Catching a ride to Beirut, I caught the first flight to Kabul. It took me two more days to convince a military unit to take me with them to the last known location Sophia was. But only after I promised their commander that Grayson could take his pay and make an easy seven percent interest in return. I hope my brother can pull that off. If not, the officer promised to hunt me down.
I was not met with a warm reception when they dropped me at the small base. It wasn’t surprising since I in no way appeared to be military. The commander informed me, harshly, that I had just missed them and pointed to the road leading out.
So, I thanked him and started walking. At least they let me refill my water before heading out. One of the soldiers told me they had moved to the Iranian border, so I headed in that direction. I mean, how hard can it be to find a body in the desert, right? I would have laughed at my own joke, but I was too exhausted.
By that night, I was almost giddy with thankfulness when I stumbled into a small village. I was almost out of water, the temperature was dropping and I was beyond exhausted. I didn’t know how to communicate with the people, but they let me stay the night anyway. Well, they let me fill my water from a questionable well and sleep in the remnants of a shack, but I was good with that.
The next morning, a group of men generously agreed not to shoot me in exchange for my remaining money.
That’s how I found myself hiking down a road toward the border of Iran, hoping to stumble upon a needle in this scorching haystack. I look like hell, with a beard and mangy-looking hair. I doubt I smell much better either. My clothing is dust covered with rips in it and my hiking boots are starting to show more than just a little wear.
“Hey, buddy. Where did you come from?” I look to my left as an armored vehicle pulls up next to me.
“I’m looking for my girlfriend,” I answer. Somehow it sounds really stupid when I say it out loud.
“In the desert?” With a sigh, I stop walking, turning my weary body toward him.
“I know it sounds crazy. She’s traveling with a news crew. Last I heard, she was on the border between here and Iran.” I watch as they all give each other a look that can only be interpreted one way. They think I’m insane. I don’t know, maybe I am.
“Wait, there is a group of news people that arrived at camp yesterday,” one of the men sitting in the back says.
“Yeah, you’re right,” the driver agrees. “But if she’s one of them, you’re going the wrong way.”
Feeling my shoulders slump, I turn to look back down the road I just spent a day and a half walking down.
“Get in, we’ll take you to our camp.”
When I stand staring at him, trying to find the energy to decide what my next move should be, he motions with his head toward the vehicle.
“Come on, we can’t just leave an American to wander around out here.”
With a shrug, I climb in the one remaining back seat.
“So how long have you been together?” one of the soldiers asks me. “She must be something to hike through this desert.” One of the other men taps me on the shoulder, handing me a water and a power bar. As hungry as I am, I don’t know if I can gag down even one more high energy protein bar.
“Officially, about a month. Unofficially, I’ve been hers since I first saw her eight years ago.”
When they just stare at me in confusion, I feel the need to keep talking.
“I was fourteen the first time I saw her. You’d remember her, she’s gorgeous with long dark hair and these caramel-colored eyes that can make a man walk through the desert just to get a glimpse again.”
“Oh, I know her,” the man next to me says excitedly. “Sarge, you know, the one that’s always playing cards with the guys in the mess hall. Body like a wet dream and stacked to here,” he added with a gesture indicating her ample breasts.
“Hey,” I growl. “I might be tired, but I’ll still kick your ass.” The man must have a serious death wish.
“Sorry, man. But, you’re right, she’s hard to forget. A real sweetheart,” the man answered with a shrug. After an affirmative grunt from the front seat, the vehicle grew silent.
Somehow, even bouncing over the rough terrain, I find myself drifting off. I only managed to get a little sleep last night for fear of having either my throat slit open or waking with a goat balanced on my head. Either option seemed like a nightmare. They both kept me leaning upright against the crumbling wall as I tried to catnap. The next time I open my eyes, we’re approaching a base.
“Kaminski can take you to the commander’s office. They can tell you where to locate the tent the women reporters are staying in,” the sergeant said as they bounced into the compound. Pulling up outside one of the many tents, I climb out of the vehicle with the man who had sat next to me climbing out also.
“Thanks for picking me up. Let me know what I can do to make it up to you,” I say, shaking the driver’s hand.
“Nah, it’s not every day you find some crazy American civilian wandering down the road around here looking for a woman. Take care, man.”
I wave as the remaining soldiers drive on through the camp, disappearing between tents. Following Kaminski into the tent next to us, we stop in front of a desk manned by a formidable-looking officer.
“Can I help you? Where did you come from?” the man asks, looking me up and down like he was deciding how hard it would be to break me in two.
