Page 13 of Salute, To Bravery

Rehan

I step out of the house to find a peaceful scene that clashes with the internal disquiet gnawing at me. We’ve been living in Al-Bustan for a week now, and this house is fast becoming a home I could love forever—just as I’ve come to love the woman who’s been sharing the space with me.

We have managed to get messages, via the villagers, to the leaders in the region, and they have been meeting with me over the last few days.

I’ve spent many hours putting into place an agreement for peace, and I have the authority to put the proposal to Harper’s side now, but we can’t rely on radio communications.

Even messages delivered by hand can be intercepted.

We have to be mindful and wait for someone from the US military to contact us.

Harper joins me outside, her eyes scanning the horizon with a practiced vigilance that has become second nature to both of us. We share a brief, silent nod, an understanding that we are waiting for those who will help us find peace.

Suddenly, the serenity of the afternoon is shattered, replaced by a surge of adrenaline when we hear a vehicle approaching. We exchange a quick, determined look and hurry back inside the house.

Through the window, we watch as a military jeep rattles into the village square. Two men in battle dress alight, but the insignia on their uniforms is not immediately recognizable, which heightens our wariness. They start speaking to some of the villagers, seemingly asking questions.

“I don’t recognize them. We need to know if they’re here for us as friends or foes before we reveal ourselves,” Harper whispers, moving away from the window to grab her rucksack, which is always packed and ready in case we need to leave quickly.

I follow suit, the reality setting in. “We can use the back route. The one we scouted the other day,” I suggest.

Harper nods. “We’ll keep to the woods and circle back to the viewing point at the top of the valley. We’ll be at a safe distance but still able to see what’s happening below.”

Harper is already at the door, her pistol checked and holstered. There’s a fierce determination on her face.

We slip out the back and head up the valley side toward the tree line. We walk in silence, Harper’s expertise and guidance making sure our passage through the underbrush is virtually imperceptible.

Our movements are swift as we head for the vantage point above the village. Pausing, we watch as the men from the jeep continue their inquiries.

Harper meets my gaze; her calm expression is one of steely determination and hope. “We’re almost at the top. Let’s keep moving. Your safety and the success of our mission may depend upon it.”