Could she remember the words? Sherelle squeezed her eyes and concentrated on the twenty-third Psalms. She must remember. Sherelle rocked back and forth as her mother’s voice echoed, “You can do it. Try it again. Let’s say it together.” Seven-year-old Sherelle had once tugged on her mother’s hem and in her tiny voice repeated: “The Lord . . . is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie die . . . no, no, no baby . . . He maketh me to lie down . . . yes, lie down . . . lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters . . .”
Sherelle broke down.
“I should have listened daddy. I should have come home months ago.” Still, she couldn’t give up. Sherelle stomped in rapid succession then pulled hard on the ropes, lunging forward, backward, to the side, wiggling, bouncing in the chair, frantic to get free, desperate to get home. “God, please get me out of here,” she pleaded. “He restoreth my soul . . . He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me in the paths—of righteousness—for his name's sake . . . .”
Then she heard voices.
“Can we get her out any sooner?”
“We must wait until . . . .”
When the two male voices hushed, the silence ripped her apart. This was it, Sherelle thought. She would die in this wretched place. She was sure of it. To avoid torture, she wanted her captors to aim for her head. She thought again. No, aim for my heart.
Feet shuffled closer. Someone removed the sack. Sherelle squinted then shied away. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a man in a gray military uniform. On his right arm, an American flag. Above his pocket—Williams.
“Y-You’re American?” she asked, surprised. Apprehensive, she pulled away, not trusting her eyes, not trusting the red, white, and blue patch on the man’s arm.
“So are you. I apologize for leaving you tied up like this,” he said as he removed the ropes.
For ten minutes, Sherelle cried then rubbed the deep red circles on her wrists.
Williams patted her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“Hungry?” another soldier asked.
“Sherelle, this is Lt. Nielsen.”
“Evening ma’am.”
Sherelle glanced at Lt. Nielsen then landed a timorous gaze on Williams.
“I’ll get her something to eat,” Lt. Nielsen said. “I’ll let Ops know we’re on for 0100.”
Williams grabbed a chair, turned it backwards then straddled it. He rested his hands on the top rail then crossed them at the wrist. “I’m Major Laurence Williams. Army. Special Forces.” He patted the airborne insignia on his left upper arm.
Sherelle moved to the other side of the room where she moaned while stretching her back.
“I’ll have Lt. Nielsen bring you something for pain. The scratches on your face won’t take long to heal. They’re better left untreated for now.”
Sherelle touched puffy scars on her cheeks then took a good look at the underground bunker. No more than eight feet wide and six feet long, she thought the deep ruts looked as if her chocolate Lab had clawed through it. Then she wondered how long it might take to get home.
“We’re a rescue mission,” Major Williams continued.
Sherelle’s eyes widened. “A rescue—what?”
“We have orders to bring you home.”
Sherelle’s knees buckled. Major Williams ran to her side and placed her in the chair.
“Here are some MREs.” Lt. Nielsen stared at Sherelle’s pale face. “Is she alright?”
“She’ll be fine. Bring more water. She’s probably dehydrated. And some aspirin.” Within moments, Lt. Nielsen set aspirin, hand sanitizer, and several bottles of water on the table then left. As Sherelle finished one bottle, Major Williams handed her a second, then a third.
“A rescue mission?” Sherelle asked between gulps, hoping the liquid might cool her flush face. To her shame, her bullheaded determination would become hometown folly. She felt certain of it.
“Many in the state of Washington are concerned. You’ve got a huge fanfare out there.”
“I do? Who?”
“The whole state. From the governor on down.” Major Williams paused. He had a bewildered look in his eyes. “Why are you still in Cairo? Our records show you were supposed to be on a flight to Seattle a week ago. What happened?”
“I wasn’t finished with my dissertation. Besides, I had to preside over my students’ final exam.”
“You had to do what?” Stunned by her temerity, Williams shook his head in disbelief.
“I needed to finish my dissertation and—”
“Are you telling me you let a Ph.D. take priority over your safety? Are you serious?”
“I thought I had time.” Sherelle bowed her head in shame. “Guess I was wrong.”
“You got that right." He wanted to scold her, but the look of remorse on her face made him change tactics. "Look at it this way," he began in a milder tone, "if everyone did as they were told, there’d be no need for us.” That’s the best he could do to lighten her guilt. “I’ll give you time to eat. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
“Wait. Where are the facilities?”
“Hang a right. There’s a latrine around the corner. I’ll see to it that no one bothers you for the next half hour. And no need to worry. There’s a guard posted a hundred feet away. You’re safe.”
Sherelle captured the full effect of his tall stature, broad shoulders, large hands, and handsome face. She noticed a dimple in his left cheek. Sherelle couldn't ignore his light brown satiny eyes. For six years, she'd brainwashed herself into not looking at a man and have wedding bells go off in her head. But Major Williams’ baritone voice and handsome features challenged her way of thinking.
She exited the bunker, looked left until she felt certain she’d not be interrupted then went to the latrine. Back in the bunker, she rubbed her hands with sanitizer then drank half the water from another bottle before pouring the other half on her face and neck.
She took two aspirins then ripped through MREs and sucked them dry before rummaging through peanuts and trail mix. Two slender packets changed her water to a tart raspberry. After she ate, she crammed the extras in her pocket, one of which had her passport and driver’s license pinned inside. Her cell, however, had vanished.
“There’s been a change of plans," Major Williams announced as he barged in. "We have to move you. Here, put these on.” He dropped a pair of Army boots at her feet. “Hurry!”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later.” The instant she slipped into the second boot, Major Williams pulled her by the hand and out the bunker. Two men waited inside a jeep, their rifles aimed and ready to fire. Before she sat, the vehicle took off and knocked her backwards as Major Williams grabbed and pushed her into a tight crouched position.
She heard gunshots firing behind them. “What’s going on?” she yelled.
“Keep your head down. Do exactly what I tell you,” Major Williams commanded.
Soon American soldiers fired back. Sherelle’s eardrums vibrated with each pop. She peeped around Major Williams and noticed the jeep traveling away from a helicopter she assumed would take her home. Sherelle panicked, tried her best to sit straight and ask for an explanation, but couldn’t.
“Can we make it back to the helicopter?” Major Williams asked.
“We have to,” one soldier responded, shouting over the gunfire.
“Make this ambush look good. It may be our only hope. I want to get her out of here!”
“Everyone is in position. Don’t worry. We’ll get her out,” a second man yelled.
The jeep caromed in the air as the sky lit up in a sea of fireflies. One bullet grazed a soldier’s cheek. Small puffs of grayish-blue muzzled smoke dissipated in the atmosphere. Twenty minutes later, the driver turned the jeep around and drove several hundred yards before he stopped and shut off the engine.
Major Williams threw Sherelle over his shoulder and rushed in
side the helicopter. Gunfire sounded behind them. He heard rotors; saw no lights except high-definition colored screens in the cockpit. Major Williams snapped Sherelle’s shoulder harness into her lap belt then secured himself in the seat across from her.
“How long to clear Egyptian airspace?” Major Williams asked the pilots.
“Not long, sir.”
Moments before lift-off, Sherelle saw Major Williams pull a mangled flag from his jacket then he unfolded a document and flashed a light on it. As he read, Sherelle sat bewildered, but grateful. Once the helicopter took off, she gripped the edges of her seat so tight she had no feeling in her fingertips.
“Major!” Sherelle yelled over engine noise. “I just want to thank you—” At once Sherelle held her breath. The light in Major Williams’ hand showed a pool of blood on his jacket, blood on his hand. “Major! You’re hurt.” Sherelle tore from her seat.
“Get back! Get back! It’s not safe,” Major Williams shouted.
“But you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. Now get back!”
Lt. Nielsen leaned over Major Williams. “Williams, let me take a look at it.”
“As soon as we clear Egyptian airspace, Nielsen, you can do whatever you want to me. Until then, everyone stays put.”
Lt. Nielsen turned on a light attached to his helmet and examined him anyway. From a bag, he removed several items to compress the wound and start an IV. “You’re losing a lot of blood, Williams.” Lt. Nielsen looked toward the cockpit. “Radio in! Wounded soldier aboard! Need an ambulance! Tell them don’t delay! He’s shot up pretty good.”
“Yes sir!”
Lt. Nielsen took his eyes off Williams for a moment and stared at Sherelle. His helmet light unveiled a frightened woman. Her lips quivered. Tears fell like a waterfall. “It’s alright, ma’am. The major will be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes ma’am. He’ll be okay. He ain’t gonna like sitting around recovering, that’s for sure.”
“It’s a flesh wound. I’ll be fine,” Major Williams countered.
“This is no flesh wound. You need to prepare yourself. You’ll be out of commission for a while. No foolin’.”
Major Williams grabbed Lt. Nielsen’s arm. “Whatever you do, Nielsen, don’t let them keep me on a foreign base. Take me straight to Walter Reed. Promise me. Promise!”
“I promise.”
Major Williams let go of Lt. Nielsen’s arm. He struggled to stay awake, tried to imagine being on another mission, but Lt. Nielsen’s light faded.
Chapter 3
“Your—flying—days—are—over.”
The doctor released those words as though he had a longstanding vendetta against Major Williams. He was too matter-of-fact about it. Showed no emotions, offered no apologies, no sympathy, and no hope. Those cruel, punctuated words catapulted Major Williams into a silent fury. If he had enough strength, he’d call the liver-spotted, baldheaded man back and land a right against his pudgy jaw.
Major Williams couldn’t believe a single bullet had annihilated his career. With part of his left kidney severed, the doctor decided to recommend the Army not send him back into combat.
“Give me a break!” Major Williams shouted in his empty room. He moved his head from side to side as he tried to cope with the news. If there's a way to get back into the cockpit, Major Williams declared he’d find it. He had to. But his medicated mind wouldn’t allow him to come up with a reasonable plan. Out of frustration, he pushed the bed tray and a pitcher of iced water tumbled to the floor. His pain intensified. Major Williams gathered bed sheets in both hands and squeezed as tight as he could to relieve the discomfort.
“Major, how are you?”
Major Williams stretched his eyes and looked toward the door. “General Carter. Good morning, sir.” Lennie tried to straighten in bed, but one wave of pain after another anchored him in place.
General Carter kicked an ice cube then spread his arms. “What happened here?” He left and returned with a nurse who had an armful of towels. They wiped the spill then General Carter placed a chair next to the bed and sat. He had a florid complexion, deep set gray eyes, and a distinct Kentucky twang.
“Lennie, I heard you took one in the gut. Pierced your kidney, is that right?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. We got a nice desk job for you. As soon as you’re out of here, we’ll put you to work.”
“That’s just it, sir. I don’t want a desk job. I want to return to Special Forces.”
General Carter leaned close to Lennie and spoke as though his next words might breach national security. “Let me ask you somethin’, soldier. If you could do anything you wanted, other than fly that is, what would it be?”
“Flying is all I know, sir. What else is there?”
“C’mon. Think. What’s your ideal situation?”
Lennie faced the window and tried to stifle a myriad of emotions. For the past hour, he’d struggled to find ways to circumvent the system and get into a cockpit. He couldn’t wait to navigate a plane or helicopter or jump thousands of feet into enemy territory. General Carter’s pessimistic, Lennie thought. And the doctor’s got it all wrong. Lennie had to fly. He needed it as bad as—well, as any lonely man needed it.
General Carter crossed his legs. “Lennie, where’s your family?”
“My mother and father live in Germany. I've got five brothers scattered all over America. One is in Paris.”
“Yeah, I looked through your file and discovered you’re the youngest. Seems every one of ya graduated from college. You’re a well-educated bunch, I’d say.”
“But I’m the only pilot, sir.”
“I imagine your individuality is important to you. I can understand that. If I had six brothers ahead of me, I’d want to make my mark, too. But listen to me, son. You’re earning this survivor’s pay and no one is benefiting from it. You went out on sixteen missions. Sixteen! Hurt once. A broken finger I believe. Did it ever occur to you it’s time to hang this up? I’m sure like any soldier you’re sitting here trying to figure out ways to get yourself back in theater. Don’t push your luck. Next time you might not be so lucky. I think it’s time you sail into the sunset with a pretty woman and start a family.”
“Retiring had never entered my mind, sir.”
“I’m not exactly talking ‘bout retiring, soldier. How ‘bout this? Why don’t we put you on leave for a year? At least until you figure out what you want to do.”
“A year, sir? The Army never does that.”
“It’s a bit unusual, sure, but we’re making an exception. You’ve served your country well, son, and I don’t see the point of making you retire if you aren’t ready. The country owes you, soldier. And I intend to see to it that we pay up. Right now family is what you need more than ever. Until your parents get here, Major Butler— You know Harold, don’t you?”
“Yes sir. We’re good friends. But sir—“
“He and his wife have agreed to put you up for a while . . . until you can travel.”
“But sir, I don’t want to be a bother to anyone.”
“Soldier, hiding from your family, whether it’s your Army brothers or blood brothers, ‘cause you can’t fly no more ain’t solving your problem. As soon as the doctors give you the okay, Butler will see to it that you stay at his place to recover. We’re giving Butler extra time off to help tend to you. Man’s got a nice ranch north of D.C.”
General Carter stood and patted Lennie on the shoulder. “I got other soldiers to visit this morning. I’ll see you later. Think on what I said. It’s not good for a man to be alone. It’s time to settle down and get married, soldier. That’s the way I see it. If you decide you want a desk job, we could use you in counterintelligence. An opening is coming up. Think on it. And call your parents. They have a right to know. And don’t give Butler no trouble.”
Before General Carter c
leared the door, he turned around. “Major Williams, you did a fine job out there. You made America proud. Made me proud. None of you should have come out alive. That rescue will be remembered for quite some time, soldier. Dag gummit, you might have made me a candidate for president, son.”
Lennie did everything in his power to avoid the subject of marriage. It’s the last thing he wanted to think about. Ever since Angela broke off their engagement four years ago, he didn’t see the point. He had no intentions to live celibate a year after the breakup, but it fit well with his patriotic duties. He remembered all the temptations dressed in skimpy dresses and stiletto heels. Just as he’d contemplate his vow, he’d get another assignment that thrusted him into a parched desert or a swarm of mosquitoes in the middle of swamp land.
He hated to admit it, but he knew if Angela hadn’t called off their engagement he’d still be in what he secretly considered a miserable relationship. Lennie crinkled his nose as he imagined her lecturing him to get well so they’d attend functions with the who’s who on Capitol Hill. Lennie sighed. He never seemed at ease with her, but didn’t fully understand why he remained in the relationship so long. Or why it hurt so bad to lose her.
He relaxed his shoulders and let out a heavy sigh before repeating General Carter’s last words. “It’s time to settle down and get married, soldier.”
“Is that due to the drugs or have you gone mad?” someone asked.
Lennie faced the door and found himself bereft of words. “Miss—”
“Sherelle . . . Sherelle Lindsey.” She laid flowers on Major Williams’ bed table then patted his swollen left hand.
“Did you hear that?”
“Something about getting married,” Sherelle said.
“If you don’t mind, can we keep that between us?”
“I think I can come up with a better solution than marriage.”
“Oh, yeah. What would that be, Ms. Lindsey?”
“Chocolate.”
Lennie started to laugh, but pain traveled through his body and pressed his shoulders deep into the mattress. Wide crooked veins bulged in his neck. His face fluctuated from a rich chestnut to a brassy brown. He felt hot.
Sherelle poured the remains of the pitcher of ice into one of two towels sitting on the bed tray. She rubbed his brow, face, and neck.
“What are you doing here? You should be on a flight to Seattle.” He forced the statement between clenched teeth as he maneuvered his shoulders to get comfortable.