The Chosen One

Yet she’d done it. She was on her feet. Despite her best efforts, her suffering was so intense she nearly let out a piercing scream. The floundering girl fought her need to cry out. If she did, and her antagonist was near, it would alert him of her attempt to escape. She could tell the resolute movements had reopened her wounds. She could sense warm liquid oozing down her back. She could feel a line of red trickling upon her breast.

She leaned against the wall, fighting to maintain consciousness. She had to hold on. She had to escape. With her good arm, she grabbed the nearest wine rack and took a stumbling step toward freedom.

* * *

—

The lounging Pan-Arab ground his cigarette into the soggy carpet. He said something to his partner and started toward the stairs. His friend was right behind. As the duo climbed toward the second floor, they continued their animated discussion. Neither seemed particularly aware of, or the least bit troubled by, their surroundings. They soon reached the landing.

The first soldier spotted the open doorway at the head of the staircase. While continuing to chatter away, he entered the small room where the deadly sergeant was hiding.

Sanders’s body stiffened. He held his breath and waited.

The leader went directly for the unmade bed. He threw himself upon its rumpled sheets. The second stood just inside the dusky entrance. He was inches from the skilled assassin hiding behind the gloomy door.

Sanders raised his knife. He suspected he’d have little difficulty killing them both. He’d reach out a powerful arm and slit the nearest one’s throat before the Pan-Arab could react. The other would prove more difficult. With any luck, the startling American’s sudden appearance would allow little time for his languishing foe to respond.

Along with his fellow Green Berets, he’d spent endless hours rolling around in mock knife combat in the red dirt of North Carolina. It was his favorite way to pass the time on sultry summer days beneath the swaying pines. He was lethal at his task. He wasn’t concerned with his ability to succeed in the coming fray. He knew he’d win. His only worry was whether the one on the bed could unleash a wild shot before he reached him, alerting anyone nearby of the presence of an intruder. If before he died the soldier got off even a single round, Sanders’s efforts over the past few days might have reached their end.

The Pan-Arabs continued to chatter, oblivious to the danger within their midst. The confident Sanders calculated his task. Reach out, slice the first throat, then pounce upon the other before he had time to react. He went over the murderous process in his mind, visualizing the details of his furious attack. Ten seconds from now the room would be filled with the flowing blood of the Chosen One’s mortally wounded followers. And he’d be headed back to the cellar.

He raised his arm ever so slightly, moving the knife into the precise position for the furious advance. He was a fraction of a second from springing into action. He suddenly recognized the fatal flaw in his plan. It was likely he’d prevail in the one-sided combat. Of that he’d no doubt. Still, he was just as certain of something else. Once he’d slain the enemy soldiers, it wouldn’t be long before they were missed. Sanders knew the Mahdi had no tolerance for deserters. A thorough search would be undertaken of the entire area. If anyone had seen them going into the hotel, they’d soon find their battered remains. And their killer’s underground hiding place within minutes of that. Even if they hadn’t been spotted entering the ramshackle building, eventually the old structure would be searched, with the results for the lone American the same.

Sanders pulled back the knife.

If he wanted to survive another day, he couldn’t slay either of them. All he could do was wait to see if they spotted his presence and forced his hand. For their sakes, and his own, he hoped neither would.

The lurid moments crawled by. It was obvious the one on the bed was in no hurry to leave. Finally, his partner glanced at his watch. He looked at it again in the dissolving dawn. He announced something in an anxious tone. The sentence was barely out of his mouth when he rushed from the room. The other leaped from the bed, grabbed his rifle, and headed out the door in a great hurry. Sanders could hear their running feet on the stairs. Moments later, the front door slammed. The hiding Green Beret let out a deep breath and sighed.

* * *

—

Reena also heard the sudden clamor. She’d no idea who or what had made the unexpected noise. Maybe the infidel had left her at last. Maybe it was something else entirely.

She stumbled toward the rickety cellar stairs, supporting herself by grasping the heavy wine racks. Each teetering step was filled with suffering. She stopped after nearly every movement to rest and recover from the extreme exertion. She was far too weak to be attempting anything half so demanding. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass.

The grappling form needed five agonizing minutes to cover the ten feet from the corner of the cavern to the bottom of the enticing stairs. Even so, her determination didn’t waver. She looked at the deteriorating steps, unable to make out much in the blanketing space. She did, however, recognize that the slender door above was partially open. Even if it took all day to climb to the top of the decaying passageway, she’d make her way out of the underground prison.

Reena gripped the stairs’ railing with her good arm. With all her might, she pulled herself up onto the first step. Her knees buckled. She fought to stay on her feet. She knew if she fell, she wouldn’t have the ability to stand again. Despite her best efforts, she let out a muffled scream. She battled against her mind’s insistent urging that she sit down. Her breathing was sharp and intense. Her heart was racing, pounding in her throat. But she understood she was one step closer to her reward. Her days confined with the vile heretic were nearing their end.

* * *

—

Daylight was upon Cairo. Sanders peeked out the second-floor doorway. He waited and listened. He was certain the Pan-Arabs were gone. Yet now wasn’t the time to get careless.

He stepped into the hallway and made his way toward the stairwell. The dank lobby awaited.

* * *

—

Reena’s battle continued. She edged onto the second, and shortly thereafter the third step. Her body was gripped by a pain so demanding it nearly caused her to lose control. She could feel the blood rushing from her head. The struggling girl fought the overpowering impulse to rest. She leaned against the brittle railing once more. She was nearly halfway there. Only five stairs remained to conquer and she’d be in the kitchen. The door above swung open. The American was standing there. He looked at her wretched figure. There was a stunned expression on her face. Even in the half-light, he could see the crimson flow beneath the thick bandages he’d applied.

“Reena, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He hurried toward her. The wavering girl collapsed before he arrived. She was unconscious before she tumbled to the floor. He carefully lifted her sprawling form and carried her to the makeshift bed. Sanders began examining the damage she’d inflicted. He gently removed the blood-soaked bandages from her injured shoulder.

“Aw, Reena, why’d you do something so stupid?” His voice was soft and gentle. But the motionless girl heard none of the love in his admonishing words. “You’ve ripped your stitches. I’m going to have to sew you up all over again.”

* * *

—

Late in the afternoon, despite his best efforts, he nodded off anew. He was slumped over, half-sitting, half-lying against the pitiful wall. His breath became steady and rhythmic. He started to snore. It was the moment for which Reena had been waiting. Her near escape had heightened her desire for freedom. She understood, nonetheless, that as long as the enemy soldier lived, she’d be trapped in this limiting place, unable to flee. There was no other way. Despite her fragile state, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. She’d have to kill her capto

r.

Reena worked her gashed body into a sitting position. She was even weaker than before. The swallowing anguish was deep and overwhelming. It wouldn’t subside. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. It was a long, difficult effort, but eventually the girl fought her way to her feet and took a halting step. Sanders lay a short distance from her. A trembling Reena was soon standing over his sleeping form. She knew his rifle would be resting against the wine rack to her right. She felt her way, inching with her hand until her fingers reached his M-4. Silently she picked up the foreign rifle, cradling it beneath her good arm. One quick shot in the dark and her troubles would be over.

She pointed it in his direction. The end of the barrel was nearly touching his chest. Her wretched body was shaking. She didn’t have the strength to hold the weapon still. At so short a distance, however, it wouldn’t matter. The bullet would find its mark. She’d kill the unbeliever. And her freedom would come.

The time had arrived to dispatch her oppressor.

She held her breath and squeezed the trigger. There was a clicking sound as she pulled it. But nothing happened. No cartridge fired.

The Special Forces soldier reached out and grabbed the end of the rifle’s barrel. He ripped it from her hands.

Charlie Sanders had survived his second close encounter of the day.

“Didn’t they teach you anything in your weapons training, sweetheart? You’ve got to take the safety off if you want the damn thing to fire.”

He got to his feet. At well over six feet, the forceful American was a foot taller than his captive. He hovered over her, the anger in his words unmistakable. She was helpless in his presence. He could easily have reached out and strangled her. He could’ve snapped her neck without giving it a second thought. It would take no effort for the well-trained expert to end her life. That was what she expected. She steeled herself for the end. Instead, he put down the rifle and picked up a candle. Its flame soon filled the room with haunting light. She could see the rage in his eyes. And the disappointment. The anger soon passed. He took her gently by her good arm.

“After all the time I spent patching you up this morning, I can’t believe you’ve reopened your wounds again. I’m going to have to rip up more bedsheets for bandages and start over. Reena, your injuries are serious. You need to get back into bed and lie still if you’re ever going to recover.” He led her over, settled her in, and reexamined the damage. “When are you going to learn?”

He dressed her shoulder. When he was finished he shook his head and blew out the candle.

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