Page 8 of Salute, To Bravery
“We need to talk,” I begin, getting straight to the point. “My visits haven’t gone unnoticed. There’s talk on the base. Suspicions about my motives.”
Rehan’s brow furrows. “Our meetings are putting your integrity at risk,” he says quietly.
We stand there facing each other, the air thick with unspoken words and tension. Finally, Rehan reaches out, his hand brushing against mine.
“If I agree to share more details of my mission, would that help?” he says simply.
“It might help to persuade my CO that you are who you claim to be,” I reply.
A noise comes from the other side of the cell door.
“It’s too dangerous to talk here,” I warn him. “The base has been put on high alert, so I should go. The interrogation tent offers more privacy. You can tell me more when I interview you tomorrow.”
Rehan nods, his head moving closer and closer to mine as we stand together in his cramped cell.
“Tomorrow, then,” he replies and turns away from me.
Leaving his cell, our conversation weighs heavily on my mind. I inform Major Anderson of the latest development then return to my quarters, feeling torn between my duty and the unexpected bond that’s formed between Rehan and me.
A storm that’s been threatening all day finally breaks in a torrential downpour pelting the ground outside. It mirrors the turmoil inside me. According to our latest intel, the enemy is onthe move and an attack looks more than likely. Decisions outside of my control have to be made, and lines will be drawn.
I’m beginning to suspect, no matter the path I choose, the course of my life and Rehan’s and the direction of the war that has raged for decades are about to be irrevocably altered.
Chapter Seven.
Rehan
As I sit on the edge of my metal cot, I hear the muted voices of the other captives filtering through the thin walls of my prison. Their whispers are a mix of desperation, secret plots, and hints of a rescue plan.
The sound of a key turning in the lock of my cell door preempts the usual clanging arrival of a guard. The door opens, and Harper slips inside. Her presence causes a welcome swell in the stagnant air.
“Rehan,” she greets, her voice a hushed whisper, betraying her awareness of the thin veil of secrecy between the cell walls.
“Harper,” I respond, stepping to meet her halfway. The concern etched into her features is palpable. “What’s the word outside?”
She glances over her shoulder before speaking, her movements strained. “Tensions are high. We’re preparing for an attack on the base.” Her eyes, which are filled with concern, meet mine.
“I’ve heard the other prisoners whispering about forces coming to rescue them,” I murmur, my voice barely audible. “I suspect it could also be an opportunity for them to kill me…”
One way or another, it seems our time together is about to come to an abrupt end, and I’m unable to voice my deeper concerns, not just about my ability to complete my work as a negotiator but also the joy of seeing Harper every day. I can’t remember the exact time I stopped calling her Captain Riley. It just happened naturally, and neither of us has mentioned anything.
“I’ll be worried about you during the attack,” I tell her.
Harper pulls her hand back and wraps her arms around herself as if feeling a sudden chill. “I can handle myself. My concern is ensuring your safety. You’re here to bring peace to your country. None of us can afford for you to fail in your mission.”
We stand in silence, face to face. The air feels as if the evening is holding its breath with us.
“These last few days we’ve spent together have changed us. We’ve learned to trust each other.” I step closer, my resolve strengthening. “I believe, given time, peace will come to my country with or without my help. But if we do survive the attack, then I believe together we can change the tide of war.”
Harper reaches out to me this time. Her hand grips mine firmly, a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty swirling around us. Our bodies move closer, our heads lean toward each other, and for a fleeting moment, our lips meet before we both pull back and look away.
“Together, then,” Harper says as she turns and leaves, her retreating figure a shadow against the dimming light outside.
I feel a surge of resolve. The path before us is fraught with peril, but there’s no turning back now.
Sitting back down on my cot, I realize that freedom isn’t just about escaping. It’s about transcending the barriers between enemies, about rewriting the narrative of conflict into one ofcollaboration and alliance, and about changing the history I’ve spent so long studying.
Chapter Eight.
