The Severance (13 page)

“You okay, Sir?” McBride asked.

“Do you think they were all enemy?” Jake asked, putting the picture away.

“Do you really care?” McBride shot back. The question struck home. In the ashes below Jake, most of the flesh had been burned off the insurgents’ heads, revealing skulls eerily devoid of eyes. Yellow teeth stood out in stark contrast to blackened bone. But out there, facing up to the Afghan sun, Jake did not allow himself to feel anything for the dead laying in the desolation at his feet. He had to remain detached from any sorrow or regret; otherwise he would never be able to make it home.

“Need you frosty, Sir.” McBride said.

“That’s going to be a neat trick,” Jake said, pointing up at the sun that was roasting him.

“You know what I mean.”

Jake knew what McBride meant. The millions of dollars sitting in a box under Jake’s bunk back at Salerno. It was all they ever talked about. McBride was becoming more and more concerned that the men were going to crack under the pressure of the secret. Even when faced with burnt remnants of humanity, the only thing worth talking about was the money. The Severance had become what the platoon fought for, what made them tough. Tough and uncaring.

“I’m
fine
, sergeant,” Jake said. Sometimes, he hated The Severance.

It was only after Jake and McBride walked back to their tent from the dining hall, absorbed in their separate reminiscences of the Mockta Bazaar, that they spoke again.

“So what are you doing this brisk evening, Sir?” McBride asked Jake.

“I’m going to head on over to the phone center and call my wife. What about you?”

“Well, I think I’ll see if I can get in the PX before it closes and get some snacks, then park myself in front of my laptop for a few movies before bed,” McBride answered. “You want some Slim-Jims?”

“Sure,” Jake said. He reflected that a good movie might be preferable to explaining himself to Amy. He decided to have a noncommittal conversation instead.

Unlike in Salerno, most people in Bagram used cell phones, so the line at the AT&T phone center wasn’t very long. In a matter of moments, Jake was sitting in a pinewood booth, picking up a phone.

He had intended to call, or at least e-mail, home every day, although sometimes things got in the way. Things like all-night missions or all-night sleepovers with Jessica. Jake always felt the most uncomfortable about his infidelity when he was sitting in front of a phone. Fortunately, the feelings always subsided as soon as his wife picked up, like she had pushed a button inside him that made him normal again.

He began to dial. He looked at his watch as the phone was ringing. It was 9 p.m. his time and just after noon in Tennessee. The phone rang a second time and then a third. Did Amy have the day off? Was there some doctor’s appointment for John that he’d forgotten about? Finally, after the fourth ring Jake heard the phone pick up.

“Hey, baby,” Jake said.

“Jake? Oh, my God, I was so worried! I’m really pissed at you right now,” Amy said.

“I’m sorry. I was on a mission.”

“You’re always on missions. When are you going to stop and come home?”

“I’m done. Yesterday’s was the last one. I’m at Bagram Air Base waiting for a flight.”

“Does this mean that you’re coming home early?”

“Yeah, I should be home almost two weeks early, all told. If everything works out, I’ll be home on the second.”

“That’s so great!” Amy said. “You’ll be home for my graduation on the tenth! I have so much to do now. This place is a mess and I have to call your parents and tell them to come early. I need to tell my boss so I can switch shifts at the library. Oh, and the sitter, too. I still need to buy John a new outfit so he looks nice—”

“Baby, don’t go dressing John up just for me. We’re probably going to get in after midnight, like last time. I’d rather he be comfortable, if he’s going to be up late,” Jake said.

“John wants to look his best for his daddy!” Amy said.

Jake steered the conversation toward Amy’s upcoming graduation. She’d had to work especially hard to balance raising John and school, but she had finally earned her Master’s in Education. Jake made a mental note to buy her flowers for the occasion.

When Amy asked Jake why he was able to come home early, Jake just said that he’d gotten a lucky break. There was no mention of the medal or the firefight or that there were other factors in his early homecoming. There was no point in trying to fill in someone who had never been in a war. Amy would never understand and would only cry in horror if by some miracle she did.

After a few minutes of pleasant but immaterial chat, Amy brought up a new subject.

“Your dad will be so excited. He calls me all the time to ask about you,” she said.

Jake paused for a few moments.

“Baby, I wish you would call your dad once in a while,” Amy said.

“I’ll call him soon.” Jake’s lie was almost convincing.

“Your dad does a lot for us. I mean, after you got in trouble, he was right there for you. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know where we’d be,” she said.

“I know, I know. I owe my dad a lot. I’m not avoiding talking to him,” Jake said. He was lying again.

His father, Thomas A. Roberts, attorney at law, B.A. Economics, Yale, M.B.A. Harvard Business School, and J.D. University of Virginia School of Law, was the hardworking, gifted senior partner at the firm of Durney, Boyter, and Roberts. Specializing in corporate law, he represented captains of industry and golfed with senators regularly.

Jake knew his father had probably gotten him into U.V.A. for undergraduate study and had probably pulled a few strings to get him into law school, too. With only average LSAT scores, Jake couldn’t attribute any success to his own merit—it seemed to him that it had all been because his father had made it happen. And when he got his ass in a sling in Iraq, his father had rushed to his aid and ensured that Jake could leave the military with an honorable discharge. Thomas A. Roberts loved his son and had no reservations about bending a few rules to preserve Jake’s good name. His interventions, however, garnered little goodwill with his son. Each time, after getting off the hook, Jake had always found it hard to talk to his father. No matter what the subject, he couldn’t get past the shame that he still needed his dad to solve his problems. It made him feel weak and inferior. When would be ever be his own man, and not his father’s son?

“Are you still there?” Amy asked.

The sound of his wife’s voice startled Jake. There was no telling how long he’d been lost in thought.

“Oh, sorry. We must have had a bad connection for a moment. What were you saying, babe?” Jake asked.

“I was just saying that I got the tags on your car changed back to Virginia for when we move, but I can’t remember the password to your online insurance, so I can’t update your policy. Do you remember it?”

“I think it’s Cavalier1983, but I have it written down in my notebook somewhere. Give me a sec, and I’ll make sure,” Jake said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his small green notebook. On the last three pages were a few online passwords that Jake needed to remember, but never could.

As he flipped through the notebook, he immediately realized that the last few pages had been torn out. Jake stared at the notebook, perplexed, until he remembered that Jessica had mentioned jotting down a few things before realizing that the book wasn’t hers. She must have ripped out the pages after she noticed the mistake. The passwords weren’t too terribly important— none of them was to his bank account or credit card—nothing that would spur him to sprint to the computer and start changing PIN numbers.

“Baby?” Amy queried. Jake had fallen silent again.

“Oh, hey, sorry, I don’t have that notebook handy. I’m pretty sure the password is Cavalier1983. Try that, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll just deal with it when I get home, okay?” Jake said. “I really should hit the hay, baby.” He yawned into the line as a guarantee. “I will call you tomorrow and try to call when John is with you and awake,” Jake said.

“Okay, I put John down for the night at eight now. We are working on getting him on a better schedule.”

“I’ll try to call before he goes to bed. Bye, baby. Love you,” Jake said

“Love you, too.”

Jake hung up the phone and immediately felt better. An uncomplicated conversation with his wife was better than the best sex he’d ever had with Jessica, or anyone else for that matter.

Leaving the phone center, Jake strolled back to the tent. He chose to take a back route to the tent so he could avoid walking along congested Disney Road. Hopefully, McBride had scored the Slim-Jims he had requested.

Jake’s greatest talent as a soldier was a sense for trouble, what some of his troops called a spider sense. His platoon respected this trait. Jake was a master at spotting tripwires, booby traps, and improvised explosives and had saved quite a few people because of it. If he had a bad feeling about a situation, people took cover. It wasn’t a paranormal gift, just an acute attention to detail about his surroundings and an abundance of luck.

He had one of those bad feelings as he cut through a complex of multistory barracks buildings, on the way back to the transient-tent yard. Away from the hustle and bustle of Disney Road, this part of Bagram was deserted. Jake remembered seeing a sign for a talent show that night at the phone center. Soldiers loved talent shows. However, something right now just didn’t seem right. Jake stopped for a moment and looked around, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Continuing along, he thought he heard a vehicle moving around in the barracks complex.

As a rule, vehicles weren’t normally allowed around barracks, to ensure safety. Sometimes soldiers broke the rules when they had heavy stuff to move or were just lazy. It wasn’t Jake’s responsibility to hand out traffic tickets and he frankly didn’t care what anyone did, as long as they weren’t doing it to him.

He walked another 20 feet and the low rumble of the vehicle’s engine faded. As he continued to walk, he realized that while he couldn’t hear the engine now, he could hear the sound of the large gravel stones shifting. For some reason, that sound always traveled farther than an engine’s, especially when the engine was at low rpms. The vehicle was still moving, but slowly.

The mystery vehicle was nearby, and Jake didn’t like the situation. He couldn’t hear soldiers talking. Why weren’t there soldiers loading the truck? Why couldn’t he see at least some ambient light from the truck’s headlights?

He had a nose for trouble, and at that moment, he smelled a great deal of it.

Maybe a brisk jog back to the tent was in order.

Just as he began to run, he saw it—a Toyota Hilux, only about 50 feet behind him. Jake froze in his tracks, looking at a vehicle that, despite all his efforts, had been able to sneak up on him in the dark.

He chuckled nervously. The suspicion of trouble lurking was now replaced with an absolute confidence that he was in danger.

“Hello?” Jake called out, trying to get the driver’s attention.

Immediately, the truck’s headlights came on, blinding him temporarily. The engine screamed as the driver floored the gas pedal, while Jake was paralyzed by the noise and lights. There was a loud and low mechanical pop that could only be one thing—the truck had shifted into gear.

The truck surged forward and Jake broke into a sprint. In the narrow alleyway, there was no way to sidestep away. Jake tried to outrun the vehicle, his lungs burning, knowing full well that it was impossible. The truck was quickly gaining on him and he only had a few seconds before it overtook him. A side alley! Jake quickly dove into it. Struggling to his feet, he moved farther into the alley, only a half-second before the truck crashed into the corner of one of the concrete barracks.

Jake stood stooped over, his hands on his knees, panting. What had just happened? This was no accident, or was it? After a few seconds, he decided to investigate. Slowly creeping up to the truck, he found the front end totaled, and a hole the size of a tank in the corner of the building. Jake guessed that the truck had been moving as fast as 40 miles an hour. Using what little light was available, Jake peered cautiously through the side window, and saw that the cabin was empty.