Author's note: So it's time for some confessions on this story. I want people to read it. I want people to enjoy it. But I want them to know it's pretty light reading, and should be enjoyed that way. Call it a stroke story if you like.
I feel like I'm doodling. No, really. I'm not literally drawing, but it's about the same thing. Still, there are plenty of artists whose doodles I enjoy, and so in that vein I figured I'd share. I am really glad that people have enjoyed this story so far, I sincerely hope readers enjoy this, and I am genuinely sorry that it has taken me so long to catch up with it... but some of that was because of other projects, and some of it was because I simply see so many problems with this story. Don't look too closely, or you'll see those problems. I think this is fun in spite of all that, but again, literature this ain't.
There's plot and character development here, and also a whole lotta sex in this chapter and the next (I'm putting them in together, so they should post on successive nights). Sooner or later there'll be fistfights and explosions and all that. I can't promise to stay on this story with dedication; I've got a sequel to write for "Good Intentions." But sometimes I just need to stretch the writing muscles in a different direction, and so I write something else.
As an aside, I've got my entry in the Nude Day contest (Justice In the Raw!). Please give it a read and give it a vote if you're so inclined. It's a stand-alone piece, it's fun and sexy, and I'm fairly proud of it.
Also, please note: This story absolutely will, eventually, involve Alyssa getting it on with others. It's not gonna be about Kyle dumping her for being a slut or a whore, and it's not gonna be about him beating up her other lovers/clients. If such is not the story for you, please go no further.
Enjoy!
Chapter Three: A Great Benefits Package
There was a guy screaming things at me that I didn't understand. I had tried really hard to pick up on Pashto and Dari and failed pretty miserably at both. There were demands and threats and simple words, but I couldn't really make them out. The gun that he held to my head spoke for him just fine, though, and really I had other things to concentrate on.
The woman in front of me had her legs spread with the baby crowning. This had started out all wrong for her, and she was in a lot of pain, but it was starting to look like she and her kid were gonna come out of this okay as long as nobody got trigger-happy and blew my head off before I had the baby out.
Four or five other Afghani guys occupied the tent. I was pretty sure that they weren't supposed to be in there at a time like that, but maybe that's all they had. One of them held a lantern, another held a flashlight. Everybody was freaked out. I presumed that the guy yelling at me was either the woman's husband or father and there seemed to be some genuine care for her in his voice and his eyes. That pretty much spelled out the whole situation: baby comes out okay, mom comes out okay, or I don't go home ever again.
There was also Eric. Him, I understood just fine. "How's we doin', Doc?" he asked, still on his knees with his hands behind his head, which was itself covered in a burlap sack.
"Better'n we were an hour ago," I said with some trepidation. The conditions were terrible and our hosts were freaked out. I was worried that one of them would shove me aside in a panic at any moment and fuck all this up. "How's the leg?"
"Foot still moves," Eric answered. He'd been on his knees since they pulled us both into this tent. I had been in much the same predicament, but at least they understood that I needed to shift around to reach for things. I wasn't the one shot through the calf, though. They'd done a pretty sloppy job of seeing to his lower leg, and they wouldn't let me take care of it. Eric was tough. He didn't complain.
Somewhere in the distance I heard a helicopter. I told myself that nobody had given up on Eric and I, that we were gonna be found. We hadn't slept since we were separated from our unit. It wasn't like we had been gone long or been taken far away. Hell, it wasn't like our hosts were being quiet, either.
Mother screamed. Husband-or-father shouted, weak and threatening all at once. His buddies all started shouting things. I shouted things, too, telling them to chill, telling them to just give me more time, telling them it'd be alright. They didn't speak any English, though, and like I said, my Pashto was shit. (Hell, it was so bad, I wasn't even sure they were speaking Pashto.) Maybe I was just trying to convince myself not to freak out.
It wasn't easy. I was as goddamn scared as I'd ever been.
The baby crowned. He came out healthy and whole. I'd say he was beautiful, but honestly I'm just not into babies. Husband-or-now-grandfather clearly felt differently. He succumbed to teary relief and pulled the AK back from my head once I had cleared the baby out and got it wailing. His dudes seemed to all breathe a little easier, too, but things remained pensive. I grabbed for my bag, pulled out my clamps and goodies. Took care of the cord as soon as I was sure it was safe. Took care of the afterbirth.
Eric stayed quiet. He never asked if it was a boy or girl or anything. I really don't think he gave a fuck, and honestly, I didn't, either. I might've felt differently if they'd just asked for help. There, guys. Have your fuckin' baby. Can we go now?
Then the bag came over my head. They didn't bind my hands, but a pair of guys held each of my arms as I was dragged out. Lots of pushing, lots of hauling. I heard Eric right there with me. I was shoved, lost my balance, lost track of the ground underneath me. Tumble, tumble, ow, tumble, ow. I realized, before the rolling and bumping ended, that Eric was in the same boat.
It hurt. A lot. Only I didn't really feel it. As soon as I was sure I had control of myself again, I took the sack off my head. We were on sloping ground, all dirt and low scrub plants. Dawn twilight began to light the sky.
I checked on Eric, who skidded to a halt right next to me. "Aw, that fuckin' hurt," he groaned as soon as I had his head free. He'd suffered a nasty abrasion on his forehead, banged up his cheek, but thankfully nothing seemed broken. I set to looking at his leg.
"Think I twisted my fucking ankle on the way down," he said. I gave it a check, which only left him biting back growls of pain. It was convincing enough for me. I left it alone for the moment. "Any idea where we are?" Eric asked.
"Can't be far from where they grabbed us," I muttered. I fumbled around in my pockets, but they'd taken practically everything. The assholes didn't toss any of our gear down the hillside after us. "But no, they bagged me before they picked me up."
"Think we were in a cave. Had to be a cave."
I didn't look up from my work. They really had put a sloppy bandage on him. I threw off my outer shirt, yanked off my wife-beater and made a better bandage out of it and my belt. "Would they set up a tent inside a cave?" I asked.
"These fuckin' morons...I wouldn't put anything past 'em anymore," Eric grunted. "Fuckers kidnapped us to do somethin' we'd do for anyone an' then turn us loose like this soon as you're done. Assholes."
"Well, I don't want to hang around for them to change their mind on it," I grunted. "Can you limp?"
He nodded. I heaved him to his feet, letting him lean on me for support, and within a couple of steps I decided that it wasn't going to work. There were a couple of embarrassed words of protest, but a moment later I had him over my shoulders in a fireman's carry and we were headed down toward the valley.
"You're gonna get a fuckin' medal out of this for sure," Eric finally said after about ten minutes. It meant his sense of humor was returning, which was good.
"LT and Gunny Beehan gotta admit that they were stupid enough to put us in a position to get kidnapped in the first place if they're gonna do the paperwork for medals," I huffed. "You really think they want Battalion to hear about this?"
"Been gone too long to hush it up," Eric mused. "Ain't like the captain would put up with that shit."
