Escaped: Fighting my way home
© Copyright 2009
Written by Banzai Ben and Amazing Anastasia
ben@banzaiben.com
Chapter 03 – Monday 24
September 2007
Kaneohe Bay Hawaii – Brig –
Monday Day Twenty-Five
It was hard to sleep last
night; I'd adapted to sleeping with Jens. I couldn't get comfortable without
her next to me, so I tossed and turned all night long. Worse, some drunk in the
other cell snored all night long, and they weren’t cute little snores like
Jens’s. To top it off, he smelled like ass.
At least I didn’t have to
wake up early for PT. I'd be taken there later in the day when the gym was
empty. It sucked being locked up, but there was no way in hell that I was going
to sleep in the same house with Jens again after the way she insulted me.
At least, not until she
crawled here on her hands and knees and begged for my forgiveness.
Good, I smelled bacon –
breakfast was coming. I was damn hungry.
"Good morning, my love.
How did you sleep last night?" Jens said cheerfully, walking in with my
breakfast.
"Shit. What are you
doing here?" I grumped.
"Hey, jarhead. What sort
of welcome is that?" Jens shot back.
"That's not jarhead.
It's Sergeant Major Blaine to you, Sergeant Donaldson," I ordered.
Her face reddened. "I
thought perhaps you'd cooled off last night and gotten your head out of your
ass. But I can see that you're just as stupid as you were yesterday."
"You should know about
stupidity. You're the queen of stupidity for pulling that fucking stunt on me
yesterday. I was so embarrassed," I retorted.
"Well la-di-fucking-da!
Poor Sergeant Major Bennie Blaine got his precious feelings hurt. I thought you
were man enough to take a joke. Here's your fucking breakfast. I hope you choke
on it, you bastard." Jens threw the breakfast tray at me.
"And don't think this is
over," she snapped as she turned and walked out of the room.
All the noise brought in the
MPs. They looked at the mess on the floor and snickered.
"Fuck you assholes,
too." I yelled at them.
Shit, this was FUBAR. Jens
still didn’t understand or feel sorry about what she’d done, and now she had
the audacity to be angry with me. This was all her fucking fault.
I left the mess on the floor
for the MPs to pick up and rolled over to sleep until PT.
I'd just about gotten back to
sleep when I heard someone else coming. I groaned. So much for my nap.
I rolled over and faced the
door and opened one eye . . .
Shit, shit, shit. It was Evelyn
Donaldson, and she looked pissed. The guards let her in the room, unlocked my
cell door, and left.
I stayed on the bunk and
stared at her, feeling like an animal in a trap. My guts clenched and my heart
pounded. I was one nervous Marine.
"Sergeant Major Bennie
Blaine, don't you dare lie there in my presence. Get your ass off that bunk,
get out here, and stand at attention," she barked.
She may not have been a
Marine, but she was the wife of the general, and the mother of the woman I
wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I jumped up.
Mrs. Donaldson walked back
and forth in front of me. "You sorry sack of shit! Just who do you think
you are, treating my daughter that way? She was up crying all last night about
how she offended you. She came here this morning to make up with you, and you
were an asshole to her. Now she's crying again because of the way you treated
her. Did you forget what I said I would do to you if you ever hurt her?"
I gulped, remembering that
she said she would turn me from a rooster into a hen. I started to open my
mouth.
"Did I give you
permission to speak?" she snapped. "You're lucky that I think you
will come to your senses and get your head out of your ass; otherwise, I'd keep
my promise.
"I feel sorry for you now,
because you've got her pissed off. And now you're going to have to pay the
price to her for that. But you still have a price to pay to me." With
that, she hauled off and punched me in the nose.
It seemed as if I was
watching the punch come in slow motion. I felt the punch connect and saw stars,
and I knew from experience that she'd broken my nose. Blood started running
down my face and the back of my throat.
She whirled and left,
warning, "You're lucky this time. Next time I'll castrate you."
The MPs came in, and they
were laughing this time.
"Shut the fuck up and
call the doctor. I slipped and broke my nose," I lied in a vain attempt to
save my pride.
Doctor Linus came in and set
my nose and stopped the bleeding. He looked at me and said, "Slipped, my
ass. I can tell when someone's been punched in the nose. Who did you piss off
this time?"
I stuck to my lie.
"Ben, I'm your doctor,
so let me give you some advice. You've blown this whole situation way out of
proportion, and you're hurting people who love you. You need to get your head
out of your ass and grow up," Doctor Linus counseled. "Keep this ice
pack on your face. But it looks like you're going to end up with a couple of
black eyes, just like your fiancée."
Shit. Way to rub salt in the
wound. I swore that if I got told one more time to get my head out of my ass,
I’d ram my foot up the ass of the person who said it.
Doctor Linus left, and the
MPs brought me a new bright orange jumpsuit, standard prison uniform for the
brig. I hated looking like a criminal. The MPs locked me in my cell and told me
they'd be back in an hour to take me to the gym.
I sank down onto the bunk and
hung my head. Fuck. My life had gone to hell in a hand basket in the last day,
ever since I got pissed off at Jens. Was I in the wrong?
I was still sitting that way
when the MPs came in to take me to the gym.
"Damn, do you have a
great set of black eyes," One of them chuckled.
I looked in the mirror. He
was right. Son of a bitch, I’d forgotten to use the ice pack.
They walked me to the gym
with everyone looking at me like I was a criminal. It was more embarrassing
than what Jens did to me, and it was worse because most of it I did to myself.
I was so deep in self-recrimination
that I didn’t notice that the MPs let me walk into the gym and locked the door
behind me until it was too late.
One of the MPs yelled through
the door, "Good luck, Banzai. You're going to need it."
Uh oh. Suddenly, I felt very
nervous.
Someone coughed, and I turned
and looked. Jens stood at the other end of the gym. She wore her Gi and was
leaning on a bamboo practice katana.
She saw my black eyes, and
for a second a smile crept across her rigid face. "What the hell happened to
you? You look like a raccoon," she taunted me.
"It's nothing. I just
slipped and fell and broke my nose," I lied again.
"You're getting pretty
damn good at lying. But I can still sense your feelings. It looks more like you
ran into my mom's fist. At least, that's what the whole base is saying,"
she jibed.
"They're full of
shit," I shot back.
"Oh, really? I guess my
mom just accidentally broke her hand."
"I wouldn't know.
Perhaps she's taken lessons in acting from her daughter. You know, acting like
you care for someone and then embarrassing the hell out of them," I
retorted.
"You're the bastard who
acted like you loved me and then threw me out of your life. What I did to you
was minor compared to what you've done to yourself since then. The whole base
is laughing at the fool you’re making of yourself," she pressed.
"Well, fuck all of
them," I snapped.
"Isn't that so typical.
A man fucks up and can't admit it.
"I'm tired of talking with
you. I came in this morning to make up with you, and you acted like an asshole.
I was going to apologize to your sorry ass because I'm really sorry I went too
far, but now you've offended me in front of the whole base. I demand the right
to defend my honor. And I'm hoping in the process to beat some sense into that
hard head of yours. Defend yourself," Jens said, raising her katana.
I stared at her, unbelieving.
"I won't fight you."
"Then I'm going to beat
the hell out of you and sense back into you." She answered,
and flew across the mat towards me.
I stood there unmoving.
She advanced.
"You." Whack! "Son." Whack! "Of a
bitch!" Whack! Each blow connected with my head. Then she stepped
back, menacing me with the katana.
"Shit. That hurt! Quit
screwing around," I barked, rubbing my head.
"Are you sorry for what
you did?"
"Me, sorry? What do I
have to be sorry for? This is all your fault," I replied.
"That was the wrong
fucking answer, jarhead," Jens yelled, renewing the attack with the katana.
She wasn’t pulling her blows,
and every one raised a welt on me. Instinctively, I moved my right arm and
blocked a flurry of her attacks. Yes! I’d forgotten I still had the fucking
cast, and for once, it was useful.
I dropped back into a defensive
stance and used my cast to block her attacks.
The katana rattled of my cast
as swear words rattled off her tongue. I looked at her and smiled.
"What the fuck are you
smiling about? You asshole," Jens spat, and stepped back.
"For once, I've found a
good use for this fucking cast. And you're so cute when you're angry," I
said.
"I'll show you
angry!" She hit the cast so hard she shattered the katana. Unfazed, she
threw the katana on the floor and attacked me with her hands. She punched the
cast several times, and I could see that she was damaging her hands and I
needed to do something about it.
I surprised her with a leg
sweep that took her to the floor, and jumped on her, straddling her torso. Before
she could move, I pinned her arms over her head.
"Get off of me, you
bastard. I'm not done with you yet." She yelled and thrashed, trying to
unseat me. I felt like I was trying to break an angry wild horse, but she
couldn't unseat me and couldn't reach me. Finally, she stopped struggling but
there was still fire in her eyes.
I switched hands, holding her
hands down with the cast, and then took my free hand and held her hair down
with it. I moved my face over hers to give her a kiss, and she tried to
head-butt me, but couldn't because of her hair. I finally covered her lips with
mine and, son of a bitch! She bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
It surprised the hell out of
me, and I lost my grip on her. She flipped me over onto my back, straddled me,
and held my arms down. I knew I could get free, but I wanted to see what she
would do. I knew that I was leaving myself vulnerable to her and that she was
still damn mad at me.
"Now, you bastard. I
want you to tell me you're sorry," Jens glared at me.
Perhaps she had beaten some
sense into me; I started thinking that maybe I’d overreacted to her stunt. I
also knew that if this fight kept going, she was going to get hurt. I still
loved her, and I couldn't let that happen.
I swallowed my pride and
said, "I'm sorry."
She was still glaring at me,
and answered in a venomous tone."You're sorry? What exactly are you sorry
for?"
Shit. She wasn't making this
easy. I knew I'd better come up with the right answer. The seconds it took to
figure the words I needed seemed like an eternity, and her face flushed. I
decided to use the shotgun approach and apologize for everything, hoping I'd
hit the target.
"I'm sorry for
overreacting to your stunt, even though it embarrassed me. I'm sorry that I
embarrassed you in front of the whole base. I'm sorry for acting like an
asshole when you came to see me this morning. But most of all, I'm sorry that I
caused us to have this fight."
I had said my piece, and now
my fate rested in her hands.
She looked at me and blinked
a couple times. I could tell she was thinking. As the seconds ticked away, I
wondered if I had said the right thing. My worries were answered when she
hugged me and kissed me with all her strength and I heard applause.
Now her tongue was the
weapon; she used it in a duel to show me her love. It was a damned sight better
than being hit over the head with a katana.
When she stopped kissing me
and I looked towards the applause, there were our friends, the general and
Evelyn, with a cast on her hand. Even Dr. Linus, Matt, and Jim were there. They
were all smiling and giving me thumbs up.
My loving Jens looked at me
and said, "And I apologize to you, my love. I'm sorry that my stunt bothered
you so much. I will be more careful next time I tease you." She blushed.
"And I'm sorry for all those names I called you. I didn't mean any of
them."
I rolled over with her, and
it was my turn to hold her down and kiss her into submission. I think we would
have spent the rest of the day on the floor.
But Matt and Jim yelled,
"Hey you two. Get a room."
I pulled away, and Jens
looked at me. I could sense her feeling, and we both said at the same time,
"I love and live to serve you."
I jumped up and helped her to
stand. We walked over to our audience. "Dr. Linus, please take a look at
Jens's hands. I think she hurt them hitting my cast." I asked.
He examined her hands and
told her that the wounds were just abrasions and bruises and would be sore for
several days.
Suddenly, I remembered the
sniper competition. I looked at Jens and asked, "Hey what happened to the
competition?"
The general said, "Jens
won it with you as her spotter. After she carried you back to the entrance and everyone
knew there was live fire in the training area, I cancelled the snipe-off, and
you two had the highest score so you won. Then it became a hunt for the Russian
bastard that shot you."
Jens said with venom creeping
back into her voice, "I was so pissed that I wasn't able to kill the son
of a bitch for shooting you. I would have made him suffer for that."
I looked at Evelyn and said,
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, that you broke your hand hitting me in the nose."
Evelyn laughed. "When
did I become Ma'am again to you and not Mom? It was worth it to get you two
back together again. Besides, now Glen will have to take me out to eat every
night."
"I wasn't sure that it
was still okay to call you Mom and Dad," I answered, looking from Evelyn
to the general.
"Hell, if you think
every time we have a disagreement, you're going to lose our permission to call
us Mom and Dad, then we need to have another disagreement right now," the
general answered.
Dr. Linus interrupted.
"I need to get back to the hospital. Ben, would you like to get that cast
off and let me look at your new bruises?"
"That depends," I
answered, and looked at Jens. "Are you done beating sense into me?"
She grinned and winked.
"For right now."
We laughed and started walking
hand-in-hand to the hospital. Jens looked at my face and laughed, "With
those black eyes, I guess we are twins again."
Somewhere North of Khudabah,
Pakistan – Day Three
My last thoughts prove right.
Fifteen klicks later, there is a road block ahead. It's just one car and two
men.
"Zarika, let's get ready
to rumble." I reach for an AK.
"Ben, I do not
understand what you mean. Why would we want to mumble to these men? Will it
confuse them?" She looks at me, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
Shit. I forgot she doesn't
understand American colloquialisms. And my Russian isn't always perfect.
"Sorry, my little
sister. I mean that we are going to drive right through the road block and kill
the guards. I want you to get in the back of the truck with your AK and some
grenades and try to take care of them if I miss," I explain.
I'm trying to protect her
from watching me kill two more men. She has seen too much death and suffered
enough nightmares as it is without me adding to them.
Slowing the truck I pull up
to the road block. At about twenty-five meters, I swing the truck hard to the
right, pull up the AK, and fire twice. I rejoice to see that I still have it –
two shots, two kills.
I stop close to the car and
jump out, yelling, "Zarika, stay in the back and watch behind us to make
sure no one is following."
I walk to the bodies take
their AKs and add them to our stash in the cab of the truck. Recognizing one as
the bastard guard with the scorpions, I start kicking the shit out of his body.
Even kicking his dead body brings some satisfaction.
I find more supplies in the
car and load them in the back of our truck. Zarika looks at me and asks,
"Why did you make me get in the back of the truck? Am I not good enough to
fight with you?"
"No, Zarika, you're a
brave little warrior. Soon your time will come to fight with me, but I knew
that I could handle this by myself, and I wanted to spare you the sight of more
death," I reply.
She looks at me, incredulous.
"Ben, I hate those men even more than you do. They tortured me much longer
and in worse ways than they tortured you. Each one that we kill helps me feel
better."
To illustrate her point, she
hops out of the back of the truck and looks at the bodies. She kicks and spits
on the first one, and then shocks me by squatting and peeing on the one that
I've already kicked.
"That animal used to
hurt me on purpose when he raped me. I would kill him again if I could,"
she explains.
I sit the men in the front of
the car, being careful of the one she'd peed on, and hook up a detonator and
block of C4 to the ignition.
Zarika surmises, "When
they start the car, it makes boom?"
"That's right," I
answer.
She giggles. Then alarm
washes away her smile.
"Ben, I see dust in the
sky behind us." She points in the direction.
"It looks like someone
is coming. Let's head ‘em up and move ‘em out."
She looks at me like I am
crazy.
I explain with a sigh,
"Zarika, let's go before they show up."
We hop into the truck and
speed off watching the dust cloud behind us. I know that they will see our dust
cloud and follow us if I drive too far. A couple of klicks later, I take the
truck into a small depression beside the road.
Grabbing the binoculars from
behind the seat, I climb on top of the truck with Zarika following close behind
me. I hold my breath as I watch a car and troop truck pull up to the road
block. "Zarika, do you recognize either vehicle?" I ask, handing her
the binoculars.
At first, she holds them up
to her eyes backwards, so I stifle a laugh and show her how to use them.
"Ben, it is Hussein's
truck that he uses to carry men, and men are getting out of it. And another car
I've never seen," she answers.
Taking the binoculars back, I
watch as fifteen men get out of the truck and three get out of the car. The
ones in the car seem to be telling the men in the truck what to do.
"Tell me if you
recognize any of the men by the car."
She takes the binoculars and
looks, "Yes, the ones from the car are some of Hussein's top men."
She keeps the binoculars and narrates what happens. "They are pulling the
dead men out of the car. Hehehe! They figured out I peed on one of them. Now
one man is…"
She can't finish her sentence
because the car explodes in a huge whump and a cloud of dust. I take the
binoculars, waiting for the cloud to clear. The blast has destroyed the second
car, but the truck has survived. Men are scattered everywhere, but some are
still moving.
I tell Zarika, “The blast didn't
destroy the truck or kill all the men. We need to go back and finish the job.
It looks like you're going to get to fight now."
We slide off the top of the
truck and hop into the cab. Without being asked, Zarika checks the mags in each
AK, makes sure we have spares, and also puts some more grenades on the seat
between us.
I whip the truck around and
floor it, wanting to get to the towelheads before they can regroup. They are
still dazed as we barrel into the first group, running over two of them. Zarika
is firing out of her window and I have an AK in my left arm. I’m trying to
drive and shoot at the same time; doing a piss-poor job of both.
"Ben, stop trying to
drive and shoot at the same time; you will kill us," Zarika orders.
She is right. I swing the
truck around so she is facing the towelheads and start circling them. It feels
like we're Indians attacking a circled wagon train. She’s hitting them with
about every third shot.
When they finally figure out
what is going on and start returning fire, I grab a couple of grenades off the
seat, pull the pins, and throw the grenades into the back of their truck as we
pass. Then, I spin the truck back to the north and floor it, watching their
truck explode in the side mirrors.
All the explosions and fires
have created a huge column of smoke that’s visible for miles. We need to get
away from here before it attracts more attention.
"Ben. We left some of
those chewchemeks1 alive. Should we go back and kill them?"
Zarika asks.
"Unless someone gets to
them soon, the desert will take care of them. They were getting too close to
hitting you," I answer.
She reaches over and touches
my arm. “Thank you for caring for me and rescuing me from those chewchemeks.
You are my hero.”
I smile at her, but right at
that moment, I’m not feeling much like a hero. I’m feeling sick, more than
anything else.
Well this is SNAFU – Because
we couldn't kill all the bastards at the checkpoint, they know we’re heading
north. And if they are rescued before they die, everyone would know.
We can't go south; that will
take us back to Khudabah. We can't go west because the Taliban is there, and we
can't go north because that's where they think we’re headed. That only leaves
east – China.
I had hoped to avoid China;
they have a real military with all the real problems that came with it – things
like tanks, helicopters and airplanes, plus the largest army in the world. I
can only hope that in this frontier they don't have border patrols.
First, we need to find a
route. We continue driving north for an hour and then stop to look at the maps.
I put them on the hood of the truck, pull out the compass, align the maps, and
then figure out where we are. Zarika comes over and studies the maps with me.
"We're right here."
I point on the map to Zarika. "We can't continue going north because the
chewchemeks know we're headed that way."
"Then we must go this
way" she says, pointing towards China.
"That's the problem.
That's China," I explain.
"My papa and brother
used to travel through China all the time," she replies, giving me hope.
"Tell me more about
this,"
"I don't know much, they
never let me go with them; I am just a girl. But I remember they would travel
by night and hide during the day," Zarika answers
"Did they take a car or
truck?" I ask, hoping.
"Yes, they took Papa's
truck," She says.
"Do you know how they
hid?"
"Sorry, Ben; I don't
know any more." She says, her gaze dropping.
I study the maps some more, and
figure our route – north for about another hour, and then east. From the map it
looks to be a better road. Perhaps we can make better time.
Zarika wanders away and gets
into the back of the truck. She comes out a few minutes later with her cooking
supplies. I guess it's time to eat. Damn I hadn’t realized I was so hungry
until I started smelling the food.
"Zarika, please keep
watch while you're cooking. I'm going to work on the truck," I request.
Well, since there's some down
time, I might as well do something productive. I check the oil level in the
truck. It’s just a little low. Then I take out the air cleaner and beat all the
dust out of it. We sure stole a good truck.
I take the time to fill up
the truck. We’re still doing okay for fuel, but we’ll need to liberate some,
now that the trip is going to be longer.
Finally, I decide to take a
really good look at everything in the back of the truck. I hop inside and start
a mental inventory of our supplies. We have enough weapons, ammo and explosives
to fight a small war, but then, that's what we we're doing.
I wonder what's in these four
crates that I’ve never checked. They're damn heavy, and hard to move to the
tail of the truck. I open one and look inside, and can't believe my eyes. It
now makes sense to me why Hussein is still chasing use.
I reach inside the box and
pull out a glittering bar of gold. Looking closer, I notice that it still has
the Kuwaiti seal on it. Shit. This is part of the gold that fucking Saddam
stole during his failed invasion of Kuwait.
I count the bars and suddenly
realize that we’re very rich. I keep two bars out – they could be useful later
– close up the box, and slide it back beside the others at the front of the
truck.
"Ben, come and
eat."
That’s music to my ears. It
seems like no matter how much I eat, I'm always hungry. I jump out of the back
of the truck and head over to the makeshift kitchen.
Zarika smiles as she hands me
a big bowl of food. It reminds me of how Jens used to take care of me, and my
heart lifts a little as I feel like someday I might see her again.
I hand a bar of gold to
Zarika. She takes it, almost dropping it because it’s so heavy.
"A cook as good as you
are needs to be paid," I smile at her and start eating.
She turns the bar over and
looks at it, finally realizing what it is, and her eyes gleam. The only thing
I've ever seen that makes a woman's eyes gleam more than gold is diamonds. Even
in the desert, some things are the same.
"Ben where did you get
this?” she asks. “This is more gold than I've ever seen."
"There're four big boxes
in the back full of more bars like this." I hold up the bar I still have.
I can see the light dawn in
her eyes.
"Now I know why Hussein
is still chasing us. Ben, he will never stop until he catches us," Zarika
worries.
"Then I guess we have to
make sure that he doesn't catch us." I finish my bowl of stew, wipe up the
dregs in the bottom with our stale bread, and let out a big burp.
Zarika giggles and admonishes
me, "Ben, mind your manners. You are not a chewchemek!"
I give her an evil grin and
let go with a huge fart. It’s not silent, but it sure is deadly.
That is the wrong thing to
do. I find out that Zarika may be young, but she has already learned how to
scold. I finally have to promise to never ever do that again at Zarika's table,
or she won't feed me. When she is appeased, she hands me a tangerine, and then
starts cleaning up and tearing down the cooking supplies, putting them in the
back of the truck.
She jumps into the back, and
I hear her moving things around. A few minutes later she emerges with her arms
full of supplies – primarily ammo. These, she puts in the cab of the
truck, then comes back to stand over me.
"Ben, do not mess up the
back of the truck again. I have everything arranged the way I like."
Damn, I thought I'd done a
good job of making it more functional.
"I would like to learn
how to use some of the other weapons that we have," she asked.
I scan the horizon in all
directions and don't see any dust clouds. Now is as good a time as any. She
follows me to the back of the truck and watches as I jump up into it. I can
tell she’s watching to make sure that I don't make a mess. I pull an RPG rocket
out of one box and grab the launcher, then jump back to the ground, and we walk
a short distance away from the truck.
I take time to explain to her
about being careful of whom or what is behind you when you launch the RPG. I then
show her how easy the trigger and safety are to use and how to sight the RPG.
After she’s comfortable with all that, I show her how to slide the rocket onto
the launcher and twist and lock it in place, and show her the opposite – how to
take the rocket off.
She practices several times
until she is proficient.
"See the big rock over
there." I point.
She nods her head.
"Load the RPG and fire
it at the rock," I order.
She loads the rocket on the launcher,
takes aim, and fires. We watch the rocket streak towards the rock and hit it
with a satisfying explosion. She jumps up, all excited.
"Ben, this is a great
weapon. Can we use it all the time?"
I turn and look behind her,
and she follows my gaze. The bush behind her is on fire.
"We can only use it when
we're outside of the truck. Otherwise, that would happen to the truck." I
admonish her. She nods in wide-eyed understanding.
"We need to keep some of
these in the cab with us.” She jumps into the back of the truck and comes out
with three rockets, takes them and the launcher, and puts them in the cab. She
crawls through into the back of the truck, and I hear her messing around with
more stuff. She comes out with another weapon.
"Ben, what is this
weapon, and can I learn how to use it?"
"Zarika, that is an
American stinger missile. It's used to shoot down airplanes or helicopters. We
don't have enough of those for you to practice firing one, but I can show you
how they work."
I spend the next ten minutes
showing her how the missile works and explaining to her again about the exhaust
gas coming out of the back of the launch tube.
"Just to let you know –
these are very old and might not work."
"We will keep one of these
in the truck cab, too," she announces, and starts putting it in the cab.
Damn. I hope she leaves me
enough room in the cab to drive.
"I need to take care of
some personal things. I'll be right back," I tell her as I grab an AK and
some paper and walk over behind some bushes.
Damn. I don't know what the
fucking camel jockeys did to me, but I’m still quite sick. I do my business and
notice that it looks like tar. Shit. Somewhere I’m bleeding in my intestinal
tract. I stand up, very shaky, and walk back to the truck.
Zarika looks at me.
"Ben, you're all white again, and you are shaking. You need to rest."
"We've been here too
long, and we have to move," I reply, stumbling and falling to my knees
"You are in no shape to
drive," she admonishes.
I stand back up and argue,
"Look, we have to leave now."
"I am just a girl, but
perhaps you could teach me to drive," she asked hopefully.
Damn. Why didn't I think of
that earlier? I should teach her to drive; then we can cover more ground,
and I’ll be free to fight. Shit, we're in a desert – in most places, there
isn't anything dangerous for her to run into.
"Of course you can learn
to drive. All the girls your age in America know how to drive, and you'll need
to know when I bring you to America with me."
She runs over and tackles me
with a hug. "Thanks, my big brother. I was not sure that you were still
going to bring me with you."
"Zarika, you saved my
life, and you're my little sister. Where I go, you go."
She hugs me even tighter, helping
to hold me up.
We walk over to the driver's
side of the truck and I show her all the controls and explain how they work. I
know that the clutch will be the worst part, so I have her practice pressing it
down and slowly letting it up while moving the gearshift.
When I’m satisfied, we climb
into the truck. She’s done a good job of arranging our arsenal so that we can
reach everything, but it still gives us room enough to sit. I praise her for
that, and she beams.
I have her start the engine. In
most places, she won't need gas to get the truck going. She pushes in on the
clutch, puts the truck in gear, and lets out the clutch too fast, making us
lurch forward, bucking like a wild horse. That scares her, and she presses back
in on the clutch.
"Ben, did I break the
truck?"
I chuckle. "You did just
fine. That's part of learning how to drive. Next time you do that, just let the
truck keep going, and it will smooth out."
She tries again, and this
time it’s better. Once the truck smoothes out, she presses on the accelerator,
again too fast, and the truck roars forward. Then she takes her foot off too
fast, and the truck slows quickly.
"Ben, this is hard. I
don't know if I can do it."
"Keep trying, and you
will get better." I smile at her.
Ten minutes later, she can
drive in first gear without throwing us around in the cab. She’s still having
problems keeping the truck on the road.
I’m feeling a little better,
so I say, "Zarika, you did very well for your first driving lesson, but we
need to get going."
She stops the truck and we
change places. I notice that she watches intently as I start the truck moving
and shift the gears.
"You make it look so
easy," She remarks.
"After you practice,
soon you will be able to drive without even thinking about it. You did a very
good job for your first time."
She grins ear to ear.
"That's because I have the best teacher in the world. Thank you for all
you taught me today. I want to be a great warrior like you and kill all the
chewchemeks."
That thought sounds good to
me. Very good to me!
"Ben, sing that road
song again." she asks.
So we drive on as I try to
teach her, "On the road again." It doesn't sound the same in Russian.
By the end of the day we still
have about a half day to travel before reaching the Chinese border. I decide
that we will try to do the same as Zarika's papa and brother – travel at night
and hide during the day. We need to find someplace to stop for the night.
"Ben, look at the little
road over there." Zarika points to the right. "It looks like there
has been some traffic on it. I think we should go and check it out. Perhaps
there is a house where we can learn something about this area."
I stop the truck.
"That's a good idea. But we need to be careful it could be chewchemeck
terrorists."
Zarika looks at me.
"Ben, you won't like what I'm going to say."
"What won't I
like?" I question.
"You can't wear those
military clothes when we meet chewchemek. They will know you are American."
Zarika informs me.
I glance at her. "Don't
tell me you want me to wear a man-dress. I'd rather die before I wear one of
those pieces of shit."
"You will die if you
wear what you have on. Let me see what I can find in the back of the
truck." She crawls into the back.
I wait for her with
apprehension. The thought of having to wear muslim clothes pisses me off. But
she is right – with what I'm wearing I don't blend in. I see her in the rear
view mirror walking up to my door.
"Ben, come try this
on." She holds up some clothes.
I hop out of the truck, with
an AK take the clothes and walk to the other side of the truck. They aren't too
bad, a loose pair of black pants, a colorful high collared shirt but the black
flat muslim hat is too much so I don't put it on.
I walk around the truck and
Zarika has changed. She is wearing a long colorful dress with matching pants
underneath and a matching headscarf.
"Ben, put on the
hat," Zarika orders.
I open my mouth to argue.
"Listen to me. This is traditionally Tajik clothing and you need to wear
the hat. Now put it on."
I know better than to argue
with a woman when I hear that tone of voice so I comply. She looks at me and
smiles, "Yes, now you look much better."
The expression on her face
darkens and she starts crying. I walk over and hold her, "There, there,
don't cry. What's wrong my little sister?"
"Those are papa's
clothes and seeing you in them reminds me of him." She sniffles.
She pulls away and I see
determination cross her face. "I hate Hussein. Someday I'm coming back to
kill him."
"You're wrong meya
malinkaya sistra2. Some day we will come back and kill
him."
She hugs me tight. "Now
that you look Tajik the chewchemeks won't bother you to speak Arabic. But we
need a story on why we are here."
She thinks for a minute.
"This should work with the Pakistan chewchemeks. You're a Tajik warrior
that has purchased weapons and is taking them back for use in Tajikistan. You
don't speak Arabic so you brought me; your young bride with you to
translate." I watched her eyes glimmer when she said young bride.
"Can't you just be my
little sister?" I asked.
"No, your family would
never let you bring your sister on this trip. Remember we have to act like
husband and wife. And if I act bad you will have to hit me."
My gut clenchs at the thought
of hitting a woman, it shows in my face.
"Ben! You have to do
this or they will know. I will do something disrespectful so that you will have
to hit me. Once you do that they will respect you."
She reaches in her dress and
pulls out a leather pouch. "This is money that we can use to pay for our
food and bed tonight. Keep it hidden until I let arrange a price." I take
the bag and put the thong around my neck and hide it inside my shirt.
Everything is settled so we
get back in the truck and turn right down the road. I'm filled with
apprehension not sure that this will work but Zarika looks calm. We travel a
couple klicks and see some buildings.
Zarika says, "Good this
is a single family house and they look poor. The food won't be good but the
negotiations will be easy." She points. "Stop over there, get out of
the truck with an AK and tell me to stay in the truck."
I stop the truck where she tells
me. A man and several women come out of the house. He is wearing a man dress,
looks old and is carrying an even older looking bolt action rifle. The women
are wearing old Salwar Kameez3.
"Watch him Ben; he is
wearing a man dress so he is chewchemek." Zarika admonishes. "One
woman is his wife and the other is his daughter. They are very poor. Don't
forget your proper muslim greeting."
I slowly step out of the
truck with the AK in one hand, held up my other hand and said, "Assalamu
alaikum4." Then I tell Zarika in Russian to stay in the truck.
The old man looks at me and
the truck and back at the AK in my hand and says, "Wa alaykum assalam5."
And lowers his rifle.
Zairka gets out of the truck
and walks over to me and says in nasty tone. "I got out of the truck
without you telling me to. Hit me and I'll pretend to fall down then pretend to
kick me."
I know that she is right. I
feel sick to my stomach as I backhand her across the face and she falls to the
ground and I kick her. Then I yell in a nasty tone, "I'm sorry my little
sister."
I change my tone to an order,
"Get up and ask this man for food and a place to stay tonight."
I look at the old man and the
women and notice that their expressions of fear are replaced with respect.
She gets up off the ground
but making sure to keep her eyes downcast. Brushes off and asks the old man my
question.
The old man and Zarika talk
for several minutes. Then she turns to me making sure not to look at my face
and translates, "He wanted to know who we are and I told him our story. He
praised you for teaching your young bride her place. And said they would be
happy to feed us and let us sleep with them. I think we should give them ten
rupee."
I told her in a strong voice,
"Let's make it twenty just to make sure were treated well."
I slip the pouch off my neck
and hand it to Zarika. She kisses my hand as she takes it from me. I keep my
other hand on the AK just in case and she takes out twenty rupee and hands it
and the pouch to me. "Hit me again for the disrespect I just showed
you."
Again my gut clenches as I
cuff her on the back of the head. I throw the money on the ground and gruffly
tell her, "Sorry again. Pick up the money and hand it to him."
She starts sniffing, reaches
down and picks up the money wiping it off on her dress and walks over and hands
it to the old man's wife. They converse for several minutes; the old man is
looking at me and sizing me up. His daughter is watching me. Her eyes are
twinkling and she is smiling coyly; I think she is flirting.
Zarika comes back to me and
kneels in front of me and kisses my hands, "You did very well. They are
very impressed with you and will feed us their best food and give us a bed to sleep
in. He will show you where you can park your truck so that it will be safe
tonight.
I get in the truck and the
old man and Zarika guide me to a dilapidated barn next to the house. He opens
the door and I drive in and shut off the truck. I grab another AK, a bunch of
magazines, and a bag of grenades off the front seat. I shut off the truck and
jump out of the cab. The old man's eyes bug out when he sees all the weapons.
He rapidly says a bunch of
Arabic to Zarika. "He praised you for being such a great and wise warrior.
Tell me to go get the RPGs from the front of the truck."
I order her. She goes and
comes out with the RPGs and I thought the old man was going to have an orgasm.
He starts going on and on in Arabic.
We walk to the house and he continues
and she translates, "He says his house is honored tonight to have one of
god's great warriors sleep under his roof. No matter what his house looks like
make sure to tell me to praise him for his house and hospitality."
We walk in the house and he
starts yelling at his wife and daughter and they start scrambling to do what he
tells them.
He motions for me to sit down
by the door in a chair. His daughter comes over with a bowl, takes off my shoes
and socks and washes and dries my feet. Then puts my socks and shoes back on
and sneaks a glance at me when she's done. He sees it and kicks her and yells
at her. She scurries to the back of the house.
He looks at Zarika and she
translates, "He apologies for the offense of his daughter and says that he
will give her lashes for it later."
I couldn't stand the thought
of him beating her and I say, "Tell him that it's never an offense to gaze
upon such a young and beautiful woman."
"Ben, are you sure you
want to say that? It could cause problems." She questions.
"I can't stand the
thought of him beating her. We will deal with the problems."
Zarika told him what I said
and he smiled. She translated, "He says that he will honor your wishes and
is very pleased that you find his daughter so attractive. You know now he's
thinking that he will give her to you for another wife?"
Shit, this is the problem
that Zarika was telling me about. Perhaps I can just ignore it.
As we walk into the rest of
the house, it's a real dive. Dirt floors covered with dirty old and threadbare
rugs, crumbly walls that are stained from years of dirt and cooking, a roof
that I could see some stars through and old worn out cushions on the floor. I
look at the old man; sweep my arms around the room turned to Zarika, "Tell
him a great lie about how nice his house is."
She talked for a bit and his
face lit up, she must have been lying through her teeth. He motions for us to
put our weapons by the door; I comply but keep one AK with me. She translates,
"He remarked how only a great warrior would always keep their weapon with
them."
They say a few more things
and he let's go a mighty laugh and claps me on the back. It scares me and I
jump bringing up the AK so he holds up both hands. "I told him that sometimes
the AK gets in the way when we are sleeping."
I start laughing too and
things relax.
Zarika heads to the kitchen
to help and we sit on the cushions. He tries talking to me but we don't get
anywhere. He looks like he's getting frustrated so I yell, "Zarika, get in
here and tell me what he's saying."
She runs into the room
keeping her head lowered and sits at my feet. She asks him what he is saying.
They talk for awhile all the time I see respect growing in his eyes. She looks
over at me. "He said with so many weapons and such a nice truck we must
have a good life in Tajikistan. I told him you are the richest man in our
little city with a fine house and many goats and sheep. And that my family had
to pay you a huge dowry for you to marry me."
"He told me his name is
Aamir, his wife is Dhuha and his daughter is Yasmeen. They try their best but
it is a hard life out here."
I say "Aamir allah
akbar." Almost choking on the words.
He looks upwards, raises his
hands and replies, "Daryush, allah akbar."
Zarika tells me, "I told
him your name is Daryush. That means king."
The Arabic gibberish from
Aamir continues for what feels like an hour. He points to Zarika and she
translates, "Again he is praising you and allah for coming into his humble
house."
I lean over and say,
"There has to be more than that."
She looks pensive and
continues, "He is also praising his daughter and saying how she has been
brought up correctly and how it's a shame that a great man like you only has
one wife to keep him warm at night."
"I was afraid of that. I
think we've really messed up." I interrupted her.
"Wait, I'm not done. He
also mentioned that she would be a great help to us because she speaks
Russian."
Shit. She knows everything
we're saying. Yet she didn't tell anyone.
"Zarika, go back into
the kitchen and find out what she knows and why she didn't tell her parents
everything." I ordered.
She jumps up and I watch her
leave the room. I grip the AK tighter. Aamir saw me watch her and made some comment
that I could tell was how lucky I am to have a beautiful young wife.
A few minutes later all the
women come out with the food and sit it in front of us. Zarika sneaks a look at
me and I can tell that things will be okay. She sits at my right side and
begins feeding me. She says something to Aamir and Yasmeen. Yasmeen comes and
sits ay my left and does the same. Aamir starts his gibberish again with
bunches of shouts and hand waves.
Yasmeen leans over and says
in excellent Russian, "I know that you are not Tajik, that you are
American. I've understood all that you and Zarika have said. I didn't tell papa
or mama because I want to get out of this crappy place to live; there is no
life for me here."
"Zarika has told me
you’re a good man and that you saved her. She also said that you have an
American girlfriend but that she is your little sister. I want to be your
little sister too."
I looked at Zarika and she
nodded her head.
Aamir saw me nod and jumped
up and started shouting and carrying on. "Papa is happy because he thinks
I will be your second wife."
Dhuha starts crying tears of
joy and jabbering; Zarika and Yasmeen are talking. The whole house is a
cacophony of Arabic noise; it is so loud that it hurt my ears.
I raise my hands and slowly
everyone gets quite. "Ask them about her dowry." I order.
The two girls get a nervous
look and lower their eyes and translate.
Aamir and Dhuha get a sad
look in their eyes. They realize that they have no dowry great enough for me to
marry Yasmeen.
"Yasmeen. Stand up and
turn around for me." I order and she complies.
"Again, I request."
She continues.
I stand up and go over to her
and take her hands and look at them. "Open your mouth and show me your
teeth." I order.
She does. Her teeth are in
good shape.
Zarika tells me, "She is
not a horse. Stop treating her like one. Ask her about her age."
She's thirteen.
Aamir starts babbling.
Yasmeen translates, "He says that I am pure and have not disgraced the family.
That I would be a good wife and serve you and Zarika. He also says that it’s a
disgrace that he has but a little dowry for me. He has offered you all his
goats and sheep."
She said, "Please don't
take them. That is all they have to live on."
I held up my hand and moved
to the side and motioned for Zarika. "Well, what do you think about
this?"
"Ben, we have to take
her. Her living here is torture. She has no future and will be given to an old
goat farmer."
"How do we handle the
dowry?" I asked.
"Ask her to dance for
you. Tell her if her dance pleases you, you will take her as your second wife
and you will pay Aamir a dowry."
"Are you sure this will
work?"
"Yes, there is a
tradition that allows for this. Remember in the Bible when Salome danced before
Herod and he gave her the head of John?"
I did remember that Bible
story. "Tell them my decision." I ordered and sat back down on the
cushions.
She told them and they
started up on the gibberish. I was thinking: Damn, I wish I had something to
drink.
They all left the room to get
ready. A few minutes later Aamir came back in and hands me a very old and dusty
bottle of Russian vodka. He starts laughing and motioning for me to drink.
Remembering that good muslims
don't drink I set the bottle down and stand up and start to walk out the door.
He starts yelling and wailing and Zarika comes running into the room.
"Ben. What are you
doing?"
"He offered me a drink
and I didn't think muslims were suppose to drink."
"Don't leave, let me
handle this." She replied and started talking to him.
He started bowing and talking
and talking and bowing some more.
Zarika said, "Set back
down. I told him how devote you were and how he offended you. He had been
saving that vodka for the day Yasmeen was going to be married. He's sorry he
offended you and begs your forgiveness. It would be good if you would take a
little sip of the vodka to let him know that you're not upset."
I sat back down opened the
vodka and took a small sip. I could tell Aamir was pleased by the way he was
jabbering. I felt the vodka burn while working it's was towards my stomach
releasing a flood of memories: about cold Moscow nights and a certain hot
Russian nurse that I lived with while on assignment in Russia. It was a case of
the patient falling in love with the nurse. But that is a different story for
another time.
Zarika snapped me back to the
present. "Ben are you daydreaming?"
"Yes Zarika, I was
remembering a time very long ago."
"Was she pretty Zarika
asks?"
Why is it that women can
always tell when you think of someone else?
"It was a long time ago
in a very cold place and our love kept each other warm." I answer.
"Does your American
girlfriend know about her?"
"I'm not sure. But she probably
does. She knows almost everything about me."
"She must be a very good
and smart woman." Zarika says.
"She is the only woman
in the world for me. She will make a great big sister for you and
Yasmeen."
Zarika smiles and says,
"We need to get ready. Yasmeen will do her dance soon."
Aamir, is still jabbering and
waving his hands.
I lean over to Zarika,
"Tell him to sit down."
She repeats what I say and
Aamir sits down. He's still waving his hands. I'm glad that I don't understand Arabic
– I'm sure what he's saying would make me puke.
Yasmeen comes out and looks
lovely. She's wearing a very nice white dress that looks like silk. I'm sure
it's her best dress and has been saved for this day. There's no music, but as
she begins her dance her grace and beauty is reflected in the firelight. She
spins and whirls and twists to a music that she hears in her mind, blending it
all into a smooth supple movement.
This is her show and her
stage and she's the prima ballerina commanding all to watch with respect and
awe. The moves are enticing and yet innocent, sexy and demure. If I didn't
already have Jens it would have been extremely erotic.
She ended the dance with a
jump and a shout. We automatically rose and clapped our hands. Yasmeen ran over
to me and gave me a hug, Zarika joined in.
"Zarika, tell Aamir that
the dance was worth more than just Yasmeen for my wife. That now I owe him a
dowry."
She relayed the message and
Aamir answered, "Just knowing that our Yasmeen will have a good home with
a husband is payment enough."
"Zarika, will it offend
him if I give him a gift of one of the gold bars?"
"Ben, it is too much. It
would be better to leave him some weapons." She answers.
"Tell him I will leave him
two AKs and a case of ammo. But I feel that her dance is worth much more."
I order.
She tells him and he starts
babbling on. I can tell that this is going to go on for a very long time if I
don't do something about it.
I look at Zarika and wink and
make a big yawn.
Zarika interrupts Aamir. He
looks at me and laughs and slaps me on the back. Then he looks at Yasmeen and
talks to her. Dhuha comes over and kisses Yasmeen on the cheek and says some
things and they both leave the house.
I give Zarika a questioning
look, "Ben, this is your wedding night and Aamir and Dhuha are going to
sleep in the barn and guard our truck so that we can use their bed."
Yasmeen hugs me tight. I pull
her off me. "You realize that we aren't really married and this isn't our
real wedding night."
She looks at me with a sad
look on her face, "I was hoping that after I danced for you I could change
your mind."
Zarika answers,
"Yasmeen, when you know Ben better you will know that his heart belongs
only to his American girlfriend. He can love us as little sisters but never as
wives."
Yasmeen questions,
"Can't you have more than one wife in America?"
"No, we can only have
one wife in America. That is our way. However I do love you as my little
sister.
"It's late and we need
to sleep. I want to leave early tomorrow."
We wander over to the
cushions on the floor that make the bed. Zarika and Yasmeen mess with the
cushions until they're happy then they motion for me to get on the cushions. I
get on the cushions and they both lie down, one on each side of me. Then Zarika
jumps up and runs into the kitchen and comes back with a knife. She slits her
thumb and lets some blood flow onto the cushions beneath Yasmeen. We both look
at her and smile.
She takes the knife back to
the kitchen and wraps her thumb in a bandage. Then we all lie back down and the
girls pull the blankets over us. Sleep didn't come right away; the girls were
busy talking and giggling. Finally I shushed them and we all fell to sleep.
*******************************
1 Transliterated from Russian extremely derogatory
word for muslims.
2 Transliterated from Russian – my little sister.
3 The traditional clothing worn by north Pakistani women
and sometimes men. It consists of the Salwar which are loose pajama type pants
that are pleated at the waist. And the Kameez which are long tunic shirts that
are open at the side seams.
4 Transliterated from Arabic – Peace be unto you.
5 Transliterated from Arabic – And peace be unto you
also.