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Authors: Jeffrey Wilson
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me.”
Ben followed the digital cammie-clad doctor out the back door. Behind the hangar was a wooden squaw hut constructed by the Sea Bees. On the thin wooden door someone had wood-burned a medical caduceus with a lightning bolt and a sword through it and a Green Beret on top – the symbol of Special Forces Medical. Next to it were burned the names of the three Army officers who used the building as their quarters and office. Ben realized the Colonel and his two partners (an anesthesiologist and an ER doc) had given up their quarters to the survivors from the village.
“Where are you guys, stayin’, sir?” Ben asked.
“We tossed some cots into the OR for now,” the Colonel said. “No big deal. We’re hoping not to use that room anyway, right?”
“Right,” Ben agreed. He felt touched the three men had given up their little bit of comfort in the shithole they all lived in for the survivors. “That was pretty right on, sir.”
The surgeon waved a dismissive hand and seemed embarrassed. “No biggie.”
The surgeon tapped lightly on the door and, then, cracked it open a little. “Hello?” he hollered in. “You guys got a visitor.” He looked back at Ben and shrugged. “They don’t speak English,” he said, stating the blatantly obvious.
Ben nodded and walked in.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. In the center of the room, the survivors had arranged blankets and sheets pulled from the nearby beds and they sat together cross legged in the nest-like pile. Ben’s little girl sat between the outstretched legs of the young woman who he remembered had lost her own child before he had been able to kill her rapist.
Too little, too late.
The little girl reached up at him.
“Gah, deh, eh,” she said and looked for all the world like she thought her babble meant something. To Ben it sounded no different than any baby chatter he had ever heard, a thought that made him feel a little more normal.
“Hey there, sweetie.” His voice conveyed the choked up smile that also spread across his face. His eyes felt suddenly wet, and he felt very little like the steely-eyed killer he was paid to be.
“DAH!” the girl announced and grabbed the middle of his face. She cooed, and Ben laughed.
“You have fans,” the Colonel said. His voice sounded surprised.
“Yeah, well she and I bonded at the village and on the way in. I guess I became the mama duck for this little duckling.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose.
“I don’t mean her,” the surgeon said.
“Huh?” Ben turned to look at the doctor to figure out what the hell he was talking about and, then, followed the Army officer’s gaze.
The adult villagers had all shifted to their knees, the old woman clearly with some difficulty. Their arms were all outstretched and raised, their palms up towards the ceiling. Their heads were bowed forward, but four sets of dark eyes stared at him, wide-eyed, from under wrinkled brows.
“What the hell?” Ben whispered.
The large, middle-aged man made a noise that sounded like a word wrapped in a cough. The eight eyes closed tightly, and together they began a melodic chant. Ben stood and stared at them for a moment, the little girl in his arms clinging to his neck.
“They do this every time you come in here?” Ben asked the surgeon without looking back. He felt unable to pull his eyes away from the four villagers on the floor.
“We haven’t disturbed them all that much,” the Colonel said. “But they have always been quiet and, I don’t know – stoic, maybe.” He stepped forward next to Ben. “I’ve never seen them do this before.”
“Da, da, Bad eh,” the little girl said and grabbed Ben’s ear hard enough to hurt a little. He barely felt it as he watched the strange scene in front of him. The man and three women continued to chant in unison, eyes closed and arms up and out. Then, the man’s head snapped up, and his eyes popped open. Ben felt himself startle a little. The
Ben followed the digital cammie-clad doctor out the back door. Behind the hangar was a wooden squaw hut constructed by the Sea Bees. On the thin wooden door someone had wood-burned a medical caduceus with a lightning bolt and a sword through it and a Green Beret on top – the symbol of Special Forces Medical. Next to it were burned the names of the three Army officers who used the building as their quarters and office. Ben realized the Colonel and his two partners (an anesthesiologist and an ER doc) had given up their quarters to the survivors from the village.
“Where are you guys, stayin’, sir?” Ben asked.
“We tossed some cots into the OR for now,” the Colonel said. “No big deal. We’re hoping not to use that room anyway, right?”
“Right,” Ben agreed. He felt touched the three men had given up their little bit of comfort in the shithole they all lived in for the survivors. “That was pretty right on, sir.”
The surgeon waved a dismissive hand and seemed embarrassed. “No biggie.”
The surgeon tapped lightly on the door and, then, cracked it open a little. “Hello?” he hollered in. “You guys got a visitor.” He looked back at Ben and shrugged. “They don’t speak English,” he said, stating the blatantly obvious.
Ben nodded and walked in.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. In the center of the room, the survivors had arranged blankets and sheets pulled from the nearby beds and they sat together cross legged in the nest-like pile. Ben’s little girl sat between the outstretched legs of the young woman who he remembered had lost her own child before he had been able to kill her rapist.
Too little, too late.
The little girl reached up at him.
“Gah, deh, eh,” she said and looked for all the world like she thought her babble meant something. To Ben it sounded no different than any baby chatter he had ever heard, a thought that made him feel a little more normal.
“Hey there, sweetie.” His voice conveyed the choked up smile that also spread across his face. His eyes felt suddenly wet, and he felt very little like the steely-eyed killer he was paid to be.
“DAH!” the girl announced and grabbed the middle of his face. She cooed, and Ben laughed.
“You have fans,” the Colonel said. His voice sounded surprised.
“Yeah, well she and I bonded at the village and on the way in. I guess I became the mama duck for this little duckling.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose.
“I don’t mean her,” the surgeon said.
“Huh?” Ben turned to look at the doctor to figure out what the hell he was talking about and, then, followed the Army officer’s gaze.
The adult villagers had all shifted to their knees, the old woman clearly with some difficulty. Their arms were all outstretched and raised, their palms up towards the ceiling. Their heads were bowed forward, but four sets of dark eyes stared at him, wide-eyed, from under wrinkled brows.
“What the hell?” Ben whispered.
The large, middle-aged man made a noise that sounded like a word wrapped in a cough. The eight eyes closed tightly, and together they began a melodic chant. Ben stood and stared at them for a moment, the little girl in his arms clinging to his neck.
“They do this every time you come in here?” Ben asked the surgeon without looking back. He felt unable to pull his eyes away from the four villagers on the floor.
“We haven’t disturbed them all that much,” the Colonel said. “But they have always been quiet and, I don’t know – stoic, maybe.” He stepped forward next to Ben. “I’ve never seen them do this before.”
“Da, da, Bad eh,” the little girl said and grabbed Ben’s ear hard enough to hurt a little. He barely felt it as he watched the strange scene in front of him. The man and three women continued to chant in unison, eyes closed and arms up and out. Then, the man’s head snapped up, and his eyes popped open. Ben felt himself startle a little. The
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