Ricochet by Ty Patterson

Author:Ty Patterson [Patterson, Ty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Aces Publishing

41

Syria

* * *

Cutter sat in his Land Cruiser with the aircon on full blast. He was in yet another line of trucks. Another checkpoint.

He had identified villages with less than a thousand people within an hour’s radius of the border crossing and decided to check each of them out. He had started to the left of the border and had already crossed seven hamlets off his list before reaching the line of vehicles.

Military checkpoint?

Syria had a number of militia and armed groups roaming the country as well. Some supported the government, while the rest opposed it. All of them are out for power and won’t miss any opportunity to extract money from civilians.

He leaned out of the window, but all he could see were trucks and some drivers outside. He got out and asked a few drivers whose checkpoint this was, but they didn’t know, either.

He returned to the vehicle and sat patiently. Time moved differently in the Middle East, slower. There was little of the sense of urgency, the continual hustle that marked life in New York. He was in resting mode, half-snoozing, when his phone rang.

He frowned at the unknown number. That’s not Gina or Peyton. It could be Beth or Meg. He accepted the call, expecting to hear them.

‘Aram Zafar?’

‘Naam.’ That’s an old man. Could it be—

‘Jabbar, from Garbir.’

‘Sayidi.’ He sat up, alert. ‘How can I help you? Is this about the gas station? I am still scouting for locations. I said I was in the very early stages—’

‘It’s not about that, Zafar.’

He sounds tired. Resigned.

‘Hadi’s men returned yesterday night. They …’

A chill swept through Cutter.

‘Did they—’

‘They killed Bisma. I don’t know if you are aware, but she stood guard behind that rock outside our village.’

‘I know. We spoke when I was returning to my vehicle,’ he replied numbly.

‘They took her, Zafar.’ Jabbar’s voice shook. ‘And tortured her. They didn’t stop there. They did … they—’

‘Violated her?’ he guessed.

‘Naam.’ The village elder broke down and sobbed. ‘They are animals, Zafar. Bisma was the gentlest person in the village. She and Soraya … they killed them both. Allah curse them.’

‘She killed one terrorist.’ Jabbar blew his nose and cleared his throat. ‘His body was on the road. We laid out her body in the village and gave her a respectful farewell. One of the women who was preparing her for burial found your card. I thought you should know.’

‘Thank you. We spoke briefly, but even in that short time I could sense how deep her grief was.’

‘She has joined Soraya.’ Jabbar started weeping again and hung up without another word.

Cutter could feel his chest pounding. That rushing in his ears was the pulsing of his blood through his veins and arteries. A bee buzzed outside his window. He could see its wings fluttering and thought he could hear it tap the glass and fly away.

A loud honk from behind brought him to the present—a truck reminding him impatiently that the line had moved. He nosed his vehicle forward, reached blindly for his water bottle and drank.

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