Operator, this is Captain Mia Shaw, Chief Nurse Officer of Operation IMPACT, CAFs Role 3 medical facility, Baghdad. I have been taken hostage by a group with ties to ISIS. I am unharmed and safe for now. No sign of the enemy. I do not have the exact coordinates of my current location, but I’m in a mountain area, about a three-hour drive from Baghdad.” I gave her all the details Zahra provided about our whereabouts and the house we were in.

“I’m in possession of two firearms. With me are one teenager and three adults in total; one of whom is in a critical medical condition, one senior, and the third is Sidney Patrick Crosby. Yes, as in Sidney Crosby. Immediate rescue is requested.”

Crosby was kneeling beside me with eyes wide-open and focused as I gave the operator more relevant details. She asked me the routine questions for ID verification.

“Last I had my ID on was right before I was abducted. I am not carrying any form of ID at the moment, but I could give you my serial number.”

“She verified that it’s really me. She’s transferring me to someone. She didn’t say to whom or why,” I whispered to Crosby quickly as I waited on the line.

“Hello?” a familiar voice startled me.

“Greg!” I covered my mouth and my tears could no longer be contained no matter how hard I tried. “It’s Mia, Greg! You’re alive! Oh my God!” I screamed into the phone.

“Mia? Is it you? I told them to alert me if you ever made contact. God, I almost gave up hope. But how, I mean, how do I know it’s really you?”

“Your favourite drink isn’t whiskey like you had everyone else believe. You are secretly a Shirley Temple guy.”

Crosby raised his eyebrows at that.

“Mia, oh thank God! Where are you? Did you share your location?” Greg spoke excitedly. I could hear some rustling over the phone.

“The operator said she could track the phone line. She said they’re working on identifying our exact location. I told her that there’s enough terrain for a chopper.”

“Hang on, could you stay on the line? Someone’s here to brief me.”

I released a breath, “they’re coming,” I said to Crosby. He put his forehead on my knee and clutched my hands.

“We’re going home,” I said as I ran my hands through his hair. He looked up at me and his lips twitched into a smile reaching his wet eyes.

“We just have to wait for little longer, just a little longer,” he whispered back and kissed my hands.

“Yes, I’m still here,” I said when Greg came back on the line.

He informed me that they were able to narrow down our location to a five-kilometer radius, which wasn’t so bad. We discussed logistics and he gave me some instructions that I committed to memory then repeated to Crosby, making sure he’ll be ready when help comes.

I explained to Zahra that her dad would be taken to our military clinic in Baghdad under heavy surveillance since the Forces preferred to be safe when dealing with strangers who held us hostages.

Our host came back to the living room with her youngest kid secured at her hip.

“Zahra, could you please help me talk to her,” I asked and Zahra nodded, leaving her dad’s side.

“Tell her that we’re sorry that we scared her. Tell her we’re escaping prison and that I am grateful for her help and that I will never forget it.”

The mother started talking with distress still evident in her voice.

It turned out that her husband abandoned his family to join ISIS and she’s been hiding here ever since. She thought that we were with ISIS and wanted to protect her children. My heart broke for her. I vowed to myself that I would find a way to help her and her family.

The phone rang for the fifth time since I called the Forces two hours ago. It was protocol to keep contact so that the rescue operation is constantly informed about any new development.

“They’re a half-hour out!” I told Crosby who was surveying the road from the window.

“In about twenty minutes, we should go outside to signal our location,” I told Zahra who was helping me test the torches we put together.

“Your dad will get the best help there is in Iraq. He’s stable for now; it’s normal that he’s tired and sleeping a lot,” I tried reassuring her as I checked on him.

He was not dying. I had lied to make sure she would help us.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course. A promise is a promise,” I said with a small smile. I didn’t feel bad about my lie because he was going to get the help he needs. I was not lying about that part. Will he be prosecuted after he recovers? That was something I will have to contemplate later. Going home was my current priority.

The phone rang again and I hoped it would be the last time.

I hung up and told the group, “Okay, it’s a go! We light up the torches in 10. Are we ready?”

“We’re ready. The road is clear, let’s go outside,” Crosby said.

I handed him his torch and we both stepped outside on the porch. It was still dark out. We both looked up to the starry sky at the exact same time.

“They should be here in ten minutes,” I said and he checked his watch again.

“Seven,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I said with a long exhale. “The hard part is over, Sidn –”

His lips silenced me in such a powerful kiss. He smiled against my mouth and said, “you’re just, well, you.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You’re so… I mean …”

“Shush! Do you hear that?” I silenced him when I heard it, the sound of freedom.

I’ve heard it enough times to know that it was the sound of a helicopter; in fact, there were more than one.

We both looked up, waiting for visual confirmation.

My hand instinctively went to my pocket where I stashed my medals – no, I would never forget them behind.

At the ten-minute mark, Crosby and I dipped our torches in the oil bucket and fired them up. We started waving with our burning torches towards the direction of the helicopters.

And there they were; the lights of two Canadian Air Forces aircraft soaring in the sky. My heart was jumping in my chest. We were getting rescued, it was happening. Crosby held my hand tightly in his, “they’re here! They’re here! We’re going home!” he shouted and almost jumped with joy.

The aircraft sent us the light signal we had agreed on, the signal that meant they have successfully identified us.

“They saw us!” I said. “We’re going home!”

I turned to Crosby and threw myself in his arms. He gave me a bone-crushing hug, almost burning my hair in the process.

“They’re here!” I yelled for the rest who were waiting in the house. “Get ready for extraction, now!”

Even if ISIS paid us a visit at that moment, there was nothing they could do facing the ferocity of our rescue troop and two loaded aircraft.

We ran towards where the Bell CH-146 Griffon helicopters were making their descent.

“Mia, be careful, it’s too windy!” Crosby yelled from behind me but I didn’t care. I loved that wind. The deafening sound of aircraft was music to my ear.

I sprinted at the speed of light; no one could have stopped me as I made my way to freedom. I stood in the downwash circle with my arms wide open and my face turned upward taking in the mighty draft.

“You’ll get hurt!” Crosby screamed from a safer distance but I did not care. I was free.

I waved at the first soldier making his way out right before the chopper touched the bumpy ground.

He ran towards us followed by four others as the rest of the fleet landed nearby.

“Captain Shaw,” the soldier saluted me and covered my shoulders with a military jacket. “Come this way, please,” he said as he gestured for his crew to get to Crosby.

I followed behind the soldier towards the second helicopter. As I got closer, I could see the shadow of a tall, thin figure running towards me.

“Mia!” It was Greg McConnell calling for me.

Once he was close enough, he froze and inspected me from head to toe. “Officer,” he said, so many emotions in his voice.

I pushed our military ways to the side and hugged him for the first time in three months.

“Are you okay? Where’s Sidney Crosby?” Greg asked, rubbing my arms up and down.

I looked behind me to see Crosby being escorted by two of our soldiers who had their arms behind his back protectively. Behind him, a stretcher was being hauled out of the helicopter.

“Captain Shaw, I need you to ID who’s coming with us on board,” an officer asked.

“Go,” Greg said gently as he headed towards the rescued athlete.

I gave the forces the green light to get Zahra, her grandmother and the mailman whose name I learned for the first time in three months; Kassem.

The whole extraction operation took an impressive time of fifteen minutes. Before going on board, I looked around me, trying to figure out in which aircraft Crosby was.

Greg popped his head out, “Mia, over here!”

A soldier stretched his arm to help me climb in Greg’s aircraft. Crosby was wearing the same jacket I had on, an aviation headset and was safely buckled up. He sat facing me and watched Greg helping me get settled next to him. A soldier sitting at Crosby’s side checked his seatbelt before giving the pilot the signal that we were all set for takeoff.

“The others are on the second chopper. It’s about an hour and a half ride, so hang on, boys,” Greg spoke in the headset, “and ladies,” he added with a sly grin.

“Is the way back safe?” I asked.

“Yes, the skies are clear, don’t worry,” Greg reassured me.

“Did you get a chance to call our parents?” Crosby asked and I looked at Greg expectedly.

“Colonel Siegel took care of it personally.”

“Okay, so I’ll be flying home once we get to Baghdad?”

“We will fly you home as soon as possible, Mr. Crosby. But first, there are some routine procedures to be done for your own safety and ours.” Crosby nodded his head slowly.

“Captain Shaw knows what I’m talking about.”

I did know, I just never let myself think that far ahead. So, Crosby and I never really talked about it.

“How’s Tara?” I asked the question that’s been nagging me since we spoke over the phone. I was terrified to ask but I had to know.

“Well, she was a little grumpy when I woke her up, but she forgave me when she knew why,” Greg said.

“So, she’s okay?”

“She is indeed,” Greg answered.

“So what happened after the bombing?” I asked.

“No one got seriously injured, if that’s what you’re asking. The bomb was close to Mr. Crosby’s car,” Greg said and Crosby had panic in his eyes.

“Your companions were unharmed, Mr. Crosby. They are home and safe.”

Crosby simply nodded and rested his head back, closing his eyes.

“Listen, when we get to the base, you will have a lot of questions to answer, both of you, so rest up for now.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate if I freak out now,” Greg said looking at me then at Crosby. Crosby opened his eyes a little alarmed by Greg’s words.

I laughed at Greg’s antics. “Hey Crosby, don’t worry, it’s just that Major McConnell is a major fan of yours. Maybe you could autograph his helmet,” I joked.

The soldier sitting next to Crosby said, “mine too!” Then his expression changed, “Apologies, Sir, Ma’am.”

“I would be honored to,” Crosby spoke. “It’s the least I could do.”

His voice was filled with emotions that my hand itched to reach out to him, but I held back those instincts; it would have to wait.

“This is our job, Mr. Crosby. I believe you were in good hands,” Greg asked turning to me.

“I can tell you one thing,” Crosby spoke, “I will make sure to never, ever wrong this woman.”

“Captain Shaw is a fierce one, all the Shaws are,” Greg said with a small smile.

“She’s fierce but can be smooth, too,” Crosby said with a wink that Greg had certainly picked on.

An hour and a half later, the first rays of sun hit my face as we landed on the helipad. The heat and sound of Baghdad brought a smile to my face, a smile that would soon be washed off.

Notes

They're finally FREE :D

But their story has just begun...