Page 6 of Taken By the Soldier
Thus far, the worst of the fighting has occurred on the East Coast, and there was plenty of warning from the American government. Anyone with any sense evacuated long ago. My own government urged civilians to evacuate as well. Unlike the Americans, we didn’t want the blood of innocent civilians on our hands.
I sigh and cast another glance at Forrest and Gunnar, and a sense of responsibility fills me. I can’t fail my men or the people who look to me for guidance at the new Deep Creek settlement.
After the destruction of our beloved island nation, my soldiers have had enough of death. So have I. Now we are fighting for the right to stayhere, on American soil, because there is nowhere else to go. Not easily anyway. Canada and Mexico have closed their borders. Many places in Europe are welcoming refugees with open arms, but getting there would prove a challenge.
No. Enemy territory or not, my place is here. With my loyal unit of men.
The vacation cabins in Deep Creek had been a lucky find, and I’m glad my men can start over in such a beautiful, rural location, far from the war-ravaged cities. It’s a bonus that the land there is fertile too. We’ll be able to grow our own crops and become self-sufficient.
The woman stirs, moaning as her head moves from side to side.
“Easy. Shh..”
A strange protectiveness for the petite woman whose name I don’t even know swells in my chest. I hold my breath and wait for her to open her eyes.
* * *
JUDITH
The first thing I notice,besides the fact that I can’t open my eyes, is the steady movement and hum of an automobile beneath me. A moan escapes my throat. When I roll to the side, a sharp pain seizes my head.
“Easy,” a deep voice says. “Shh.”
Ignoring the pain, I force my eyes open and try to focus on the blurred face hovering above. My mouth feels dry, and my chest burns faintly with each breath.
Vaguely, I recall the explosions and smoke and struggling on the stairwell.
Somehow, I have survived.
I get the distinct impression that the man with the deep voice is responsible for my rescue. Hope surges through my aching limbs. Maybe he’s an American soldier and the government hasn’t fallen completely. Maybe help has finally arrived.
“Breathing is going to hurt for a while, but you’ll live, princess.” The voice rumbles through my center and gives me a sense of security. “Don’t try to speak yet.”
“W-water,” I gasp out, disregarding his order. My vision finally comes into focus, and I find myself staring into stormy blue eyes. The man hovering over me wears a green Zasforran uniform, and cold terror promptly skates down my spine.
Oh, God, no. Please, no.
I’ve fallen into enemy hands.
His square jaw clenches as he lifts me onto his lap. My senses sharpen and I push against the soldier. “Don’t touch me!” I cup my throat. God, it hurts like hell to speak.
“Relax, princess. I’m not going to hurt you.” He sounds slightly agitated, but his stare contains a hint of warmth, just enough kindness to convince me to stop fighting. For now. “What’s your name?” he asks.
I hesitate for a moment, but quickly decide it doesn’t matter if he knows my name. I’m not a soldier or a government official or anyone even remotely important. My capture won’t help the Zasforran cause. If they try to ransom me, they’ll be lucky to get five bucks.
I clear my throat. “My name is Judith Conrad.” I say a silent prayer of thanks when my voice comes out steady.
“Nice to meet you, Judith.” He presses a canteen to my lips and nods, encouraging me to drink. “I’m Unit Commander Luka Dawson. Take slow sips.”
Our eyes lock as the cool liquid runs down my throat, quenching my thirst and soothing the soreness away.
I study the enemy whose arms are holding my head up.
His deep blue eyes glimmer with intelligence, and perhaps a bit of steel. A thick brown beard covers the lower half of his face, and his nose is large, distinctive. His dark hair is streaked with gray, and I judge him to be in his early forties. Even though he’s not standing, I know he’s a tall man. I feel dwarfed nestled next to his broad chest. Power and violence radiate from him, and there is no doubt in my mind that he’s taken a lot of American lives during the war.
I indulge in one more sip of water before releasing my lips from the canteen.
“Feel better?” he asks.
