34. Jack
34
JACK
My vision remains distorted by the effects of the drug. The room spins and blurs, but my instincts kick in. I discern Willem gradually distancing himself from Ava, strategically choosing his position. His voice cuts through the fog as he commands, “Take off your bra.”
Rough air swirls in my throat as I try to scream. Rage swells behind my face until it feels like my eyeballs might burst from their sockets. I don’t know if I still have a functioning arm under the tight taping, but the agony is nothing compared to the horror unfolding before me.
I tremble in my seat, desperately trying to free my bound arms. The bearded man stands behind me. I should feel the cold blade pressed against my throat, poised to slice through my flesh, but his attention is fixated on Ava. He eagerly watches as she moves her healthy arm behind her back, loosening the only garment covering her torso.
My eyes shut tightly, unable to witness her humiliation, while my body remains paralyzed.
But suddenly, everything stops. Ava stops, refusing to strip herself .
“Do it!” Willem snaps, his annoyance evident.
These precious seconds of resistance give me an opportunity to shift my position unnoticed. Summoning every ounce of strength, I raise my buttocks off the ground, making the metal chair lift. The armrests remain affixed to my body, causing the weight to bear heavily on my arms. The excruciating pain threatens to knock me back down, but the stakes are higher than anything I have ever faced. I’ve endured peril in battles at remote outposts, where death was more certain than staying alive, but the fight in my hand is for Ava. My move could be my downfall or my last chance to see her, but I must try.
Ava remains still, her rigid posture leaving Willem unsure of how to react.
Suddenly, she swings her arm toward his face. A soft, crushing sound travels to my ear, like a fork piercing a ripe tomato. Then all I can hear is Willem crying out in pain, his body recoiling. In that split second, I glimpse blood oozing from his eye. My God! Ava has just stabbed him with the stylus pen she used to sketch me.
Seizing the opportunity, I rotate myself, relying only on my two feet as my other limbs are restrained. The chair is already off the ground, so it takes less than a second to find its target. I knock the bearded man off his feet as he rushes to assist his master. He tumbles to the ground, and I swiftly drop the chair’s steel base over him, crashing onto his torso. He struggles, but he’s going nowhere.
Meanwhile, I hear Willem pleading in the corner, “Ava…” His demeanor has completely transformed from just a minute ago. “Let me go, and I will give you the password to that machine. You know what’s in there,” he says, pointing at the smallest computer.
My attention shifts back to the bearded man who’s trapped under my chair. He discards his knife and reaches for his gun. I grind the steel against his shoulder and neck again and again. Finally, his grip on the weapon weakens, and he becomes limp.
A whimper stretches from the corner where Willem is lying, but it’s not his own. I swivel to see where Ava is. Willem’s treatment of her makes me feel like I’m on a gibbet, stopping me from breathing. His right eye resembles a grotesque lump of blood, but it doesn’t stop his murderous intent. He deprives Ava of air by wrapping his arm around her neck while they are both stretched out on the floor.
“Let her go!” I boom, gyrating. There’s no way I can free myself, but I have to snag the bearded man’s gun. Somehow.
Shifting my body weight to one side, I exerted pressure on the chair, causing it to tip over to my right, my good side. I maneuvered myself to create space for my taped arm to reach the abandoned gun. Pain lashes my upper body as I strained against the binds, but I persevere, stretching my fingers until they found purchase on the firearm.
My hand takes aim despite the restriction on my wrist. The only hurdle I face is Ava, who is practically lying on Willem like a fire blanket. She must expose him, or the bullet will hit her.
“Ava! Lift your legs!” I order desperately. “Lift them!”
Despite the suffocating grip around her throat, she summons a surge of strength and releases a determined scream. Her legs lift in the air like a gymnast, and her abdomen and buttocks contract with an intense force.
I pull the trigger.
Time slows down as her body descends, allowing me to witness the bullet’s impact on Willem’s stomach. Given its trajectory, I’m confident it will ultimately reach his chest .
Barely conscious, Ava crawls toward me while I’m still anchored to the chair, lying on one side.
But she stops and screams, “Jack!”
Maimed and perhaps half dead, the bearded man stands over me, holding a knife. He’s approaching from the opposite direction of where my gun is aimed, making it impossible for me to get him. He lunges towards me, intent on completing his task.
But his assault is abruptly stopped by a gunshot to his neck. I have no clue where the shot came from, but it was of sniper caliber. As the bearded man falls onto me, his hand releases the knife, and his life slips away.
“Jack! Jack!” Ava rolls the corpse aside and then collapses next to my shoulder.
A voice suddenly calls out from somewhere hidden in the ceiling. I could’ve mistaken it as God, but it’s former SEAL sniper Tyler Hunt—the Red Mark head of ops, my rescue partner. “Jack! Ava!”
“Ty!” I yell back, spotting a hand waving from a small opening.
He says, “Stay there, I’ll come and get you.”
I hear him crawling away from the shaft, leaving just Ava and me.
“You okay, sweetheart?” I murmur. Her breathing is rough, as if it belongs to someone else.
“Yeah,” she rasps, exhaustion plasters her from head to toe.
“Let me see your hand.”
“It’s fine, Jack.”
“Ava, let me see it!”
She holds up her bandaged hand, and I lift my head to examine it. The dressing appears to be secure and neatly applied without any indication of recent bleeding. As I take a whiff, I detect a combination of a burned scent and the smell of antiseptic.
How could those motherfuckers do this to her?
“You feel anything?” I query.
“It’s numb at the moment. I don’t know what’s going on under the dressing, but I think they cauterized the wound. They certainly didn’t want me to bleed to death. Don’t worry, I’ll live.”
With broken sobs, I kiss her wrist. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him.” I choke out, my saliva tasting like acid. My guilt intensifies as I gaze at her vulnerable form. “And I couldn’t stop him from touching you.”
“Shh… baby, we’re here. Nothing else matters,” she warbles. “Remember that room I built to keep him out?” She points at her heart. “The door holds, baby. It holds. He never reached me.”
“Come here,” I invite her, desperate to feel her presence.
She’s aware of my injuries, and she hesitates to embrace me.
But no matter how great the agony, only she has the power to soothe me. “Ava, I need you here.” I nod at my chest.
Gradually, she moves closer, maneuvering around the toppled chair to reach me. It feels incredible to have her in my arms, or rather, to be in her arms.
“Quinton?” she whispers.
“He’s safe. He’s with Cass and Ben.”
She lets out a serene huff.
I brush my cheek against her curls. I can’t wait for them to smell like baby powder again. Although at this moment, as I inhale the fragrance of her natural scent, it serves as a poignant reminder of her resilience and the battles she has fought .
Her eyes linger on my face as she takes in every cut and bruise as if trying to absorb the pain herself.
“Do I really look like your sketch just now?” I ask.
She chuckles. “No. That was my most terrible creation ever.”
I toss her an agreeing smile. If only I could break free from this damn chair and hold her tight.
Her gaze inevitably falls upon the stab wound on my biceps. And even though my vacuum-sucked forearm is still covered under the silver duct tape, she doesn’t have to imagine.
I nudge my face against hers, deliberately diverting her attention from my mangled limb. I stretch my neck, trying to kiss her. She flinches slightly, her awareness drawn to my split lip as if she’s hurting me.
“Please. I need this,” I beg.
She opens her lips, leaning in to meet me. She savors the contact, even though mine are covered with cracks and no doubt tasting like blood. The tingling sensation sends a flow of comforting warmth, telling me we’ve made it.
We’re still nose to nose, our lips hovering over each other, and I murmur, “About what you said to Willem. About having more children?—”
“I only wanted to make him stop,” she quivers.
“I know. But can I say this, Ava. I will make it happen. Because I love you, and I want to be a dad—again.” I kiss her, a smile blossoming beneath my lips. I reluctantly end the kiss simply because I yearn to witness that smile.
Finally, we hear Tyler’s voice coming from outside the bulletproof window.
“Ty, in here!” I yell back as loudly as I can. Then I remember. “Whatever you do, don’t touch that yellow lever! Do not touch the yellow lever! ”
I look around, trying to figure out how to let him in. I turn to Ava and ask, “How did they bring me here, sweetheart?”
Laboriously, she rises from her position and makes her way across the room, kneeling next to Willem’s lifeless body. She rummages into his pockets, then takes out a set of keys, separating one that looks like a small, stainless-steel stick.
I grin. “Good girl!”
She comes to a section of the wall that doesn’t appear to be a door, but she knows better. As she inserts the stick into a small hole, a hidden section slides open. “Ty, this way!” she calls out.
Noticing that her shirt is stuck under Willem, saturated with his blood, she grabs my jacket that the bearded man had tossed aside. She puts it on, stuttering as she slips her left arm into the sleeve. My heart is heavy, wishing I could be there for her.
Ty emerges, observing Ava’s bandaged hand. “Are you okay, Ava?”
“I’m fine. Help my man off that chair. He looks terrible there.” Ava gestures toward me.
Tyler straightens the chair and starts cutting the tape on my healthy arm, peeling it off. I immediately hook my free arm around Ava’s waist, drawing her to me.
I feel her close, but something isn’t right. Her face slumps onto me, as pale as if all her blood had been drained.
“Ava?” I call out.
It’s clear that her body has reached its breaking point. She slips from my grasp, but I hang on to her. My other arm strains as Tyler prepares to remove the tape from it.
“Ava, can you hear me?” I shake her gently, hoping to awaken her. But there’s only labored breaths coming out of her mouth. “Ty!” I stop my partner. “Take her to the hospital now! ”
Feeling herself separated from me, Ava writhes. “Jack…I’m not leaving you!” Her eyes are full of determination, but her voice comes out as a series of huffs.
“Sweetheart, go with Tyler. I won’t be far behind,” I beg, and she relents.
With her last bit of strength, she kisses me before allowing Tyler to lift her.
Tyler flinches at his unfinished work—my left arm remains stuck to the chair. He says to me, “The LAPD and paramedics shouldn’t be far away. I’ll call Sam as soon as I get a signal outside.”
“Go! I’ll be fine!” I assure him, then raise my hand in salute to the man who has saved my life tonight.
He simply nods before he carries Ava outside.
I gingerly continue what Tyler has started, peeling the tape around my injured arm. But I don’t get much further.
Mother of hell!
I exhale silently. Even with those two dead jerks around, I’m determined to keep my agony unheard.
Just then, someone arrives, and I can’t believe my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here, Sam?” I grind my teeth in irritation. “Where’s the LAPD?”
“They’re on their way, the paramedics too. Damn politics got in the way. Everybody wanted jurisdiction over Willem Botha. I came here as fast as I could,” he explains.
I wriggle my bound arm, assessing the number of loops I still need to unravel.
“Hold up!” Sam stops me from handling the pesky tape. “You’re making it worse. Let me deal with that. But first…” He winces at my stab wound.
“Just a scratch.”
“Thought you were going to say that!” He opens his IFAK, or individual first aid kit, then wraps a bandage around the open flesh.
The surprise keeps coming as Cora-Lee enters the room.
“Sam?” I frown.
My brother signals Cora-Lee to proceed with her task. Inspecting several computers in the room, she checks out what’s loading on each one. Eventually, she decides to operate the smallest machine—the one that Willem had pointed out before his demise.
With my stab wound securely bandaged, Sam begins to free my arm. The adhesive clings to my black and purple skin like heavy-duty duct tape on a pipe. My brother’s hands move with caution, but?—
Fuck… fuck… fuck…
I can’t remember experiencing pain that bad since I broke my collarbone at training in Camp Lejeune while I was still a rookie. But if I can still sense pain, that’s got to be a good thing.
“Fuck, Jack!” Sam cringes as he carefully lifts my mangled arm, now dark and swollen.
“Just a bad case of cupping,” I quip.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims. “Compared to that, your stab wound does look like a scratch!”
I ignore him as I wonder how he got here. “You were in the air when I called you, weren’t you?”
He shrugs as he carefully spreads ointment all over my bruises. “Our accountant may question my extravagant expenditure on chartering two private jets in a single day. But hey, there’s nothing I won’t do for my brother.”
“You shouldn’t be here…” I sigh.
He smiles sideways. “Well, Jack, what can I say? I was as close to the heart of the beast as you were. I had to be here.”
Cora-Lee remains silent and focused. I have no idea how she managed to bypass the password, but she’s renowned for her resourcefulness, as Sam would say. What’s loading and flickering on the screen baffles me, but I’m certain she’s well-informed about her search objectives. Suddenly, she shuts down the laptop, rises from her seat, and passes something to Sam just as the distant sound of sirens grows louder.
“Go!” says Sam to Cora-Lee, who quickly disappears.
Sam shows me a small drive. Despite advocating for me to leave my past behind, tonight, he’s giving me a choice. “I’ll give this to you when you’re ready. You can do whatever you want with it.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “Thank you for everything, brother.” He has moved mountains and dug through the earth to find me, not just tonight but during the two decades of search following my disappearance. Most of my childhood is like a blank sheet of paper. Yet, somehow, the image of him is imprinted on it, albeit faint, like a watermark. Our bond has always been there. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have believed him when he suddenly turned up in Kabul, claiming to be my brother.
“Don’t get sentimental now!” Sam warns, hiding his glistening eyes.
While he secures the device that may reveal the answers to my life’s enigma, my mind wanders to Ava. With Willem no longer posing a threat and both of us standing strong together, maybe, just maybe, I will pursue those answers. But it will be a decision made by both of us—me and my incredible other half.