The Chosen One

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want the end to come without my being right in the middle of it. So tell me, since I’ve missed what’s gone on today, how are we doing at fending off the fanatics?”

“Not much has changed. Pan-Arab divisions continue to attack our lines. We continue to beat them back. In the past few hours, the 1st Marines have gotten a strong taste of the Chosen One’s fury. They’re knee-deep in blood, Arab and American, but their defenses are holding.”

“Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think our efforts had been for naught. What about Cairo? Has it fallen to the sorry bastards?”

“There’s been nothing but good news from there. The Lincoln’s Hornets are making the Nile run red. Every bridge the enemy’s built has been blown up. And they were able to launch a successful air assault to destroy all the feluccas the Chosen One had. So none of his armor or infantry has reached the other side in quite a few hours. Between the storm slowing the Pan-Arabs and the arrival of the 82nd Airborne, Mourad’s operations have ground to a halt. With the way things are going, a decision was made to save Cairo at all cost. So the British diverted two battalions of mechanized infantry headed for Kuwait and the French did the same with one of their best armored brigades. Both have arrived, been unloaded from their transport aircraft, and set up defensive positions throughout the city. The lines have stabilized. Word is the Mahdi’s forces haven’t gained a foot of ground. Each side’s where it was yesterday.”

“That’ll play right into our hands. The longer we hold, the stronger we become.” He paused for a moment, puzzlement on his face. “Look, I know my brain’s a bit addled, but there’s something I’ve been wondering since the moment I woke up . . . What’re you doing here?”

“Just after you arrived, a friend alerted me they’d brought you in. Since they’ve got us confined to the area on the beach surrounding what’s been not so affectionately dubbed ‘Press City,’ I’d nothing better to do. So I headed over. Figured there might be a good follow-up story.”

“Follow-up to what?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know, do you? From the reports I’ve heard, you’ve probably been a little too busy to pay attention to what’s going on in the outside world. I suspect you’ve had no chance to watch television since we last met.”

“Television? No. Mourad’s seen to that. Since we talked on the beach, I haven’t had time for anything except keeping a zealot’s sword from my neck.”

“That’s what I figured. Anyway, the interview I conducted with you was a big hit. For the better part of a day it played on all the major news networks.”

“To tell you the truth, I barely remember talking to you. I was so exhausted when we met on the beach. Still am. What time is it, anyway?”

“A little after one in the morning.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” he asked.

“Off and on for about twenty hours.”

“You’ve sat for nearly a day hoping for another story? Lady, I thought I was serious about what I do, but you’ve got me beat by a mile.”

“Well, if we’re being honest, it wasn’t just the story keeping me glued to this chair.”

“Oh?”

Her words were a bit reluctant. “How do I put this without it coming off the wrong way? Let’s just say there’s more than professional curiosity here. I know we only talked for a few minutes the other day, but your interview really stood out. There was something about you. I don’t know how to describe it exactly. There was a quality to you. There was a spark in your eyes telling me you were someone I wanted to know more about.”

“As a journalist?”

“Yes, as a journalist. And after I confirmed there was no wife and children cluttering up your life, also as a woman.”

There was an uneasy lull in the quiet conversation. Her discomfort with the direction of the discussion couldn’t be missed. She was accustomed to being in control. Yet this time she’d let down her guard. And her embarrassment showed.

“Look,” she said, “why don’t we talk about this later. You look like someone who needs a lot more sleep before being ready to rejoin the living.”

“You’re probably right. I don’t know what the doctors gave me. But I’m feeling no pain.”

“Then it’s settled.” She got up to leave. “I’m going back where I belong and let you get that sleep. To tell you the truth, I could use a little myself.”

“What about the story you wanted to get?”

“It can wait. And so can any other vague reasons I’ve got for being here. Why don’t we leave it like that for now? When you’re up to it, if you want, we’ll take a stroll and talk.”

She gave him a broad smile and gently touched his hand. Without waiting for a response, she headed out of the stuffy tent.

Erickson watched her go. He lay wondering whether what had occurred was real or nothing more than another in an endless line of fantasies. It wasn’t long, however, before his eyes shut and he drifted back into the world within his dreams.

This time, with Lauren Wells’s beautiful image to hold on to while crossing through the darkest recesses of his mind, his sleep would be a pleasant one.

38

9:12 P.M., OCTOBER 22

3RD PLATOON, BRAVO COMPANY, 2ND RECONNAISSANCE BATTALION, 2ND MARINE DIVISION

217TH MOBILE HOSPITAL

ON THE BEACH, NORTHERN EGYPT

Lauren walked up to the wounded lieutenant’s bed carrying a hospital-issue robe. Even in an olive-drab military T-shirt and camouflage fatigue pants, she was strikingly appealing. Erickson smiled as he saw her approaching.

“You look a hundred times better than the last time I saw you,” she said. “Obviously the doctors were right about your rapid recovery. Ready to take that walk we talked about?”

“More than ready,” he replied. “Any excuse to get out of here. I’ve been staring at these walls for hours. And they’re really starting to get to me. I’m not used to being cooped up like this.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I swear I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t find a way to get off this beach. I feel like some sort of criminal. They’ve had the entire press corps confined to Press City for the past five days. We’re not allowed to leave the area without the military’s permission. They’ve spoon-fed us reports every few hours. But so far, we’ve not been able to go to where the fighting is.”

“With what things are like up there, that’s probably a good idea,” he said. “You’re far too likely to get your head blown off. Or because of your presence, cause someone else to lose theirs.”

“Maybe so, but don’t you think the American people have a right to know what’s going on? You know, freedom of the press and that sort of stuff. And I sure can’t tell the public what’s happening if all I’ve got are the vague reports we’ve been receiving here on the beach.”

“Have you talked to a

nyone about it?”

“I’ve talked to everyone. From the commanding general down to the pimply-faced private dishing out food in the mess tent. I’ve pleaded, I’ve threatened, I’ve even shed a few tears, trying to find a way out. But so far, nothing’s worked. All my requests, both official and otherwise, have been denied. I’ve been told the same thing over and again. Until things are more secure, the press must remain at the landing zone. When the military’s gained control of the situation, they’ve promised to let us go out under armed escort to take a look around. I figure that’ll be about two weeks after the war’s over.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand,” he answered. “After seeing what those on the front lines are going through, I don’t know how much sympathy I can muster. At least you’ve got the freedom to move around the beach when you want. Being allowed to wander the shore sounds like a pretty nice thing to me.”

“Then if you’re up to it, let’s go find a nice piece of sand to walk on with a gleaming chunk of sky overhead. The winds have blown the smoke away and there’s a big, bright slice of moon out there tonight.”

“I’m up to it. They removed all the tubes a couple of hours ago. And the swelling in my arm’s way down. I’m a bit weak, but starting to feel like myself again. The doctor said as long as I don’t overdo it, it’s okay to take a walk with you.”

“Then let’s take a stroll along the beach.”

He struggled out of bed. After nearly two days off his feet he fought against the dizziness that suddenly appeared. The light-headedness quickly passed. She handed him the robe. He strained to put it on over his injured left arm. With her assistance, and a momentary flash of lingering pain, the robe found its way onto the wounded lieutenant. He looked around. There was no sign of anyone waiting outside to accompany them.

“Not bringing your cameraman?” he said.

“You won’t have to worry about that. Chuck’s busy trying to get the dirt from this afternoon’s sandstorm out of his precious equipment.”