Jericho 3 (43 page)

“After the fire I was taken to Kabul to recuperate. Once I was good to travel, the State Department put me in the SIV, special immigrant visa program for refugees. I landed in Virginia six weeks ago, and they gave me a one bedroom apartment and said I could live in it for six months. Then I would need to find a job and make money to pay for my rent and buy my food. I don’t know anyone.”

Eileen sat down in the chair next to Miriam.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a job when your face looks like this, Eileen?”

Eileen cringed and felt sad for the Afghan as Miriam stood up and paced behind Eileen and the leather chairs in front of the large fireplace.

“Everything I had was taken from me in Afghanistan. My husband, my son, my friends, my way of life…even my face. The only thing I knew about America was Eileen, on the Baltimore Pike, and her Lightner Farms Bed and Breakfast.”

Eileen was touched to the core by Miriam’s story. She grabbed a tissue and the blanket from the ottoman to cover her legs.

“But I will make it…I have a second chance now.”

Miriam bent down, removed her hijab, and pulled a bottle of ether out of her bag. She poured a few ounces into the hijab as Eileen started to detect the odor.

“Is that nail polish?” Eileen asked. Miriam ignored her question.

“God has given me the second chance to make things right…and I want to personally thank Captain Campbell for all he did for me.”

Miriam lunged at Eileen and covered her face with the hijab that was drenched in ether. Eileen fought her for a few seconds then her grip slipped and her arms fell limp. Eileen was fading but heard Miriam begin to tape her body to the oversized leather chair. She heard Miriam walk to the kitchen and felt a dish rag go into her mouth before she fell completely asleep.

Miriam ran to the table and picked up Eileen’s iPhone. The last text from Captain Campbell was up. She typed in the response.

LOVE YOU TOO…JUST WANTED TO SAY GOOD-BYE…MY LIFE IS NOT WORTH IT ANYMORE…TONIGHT I WILL MEET GOD…PEACE BE WITH YOU.

Miriam hit the send button and sat down on the chair next to Eileen. A minute hadn’t passed before Eileen’s phone started ringing. Miriam answered but said nothing.

Old Town Alexandria, Virginia

R
aines had fallen fast asleep on Camp’s chest after a series of long flights in from Lyon, France. Camp’s 1,500 mile round trip “mission” left him sleep-deprived as well. But all he could think about was his father.

“Alzheimer’s,”
his thoughts kept echoing the words his father had spoken.

The vibration from his iPhone startled him. It was another text message from Eileen.

LOVE YOU TOO…JUST WANTED TO SAY GOOD-BYE…MY LIFE IS NOT WORTH IT ANYMORE…TONIGHT I WILL MEET GOD…PEACE BE WITH YOU.

Camp struggled to open his eyes though his mind was still racing. He read the message a second time. He jumped out of bed jolting Raines awake from her deep slumber. He pressed Eileen’s speed dial. Eileen’s phone was answered, but no one spoke.

“Eileen? Eileen! This is Camp.”

Raines threw her shirt back on and walked out into the kitchen where Camp was frantically redialing the number.

“What’s going on?” Raines asked through the groggy fog.

“Eileen…good God, Les, she sent me a text and said she’s killing herself.”

“What?”

“She won’t pick up the phone. I gotta drive out there.”

“I’ll get dressed,” Raines said as she ran back to the bedroom.

Lightner Farms

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

M
iriam hung up as soon as Camp called Eileen’s phone.

The phone rang again. Miriam connected the call then hung up when Camp spoke. Eileen’s phone rang 20 more times in the next 90 minutes. Each time Miriam let the call go to voice mail.

Eileen started to stir so Miriam gave her another fresh shot of ether.

Miriam pulled out the Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 38, a.38 caliber used hand gun she paid a man to purchase for her at a Pawn Shop in Annandale, Virginia and put the gun in her right hand. The revolver was heavy to hold, and though five rounds were chambered, she had not fired a gun since she lived in Afghanistan. Miriam walked to the side door, opened it slightly, and then turned the button in the handle to the locked position. She looked at the clock on the wall in the dining room above the long wooden table. US Navy Captain Campbell should be there soon, and finally she could thank him for his heroics in person.

Camp’s Defender 90 drove down the Baltimore Pike at speeds well over the posted limit and turned on to the gravel road leading up to Lightner Farms with emergency lights flashing. The Defender slid through the loose rocks spraying gravel in all directions before coming to a stop next to a visitor’s car.

“Should I come in?” Raines asked with grave concern.

“Hang in the car for now…let me see what’s going on first,” Camp said as he got out. Raines watched through the windshield as he ran to the side door by Eileen’s kitchen.

Miriam heard the gravel and the vehicle as it braked for an urgent stop. She got up quickly from the oversized leather chair next to Eileen, walked to the kitchen then went inside Eileen’s walk-in pantry next to the side door.

Camp opened the door and slammed it shut behind him then went running into the lodge.

“Eileen!”

Miriam walked out of the pantry behind Camp and followed him as he ran over to Eileen who stirred when Camp yelled.

The lodge echoed with the thunder of the first gunshot that hit Camp in the back of his left leg. He fell to the ground writhing in pain. He turned to look at the shooter.

Raines jumped out of the car when she heard the sound of gunfire and over to the side door. It was locked.

Miriam walked closer to Camp as the muzzle of her 5-pound .38 smoked from the first round. Camp squinted through the pain and the discharged smoke in the lodge to see the shooter.

“Miriam?”

“Get up…sit in the chair.”

Blood was pouring from Camp’s wound, but he pulled himself up into the oversized leather chair and next to Eileen who was now somewhat awake, bound and gagged.

“You took away everything I loved Captain Campbell…my husband…my son…my appointed mission…and now my life.”

“Your son is alive, Miriam.”

“That’s a lie.”

Raines ran around to the back of the lodge and looked in through the French doors leading off to the patio from the dining room. The doors were locked. But the images she saw were more terrifying than the sound of the gunshot she had heard.

Eileen was taped and bound to the chair. Another woman was holding a gun pointed at Camp’s head in the chair next to Eileen. Raines looked for a rock or something to break the glass. Then she remembered the walk with Camp and General Ferguson after Jane’s funeral. She sprinted to the tree line even though her legs felt like they were encased in cement. She pressed the button on her phone for illumination and searched tree-to-tree for the birdhouse.

Think woman, where did he put the Browning?

Raines crossed to the other side of the bark chip path, three trees in she saw the birdhouse. Opening the clasp, her heart stopped beating. Reaching in she felt the cold steel of the Browning 9mm wrapped in cobwebs. The magazine clip was in.

God I pray this thing is loaded.

“You took away the ones I loved…so now I’m going to take away the ones you love.”

Camp tried to think quickly. His leg was too badly wounded to jump her.

“How did you find us Miriam? I thought we had hidden ourselves more carefully.”

Miriam pulled the envelope from the letter Eileen had mailed to Camp at FOB Lightning.

“Mail call makes things very easy,” Miriam said as she tossed the envelope on the ground and took a step back. She raised the gun toward Camp’s head as he winced.

“I want you to watch her die first. I want you to feel the same pain you gave me.”

Miriam slowly moved her gun toward Eileen whose eyes opened wide with terror.

Gunfire ripped through the lodge again. The second bullet hit Camp high on the right side of his chest. He screamed in pain as shattering glass bounced on the wood floor.

Miriam looked at Camp with genuine surprise as blood pooled and drenched his shirt. Miriam turned toward the sound of falling glass behind her and squinted.

Raines pulled the Browning’s trigger a second time. Miriam clutched her throat as the bullet pierced her neck. Her Smith & Wesson 38 fell to the floor first. Miriam’s body fell a second later.

Raines kicked through the glass and unlocked the French doors. She ran first to Eileen’s landline phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“Shooting with injuries at Lightner Farms, Baltimore Pike,” she screamed laying the phone on its side and rushed to Camp as dispatchers heard the chaos at Lightner Farms.

He was struggling to remain conscious.

“Nice…shooting,” he gasped trying to breathe.

Raines put immediate pressure on the chest wound with the ether soaked hijab that was lying next to Eileen and pulled Camp’s left arm up to hold it in place.

“Pressure Camp. Keep pressing.”

Raines grabbed the sewing scissors on the table between the two leather chairs and started cutting the tape off of Eileen. She reasoned that it was better to have a half-drugged ICU nurse at her side than to wait for an ambulance all alone.

Eileen and Raines managed to get Camp to the floor next to Miriam. They put a pillow beneath his head and tied his belt around his upper thigh. Raines applied pressure to his chest as Eileen kept pulling him back from the unconsciousness his body was desperately trying to find.

The sounds of approaching sirens grew louder.

“Come on Camp, stay with us, stay with us…help is almost here,” Eileen pleaded with him. She got up and ran to the kitchen, opened the door and waved frantically to the EMTs as they ran into the lodge.

His heartbeat was weak and faint from the blood loss. The Lightner Farms parking lot was filling with emergency vehicles and flashing red lights. Two firemen rushed in with a stretcher as an EMT got the IV into Camp’s arm, a lead onto his heart and an EKG monitor by his head.

“Come on, baby,” Raines tried to urge him through hysteria and tears.

“We’re losing him,” the EMT yelled as he grabbed the portable defibrillator unit.

Camp’s eyes were shut.

“Clear!” Nothing happened.

“Clear!” Camp’s heart beat reappeared on the screen. They wheeled him out of the lodge and over to the waiting ambulance. Raines got in the back of the ambulance and held Camp’s hand.

“I am not letting go of you Seabury Campbell, Junior…DO NOT LET GO OF ME.”

The ambulance door closed and entered the Baltimore Pike with full sirens and lights as it raced to the emergency room at Gettysburg Hospital.

Islamabad, Pakistan

D
r. Ja’far drove up and parked outside the departures terminal at Islamabad International Airport as baggage handlers for Pakistan Airlines walked up to the car to help with luggage. Ja’far lowered the window.

“No luggage…just carry-on.”

Aara was sitting in the back seat. She wore a beautiful Persian gown with sequins and lace. Her hair was covered with an exquisitely decorated hijab.

“I told you there was no reason to panic. We’re here two hours before your flight.”

Aara breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Ja’far got out and opened her door. He lowered his head in respect as Aara carried her small bag and walked into the terminal.

She was second in line at the PIA ticket counter.

“Name?”

“Aara Markazi.”

“Looks like we have you on the non-stop flight from Islamabad to London’s Heathrow.”

Aara smiled and nodded.

“Any bags to check?”

“No…just a carry-on.”

“This flight features a Boeing 700-300. We have you in an aisle seat. Is that okay?

“I’d prefer a window seat if you have it.”

“Let me check…sure, how about 36A. That’s a window on the left side of the plane as you face forward.”

Aara nodded. Her hands were trembling.

“First time to fly?” the agent asked.

“Yes. Is it a full flight?”

“Pretty full…312 in economy class…all 49 sleeper seats in business are full.”

Aara took her boarding pass and made her way to the security lines. Aara removed her hijab and put it in her bag. Then she spoke to the security agent.

“I need to notify you that I am a diabetic. I have two unused syringes, a jet injector, and three vials of insulin.”

The security guard thanked her and notified the screener. She walked through the metal detector and emerged on the other side.

“Baggage check on three.”

A woman walked up to Aara’s bag and picked it up.

“May I do a second screen on your bag?”

“Yes, of course…is there a problem?” Aara said as her hands continued to tremble.

“Looks like you have some sharps in your bag. Syringes maybe?”

“Yes, I notified the officer that I am a diabetic.”

“No problem…I just need to take a look in your bag.”

The female security officer opened Aara’s bag and looked through it.

“You’re fine. Thanks for your patience. You’ve also been randomly selected for a private body scan by one of our female officers. They close the drapes so it is very private.”

The officer pointed Aara over to where a female officer in a hijab was smiling and waving her over. She stepped into the private screening room, and the woman quickly patted down her entire body.

“Thank you and enjoy your flight.”

Aara was served lunch an hour into the nearly seven-hour flight from Islamabad to London’s Heathrow. After lunch she leaned her head against the fuselage of the PIA jetliner and fell fast asleep.

The captain’s voice over the intercom startled her from her nap.

“We’re about 45-minutes out of London. This will be your last chance to use the lavatories before I turn on the seat belt sign in final preparation for landing.”

A passenger on the aisle let Aara scoot past the empty middle seat and stood up so she could use the restroom. The back of her seat was against the wall of the restroom. She had heard the sucking “whoosh” sound of the toilet flushing a hundred times during lunch and her nap.