Flowers from Afghanistan Read online

  I marked off lines with a tape measure and Glenn made the first cut.

  Travis steadied the board as the metal teeth of the saw bit into soft pine.

  An hour later, we stood back and admired our work.

  “You might have the nicest room in the tent.” Travis ran his hand across the plywood desk. “Wanna trade?”

  Glenn gathered his tools. He stepped back with satisfaction in his eyes. “Not bad, only he needs a chair, and I know where we can get one.”

  “Where?” Travis asked.

  “I took a jog around camp today and noticed three broken computer chairs on the trash pile. With a little luck, we may be able to get one good one from the parts,” Glenn said.

  The sun sank behind the cold mountains of the lower Hindu Kush to the west of camp.

  I remembered a small flashlight I kept in my gorilla box. I dug it out and flicked the switch. On, off, on. “I’m game if you two are.”

  4

  “Watch it,” Travis said.

  I jumped.

  “There are camel spiders out here, man. They’re as big as my hand.”

  “Do they bite?”

  “Heck yeah. They can near take your finger off.” He squinted into the dark. “And don’t think you can outrun them. Ten miles per hour, top speed. The things are like gazelles on crack.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Travis needed a vacation.

  I swept the flashlight side to side as we picked our way in darkness down the wide gravel path that surrounded the camp. The night air was shredded by jets flying so low I felt as if I could reach up and touch them. I shivered from excitement rather than the coolness of the desert air, which was welcome, compared to the sizzling high that day: one hundred fourteen.

  Sitting at a desk and standing behind lecterns all day left my legs eager to stretch out on a walk. I squinted, taking in the scenery, and trying to remember the way in case Glenn decided to pull another trash run. There wasn’t much in the way of landmarks, just rows and rows of cement walls engulfed in darkness. They closed in on me until my gaze found the night sky.

  Travis plowed into my back.

  “Hey.” Travis bounced off. “Watch where you’re going.”

  I didn’t reply. I was too busy taking in the expanse of a night sky that opened before me. I tipped my head back, like a parched man under a spigot. The sky was blue-black, flecked with silver. Like the lapis lazuli stones indigenous to the region. The moon was so bright I could see the crags on its face. I didn’t want to leave the spot. The scene drew me in like a sleeping bag on a frosty night.

  Travis followed my gaze. “I remember the first time I saw the night sky here. I did the same thing. Just stared. Back home, city lights obscure the stars.”

  I didn’t answer. My mind was back at another night, black as this. Only there were no stars to give hope.

  “Here it is. Come on,” Glenn called impatiently from five yards ahead.

  I reluctantly moved forward.

  He was backlit by the orange glow of the burn pit, an area enclosed on three sides by twenty-foot-high blackened cement walls. It burned day and night, smoke constantly spiraling up from embers. The wreckage was piled next to the pit, waiting to be thrown in. Small pockets of flame eerily threw shadows on the soot-covered walls.

  I instinctively covered my nose as acrid smoke blew in my face.

  Travis sneezed.

  Glenn was already dismantling a chair. “No sense in carrying back more than we need. Pull off the good parts and leave the rest.” He pulled a pair of pliers from the cotton laundry sack and tossed the tool high in the air in an arc toward me. “Heads up.”

  I made a grab for it, but it spiraled over my head and plowed into a mound of rags.

  A high-pitched squeal of something in torment erupted from the pile.

  Three of us who endured daily explosions jumped at the sound of innocence.

  For a moment, I hesitated. My brain was whirring. Years of training kicked in. I stuck my flashlight between my teeth and moved toward the sound, dreading what I would find. I swept the filthy mound with my foot, probing for whatever had made that cry. Ashes coiled up reducing the effectiveness of the flashlight. On the fourth search, my foot bumped a mass, about the size of a loaf of bread, and as soft. A shiver ran up my back, but I steeled myself. Working in law enforcement for seven years taught me to stuff my feelings down. I gently pulled aside filthy rags.

  Next to my boot, curled in a ball, was a black and gray mottled puppy. His littermates lay close beside him, but they hadn’t fared as well. At least their suffering was over.

  I gently probed the puppy with my hand, and it wiggled. Its pink tongue protruded over white baby teeth. The animal’s chest heaved in and out with great effort.

  Travis called low behind me. “What is it?” He didn’t approach, but hung back.

  I bent down and gathered the animal in my arms. “Glenn, hand me that bag.”

  Glenn moved hesitantly forward, all bravado went out of his walk. He handed me the olive-green bag.

  I swaddled the animal in it like an infant. I cradled him against my chest and walked him back toward the gravel path.

  The still-frightened wheeze of his breath echoed against the night air.

  Travis finally seemed to make up his mind about the situation. He moved closer and lifted the cloth now swaddled in my arms. He did a sharp, ragged intake when he saw fur. “Oh.” Travis wiped sweat from his face in apparent relief. “I was afraid it was a baby.”

  I ran my hand across the ashy fur. “How did this puppy get here?”

  Glenn gathered his tools. “Locals. Dogfighting’s a huge sport over here. In litters, only the best are kept for fighting. Runts are usually left to die or are killed.” He continued to sift the ashes for chair parts. “Afghanistan’s a harsh place, for man and beast.” Glenn gathered as many pieces as he could hold. “Travis, get the rest. Make sure we don’t leave anything behind.” He turned to me. “Come on. Let’s go put your chair together.”

  I was more than ready to leave that place. I handed my flashlight to Travis and followed the weaving glow that guided our steps. I could feel the drumming of the puppy’s heart beating against the palm of my hand. Down inside me, stirrings of hope flickered like the light against those cement walls. Life could spring from ashes. I lowered my mouth next to the grimy ears and spoke soothingly, quietly so the guys couldn’t hear me, “You’ll grow up big and strong.” I paused to think for a moment. “Phoenix.”

  We burst into my room and dumped chair parts on the floor in a heap.

  “I need a chair base.” Glenn sat on the plywood flooring and held out his hand.

  Travis fished chair parts aside and laid them out like instruments to a surgeon. “Here.” Travis handed Glenn a chrome base.

  “It’s missing a wheel.”

  “Wait.” I set the puppy down on the floor and dug through the pile of dirty parts. “I know I saw a loose one a minute ago.” My hand closed around a smooth, plastic wheel. “Here it is.” I handed it over to Glenn, and as I bent low, the puppy slipped beside me and licked my face. My mouth drew up into an involuntary grin. I waved him off, got up, and filled a plastic bowl with water.

  He gingerly lapped until the bowl was empty, then waddled over. Just getting him hydrated seemed to make a huge difference. His belly began to swell out.

  Glenn sat cross-legged, the chair base in his lap. He mumbled at me as he held a screw in the corner of his mouth. “So, what brings you to this godforsaken country?”

  “He gets straight to the point, doesn’t he?” I glanced over Glenn’s head at Travis.

  Glenn grunted. “People come here as contractors for three reasons. Financial trouble, hiding from a predicament in their life, or they’re idealists, think they’ll change the world.” He paused. “So, which one is it for you?”

  I studied the dark creases in Glenn’s face. “I’ve got some bills to pay, and I wanted to be part of something bigger.
I’m not so sure this country is forsaken.”

  “Idealist!” Glenn looked smug. “An idealist who also sees the opportunity to get ahead. Now, are you quite sure you’re not also hiding?”

  I tried to hold it at bay, but a shiver ran up my spine. I pulled back.

  The room was uncomfortably empty of conversation.

  Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles backup warnings screeched outside the tent and broke into the stillness.

  Travis leaned in closer.

  Glenn snapped a wheel into place and rolled the base of the chair in little circles on the floor, waiting for an answer. He toyed with me the same way he played with the seat.

  I wasn’t so sure I even liked this Glenn character. I wasn’t hiding, was I? No, I was here to pay off bills from the hospital. I made sure no one here knew the real me. They only saw me as Mac the trainer, the guy who was always on time. They only saw the part of me I allowed them to see. I stuffed my pain down into an imaginary box and chained it safely away. I didn’t owe him or anyone else an explanation. I stared back, unflinching. Glenn looked away, and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “Hand me that seat so I can attach it to this post.” He pointed to a raggedy computer seat, stuffing exploding from the seams. It would do. I handed the part to Glenn, and he snapped it in place, removed the screw from his mouth, and tightened it on the post.

  “Which one are you?” The words jumped out of my mouth before I had time to stop them. Let him have a go at his own little game.

  Glenn grinned as if he’d just received what he’d been waiting for all along.

  “I am unabashedly here for the money. I make no apologies. I seek no absolution for my sin. You see, I was an officer for the great state of Georgia. There I took an oath that I would protect the rights, lives, and property of all citizens. That I would uphold the honor of the police profession, with my life if need be. My partner did just that. He paid with his life. After that, all the honor in the world wouldn’t have been enough to redeem his life. I decided if I was to be shot at, I might as well make money while doing so.” Glenn smiled with satisfaction and punched the computer chair seat. “Done. Give it a spin.”

  I rolled the chair up to my desk and sat gingerly. “This is great.”

  “Beats a gorilla box, doesn’t it?” Travis gathered tools from the floor and handed them to Glenn.

  Glenn bowed and waved his hand dramatically. “And now, I take my leave. Enjoy the chair. No assembly charge. Welcome to Camp Paradise.”

  “Camp Paradise?”

  A sarcastic grin spread across Glenn’s face. “My name for this place. Because it is anything but.”

  I stood and grabbed Glenn’s hand. “Thanks.”

  Phoenix sniffed Glenn’s pants cuff expectantly.

  Glenn carefully stepped around the puppy, ignoring him. The door closed behind the man.

  I shook my head. “Wow, talk about jaded.”

  “He’s not as bad as he seems. He’s had it pretty hard. The same year his partner was shot, his wife died.”

  “Of what?”

  “Cancer.”

  Travis moved to the door. “I’m outta here, too. Enjoy the chair.”

  I nodded as he closed the door, but I couldn’t speak. What if that had been Sophie? I set the puppy down and settled into my new chair. I glanced at my watch and wondered what time it was in Sophie’s world. Ten thirty Friday night in Afghanistan meant one in the afternoon in Huntsville. Maybe Sophie was on her computer. I scooted closer to my desk and powered up the Internet. I was happy to try out my new setup. The thumbnail picture of Sophie appeared, and I clicked on the green video button. I could hear her in the background even before the video pulled up.

  “Mac?”

  “I’m here.”

  Strained silence. We both sat stiffly.

  Her hair fell across her face, and she brushed it impatiently out of the way.

  That small act, so familiar, sent a rush of longing through me. I began to second-guess my reasons for being in Afghanistan.

  “I need you to come home.” Sophie pressed her lips together.

  My heart rabbit-thumped against my ribs, remembering Glenn’s wife. “Is something wrong?”

  Sophie shuffled in her seat. “I didn’t sign on for this. I told you when we dated, I never wanted to be a military wife. I’ve lost Little Mac and now you.”

  The words hit me like a blow to the stomach. By coming to Afghanistan, I’d closed a door. Only I hadn’t meant that door to be Sophie. My hand tightened on the edge of my laptop. She seemed so distant, walled in by the constraints of my computer screen. I mumbled about paying bills. She probably suspected I was hiding. Just like Glenn. “I’ve got to go to bed. It’s late.”

  It was just an excuse to end this painful exchange, and we both knew it. We signed off our computers simultaneously.

  My hand fell to my side, and the warm fuzz of Phoenix’s head bumped against my palm. How could he trust a man again after being discarded like trash? I picked him up and held his mottled, furry body to my chest. He relaxed against me, and his breathing became smooth and regular. His tenderness opened the last floodgate in my chest, and sobs I’d wrestled with since the funeral clenched my stomach. Was this what my life had become? Sophie in Huntsville, her heart broken and me in a country full of people who would kill me at the first chance? There was a time I would have done anything to comfort Sophie the way I was holding Phoenix, but now, there was nothing left of me to give.

  Moisture stirred up the rancid odor of trash and decay in Phoenix’s fur. We wouldn’t make it as roommates if he smelled like that. I grabbed my shower bag, lifted Phoenix into the crook of my arm and headed to the Conex boxes. It wouldn’t be too busy that late. Rows of tan and gray metal rectangles came into view. Conex boxes were shipping containers outfitted for use as showers and latrines. Up the wooden ramp, I trudged, stopping to readjust my handhold on the puppy to keep him from slipping out of my arms.

  Glenn stomped out of the doorway, his towel slung over his shoulder. His spiked hair gave him the appearance of a porcupine. “Cleaning up your buddy?”

  “Oh, yeah. Phoenix smells like a polecat.” I grabbed the puppy tightly to stop his squirming.

  “What’s that?” Glenn asked.

  “Being a Southerner, you don’t know what a polecat is?” What was the deal with him? He was from Georgia, but he did his best to stamp down any trace of a Southern accent. I got the feeling he was ashamed of his roots. “Polecat is slang for a skunk.”

  “Aptly named.”

  I stuck my head in the doorway to see if I had the place to myself. I didn’t want to be chasing a puppy around a group of showering soldiers. The place was empty. Gray water from backed up shower stalls overflowed and covered the floor. I shifted Phoenix to keep him from jumping down into the scum. “Looks like things are pretty backed up here. Is the pump truck coming soon?”

  “Estimated sometime tomorrow. Not soon enough for me.”

  “I hear that.”

  Glenn focused on the struggling dog in my arms. “Combat shower. Limit five minutes, McCann.”

  “You really think I want to stand in this swamp more than five?” I scooted around Glenn. Once inside I let Phoenix down, trapped him in the shower stall with my foot whenever he tried to escape. I threw off my clothes, and we both took a quick scrub down with my body wash. It was a fight all the way. “You’re not one for soap and water, huh? If you’re going home with me, you’ll have to learn to like clean.” I frowned even as I spoke the words.

  How would I get Phoenix home? I needed to ship him out, and it had to happen soon. They euthanized strays here. Rabies was rampant, and the only means to protect the soldiers was to control the animal population. Phoenix appeared healthy for now, but I didn’t want to endanger him and the lives of the guys I worked with.

  I dried him off and stopped at the latrine before heading back to the tent. As I rounded the corner, a dark form, about the size of my hand, l
eaped across the path. I gripped Phoenix a bit tighter and squinted into the shadows. I couldn’t make out what it was, but the thought nagged at my mind that it could have been a camel spider. Travis had been talking about them earlier that night. Newbies were tortured with tales of camel spiders in their sleeping bags or jumping down on unsuspecting, showering soldiers.

  It was only a quarter mile to the Conex boxes from my tent, but I didn’t relish the thought of running across those arachnids at night. With each story I heard, the spiders grew larger. The current story was eight inches across. The one fact I had been able to corroborate was their speed. According to Travis, they ran as fast as ten miles an hour. That was quick enough. I didn’t want to encounter one on a late-night trip to the latrine.

  5

  I wedged the tip of my knife into the pine wood bench, carefully carved Mac McCann, Huntsville, Alabama. Afghanistan sun sizzled on my neck. Sunscreen was for sissies. Sitting back, I admired my work. I was official. It was a tradition for WinCorp contractors to carve their names into the rugged bench. For some, it was the only proof they’d ever been in Afghanistan. Others left a larger mark on the country. I intended to be the latter.

  Travis rustled the pages of yet another of the self-help books his wife constantly sent him. His nose was practically glued to the page.

  Curious, I waved my hand in front of his face. He was oblivious. Not sound officer survival technique. I wound my finger back and gave the cover a good thump, almost hit Travis in the lip.

  “Hey!”

  “What’re you reading?”

  Travis flipped the cover around and stared at it as if to remind himself of the title. “Book Tricia sent me about cops and family relationships.”

  I ground my boot toe into the dusty tan gravel. “If Sophie sent me any books like that it would only mean one thing. She thinks she’ll change me.”