...To The Other Side

As the last of the cold-blooded killers collapsed into a gurgling heap, I wiped both Herlinda and Diego down on his desert camouflaged jacket. They weren’t truly clean, but I would have time for that later.

I sheathed the blades before searching out for the one survivor among the mercenary band. Luckily, the one Mrs. Al Farhan called Andrew was one of the first I had encountered in the fray, I had been able to pummel him into unconsciousness before I got too caught up in battle to be particular about who died.

It worked out well, since I now had a prisoner to question as to the whereabouts of the things I had come for.

I picked him up by the front of his uniform with one hand and half carried, half dragged him to the kitchen area. I propped him up into an armchair and splashed water on across his bruised face. With the third pan full of cold water, he came sputtering to.

“Who are you...?” He managed to spit out a semi-coherent question.

I was not in a very charitable mood, so I quickly set the ground rules. “It is not your place to be asking the questions here, boy. I ask, you answer. If I am satisfied with your answers, you will live. Is that clear?”

He wasn’t restrained physically from acting in any way, but his eyes showed that he understood that I didn’t consider him a threat. He nodded.

“Good. Then let’s begin.”

After a few moments of polite conversation, I had all of the information I needed from him.

I left him sittng in that chair still as I calmly gathered up the items I needed from the various rooms where they were kept. I found the briefcase full of bundles of cash, in the form of $100 bills and high denomination euro notes that the group was using for their operating capital in the leaders room. I recovered the two sealed, bowling ball sized cannisters from the room Andrew stayed in, placing them in the heavy duty duffle bag that he had used to lug them around. Finally, I used the keys that Andrew had to unlock the room that they had kept Mrs. Al Farhan in.

She looked out miserably from the corner where she had been curled up in as the door opened. She blinked at the sudden light from the outer room.

“Can you walk?” This time I spoke to her in English, a language that I knew that she was fluent in from Daniel’s memories.

She shook her head, then futilely tried to pull her hijab back over her unkempt hair, a small attempt at modesty despite her wretched condition. “No.”

“Then I will carry you. I will be back in a moment.”

I turned to return to the kitchen, only to face Andrew staring at me down the length of a fully loaded automatic rifle. “I don’t know what kind of monster you are, but you will not hurt her!”

I looked from him, back into the cell, and back to him. “I think your chivalry is a little late, boy. I did not come here to harm this woman, but to save her from the likes of your comrades. Put down the gun and leave this place alive, while you still can.”

He stared me down for almost a minute. I could see him sweating as he gauged whether or not he thought the gun would even harm me and whether or not he could finally help the woman he had watched his comrades ravage, time and again. His face was anguished, the guilt of a thousand ‘should haves’ washing over it in visible waves as each memory flashed through his mind.

Finally, he backed away slowly, still pointing the gun in my direction.

As he backed up, I walked over to the kitchen table where the duffle bag and briefcase waited. The barrel of the rifle followed me, but remained as silent as we did.

I snapped the briefcase open and pulled out stack of euros that was probably worth about $10,000 and tossed it at his feet before putting the rest of the money into the duffle back with the cannisters. His eyes stayed on me as I said, “Take that and go home. You’ve done all you can here. I will take her to safety. Dr. Bernstein will no longer require your services.”

He looked down at the money on the floor and paled as he noted the blood pooled up nearby from one of his former comrades. He shook his head and swallowed hard. “No. I will not take that money. I will not leave her in your hands either. How do I know you won’t harm her?”

I was losing my patience with the boy. I zipped the duffle bag closed and hoisted it onto my shoulder. “You can stay if you like, but I’m leaving and I’m taking her with me.”

He made a move to step between me and the cell door, holding the gun like a club than a firearm, like he thought it might be more useful that way. He didn’t say anything as I walked right up to him.

“I admire your bravery boy, however misguided it might be. You are only alive right now because she asked me not to kill you. If you don’t get out my way, you will have wasted the grace that she has granted you, despite your inability to keep her safe from your comrades. Trying to stop me from helping her is not going to be your redemption. You will only find that through a lifetime of service to those in true need.”

He still hesitated, his face torn with grief and despair.

Looking deep into his eyes, I made one last appeal. “You have a good soul, boy, and a unique talent to bring solace and comfort to those who are suffering. This path of the soldier, the warrior, is not for you. Stand aside, and you will have the chance to develop that talent and help many others. The choice is yours, die now, a participant and a witness to rape, torture and blackmail. Or live and have a chance to give succor and to heal.”

His shoulders slumped, the gun clattered to the floor.

“Good choice.” I pushed past him and moved to the bruised and battered woman he had failed to protect until now. I bent over and gently scooped her frail form into my arms. I looked back as I began to gather the shadow about us, I could see the poor kid sobbing in the doorway.

Maybe he would use this second life to become something better. Maybe.