Christian Military

 

Christian Military Romance

CURT WALKED TO THE FURTHEST end of the camp. How could she? Sand drifted into the warm air. And with that person? More sand floated upwards. Out of breath he glanced around, his throat parched.

A jeep pulled up and he waved the soldier closer. The private saluted, but he demanded the keys with a careless gesture. He jumped in and stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared into action as it left the camp in a dust trail.

"That bitch!" he groaned, banging the steering wheel, with tears evaporating in the drive.

Fifteen minutes later Curt stopped at the local tearoom, the owner a well-known patron of the town. Usually Curt refused his subtle offerings, but today he wanted to forget.

Once inside he removed his shades. It took a few seconds to adjust to the dimness.

Elaborated carpets, curtains and cushions divided the room into sections. The cosy place was a favourite amongst the military staff. Satisfied that he had the place to himself, he relaxed. The owner manned the battered counter to the right of him.

As they sped away, a boy waved at them in his run. Up ahead his donkey's gait a two-step as the cans jiggled from side to side.

Each trip to the refugee camps met her with humbleness, the children's toothy grins a personal highlight. What she valued most was their carefree attitude. They cherished life in every moment. With only the bare minimum, they seemed unworried about the future.

For the medical staff it was crucial to venture out to lift the tremendous burden. The influx of exiles gave them no rest while they suffered. She could leave, but the South Sudanese people had no choice. To help them, remained the closest she could come to excellence.

At the hospital they filed out - a tired but satisfied group. Sonia unpacked the van like a robot.

"We will help you."

"Thanks, Alice."

"They shot a doctor today," David informed them when he returned.

"Where?" The weight of their predicament oppressive.

"Khartoum - trapped with protesters inside a house in Buri. They shot him without reason," David said.

"I don't understand this wave of murders. We are here to help them," Sonia said.

"These people have no consciousness," Alice replied.

"We have to be watchful," David agreed.

Reluctant and uneasy Sonia removed the bags with filthy linen. "Take this and I will take those bags inside."

"Thanks, Alice." Sonia placed the clean linen inside the marked crate and closed the lid.

"Good night, Sonia."

"Goodnight, Alice. See you tomorrow."

In the compact kitchen Sonia drank a supplement she always had at hand, showered and went straight to bed. Lathered with enough Tabard, she added a flimsy sheet as a shield against unwanted night crawlers.

It was well after eleven when she flicked off the light. A thick blanket of darkness wrapped around her. A miserable sense which devoured you if you were not careful. Restless she stared out the small window, her thoughts far away. The moment she fell asleep, the woman's face intertwined with her own. It haunted her till she woke. Drenched in sweat she reached for the water. Once her thirst was quenched, she laid back.

"AS-SALAM ALAYKUM, SONIA. What a fine day to do what we love."

"As-Salam Alaykum, Alice."

Alice Abiodun was a local nurse and a dear friend. Her animated nature boosted her energy.

"Here comes David." She waved as he parked. David was the driver, interpreter, their only bodyguard, and liaison.

"As-Salam Alaykum, Dr Wek." He greeted them all. He joined them two months ago and proved to be an asset to the area. His volunteer work gave him the opportunity to serve his country and he did his work with no complaints.

The stoic face of the porter appeared; a set of yellow teeth exposed. "Nurse Main, the matron wants to see you right away."

"Thanks, Max."

"What's up?" Alice said.

"Not sure."

"Hurry, we have a distance to drive today," David said.

At a quick pace she entered the hospital entrance, shivers ran along her spine. With a brief prayer she followed the white corridor. Time and age stained the painted walls. The morning shift rushed around. Lively sounds stemmed from the hospital's walls. The smells and sights were familiar.

At the connected building, a replica of the other, Sonia knocked on Matron Nyanath Haleema's office door at the end of a long corridor.

"Get away from me."

With a dismissive look she picked up her pace to the entrance. Her team waited outside the double glass doors. Alice's gaze turned to the entrance before she looked at her watch. Time was important, by six they must be on the road.

In search of the water, she sighed. She had left her water behind.

"Do you have an extra bottle of water?"

"Yes." Alice handed her a spare. Her gaze focused on Brady. Half-heartedly she made the introductions.

"Major Brady Scott will join us for the next few days. We should cooperate with him."

David moved first and greeted Brady with a cheerful handshake. The rest followed while she got in the packed van. Once seated, she took a long swig.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked, then peered at Brady.

She brushed through the curly hair. "Yes, thanks Alice," and arranged her hair in a scrunchy she had nearby. From her worn bag, the only possession she had left from her parents, she removed sun block.

"You sure? You don't look well?"

"Don't worry, I am fine," she clipped. Her aggravation was palpable.

"Do you know the man?"

THE TOWN BUZZED with people. Their wares balanced on their heads, ready to barter in Bentiu.

Scattered trees lined the gravel road. The rest of the countryside was dry, black and barren. A slight breeze caused toll bushes to cross the veld in a flurry. The rising sun held no promise of rain.

Once they left the busyness behind, the road snaked to the north; dust trailed behind them. The potholes caused uncomfortable moments inside the cabin.

Yet the conversations were amicable. Brady's voice broke the monotone trip. He peppered Dr Wek with questions which the doctor answered in a cool tone.

A heavily pregnant woman hustled towards town, four children behind her. Each balanced a can on their heads, waving at them.

She had to admit Brady looked good. The white shirt which spread over a broad chest, the muscular hands in a flurry as it talked with him. It brought back many memories. The shades concealed the bluest eyes she could drown in.

But time left its mark. His laugh lines were deeper, his skin battered from exposure. The crew cut which framed his face gave him a sharp square appearance that was coated with grey. He was still good looking. Back then, his hair had a natural blond wave.

I hope he jotted security as of the utmost importance. Today we were lucky. It could have been worse, Sonia thought.

She relished the updated version, then stopped with the comparisons. He was part of her former life. No reason to go there.

Terrified and tired people arrived at the camp later in the day. "What happened, David?"

"New arrivals. It seemed they had fled from a village a few kilometres from here. They are in a bewildered state."

"Should I come?"

"No, Ibrahim will call if they need help."

Alice bumped against her. "Look!" On the outskirts of the camp more UN military vehicles arrived.

"Sonia, Alice, they need help with the supplies," Brady called and rolled his sleeves on his way. A lengthy line extended between the trucks and tables. Lines of refugees formed behind the table.

The flurry of movement added more people to the existing masses. Experience caused them to evaluate and give what was needed. They promptly sent those with medical needs to the medic tent. The teams worked in harmony till late.

There were no deaths that day.

"Get this behind you. Whatever troubles you, you must get through it."

It was true. She had to deal with Brady and rethink her life. The baby's death would not be in vain.

"Thank you, Matron. I can make my own arrangements."

"No dear, let me. You have worked hard these last couple of months. Every person on the team enjoyed a restful time away. And yes, I have checked. Since you came to us, you never took a holiday or a weekend." Sonia smiled. She could not argue with that.

Voices reached them and Haleema cut the conversation short: "When last did you eat?" Sonia could not remember.

"Get food in you. You are no good to me sick." She touched her arm in encouragement.

"Sure," she replied.

"I have to run."

"Make it quick!" David said.

While washing hands she realised what a mess she looked. Her normal tan was pale, even with the makeup. From her pocket she removed a lipstick, applied it and left.

Once she turned the corner, she walked into an unmovable wall. She yelped in surprise as firm hands grabbed her and pinned her against the wall in one quick movement. She gasped at the sudden intrusion. Brady Scott's warm breath tickled her cheek.

"SERGEANT CLARK, WHERE is the vehicle report? Ralph put it on my table. I'm sure of it."

After a quick search, Doug handed it to the colonel. "Here it is, Sir."

Curt snapped it away. "Get me, Saunders!" he ordered.

Curt peered out the window. The phone conversation he had with his daughter disturbed him.

Jillian never cried. The truth disclosed through tears shocked him to the core. It was not fabricated from a young, deranged woman looking for attention. No, rather from a much abused one. Why didn't they tell him any of this earlier?

How could Vivian do this?

Her lover seduced Jillian, and she did not stop it. Even his son, Mark, two years younger than Jillian, suffered abuse under the man.

He was still motionless when Clark and Saunders returned.

"Sir?" the sergeant said.

Startled Curt looked at both and barked: "At ease!"

"Take a seat."

With the temperature at 47°C, their clothes were saturated with sweat. A slight breeze filtered through the flaps, but it made no difference. The fan did not disturb the air either.

Curt offered them water and returned to the report, the shortages of parts for the vehicles, serious.

CURT HAD CHECKED THE WEBSITE. If it resembled the pictures, he should enjoy the stay.

At 20h00 he rushed to his quarters and changed into civvies. From the shelf he grabbed an overnight bag, throwing in the necessities. At the last moment, he packed a dress shirt and pants. Maybe…

The mirror showed a person of confidence—a faint grin enhanced the attractive face. He still had it and stretched. The broad shoulders looked great under the shirt and the denim gloved his narrow hips sporting well-toned legs underneath.

The moment he sat in the chopper he relaxed.

All the worries would be Monday's problem.

The younger man was kind enough to offer it to him, and he will not disappoint him.

He laid back and listened as the pilot went through the checklist, and then lifted. The swooping blades overpowered every other sound. God, he loved it, shutting his eyes with appreciation.

Once in the air his thoughts drifted to the children. Guilt: a strong emotion he had to deal with. Vivian's lover left emotional scars on his boy. Mark did not know where he belonged. He always believed his children should find their own path, but he will let go of that resolution if he had too. The military a good straightener.

Curt placed his bag at the back. Inside the cab the guide introduced himself: "My name is Armanno," and proffered a chubby hand.

"Please to meet you, Armanno. Call me Curt." As he pulled into the traffic Armanno pointed out distinctive landmarks, his enthusiasm tangible.

"Where did it all start?" Curt's curiosity peaked.

"It goes back to the 16th Century. During the crusade period."

"That long back?"

"Malta has a proud history. We are the smallest capital city in the European Union. In 1813 we became a British colony and served as a way station for ships. We were an important Allied base for the North Africa and Mediterranean operations. We received our independence in 1964 and became a Republic in 1974. Our history includes the Ottoman invasion. You will find noteworthy museums here. They showcase the relics of each period."

"I never knew it's importance and the vital role it played in history. The museums are on my itinerary for the weekend," Curt promised.

"You will not be disappointed. There is always something new to discover."

They followed Route 6. The landscape changed from city to country. At a circle Armanno turned left. They continued with Triq Vincenzo Dimech road. Minutes later they entered another dense region. The imposing wall of the fortified city in view declared a World Heritage centre. It attracted visitors across the globe.

She whimpered, a quiet sound which echoed his own loss.

He struggled with Vivian's betrayal. Still did. To be this possessive was unlike him. Since his undivided attention he discarded his bitter emotions. What mattered was the present.

Once again, he connected with her and took the smaller hand in his own, the tan covered righthand sported a faint beauty spot on the side. She was not a child anymore—a working woman that enjoys the outdoors. Long delicate fingers enfolded his own, nails short and neat. All of this he took in as he watched her.

"Is this your first visit to the island?" he inquired when their wine arrived.

"Yes, but not my last. It’s a magnificent place."

"Yours?" She inquired…,

"Also my first. How do you know this place?"

"A friend planned the trip," she explained. "The pressure of work kept me busy. I am grateful she did."

He planted a kiss on the knuckle. "I'm so glad I met you, Sonia. The meeting is unusual for me, but I feel at peace with you."

"Me too. As if it was always this way."

Both sipped their wine quietly. Their thoughts an open book for each other. When he squeezed her hand, she blushed.

"Saturday morning, we stopped at St. Andrews Bastion. They use the fortress as a wedding venue, built with limestone back in the day. It has this vintage look, submerged in a spell of historical beauty. While we were there, a marriage was in progress. They decorated the hall with an elegant style fitting to the place. I wish you could see it. The photos don't do justice to the place. The city's rich history complimented each structure, the museums informative and well preserved." He enjoyed the trip.

"At the Sliema Ferry a water polo game created a buzz. The skill they displayed was a marvel to watch. Our next stop was the Grandmaster Palace. Built between the 16th and 18th centuries, it seems you are stepping back into time." Curt loved the construction of the building, and the weapons crammed on the walls gathered over centuries. But mostly, I liked it when he kissed me. She blushed at the thought and cleared her throat.

"A trip to the Upper Barrakka Gardens granted us a spectacular view over the Grand Harbour. Pictures won't do justice, Haleema, come and experience it yourself."

I wish I could introduce you to Curt. We experienced something unexpected.

"I like you, Sonia," he had admitted during the tour. His hands ignited my skin and we virtually made love in an alcove if not for the guide who stopped us.

Self-conscious she scanned the terminal. Certain she was alone at the bar, she continued with her telling.

"At Grand Harbour we boarded a boat which took us to the Valletta waterfront. The shoreline was exactly as the photos showed. A glimmering city ensconced in history. Palm trees dotted the waterline, added splashes of green against the age-old sandstone." He surprised me with the sail. Every moment was precious.

When she heard her name, she glanced sideways. A man bumped into her followed by a prick on her arm. It went dark as she wilted on the concrete.

Muscular arms lifted her in the back of a decrepit van with no effort. He placed her gear next to her sedated body. A door closed and they drove in a northern direction without her knowing any of it.

Another unmarked car followed; the men glared at him. They knew his intent and they were furious.

If Tau Gbadamosi had a choice he would end his life here, but the leader's explicit orders stopped him.

He would not allow him to hurt her. She was precious cargo and valuable to his people. He would stay on them like a tick on a dog.

Determined he called.

 

IRAQI DESERT

AT 05H00 MONDAY MORNING CURT strode into his office, tired and not in a great mood.

The drive was one lengthy argument with himself. The last day on a loop. The memories pounding waves into his core which crashed against a rock wall.

He was stupid. He had caved. All he wanted now was her. His consciousness berated him with each passing kilometre. He was an old bastard. Why did he promise her?

This weekend he discovered a jewel in Sonia Main. He learned her surname when he booked the same rooms … in six months' time.

He believed in second chances.

He stretched as a roughened hand traced her leg. She squealed under the touch and kicked. A chilling laugh emanated from him; fixated on her breasts. He leaned forward and pinched a nipple through her clothing. She shrieked and tried to kick, but it was no use. He grinned with triumph as he pinched again.

Sonia forced herself to become still, her fear was his fuel. Though difficult, she relaxed. When he spoke in his language, Sonia detected the meaning behind his intentions. His gaze unwavering on her, and she forced herself to be quiet. The smirk disappeared as he pinched her again. Lifeless she met his gaze.

She did not care about his disappointment.

"I will enjoy you. No one will hear your screams. It is just you and me," his threadbare English's message clear enough.

His hands ever-present on her as he continued to touch her. He fiddled with the zipper, but it stuck in his haste.

The small reprieve a welcomed moment, but for how long?

Sonia tried to withdraw herself not to be an easy reach, but he snickered. He held her limbs still, his eyes glazed over as it travelled over her private parts, her insides in turmoil; helpless to protect herself. Lust palpable on his face.

She was in trouble and alone. Her mind in a jumble.

"PLEASE LORD," she whispered, never leaving his face.

He allowed his thoughts to wander. He never showed genuine interest in any girl. Women came to his bed when they needed help. He caved and enjoyed the platter provided. His wife lived with her family. He did not visit her often, as he had no feelings for her. So far she could not give him sons; everyone thought she was cursed and he avoided her.

This woman stirred feelings in him he would not admit to Kwame. He wanted to protect her and claim her. Her eyes pleased him; even her smell turned him on. She was perfect for him. He never considered taking a second wife, but she did things to him. Good things.

Kwame was smart. Maybe he was right. He should ask Roger for her hand; she would make him happy. But, if Roger found her appealing, he would take her into his hut. It would put a stop to his dreams.

He folded his arms and made himself comfortable. With eyes closed he indulged in the fantasy he had concocted of them together. A fantasy so wild that it could not be true.

 

FOR TWO DAYS THEY drove in an eastern direction. The White Nile ever-present as the landscape changed from region to region. Fangak's lifestyle differs from the rest of the country. It was harsher, slower and infested with unknown critters. People were fearful of the place and stayed away, her destination a prison she could not escape from.

They never stopped unless it was for food or to relieve themselves. They drove in silence. Tau never touched her again but took care of her. The driver, Kwame Okiro, took deep puffs from the thin cigar he cradled between yellow teeth.

Each time Sonia woke she watched her abductors, and though they seldom looked at her she knew they were attentive. Their shoulders taught; eyes awake—always scanning the area for any trouble.

"Lift your legs." The action caused discomfort and Sonia helped her. She shrieked in pain.

Tau arrived with more light and the supplies she had asked. From his shoulder a medical bag dangled.

"Where did that come from?" Astounded, she studied him. He just shrugged his shoulders and dozed the fire.

Sonia worked nonstop through the night. The birth was difficult. The woman's tiredness did not help. Fatigued after her own ordeal, Sonia pinched her eyes but kept her vigilance. At dawn she stepped out of the hut with a healthy baby boy. The man's grin faltered as he marched up to her, taking his slumbering son with pride.

"Is Baaka all right?" he asked.

"Yes, she is sleeping," Sonia replied and brushed sweaty hair away. Taking deep breaths, she enjoyed the crispness of the new day. It helped her burning eyes and aching back. People clustered about all watching her from listless eyes.

Her view of the unknown place offered her peacefulness, and she inhaled it. The early morning sunbathed the reeds in golden hues and early birds fluttered in the tops.

The camp's layout was like most camps she had seen, except for the swamp… less dust and bareness. The water stretched all around them, so far back that she lost view. She was in a floating prison, detached from the outside world. Discouraged Sonia realized escape was impossible.

Sonia observed Roger Gisemba, her jailer, inches taller than her for the first time. His gaze fixed on the child he cradled. Pock marks covered his face which gave him a foreboding presence. Like Tau Gbadamosi, he was bald and clean-shaven. The old faded brown chino pants and white shirt, a sharp contrast against his dark skin. A pistol at the belt brought her predicament to the fore front.

There were luxuries she craved, a long soaking bubble bath, for one. Her hair required a wash, shaving would be wonderful and decent food and coffee.

Her overnighter held the essentials which she used sparingly. Baaka gifted her two dresses after her recovery and a headscarf; the gesture moved her. So far from civilization supplies were scarce.

The only other clothing she had was the yellow dress, inappropriate to wear. Happy memories clung to it. Smells, sounds and acceptance hidden within the folds. A weekend cloaked with mysterious freedom. Time gifted her hours of a connection she would love to experience once more. For now, it remained a dream.

Does he remember me? She curt-tailed her thoughts once more.

It will not help you think about it, Sonia. Stay in the present. The past's dreams can do nothing to change your reality.

She scanned the area with a mixture of trepidation and uncertainty, her peace thinly sliced.

"Lord, I have accepted your path though it came at a cost. You gave me hope in the folds of a yellow dress. It holds my future, a future I would love to have. That is my hope. You are my hope. Thank you for the small favours and provision."

This morning the swamp's quietness touched her. Within a week she had found her way and worked in silence. Conditions were not perfect, but she managed.

CURT WOKE WITH ANTISEPTICS which stung his nostrils and gasped. The oxygen tube was uncomfortable, he tried to remove it. His attempt thwarted by a gentle hand.

"Daddy," Jillian's voice broke through the cobwebs.

"Jillian, Pumpkin," he whispered. The youthful face filled with concern. She looked tired.

"Don't talk, Dad, just be still. The nurse will come to help you."

"Thirsty." A glass with a straw appeared before him. Gladly he took the soothing icy water. Tiresome he laid back on the cushions. The worried expression on his daughter's face reminded him where he was.

"What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Her voice broke. Now he noticed her red swollen eyes, her pale face.

"Pumpkin?"

"Mum is dead."

He gasped in shock. "Mark?"

"He is still alive, but they are not sure if he will make it."

"No," and he tried to get up, but his right leg was heavy, his body tight. Only then did he notice the cast on his leg. Bandages covered his chest and right arm.

"I am so happy you are awake. For a moment I thought I have lost you, Dad."

"I am not planning to go anywhere soon, Pumpkin," he consoled. He reached for her, their hands meeting in a tight hold. Vivian was dead, Mark fighting for his life.

The accident hurried back, brakes screeched, then an overpowering BOOM, the smell of gasoline and then nothing. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

"The court has taken all the evidence in consideration. Each testimony showed Staff Sergeant Castledale brutal obsession towards women." Colonel McGee stated—Major Burger and Sergeant First Class Ralph represented the panel.

"From a psychiatry perspective Dr Rogers had shared his knowledge with this court. Staff Sergeant Castledale had a traumatic childhood."

"We included Nurse Anna Stalin's medical report and statement. It showed the mindset of the staff sergeant at the time." He took a sip from the glass.

"The defendant could not prove maliciousness at the night in question. Sam Gerber protected Captain Main from his brutality. We find the accused, Sam Gerber, innocent of manslaughter." Applause shattered the silence, Turmel's disgust clear as he watched Sam.

"Thanks, Colonel. I knew I could count on you," Sam said. Curt nodded. Lee Ann kissed him, a public announcement that they were together.

"Please have a seat."

Everyone became quiet. Curt cleared his throat and took another sip before he continued.

"I have a few words to say about violence against women." He found Sonia across from him. She smiled. This case gave him the opportunity to address the matter.

"Violence against women are an abomination. In camp their tenacity and strong will cannot be faltered. They are true soldiers. They protect others with their lives therefore need our respect and protection. This is not the opportunity to violate her and think you will get away with it.

THE FLIGHT WAS LONG and difficult on Sonia. Morning sickness was an all-day experience for the last two days. Dr Jourdain assured her it would be over soon. At eighteen weeks she really hoped so.

It was already late the afternoon, the winter sun basked the earth in pale pinks against the backdrop of grey hangers.

Feeling sleepy he almost carried her from the plane. "Mrs McGee, your new home awaits," and she smiled up at him.

Suddenly two bodies shuffled her away with excited shouts, and she stepped away.

He showed her photos of the children and she recognised them. Watching the trio the similarities were noticeable. The daughter was a petite version of Curt with a belly ready to deliver any day now. His son was bulkier than him, but with the same piercing eyes she loved.

When he finally broke their hold, she broke the awkwardness.

"Hello Jillian and Mark."

"Ma'am," both said.

"Please call me Sonia." They had spoken over Skype the day after their marriage, but reality was different, the situation difficult. As she told him once, they were part of him and she would love them as such.

"This is my wife, Sonia McGee." He said looking at her as she smiled, "and these two are my joy, Jillian and Mark McGee." Their greeting was polite, but reserved. Curt drew her in and reluctantly they placed an arm around her waist.