Escaped: Fighting my way home
© Copyright 2009
Written by Banzai Ben and Amazing Anastasia
ben@banziben.com
Chapter 01 – Saturday 22
September 2007
Kaneohe Bay Hawaii –
Hospital – Saturday, Day Twenty-Three
"Crazy; I'm crazy for
feelin' so lonely,
I'm crazy, crazy for feelin' so blue...”
“Ben?”
I opened my eyes to see my
beloved Jens watching me, her brow wrinkled. One arm was wrapped tightly around
me, and she was stroking my brow. "It's about time you woke up. I've been
so worried about you. What's all this ‘Crazy’ shit?" Jens said.
“Jens!” I lifted my head and
smiled. “Heaven; I’m in heaven,” I sang.
“Jens, you wouldn’t believe
it. I dreamed the strangest dream . . . like an Indian vision or something. I’m
afraid, my love,” I said seriously, “That I might be going crazy.”
I
laid my head on the pillow again and sang, “Crazy; I’m crazy for feeling so
lonely . . .” I turned my head to look at Jens again and let out a silly
giggle. She looked like a raccoon – a raccoon with a really white face and
really black eyes.
"My poor Ben. Are you
okay?" Jens asked, her voice laden with concern.
"I've never felt better.
Meya malinkaya enot1. You're so cute with those eyes." I said
and started laughing again.
1 My little raccoon – Russian transliterated.
Jens hugged me tighter.
"What's wrong with you? You're so silly."
"Nothing. I feel great.
I feel fantastic." I tried to get up and Jens held me down.
"Did you forget that you
were shot?" She scolded.
"Oh yeah. I guess I was.
I'm fine now. I don't feel any pain." I kept trying to get up.
"Ben! Stop trying to get
up!" Jens ordered. "You passed out from blood loss. I carried you to
the entrance, and they brought you to the hospital. They couldn't stitch your
wound so they had to cauterize part of it.
"Then they wanted to
give you a transfusion, and we have the same blood type, so I wouldn’t let them
give you anyone else's blood but mine. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't
catch any weird diseases.
"So now we're closer
than ever because you'll always have a part of me inside of you.” She kissed me
and hugged me again.
"I would rather have a
part of me inside you," I said with a silly laugh, and tried to get up
again.
Jens held me down.
"You're not going anywhere, Mister. You need to stay in this bed."
"Well, if I don't go to
the bathroom soon, I'm gonna go pee right here." I struggled against her.
"Let me help you," Jens
said, reaching for the urinal.
"Oh, no you don't! You
just want to take advantage of me in my current condition," I answered,
fighting with her over the urinal and making a hell of a lot of noise.
The noise attracted the
nurse, affectionately known as “Nurse Battle Axe.”
"Young lady! What are
you doing out of your bed?" the nurse barked.
"He was trying to get
up, and I was making sure he didn't," Jens sheepishly replied, and scooted
back to her bed.
"Hey! Nurse Battle Axe.
I need to pee right now," I demanded.
The nurse held the urinal for
me and waited… and waited… and waited. Finally, I was done and felt much
better.
Once I was done with my
immediate bodily needs, I noticed that the fucking cast was back on my arm, and
my other arm had a bunch of tubes coming out of it.
"What the shit is this
cast doing back on my arm? I thought I got rid of this piece of crap," I
exclaimed, and started beating it on the side rail of the hospital bed.
Nurse Battle Axe jumped on
me, trying to get me to stop. She wasn't doing very well, so next thing I knew,
Jens was on top of me trying to help her.
I felt like I was being
attacked and fought back, pushing the women off me, banging the hell out of the
cast, and making a tremendous amount of racket. They kept trying, grabbing at
my arms to stop me, but they weren't having much success.
Naturally, all the noise
attracted attention. General Donaldson and a doctor walked in to the room.
I ordered, "Ten-hut!
General in the room," and tried to stand up, but Jens and the nurse held
me down. Forgetting about the cast, I did swing my right hand up for a salute
and whacked myself in the head. Damn. That hurt, and my back had started
hurting, too.
"What the hell is going
on in here? It sounds like a fucking war," the general bellowed.
The nurse explained to the
general that Jens and I were the worst patients she had ever taken care of and
filled him in on all the details.
"Doctor Linus, Check him
out," the general ordered.
The doctor came over, made me
lean forward, and looked at my back.
Jens slinked back to her bed.
"Shit. He broke open his
wound, and he’s bleeding again," Doctor Linus said.
"Hey,” I complained. “I
don't know what you're doing back there, Doctor Penis. But it hurts like
hell."
"That's Doctor Linus,
jarhead. Hold still while I work on you. Nurse, come here and assist me."
He was fucking with my back,
and I didn't like it. I fought him and the nurse.
The general ordered, "Sergeant
Major Bennie Blaine! Quit acting like an ass and let the doctor work on you. If
you keep fighting, we will have you tied to the bed."
That got my attention. I hate
being tied down.
"Nurse. Go get some
morphine and sedate this… patient," Doctor Linus spat.
I started feeling much better
when she came back and injected the morphine into my IV, and stopped fighting
the doctor. I turned my head and saw Jens with her raccoon eyes and started
laughing again. Damn, she looked funny.
When the doctor was done, he
had me lay back on the bed. He went over and talked with the general. I
couldn't hear what they said, but the way I was feeling, it didn't matter.
Then they went over and
talked to my lovely Jens. I felt so lucky to have such a beautiful fiancée.
The nurse made sure that the
rails were up on my bed and that I was all tucked in. As soon as they left the
room Jens came over and jumped into bed with me.
Mmmm, it was so nice and warm
and comfortable there with Jens’s head on my chest, and I was so . . . tired .
. . and sleepy. If I could just get that damned song out of my head, I could
rest.
Khudabah, Pakistan –
Morning of Escape Day One
Damn, it's late. I've been up
for hours and done my bedridden exercises twice. Where the hell are the other
guards and Zarika? They've never been this late.
I finally hear them coming,
and the other guard is waking up. It's about time.
Something's different today;
it's only Zarika and one other guard. I try to meet eyes with Zarika, but she
won't look at me. My gut clenches.
Shit. What the hell is going
on?
At least the routine is the
same. March me to my cell and tie me to the chair. Hurry up, motherfuckers. I
want to talk to Zarika and find out what's happening.
Finally. They’ve backed off.
Now I can talk to her. "Zarika, what's going on?"
"Shhh, Ben. Don’t talk
right now. Let me dress your rat bites," Zarika answers.
The changes have me agitated
today, and it's hard for me to sit still.
"Sit still, Ben. Don't
attract the guard's attention." Zarika scolds me.
I've heard that tone of voice
before. Damn. It reminds me so much of Jens, I can’t help but comply.
As she dresses my left leg, I
notice something feels different, so I glance down casually, careful not to
attract the guard’s attention. I'll be damned – it's my Ka-Bar. She’s wrapping
the bottom edge of the dressing around the blade of the knife, leaving the
handle and hilt exposed.
I get so excited, I start
fidgeting again, but I simmer down when she pinches the hell out of my leg.
She gets my leg re-dressed
and new pants on me. Shit, there's even a cut in pant leg so I can get to the
Ka-Bar. That clever little girl has thought of everything.
Finally she's done and
half-whispers, "Hussein and everyone else are gone on a mission today.
They've left only the two guards.The Imam will be here soon. When he sends me
for tea, watch, and you will know what to do."
I am so impatient that I can
barely eat breakfast. "Ben, calm down, or the guard will figure out
something's going on," Zarika admonishes.
It works, and I’m able to
feign boredom despite the fact that inside, I am boiling. I can taste the blood
in the back of my throat; the warrior I’ve had to repress for so long is
fighting to come out.
Waiting is torture of a new
kind, but finally the Imam comes, and we start our chess game. Zarika is at her
usual position by my feet. I let the Imam win the first game of chess.
"Ben, you seem
distracted today. Is something wrong?" the Imam questions.
It’s time for my best
bullshitting. "My stomach is upset,” I groan. “It has been all morning
long."
"Perhaps some tea would help
to calm it. Zarika, go fetch us some tea," the Imam orders.
She stands up, looks at me,
and winks.
The Imam sets up the chess
board for a new game.
He notices me watching Zarika
as she leaves the room. "Ah, my son, I see you watching Zarika. I understand.
You miss the comfort of a woman. I will ask Hussein to find you a nice young
girl."
I almost puke when he dares
to call me, “son”.
As Zarika had walked out of
the room, she’d looked at the guard, smiled, and beckoned with her finger. And
like a dog following a bitch in heat, he’d left the room.
It’s the Imam's turn, and
he’s taking his time, flapping his gums about how I need a woman. Damn him, I
have all the woman I need. Her name is Jens, and I am going to see her again.
He finally makes a move, and
he’s obviously very proud of it. I’ll bet he expects praise from me.
I fake dizziness and lean
forward, resting my head against the table. I slide my left hand down the
outside of my leg and into the hole in my pant leg. Grabbing the Ka-Bar by the
hilt, I slip it out of the bandage.
"What's wrong, my son?
Are you sick?" The Imam questioned.
Making sure I have the right
grip on the Ka-Bar, I sit back up. "I'm better now. But I will feel even
better after this."
I throw the Ka-Bar with all
my strength, hitting him right in the throat, piercing his trachea and carotid
artery. Blood sprays all over the chess board and across my face and chest. He
grabs for his throat, makes a gurgling noise, and slumps forward on the table.
I relish the taste of his
blood on my lips, and gain energy from his death.
Sliding my chair forward, I
push him up and pull my knife from his throat. "Fuck with a Marine, and
die, you bastard. I hope you like living in hell with your god."
I look into his eyes, knowing
that he understands my words, and wipe the Ka-Bar on his chest as I watch his
life slowly ebb.
I cut the rest of my ropes
with the Ka-Bar and stand up. I’m almost a free man again. Only two guards
stand between me and freedom. I feel a surge of anger as I realize that one of
the towelheads is fucking my adopted sister.
The warrior instinct is back.
I grab my water glass and slip over to the door. I slowly open it and peek out
at the empty hallway.
Listening closely, I hear a
noise from the room across the hall. I move to the door and pour water on the
hinges and door knob so they won't squeak when I open it. I wait thirty seconds
and open the door without a sound.
There the bastard is, humping
my little sister. This is going to be a pleasure.
I crouch and slip up behind
him, and then drive my Ka-Bar into the back of his neck to sever his spine at
the atlas vertebra. He lets out a moan as his last breath escapes his lungs.
He’s paralyzed now, and will
die the slow death of asphyxia. I throw him off of Zarika roll him over, and
promise, "See you in hell, you perverted bastard."
Zarika covers up and whispers
to me, "The other guard is sleeping in the kitchen. Ben, are you okay?
You’re covered in blood."
My soft laughter surprises us
both. "It's the Imam's blood." I lick some off the back of my hand.
"And I’ve never tasted sweeter."
I grab the dead guard's
AK-47, hand the rest of the water to Zarika, and we both sneak over to the
door. The hallway is clear.
I whisper, "Zarika, stay
five steps behind me and don't make a noise. Where's the kitchen?"
She points, and we both slip
into the hallway. I keep my back against the wall, and Zarika follows my
example.
We reach a side hallway and I
peek around the corner. It’s clear, so I scoot across the opening and wait for
Zarika to follow suit.
She points ahead to a door
and nods – the kitchen.
We inch up to the door, and I
listen. Not hearing anything, I wet down the hinges and doorknob and wait. The thirty
seconds seem to last an eternity.
Zarika motions for me to wait
off to the side of the door. She opens it up and walks in, leaving the door
slightly ajar. The guard wakes up as she goes to the sink and grabs pot for
tea.
I hear him giving her shit,
so I peek around the doorjamb. He’s watching her, and not the door. I slip in
behind him as he stands up and starts walking towards her. Without a sound, I
grab him by the top of his head, slit his throat, and throw him in a heap on
floor. His blood splatters the walls and Zarika.
Zarika walks over, kicks him,
and tells him in Arabic, "Fuck with a Marine, and die."
She runs and jumps into my
arms. "No one will be here for hours. There's a truck in the garage that
we can steal. But first, let's get cleaned up.”
She’s right, but it’s a shame
to wash off all the blood. I feel like I’m removing my warpaint, and as it
washes down the drain, so does my adrenaline high.
After we’re relatively clean,
I order, "Grab all the food that you can and let's load up the
truck."
She starts moving food to the
truck while I reconnoiter the rest of the house. It‘s all clear, and I find a
great cache of weapons and explosives in the basement. I start humping some
weapons, ammo, and explosives up to the truck.
Now that the adrenaline is
gone, I'm fucking weak. Damn those bastards. They stole my health.
I check the truck and load
all but one gas can of diesel into the back. I also use some maps I’ve found to
try figuring out our route. We’re almost ready to go. I only need to do one
more thing.
"Zarika. Go to the
kitchen and bring the hotplate to the basement."
I take the diesel to the
basement, open up a bunch of gun powder and fertilizer, and mix them together
on the floor, making sure they cover the remaining weapons. Zarika comes in
with the hotplate and hands it to me.
"Thanks Zarika. Go start
the truck and get ready to leave," I order.
After she leaves, I plug in
the hot plate and set it on medium. Now I need tinder. Scanning the room, I
find a folded newspaper. Perfect – it’s the New York-fucking-Crimes – I place
it on top of the hotplate and run like hell.
In the garage, I jump into
the truck, throwing the AK to Zarika. I gun the engine, slam it into gear, crash
through the garage door, and speed off down the street.
We don't see anyone. It’s
eerie, as if the whole town is deserted. I shift gears and gas the truck. We
need to get away from the building before…
. . . Holy shit! Even in the
truck, I feel the ground shake. I see in the rearview mirror that the whole
building has disappeared in a dust cloud. Fuck. Rocks are raining down around
the truck.
Now people are swarming out
of the buildings, staring at the cloud and rubble where our prison used to be.
At least they’re distracted and haven’t noticed our truck.
I shift into a higher gear
and step on it, honking the horn at the idiots in the street. They scatter as
we drive through.
Finally, someone figures out that
our truck is their truck and we aren’t them, and start shooting at us. Zarika
sticks the AK out the window and pulls the trigger, emptying a full mag. She
doesn't hit anyone, but it sure scares the hell out of them and has them diving
for cover.
I glance over at her.
"Can you drive?"
She shakes her head, so I
have her slap another mag in the AK. I roll down my window, take the AK in my
left arm, and stuck it out the window, spraying anyone who even looks at the
truck. I take a deep breath. I love the smell of cordite when I’m behind it.
I tell her to jump into the
back and get another AK. She comes back in a couple minutes with two, and a
bunch of mags. I empty one AK, and she hands me a reloaded one.
I almost miss a turn, but
Zarika catches it. "Turn here."
It is a relief to be out of
the maze of small roads and on a bigger street. Unfortunately, there are more
towelheads around.
Zarika loads up the extra
AK's and jumps in the back. She’s gone for quite awhile, and comes up with more
mags and some hand grenades. She reloads the AK's, and we both start shooting
again. This time she’s not afraid of the weapon, so she does better.
I notice that we’ve finally
picked up a couple of pursuers in crappy cars, so I start dropping grenades out
the window to discourage them. The first few have no effect, but once I figure
out the timing, I take out the lead car in a ball of flame, and the following
car crashes into it.
Zarika gets in on the fun,
throwing grenades at the buildings and towelheads as we pass.
As we near the city limits,
the towelheads are thinning out and getting smarter – they’re staying hidden.
They pop up as we pass and take a couple of quick shots as we zoom by.
"Take an AK and jump in
the back. As we pass them, shoot at them," I order Zarika.
She makes sure my two AKs are
loaded and hops into the back. Fifteen seconds later, I hear firing and more
grenades. Damn. She's almost as dangerous as my Jens.
Oh crap! We've got company
again. This time it's serious. Another truck is following us, and this one has
a machine gun on it. I start juking the truck from side to side. So far,
they’re missing us.
Zarika is dropping grenades
all over the place. Finally, one hits the truck and it explodes in flames and
crashes into a group of towel heads. We are out of this bumfuck city and away
from danger for now.
We’ve headed east out of town
to make the towelheads think we were headed to Afghanistan, but this area of
Afghanistan is controlled by the Taliban and isn't safe. Once we get far enough
out of town, we’ll head north, to Zarika's home in Tajikistan. It’s the safest
place in this part of the world.
Unfortunately, this is not
like driving in America. There are no interstates. In fact, there are very few
real roads, and those roads are fraught with their own danger. This trip will
be very long and circuitous, taking us through countries unfriendly to Tajiks
and less friendly to Americans.
But we are free, and our
destinies belong to us.
I can't help feeling that
someday I'll return. Hussein isn't dead yet.