Think woman, where did he put the Browning?
Raines crossed to the other side of the bark chip path, three trees in she saw the birdhouse. Opening the clasp, her heart stopped beating. Reaching in she felt the cold steel of the Browning 9mm wrapped in cobwebs. The magazine clip was in.
God I pray this thing is loaded.
“You took away the ones I loved… so now I’m going to take away the ones you love.”
Camp tried to think quickly. His leg was too badly wounded to jump her.
“How did you find us Miriam? I thought we had hidden ourselves more carefully.”
Miriam pulled the envelope from the letter Eileen had mailed to Camp at FOB Lightning.
“Mail call makes things very easy,” Miriam said as she tossed the envelope on the ground and took a step back. She raised the gun toward Camp’s head as he winced.
“I want you to watch her die first. I want you to feel the same pain you gave me.”
Miriam slowly moved her gun toward Eileen whose eyes opened wide with terror.
Gunfire ripped through the lodge again. The second bullet hit Camp high on the right side of his chest. He screamed in pain as shattering glass bounced on the wood floor.
Miriam looked at Camp with genuine surprise as blood pooled and drenched his shirt. Miriam turned toward the sound of falling glass behind her and squinted.
Raines pulled the Browning’s trigger a second time. Miriam clutched her throat as the bullet pierced her neck. Her Smith & Wesson 38 fell to the floor first. Miriam’s body fell a second later.
Raines kicked through the glass and unlocked the French doors. She ran first to Eileen’s landline phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“Shooting with injuries at Lightner Farms, Baltimore Pike,” she screamed laying the phone on its side and rushed to Camp as dispatchers heard the chaos at Lightner Farms.
He was struggling to remain conscious.
“Nice… shooting,” he gasped trying to breathe.
Raines put immediate pressure on the chest wound with the ether soaked hijab that was lying next to Eileen and pulled Camp’s left arm up to hold it in place.
“Pressure Camp. Keep pressing.”
Raines grabbed the sewing scissors on the table between the two leather chairs and started cutting the tape off of Eileen. She reasoned that it was better to have a half-drugged ICU nurse at her side than to wait for an ambulance all alone.
Eileen and Raines managed to get Camp to the floor next to Miriam. They put a pillow beneath his head and tied his belt around his upper thigh. Raines applied pressure to his chest as Eileen kept pulling him back from the unconsciousness his body was desperately trying to find.
The sounds of approaching sirens grew louder.
“Come on Camp, stay with us, stay with us… help is almost here,” Eileen pleaded with him. She got up and ran to the kitchen, opened the door and waved frantically to the EMTs as they ran into the lodge.
His heartbeat was weak and faint from the blood loss. The Lightner Farms parking lot was filling with emergency vehicles and flashing red lights. Two firemen rushed in with a stretcher as an EMT got the IV into Camp’s arm, a lead onto his heart and an EKG monitor by his head.
“Come on, baby,” Raines tried to urge him through hysteria and tears.
“We’re losing him,” the EMT yelled as he grabbed the portable defibrillator unit.
Camp’s eyes were shut.
“Clear!” Nothing happened.
“Clear!” Camp’s heart beat reappeared on the screen. They wheeled him out of the lodge and over to the waiting ambulance. Raines got in the back of the ambulance and held Camp’s hand.
“I am not letting go of you Seabury Campbell, Junior… DO NOT LET GO OF ME.”
The ambulance door closed and entered the Baltimore Pike with full sirens and lights as it raced to the emergency room at Gettysburg Hospital.
EPILOGUE
Islamabad, Pakistan
Dr. Ja’far drove up and parked outside the departures terminal at Islamabad International Airport as baggage handlers for Pakistan Airlines walked up to the car to help with luggage. Ja’far lowered the window.
“No luggage… just carry-on.”
Aara was sitting in the back seat. She wore a beautiful Persian gown with sequins and lace. Her hair was covered with an exquisitely decorated hijab.
“I told you there was no reason to panic. We’re here two hours before your flight.”
Aara breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Ja’far got out and opened her door. He lowered his head in respect as Aara carried her small bag and walked into the terminal.
She was second in line at the PIA ticket counter.
“Name?”
“Aara Markazi.”
“Looks like we have you on the non-stop flight from Islamabad to London’s Heathrow.”
Aara smiled and nodded.
“Any bags to check?”
“No… just a carry-on.”
“This flight features a Boeing 700-300. We have you in an aisle seat. Is that okay?
“I’d prefer a window seat if you have it.”
“Let me check… sure, how about 36A. That’s a window on the left side of the plane as you face forward.”
Aara nodded. Her hands were trembling.
“First time to fly?” the agent asked.
“Yes. Is it a full flight?”
“Pretty full… 312 in economy class… all 49 sleeper seats in business are full.”
Aara took her boarding pass and made her way to the security lines. Aara removed her hijab and put it in her bag. Then she spoke to the security agent.
“I need to notify you that I am a diabetic. I have two unused syringes, a jet injector, and three vials of insulin.”
The security guard thanked her and notified the screener. She walked through the metal detector and emerged on the other side.
“Baggage check on three.”
A woman walked up to Aara’s bag and picked it up.
“May I do a second screen on your bag?”
“Yes, of course… is there a problem?” Aara said as her hands continued to tremble.
“Looks like you have some sharps in your bag. Syringes maybe?”
“Yes, I notified the officer that I am a diabetic.”
“No problem… I just need to take a look in your bag.”
The female security officer opened Aara’s bag and looked through it.
“You’re fine. Thanks for your patience. You’ve also been randomly selected for a private body scan by one of our female officers. They close the drapes so it is very private.”
The officer pointed Aara over to where a female officer in a hijab was smiling and waving her over. She stepped into the private screening room, and the woman quickly patted down her entire body.
“Thank you and enjoy your flight.”
Aara was served lunch an hour into the nearly seven-hour flight from Islamabad to London’s Heathrow. After lunch she leaned her head against the fuselage of the PIA jetliner and fell fast asleep.
The captain’s voice over the intercom startled her from her nap.
“We’re about 45-minutes out of London. This will be your last chance to use the lavatories before I turn on the seat belt sign in final preparation for landing.”
A passenger on the aisle let Aara scoot past the empty middle seat and stood up so she could use the restroom. The back of her seat was against the wall of the restroom. She had heard the sucking “whoosh” sound of the toilet flushing a hundred times during lunch and her nap.