The Colonel's Daughter (28 page)

Dallas, a dedicated professional soldier, learned to suppress his own feelings in order to think clearly and achieve the goal of the mission. The only person for whom he was unable to suppress any feelings was the woman he married, and getting back home to her was his objective. “That doesn’t scare me, lady. Now hold this latch.”

She stood in front of the trapdoor with her hands on her hips, “It doesn’t scare you that your name is smeared throughout all the terrorist cells,” she shook her head in disappointment then with both hands gripped the hatch.”

Using his knife like a crowbar, he swung open the hatch door and since he had been shot, his shoulder wound started to bleed profusely and he moaned in pain as the force traveled up his arm and stung enough to throw him off balance.

“Are you alright?” She tried touching his back but he immediately pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

“There is blood all over the back of your uniform.”

“What do you expect? I just got shot at by the entire village.” He rotated his arm. It’s just a shoulder wound. I’m fine. Now let’s get out of here.” He jumped down the hatch falling about five feet then pointed his rifle into a dark tunnel. Arranging the head strap on his night vision goggles, he looked around, with his finger steady on the trigger. On his signal, Daphne jumped in behind him and with his good arm, he helped soften her landing.

“Thank you.” She whispered into the darkness. “Don’t you have a flashlight?”

“You’re welcome…and yes I have a recon LED but why would you want to announce that we’re in here? Do me a favor and let me do my job. Just stay close and do what I say.”

She grabbed a belt loop on the back of his uniform to guide her in the dark, “I’ll have you know that I am very claustrophobic and I don’t do well with bats.”

“Then why the hell are you out here lady?”

“This is rubbish. I already told you that that I’ve been working on a story. I am about to expose one of that largest terrorist support groups in the world. And about half of its members are government officials from several different countries. The man you killed had the entire Iranian government at his disposal…and his opium empire is what is fueling this insurgency. Now his brother Faisal is in control and I will have you know…all of these people want to avenge Afshin Shahrivar’s death. I have very reliable sources.”

“Shh—”

“Oh God, what is it?” She squirmed.

“You hear that? Bats…” He cocked his head using his night vision to catch the movements.

“Ok, that gave me a fright.”

“You think maybe it can scare you into silence?”

They trotted miles into the pitch-dark rat maze of serrated walls without another word from Daphne.

“Please Lieutenant Star, I can’t go any further. Please stop.”

Reluctant, Dallas stopped, took out his canteen and offered her a drink of water. “You’ll be surprised how resilient the human body really is.”

“I can’t go any further, I may collapse.”

“Listen to me,” he grabbed her upper arm knowing that exhaustion had more to do with her state of mind, and talking her through negotiating her own dissociation, “You’re not going to collapse. Look how well you’ve managed to keep up with me so far. Don’t panic just because you’re starting to feel a little discomfort.”

She wiped her brow. “I felt a little discomfort a mile ago and I didn’t stop you then. Give me more credit than that.”

“Alright, so look how well you’ve managed to get this far with a little discomfort. You can make it. Believe me when I tell you that I’ve seen it time and time again with soldiers overcoming the agonies of physical exhaustion. You can make, trust me.”

“Do you even know where we’re headed, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, I got some idea. We’ve been going north this whole time, which is the direction of the high cliff, just past the end of the village. I imagine there should be a cave exit of some sort. Just trust me.”

She grabbed onto his bloodied uniform shirt walking one step behind, through the narrow space of the topographic black hole. Every few feet she would voice another complaint, and to every protest, he would reply the same, “Just trust me.”

Detecting a stream of light which they followed towards intersecting perpendicular tunnels that grew larger in size and having reached the main intersection, they studied the back and forth movements of what looked to be the villagers storing bales of hay.

Dallas removed his goggles. He pressed his back against the jagged wall, and with a slight forward lean, he looked around the corner. The shaft of light revealed his pale face, sunken eyes, and overall feverish state. Upon further observation, Dallas noticed that some of the villagers were armed.

An insurgent holding an AK47 rounded the corner and with a grappling move, Dallas brought him to the ground then knocked him unconscious. Avoiding the use of his left shoulder, he stumbled as he dragged the body into the darkness of the cave and stripped the terrorist of his clothes.

And with Daphne’s help while exhaling quiet painful grunts, Dallas removed his uniform shirt. “I’m not doing it. There’s no way I’m putting the enemy’s clothes on.”

“You have no choice. It’s our only way out of here.”

“I’m not dying in those clothes. If I’m gonna die, it’s going to be with the honor of my uniform.” In order to bandage his shoulder, he ripped his under shirt and used it as a tourniquet while tightening it with his teeth.

“This is what I don’t understand, you have an infant child who needs a father and you’re more concerned about your own honor?”

“My daughter would be proud to have had a father who fought and died with honor.”

“Rubbish. My father thought that way. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the British army. He sacrificed everything for the sake of honor…including his own heart.”

Dallas sweated profusely and his breathing became erratic, and when he tried to turn around, he fell to one knee and drifted into a dreamlike state. He focused on an inner vision of Abby’s beautiful face, her porcelain skin glowing, like that of an angel. It was the day he said goodbye. She held Grace wrapped in a blanket and begged him, “Don’t go Dallas don’t go.” She pouted with her perfect lips and he was able to take in her scent and kiss her salty tear.

Daphne, a steadfast woman who was now wearing the dead man’s long chemise and headdress, spit into the palm of her hand and making a mud mask rubbed it onto her face then loosely tied his wrists.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dallas mumbled.

“I’m getting us out of here, that’s what I’m doing.” She picked up the AK47 and nudged Dallas along.

Without making eye contact, they managed to walk past a group of insurgents loading a wagon full of explosives then covering it with hay. Dallas hung his head wearing only his pants and boots, shirtless with an improvised bandage around his shoulder he struggled to maintain his footing. As they entered another passage in the elaborate tunnel, they came upon a set of stairs carved into the rock. One of the armed men who had been loading the wagon studied Daphne’s horrid disguise and called out in Pashto. He suggested that she didn’t go in that direction to transport the hostage—meaning Dallas—because those stairs led to a post that had been recently occupied by British soldiers. He pointed in a different direction and told the mud masked Daphne to take her prisoner down another tunnel. She waved her weapon in the air in response then turned to Dallas, “We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”

Dallas grabbed the AK47 to cover for her while she ran up the steps and through the darkened path in the hopes of making it into the British camp. The armed men took off, which would only mean one thing
they’re going to get reinforcements
, thought Dallas.

Weak and barely holding on to the weapon he stumbled towards Daphne as the underground bunker became smaller and smaller. Frantically, Daphne picked up large boulders and tossed them aside trying to open a hole large enough to crawl out. Using his right arm, Dallas pushed against a coarse uneven rock rolling it sideways, then helped Daphne crawl through. He crawled out after her but had difficulty getting back on his feet. In a fog, he glanced at Daphne who stripped off her disguise and flagged down a platoon of British soldiers.

She caught every soldier’s eye, happy to see a beautiful redhead flagging each one down. Daphne Mellinger had the entire platoon at her disposal. They placed Dallas on a stretcher and after the medic had tended to his wounds and had stabilized him he asked, “Who is he? Is he an American soldier?”

“No, he’s my photographer.”

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

The sun had begun to set as the last guests from the funeral reception said their good-bye and Abby despite a degrading conversation with her mother-in-law and her altogether miserable state, managed to put on a pleasant smile.

“We have plenty of room for you and the baby here. Are you sure you won’t stay?” Her mother-in-law gave her a half smile. Although back when she was Mrs. Star, she had been a very loving mother to Dallas, the now Mrs. Billingsworth directed all her love and attention to her beloved schnauzer who growled at any human that got near its owner.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” Abby adjusted the strap of the diaper bag while gripping an infant carrier. “Maybe Grace and I can visit for a few days once we get settled.”

“Absolutely darling, we would love to have the both of you here. And you can stay for as long as you’d like.” She turned to her schnauzer, “Isn’t that right Guinevere?” The high-energy dog barked, jumping up and down on the marble foyer.

Meeting Abby outside at the front steps between the white marble pillars, Javi helped take the infant carrier to the rental car where Jasmine and Samantha were already waiting. Abby took one last look at the majestic house, as if to get a feel for Dallas’s presence, but the place seemed cold uninviting, which left her empty inside. And while sitting in the backseat next to Grace and Samantha, she turned to Javi as he adjusted the driver’s seat, “Javi, I saw you on the phone earlier. Please tell me, are they still looking for his body?” She glanced into the rearview mirror, caught sight of her swollen eyelids, and frizzed out hair.

Jasmine turned to the back seat and looked at her sister. “Sweetie, he was on the phone making hotel reservations. You’re exhausted. We’re all tired. We decided to take a flight back tomorrow instead of going straight to the airport. That way you can get a full nights rest and Javi and I will help take care of Grace.”

“I can help too momma.” Samantha fidgeted with the ribbon that had been replaced in her hair a dozen times.

Jasmine looked at her daughter, “Sam, I want you to get a good night sleep like Auntie Abby. Tomorrow’s gonna be a very long day. And please put that ribbon back in your pocket.”

“Ok momma.” Samantha placed the ribbon in her coat. Out of the same pocket, she took out a small object. “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot to give this to you Auntie Abby. Here is the necklace you dropped on the floor.”

“What?” She took hold of it immediately recognizing her childhood pearl necklace. “Where did you get this Samantha?”

Preoccupied with the love song playing on the radio, Javi held Jasmine’s hand and kissed it several times.

Abby insisted, “Well, Sam? Where did you get it?”

“From the man eating cake, he said you dropped it on the floor.”

“What else did he say? Did you see who he was?”

“He had big ugly sunglasses. I ran away from him.”

“That’s it? Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, he said you should go to the church.” The little girl shrugged her shoulders, “I’m glad you didn’t lose your special necklace auntie.”

“You did good Sammy, you did good, thank you.” Abby clutched the necklace close to her heart and looked out the car window.

At the hotel, Abby lay in bed wearing the necklace and fidgeting with the small pearl. She thought about Dallas and the possibility that he may still be alive. She made up her mind not to travel with Javi and Jasmine directly to Miami, but to stop at the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe. She hoped to find answers in the place where Dallas had declared his love for her.

In the hotel room next door, Samantha slept peacefully on her bed while Jasmine paced back and forth rocking the baby in her arms.

“Why don’t you sing one those beautiful lullabies I’ve heard you sing to Samantha? You sound so sexy singing.” Propped up on pillows, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas Javi lied on the bed browsing the internet on his laptop.

“Javi, sexy and lullabies do not go together.”

“Look at this…I got an email from a photographer in the UK.”

Jasmine changed the baby’s diaper. “Are you sure it’s not spam from one of those online dating sites?”

Javi sat upright reading the sole sentence in the body of the email.

You should’ve castled to defend.

He immediately thought of Dallas, the only one interested in beating the Captain at a good game of chess years before when he was just a kid fresh out of Ranger school, full of theory but so green to the ways of the world, the ways of the jungle, the sand, the war. Javi thought about Dallas being like a little brother to him. He remembered teaching him how to take a punch knowing that lesson was a seed that helped him years later in captivity when the hanging flesh on his back from the lashings didn’t stop him from staying strong, on course. “I taught Dallas how to castle when we first started playing chess together. He would play all the guys in the platoon and whenever he would win, he would always say
you should’ve castled to defend
. Some of the guys eventually caught on to his strategy but not before he won a lot of bets.”