The Girl With The Gun (Sydney Rye Book 8) Page 7

  "Why did that happen?" I asked.

  Zerzan's lip twitched into a small smile and she shook her head. "This is war. Things like that happen all the time."

  "All the time? Who was it? How did they find us?"

  "They may have been watching your friends."

  "My friends? Mary wasn't my friend; she was blackmailing me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She wanted the same thing you wanted, and you used similar means. Both of you wanted my help, both of you were willing to use force to get it." Karma's a bitch.

  "I'm sorry."

  I caught Zerzan's eyes in the dusty light of dawn and she reached out and took my hand. Her skin was warm and rough. She smelled like fire and smoke. "I would like us to be real friends. I don't want to force you to do anything."

  "I want to help. For a moment there, I thought I was going to succeed. But then the world blew up." I shook my head and looked down at our joined hands.

  "There are lots of ways to help. I think that we can still make something good happen. I am still alive, and so are you. What Mary wanted, others must want as well. We will continue with our plan."

  Zerzan shared her food with me and then we headed in the direction Blue and I had been walking. Our progress was slow because of my ankle, but Zerzan didn't complain. The day brightened and warmed and my clothing was finally dry, though the chill in my bones did not relent.

  We did not speak much, preserving our strength for the trek. It was late afternoon when we arrived back at the road where Mujada had left the transport vehicle. I saw it through the trees just as Zerzan took my arm to stop me. She motioned for Blue and me to stay and then circled around, checking the area to make sure it was secure.

  I sat down but kept Mary's pistol in my hand. Zerzan returned and helped me up. When we got to the truck, she assisted me into the passenger seat. Blue jumped up into the foot well, being careful of my ankle.

  The communication device that I'd been ignoring for the past twelve hours started to make noise again. I put it into my ear thinking that if Zerzan and I were going to make a deal with the devil, then we'd have to talk to him. I was surprised to hear Dan's voice in my ear. "Sydney, come in, Sydney."

  "Dan?"

  "Thank God. Sydney, I have been trying to reach you for hours. Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  Zerzan climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the truck. Its big, diesel engine rumbled.

  "What's going on?" Dan asked. "I wasn't sure what happened to you. I've been following your beacon and I know you've been moving slowly. Where are you hurt?"

  I couldn't help but smile. "I sprained my ankle. Sneakers are not the best for long hikes in the woods."

  Zerzan backed up and turned the truck around.

  "Well you're in some really fucked up territory right now."

  "Yeah, but I'm on the move. Just got into a truck."

  "How can I help?"

  "Right now, I think I've got everything under control." Zerzan looked over at me raising her eyebrows at the suggestion that everything was under control. "We got attacked last night. Bombed."

  "It was the Russians."

  "I'm not going to ask how you know that."

  "I don't think I have time to explain it to you. Where are you headed now?"

  "We're going to a doctor so I can get my ankle looked at and then I'm going to try and negotiate an alliance between the Kurdish female fighters and the US government."

  There was silence on the other end for so long that I wondered if we'd been disconnected but then finally Dan replied. "Okay."

  I laughed "What? That doesn't sound like my area of expertise?"

  "No, it's not that. I'm just surprised you're realizing it. I think it's great. Let me know what we can do."

  "I will."

  "I'll be in touch again, check in on you."

  Dan got off the line and was immediately replaced by Declan's voice. "Come in, Red Eagle, come in, Red Eagle."

  "Are you calling me Red Eagle?" I asked.

  "Yes. Please return to base as soon as possible. Or we can come and get you."

  "I'll be in touch tomorrow to set something up. I think you'll like what I have to offer you."

  I took the comm out of my ear and looked over at Zerzan. She was concentrating on the road. It was narrow and bumpy.

  "How long until we get to where we are going?"

  "My village is close. I have not been home in a very long time. But we have to get that ankle looked at. And I have none of my supplies. They were all lost."

  I watched her face, looking for some kind of emotion, grief over the loss of her soldiers, trepidation at returning home, but her gaze stayed steady on the road, her hands relaxed on the wheel, and her expression one of grim determination. She hardly seemed human. Could she be for real? I shivered as fear prickled along my spine. Could she be a figment of my imagination?

  Chapter Seven

  Tears welled in Zerzan's father's eyes as he held her tight to his chest. Taller than Zerzan by a few inches, he kissed the top of her head while speaking words I did not understand, though the sentiment was clear. Her mother's face was wet with tears and her hands shook as she embraced her daughter.

  I could see the family resemblance; Zerzan had her father's nose, straight and narrow, and her mother's large, almond-shaped eyes. Four younger siblings—two boys and two girls—hugged Zerzan and all spoke at once, their voices rising as they clamored to be heard.

  Zerzan's expression remained calm and her eyes dry. How could she be so unaffected? My eyes stung and it wasn't even my elated family.

  Witnessing such unbridled love, such a welcome homecoming, was special and I at once envied and feared for Zerzan. She had so much to lose.

  This is what Zerzan was fighting for, what all her soldiers died defending. Those women's families would never get to welcome them home. My throat tightened and I swallowed to clear it.

  Neighbors came out of their houses. Young mothers held babies in their arms, others had toddlers on their hips, older children holding onto their legs. Elderly women helped with the kids, bending over to hold tiny hands. Older men, hunched with age, black hair turned bright silver, stood with the women and children.

  There were no young men.

  This was what war left behind; part of a community, but not a whole. Women like Zerzan fought to keep it safe, to make sure that they could live here in this beautiful village. But no one was truly at peace because their hearts were out there fighting; their husbands, children, and siblings.

  This was why I kept my distance from people: If you loved someone, then more than your own life was forever at risk. I would rather die than lose another person I loved.

  Zerzan turned to the gathered villagers, her mother still holding onto her arm and a younger sister wrapped around her waist, the girl's cheek pressed against her stomach. She glanced at me and for a moment I saw searing pain in her expression, but then her eyes shuttered and she spoke.

  The language was beautiful, lyrical. Her voice was loud and carried to all those gathered around us. Her voice did not break, but I could see the hearts of those around us splintering. She was telling them that their daughters and their sisters were dead. I didn't need to understand the words to witness the devastation they created.

  They were like the bombs that had rained down on us.

  Now I realized that the rumble of the truck as we had approached the village was like the buzz of the drones that signaled the coming attack.

  And Zerzan climbing out alone was like the whistling warning of the bombs.

  Her words the explosion that blew all hope away.

  The loss of their loved ones was the fire; it would burn bright for a length of time, then slowly smolder and finally extinguish, having consumed all that it could, leaving nothing but black soot and char.

  Would their hearts stay empty or, like the forest, would new life grow from the ashes?

  ***

&nbs
p; Inside Zerzan's family home, the sunlight streamed in through clean windows, creating bright patches in the dark space. We entered into the kitchen and the smell of freshly baked bread and rich spices filled the air.

  Blue stayed very close to me, but looked back at the crowd we'd left outside.

  They took strength from each other but they also bled for each other.

  I wanted to do something about it, to transform their suffering into rage. That's what I'd been doing for almost five years.

  I took the pain of my brother's death and I made it into something else, something I could use. Anger lets you take action, fills you with burning desire.

  Grief is like an anvil on your chest. It weighs you down, suffocates you, leaving you with nothing to do but bear its weight and try to survive.

  Zerzan's mother turned to me and reached out a shaking hand. The lines on her face were deep grooves. Her age was hard to determine because the strain of her life had amplified the years. How many children had she borne? And how many still lived?

  She reached out to me and took my arm, squeezing my bicep and giving me a smile. She said something I didn't understand but Zerzan translated.

  "She is offering you food."

  I smiled back at her and was about to refuse but Zerzan spoke again. "Say yes. It will make her happy if you say yes."

  I nodded. "Yes, thank you. How do I say thank you?"

  "Spas."

  I tried to pronounce it and Zerzan's mother smiled at me, releasing my arm and patting my cheek before moving toward the stove.

  One of Zerzan's sisters, a girl about twelve, was staring at Blue. "You can pet him if you want."

  I gestured for Blue to sit and then beckoned the girl over. She wrung her hands before taking a tentative step in our direction.

  Zerzan's father, brothers, and remaining sister moved into the next room while Zerzan stepped up to help her mom at the stove.

  "What's your name?" I pointed to the girl. Touching my own chest I said, "Sydney."

  I pointed at Blue and told her his name.

  "Jiyan." The girl reached a hand toward Blue. He leaned into it and when her hand touched the soft fur at the top of his head, her face broke into a wide smile.

  Jiyan was skinny and looked like she'd just gone through a growth spurt; her skirt ended at her calves instead of her ankles and the sleeves of her shirt stopped in the middle of her forearms. Her black hair was held back in a braid.

  Sunlight from a window caught the side of her face. She said something I didn't understand and Zerzan translated for me. "She asks how old he is."

  "Around six, I think. I adopted him from a shelter, so don't know for sure."

  Zerzan translated and Jiyan looked up at me confused.

  "She does not understand what you mean by shelter."

  "In the US, when dogs have no homes, they go into shelters until someone adopts them." Zerzan translated and her sister replied.

  "What happens if no one adopts them?" Zerzan asked

  "It depends on the shelter." It was strange to be standing here in this cozy kitchen, surrounded by all this familial love and excitement at the reunion, yet still be able to hear the weeping of others outside, mourning the loss of their own sisters and daughters, and be talking about what happened to dogs in America that didn't get adopted.

  "You can just tell her that they all get adopted."

  Zerzan smiled and relayed my message. Jiyan nodded and returned her attention to Blue.

  Zerzan's mother spoke and she translated. "Go sit down; we will be there in a moment."

  "Can I do anything to help?"

  Zerzan shook her head and said something to Jiyan. The young girl took my hand and led me into the next room. Her skin was soft, her bones small, everything about her young and new and vulnerable.

  The living room was bigger than the kitchen, but still small for such a large family. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes lined one wall.

  Zerzan's father came down the stairs from the second floor holding a black doctor's bag. He gestured for me to have a seat in one chair that faced an empty fireplace.

  My shoes and legs were caked with mud, and as I untied my laces, some of it broke off and fell onto the clean floor. "Sorry."

  Her father just smiled at me. I guess when you have that many kids, a little mud on the floor isn't a huge concern.

  I removed my shoe and sock, pushing up my sweatpants’ leg. Zerzan's father, whose name I still didn't know, spoke to one of his sons who hurried into the other room, returning with a bowl of water and a washcloth.

  I reached down so that I could wash my own leg but he shook his head and did it himself. A surge of emotion flowed, gratitude.

  Zerzan came in as her father cleaned my injured ankle and examined the bruised swelling. She carried a tray and put it down on the coffee table. Her siblings each grabbed a glass of tea and one of the pastries that filled the room with a sweet and mouthwatering scent.

  Zerzan stood behind her father looking down at my ankle and spoke to him. He responded. "He does not think it's broken." Zerzan's father moved my ankle up and down and I winced. "Can you move your toes?"

  I nodded. "I don't think it's broken. I know what a broken bone feels like."

  Zerzan smiled. "I'm sure you do. He says that he will wrap it for you and that you should stay off it for a couple of days. We can give you some pain medicine that will also help the swelling."

  “Spas,” I said. Jiyan giggled into her hand. "Was it my pronunciation?"

  Zerzan nodded. "Nice try though."

  "Where did you learn English?"

  "I told you, we had American trainers. They taught me."

  "It's excellent."

  "I was always good at languages. My father spoke seven languages."

  "Wow. And a doctor."

  "No, my grandfather's the doctor." Zerzan gestured to the man who was wrapping my ankles. "My father died in the war."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Thank you. There are many losses." Zerzan turned away from me and picked up one of the steaming glasses of tea, passing it to me. "Should I get water for Blue?"

  "Please."

  Zerzan left the room again as her mother came in carrying another tray filled with food. She smiled at me and insisted I take one of the sweet breads she offered.

  Another pulse of gratitude flowed through me.

  I had already agreed to broker a deal with Zerzan and the US government, but as her grandfather wrapped my ankle, I knew that even if Homeland Security didn't help them, I would use the resources of Joyful Justice to make sure Zerzan got what she needed.

  ***

  We left Zerzan's family house as the sun set, well fed, cleaned up, and bandaged. We had agreed to go back to the base where my journey had started and to convince Declan to strike the alliance I had been trying to arrange with Mary. Zerzan had given me a clean uniform of hers. It fit almost perfectly. We really were cut from the same cloth.

  By the time we'd climbed back into the transport vehicle, Jiyan and Blue were great friends. He'd spent the hour preceding our exit lying on the floor with his head in her lap as she patted his face and whispered to him.

  As we drove away in the peachy-orange light of the sunset, I watched Zerzan's family in the side mirror. They waved until the road turned and I lost sight of them.

  The neighbors did not come out to say goodbye. Maybe they would have, but we left quickly and as quietly as a diesel engine allows.

  "When Mujada kidnapped me, was that your forces attacking?" I asked Zerzan.

  "No."

  "Who was it then?"

  "Daesh, probably. Mujada wasn’t going to wait to find out."

  "Right, but the whole time we were there, Mujada seemed very nervous. Like she was expecting something to happen."

  "Mujada is always expecting something to happen."

  "Where is she?"

  "She has her own mission."

  "Will we see her again?"

 
; "I will, depends on how long you stick around." Zerzan took her eyes off the road for a moment to hold my gaze.

  "I'll be here as long as it takes."

  She nodded and returned her attention to the dirt track.

  I retrieved Mary's communication device from the glove compartment where I had stashed it. "I'll see if I can raise anyone on the radio, let them know we are coming."

  "That's a good idea, we don't want them shooting at us."

  "Oh no. Not that."

  Zerzan laughed.

  Turning on the unit, I immediately heard a voice asking for Red Eagle. "This is Red Eagle."

  "Red Eagle. What is your location?" It was Declan’s voice.

  "I'm headed back to you."

  "When?"

  "A few hours."

  "I'll see you then."

  I put the device back into the glove compartment.

  "Let's get very clear about what you need," I said.

  "I need more fighters. I need better equipment. And I need them to stay out of my way."

  "You mentioned air support before."

  "Yes, that's important as well, but it is better for us to kill Daesh fighters ourselves rather than bombs. Even if a woman is flying the plane, they will have no way to know that. But when they see our faces, when they see our bodies, they will know that they are going to hell." Zerzan was smiling.

  "How do you think we can attract other women besides those in your community to come and fight?"

  "How does Daesh do it? We must do it better and smarter."

  “And how do we do that?”

  "The call to war is stronger for men because they enjoy the blood. Yes?"

  "Right."

  "Obviously there are women, like us, who are also drawn to war. We would be soldiers no matter what."

  "I don't know, I think we both chose this route because of something that happened, something personal. Maybe that's the key. We have to figure out how to make this personal for everyone we recruit. You are fighting because you are defending your homeland. What would motivate women from other lands?"

  "Why are you fighting?"

  "I lost someone and fighting is the only way to keep the grief from swallowing me whole."

  We were silent for a long time. The night grew pitch black, our headlights the only illumination. We came off the rough track and onto blacktop.