His body was a well-tuned machine and he clearly knew how to manage it to perfection. He pushed himself hard and always did more and more with each task that he took on. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to feel so confident in myself that I could do anything I wanted to do. It seemed like Nate didn’t think there was anything he wasn’t capable of doing. I couldn’t wait to have a feeling like that someday.
Sure, going to Syria was a bad idea, but I didn’t care. It was my choice to go and I wanted to do it, so I was doing it. I wanted to make my own bad decisions again, if only to make myself feel normal again.
I stood at the airline counter and worked with the clerk to find the best flight to Syria. I could tell she didn’t think a young girl like me should go there, but she was polite and took my money anyways. I booked an overnight flight to London and then I would have to switch airlines to take the last flight to Damascus, Syria.
Paying cash for a plane ticket at the airport was bound to cause some red flags to be raised, but paying cash to go to Syria was absolutely insane. I was pretty sure the only reason security guards or TSA officials didn’t pull me off to the side was because I was a blonde haired woman. Any man, of any nationality, would have been questioned on their intentions for going to Syria.
As I boarded the first flight to London, I cuddled into the middle seat of the middle section on the 777 that was going to London. It was probably the worst seat on the entire plane as I had to go past two people to get to my spot and there were two people on the other side of me as well. But I didn’t care at all. I felt weirdly safe in my seat in the middle. Both couples on either side of me were paying attention to each other, and I sat quietly in my little world. I didn’t have to worry about Stephano, or anyone else. On that plane, at that moment, no one knew me or what I had been through.
It would take me almost a full day to make it all the way to Syria, but I was excited to be taking on the adventure. Then our plane hit some turbulence, and it jolted the plane up and down quickly. I had never experienced turbulence of that magnitude before in my life. It was enough to stop anyone’s heart.
Everyone reacted with a little scream or quick breath as they waited for the pilot to inform us of what was going on. I started to shake. My hands shook uncontrollably, and I felt myself sweating and my vision becoming blurry. I tried to take in some deep breaths but felt like I couldn’t take a good breath at all. Suddenly, all my intentions of being independent seemed to fly right out the window of that plane as I shook and felt totally out of control.
My body was betraying me and my idea to go to a war zone and prove myself seemed like a very idiotic choice. I flashed back to a conversation I had had with my counselor and our group therapy one afternoon.
After trauma, you may find yourself drawn to risky behaviors. You might drive your cars too fast, sleep with strangers, or take other unreasonable risks that you normally wouldn’t. This is normal, but it’s a sign that you need to see your counselor and try and regroup. It’s a coping mechanism to keep you from dealing with the reality that you are trying to work through.
His words played over in my head and all my confidence drained from my body. Who was I to go to Syria and do anything? I couldn’t even take care of myself, what was I thinking?
“You’ll be all right,” the sweet old lady next to me said as she grabbed my hand.
I didn’t respond to her, but I did hold onto her hand. It was the only thing I had to hold onto. My mind spun out of control with the decision I had made to get on that plane. It was reckless and I knew it. Yet, deep down I knew when we landed in London I was going to get on the next plane to Syria. My fear had me consumed for the moment, but I felt a twinge deep down inside of me that kept driving me forward. I wanted control over my thoughts, my body, my future, and in order to make that happen, I was going to Syria.
I might not be able to help with the rescue mission at all. I might even end up getting myself killed in the stupid search for freedom that I was on. But I wasn’t stopping. I needed to feel powerful over myself and my life, and if that meant throwing myself into a war zone, then that was what I was going to do.
The truth was, as soon as Nate saw me there, he would probably force me to get back on a plane and go home. I doubted he would let me have any chance to prove myself. But at least I would have fought my fears and made it all the way there. At least I wouldn’t have let myself become too afraid to live. No matter what happened when I got to Syria, I was ready for it.
Chapter Sixteen
NATE
Fear had never really been my thing. I just didn’t get afraid like other people did. I had moments when I was on high alert and certainly I had been in situations that were dangerous, but I had confidence that the skills I had could get me out of those situ
ations. It didn’t hurt that I also had confidence in the men I worked with.
Baller, Rake, and Sandbag were the nicknames of the three men I usually deployed with. They called me Nitro instead of Nate. We trusted each other and knew that each of us brought a high level of skill to the table and would protect the other. We were all former military and knew how to handle ourselves in a war zone.
Working with men you trusted made it easier to be in dangerous conditions. There was no second-guessing each other. We all knew that when we decided on who did each job, it would get done the best possible way. I never had to worry if my guys were going to put their best effort forward and they never had to worry about me. That was the hallmark of a true team.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Baller greeted me as I arrived at our staging location in Damascus.
“That damn cat needs to stop bringing trash in the house,” I shot back at him.
We shook hands, and I moved on to shake hands with Rake and Sandbag as well. They had all the maps and intel spread out on a table and we went right into planning the mission. Before we could execute any sort of rescue, we had to make sure to get everything else into place so our plan would work.
“Let’s be careful with these maps; they are really old and everything could have changed,” I added as we routed the convoy we would take from the business location to the airport.
“How old are the maps?” Rake asked.
I pointed to the date in the corner that read 1953.
“Shit, how the hell are we supposed to use this shit? It’s unreal. Like they want us to get our asses handed to us over here.”
Rake was right to be pissed off. We had deployed to so many locations without the right equipment; we were all sick of it. Our lives weren’t the only ones at stake. If we didn’t get the right supplies, it was going to make it much harder for us to rescue the people. There’s nothing worse than showing up to rescue people and ending up getting them killed because we weren’t prepared. We had all dealt with that at least once on previous deployments and none of us wanted to deal with it again.
“I know, man. But it’s all we got. Oh, and the blueprint of the business is wrong, too. There’s an addition off of here that houses the families. It’s four stories tall and leads into the alley,” I added, almost afraid of what Rake might say next.
“Wait, how do you know all of this? Do you have a better blueprint?” Sandbag questioned.