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My anger and rage—everything that I had carried with me since my life as I knew it went up in flames on my fifteenth birthday—would finally be put to good use.
Precious cargo…
Micro level…
Compromised…
Eventually I calmed down just enough to stand up and get moving. There was nothing for me to do but wait until I received further orders from my contact. Three days. How the hell was I going to wait three days? I realized I needed to burn off some of this anger or I was going to throttle some innocent bystander.
Damn I was angry.
And motivated.
I needed to hit the gym right away and lift some serious weights. That would make me feel better, at least a little bit. All I could think as I stormed off towards the gym was, in three days’ time I’m coming for you, mother fucker.
Ten
Honor
After I took an amazingly long and hot shower I realized I hadn’t eaten all day—and my day started at 2 am. There was something about the adrenaline of going to the Red Zone that wasn’t exactly conducive to a bacon and egg breakfast. But now, safely back in the Green Zone, clean and, honestly, without much to do for the rest of the day, I figured I’d swing by the canteen and grab a bite.
I searched around my small apartment for something fresh and clean to wear and found only a white tank top and frayed jean shorts. Yikes, Honor, laundry day is majorly overdue! I didn’t even bother with a bra or panties. I know we were supposed to dress somewhat conservatively but everything else I had was covered in sand and besides, it was just lunch. And it’s not as though I really know anyone here—fellow journalists were friendly enough and I had met a couple nurses and nice military medics, but everyone was pretty much focused on their own jobs.
Plus, there was something really cool about not connecting with anyone on a deeper level. I could be anonymous and there was freedom in that. Heck, I could be anybody I wanted to be because I was a million miles away from anything familiar. It was scary as hell and thrilling all at once.
I slipped on my white Chuck Taylor’s, threw my hair in a messy bun, grabbed my sunglasses (and of course my Canon 5D) and headed out. I made the short walk to the canteen and smiled at the beautiful surroundings of this perfectly put together community strangely situated in the middle of nowhere. I was really settling into life in the Green Zone and I felt lucky to be on such an exciting assignment—especially so early on in my career. Dad would be proud.
I entered the canteen and found my way to the self-serve buffet line. Immediately my hunger subsided. I giggled to myself as I surveyed the food and realized it was pretty much good for only one thing: portion control.
Before I could start perusing what was remotely edible, however, I spotted The Chaperone walking by. Instinctively, I started moving towards him. I don’t know what it was about him. He was like a force I couldn’t deny.
Our exchange a couple hours ago as he helped me off the truck had been… I don’t know… something… it was sweet and sexy and I just couldn’t help it. I felt myself drawn to him. I abandoned thoughts of lunch and made sure to bring my camera with me as I called after him.
“Hey Chaperone,” I said in a friendly tone.
Nothing.
Maybe he didn’t hear me.
Maybe he ignored me?
No.
That can’t be.
“Hey… Chaperone!” I said louder as I picked up my pace to a slight jog in order to catch up with him.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face me. His eyes were barely visible under the brim of his sun-faded baseball cap. His face was stoic—his lips didn’t even move—where was the friendly guy I had met just hours before?
“What do you want?” he said coolly, almost meanly.
Ouch.
I cleared my throat and thought of something quickly, “I, um, I need to take your picture, this week my editor is, um, looking for some shots of the soldiers and I, er—” he was walking away from me!
“Hey!” I near-shouted this time.
He clearly seemed irritated.
