Page 2 of Unloaded
Hours later, we reach the extraction point and make camp, popping up tents for shelter. We will be laying low here until weare airlifted back to base and to eventually return to the states. I carry the sleeping 1Lt. inside the nearest tent and place her on one of the cots. She’s only stirred a few times on our journey when I’ve managed to get a few sips of water in her, but mostly she’s been incoherent, weakly fighting my hold. She doesn’t seem to remember she’s been freed.
Doc gets his kit out and sets to work, starting an IV on her and treating her open wounds. She falls into a fitful sleep, waking every few minutes screaming in terror and kicking off her blanket. As the fluid revives her, she dislodges her IV multiple times forcing Doc to replace it.
“Fuck!” Doc curses as he starts a third IV line. “She’s so dry she’s fucking hard to stick, despite the fluid I’ve managed to get in her. I’m going to have to sedate her. I don’t know if I can get another line in her if she pulls this one out.”
As soon as the line is in place, he shoots a syringe of clear fluid into it and opens the roller clamp letting the fluid flow freely. Tiger and I have been holding her down while Doc worked. She’s weak, but has still managed to put up a hell of a fight. The fight leaves her as the medicine takes hold. Once I’m certain she’s out, I let up the death grip I’ve had on her shoulders.
“I fucking hate this,” I utter, looking down at the poor woman. Doc glances up from his task of taping everything in place. He gives a nod but doesn’t comment. I should keep my mouth shut, but this is eating at me. You can tell the woman has been assaulted in more ways than one. She reeks of excrement, urine, and semen. I leave Doc to see to her while I go to check in with Pitbull.
“How is she?” he asks when I approach. Knowing I can’t hide the disgust from my face, I shake my head and turn away.
“She’s alive,” I return, glancing back toward the tent where Doc is treating her. “About like all the others we’ve pulled out of places like that.”
“I don’t know if we did her a service or not,” I continue a few moments later, meeting Pitbull’s gaze. His expression shows he knows full well what I mean. We may have gotten her out, but her hell is far from over.
“Sometimes I think the ones we’ve rescued would be better off like those who didn’t make it,” Pitbull comments, surprising me with his candid opinion. The years of pain and suffering ahead of her makes me shudder. I don’t need her to tell me what has happened to her; I’ve seen it more times than I care to count.
Over the next few hours, we keep watch for the enemy in case they find us and seek retribution for taking their ‘playthings’. Pitbull stations one of us to watch over the 1Lt., too. As the fluid flows, she will become stronger and more lucid when the sedative wears off.
I’m sitting beside her bed, taking my turn, when 1Lt. Montgomery begins to scream, sitting straight up. “Shhh,” I soothe, gripping her shoulders to keep her from leaping off the cot and tearing her IV out again. “You’re in a safe place, 1Lt.” Her eyes dart around the semi-darkened enclosure before landing on me. “I’m Duke, a Navy SEAL. We will get you home soon.” She shivers, tears now falling down her face.
“I’m free?” Her voice is gruff and rusty sounding.
“Yes,” I reply. “We are giving you some fluids to get your strength back. The choppers will be here in a few hours. You should try to sleep until then.” I reach for a flask of water, offering her a drink.
She shakes her head, but takes a couple of sips before responding. “I don’t want to sleep,” she rasps out. “They come every time I fall asleep.”
“They won’t be coming for you anymore,” I assure her, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and perhaps in a way, she’s right. I can’t keep her from dreaming of them, but I won’t let them physically take her again. I encourage her to sip more of the water, helping her hold onto the flask while she drinks. She dips her head in thanks after she’s had her fill.
“Try to rest,” I urge. Not meeting my gaze, she reclines onto the cot. Her wide eyes flit around as her body shakes with silent tears.
Sometime later, I’m relieved by the newest member of our team so I can catch a nap before the extraction. Pitbull informs me our transport has been delayed by enemy fire as I’m heading toward a tent to sleep. I nod my understanding, hoping the delay won’t be very long. Finding an empty cot, I lay down and quickly fall asleep like I’ve learned to do during my years of service.
I awaketo a flurry of activity. I sit up, fully alert. Pitbull runs up to my cot. “We’ve got company,” he growls.
Instantly I’m on my feet, grabbing my gear and throwing my pack onto my back. I check, and double check my weapons before exiting the small tent to join the others in the center of camp.
“What have we got?” I ask, reaching Pitbull’s side.
“Insurgents,” he bites out through gritted teeth. “A whole fucking lot of them. They’ve caught us with our pants down. There’s no way we can out run them with the numbers of weakened hostages. I don’t understand how the found us. This isn’t a random patrol. There are at least fifty of them.”
Fuck! This is bad!
“You have charge of the 1Lt., Duke,” Pitbull calls out as I turn toward the med tent. “We need to get moving if we have a ghost of a chance.”
When I enter the tent, I see 1Lt. Montgomery sitting on the cot with a sheet wrapped around her, appearing more alert. Doc is kneeling beside her. He removes the IV from her arm and places a bandage over the site. She looks better than when I first laid eyes on her, but the evidence of her ordeal is still there. Doc pulls some fatigues out of his pack.
As I make my way to her side, I take the clothes from Doc and kneel next to her. I tap her foot, wanting her to lift it so I can put socks on her. She startles at my touch.
“I need to get you dressed,” I say looking up at her. “We have to move.”
With a dip of her head, she slowly lifts her foot. I manage to dress her quickly sans undergarments, but it’s better than nothing. I put socks and shoes, which are much too large, on her feet in case she is forced to walk. We have to be prepared for any scenario.
Once she’s dressed, I help her to her feet, leading her out to the waiting vehicles. We load up, again with her in my lap due to the limited space and take off like a bat out of hell. The terrain is rough causing our Humvee to bounce around. The 1Lt. is forced to hold her hands to the roof of the vehicle to keep from beating her head against it constantly.
We take heavy fire as we barrel toward the barricade the enemy has erected to prevent our escape. Drake fires an PRG, to clear our path. The enemy yells curses at us in Arabic as we breech their barrier.
The 1Lt. tenses even more and begins to tremble. Her fear is palpable. Hoping to distract her from her fears, I begin to question her about her life and how she came to be in service.
