Dear Edward by Heather Parsons (i read book .TXT) 📕

/> Gathering up her things, they left the classroom together and walked out. The day was dreary, shedding tears of rain with the sun hiding behind the clouds, ashamed of showing itself.

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Ropes tied around the waists, hands tied together in front, the rest of Tango company was hauled off to an unknown destination. SPC Carter was limping, holding his side and trying to stay with everyone else. Single file line, moving slowly and cautiously through the jungle, breaking camp before sunset.
The first site of this camp brought on their worst fears, numerous soldiers were tied up, caged in and on display for the enemy to see. With their heads down, Tango company moved around them and into their own isolated cage, still bound. Once the cage was opened, from the top of the earth, the hole was dug, they pushed them in and closed it up. Saying something to them that no one could understand.
“Carter! Carter!” Captain Dumas yelled. Moving over to crouch down beside his fallen soldier. The blood that soaked his shirt was leaking onto the soiled ground, mixing in with everything else that was there.
“It's okay, just a fresh wound.” Carter replied, clenching his teeth together to keep the scream in. He knew it wasn't a fresh wound but he didn't want to alarm the rest.
“That's bull. Roll over and let me help you out. Stop being so stubborn, boy!” Captain spoke through clenched teeth.
The moment he rolled, his eyesight blacked out and he was lost to his own darkness. But no matter how much darkness invaded him, the pain, he still felt it. The searing hot pain that stretched out from his side all the way to his heart.
SPC Lake kept watch while the others mended Carter. And keeping watch wasn't the easiest thing to do, with so many things happening and hearing everyone else cry out for help, Lake covered his ears and allowed the tears to escape his eyes. This was the last place he ever thought he'd be, with two months left of tour, he'd thought he would be in a cot or trekking through the jungle but not here. Not where he knew for sure he'd never see home again.
Captain Dumas pulled off the last remaining stripe of clothing he could and wrapped it around the wound. Injecting Carter with enough morphine to sedate him for awhile. God, he hated being put in the position, having always told his troops that if it happened they'd survive but no that it has, he wasn't sure if they would. And hearing all the other cries only made it worse. Would he be able to get his troops out? Would they be able to get everyone else out?
When he was brought in here, he paid attention to the guards all around. Counting them as he passed to see how many there were. And no matter what he told everyone or what they saw in him, he was scared. Holding in his fear, he held in his breath and tried with everything he had left to calm himself. Thinking of home, thinking of his kids, his wife and what they would go through if he never made it back. Giving him the strength to pull himself together and then pull his troops together. But would it be enough?

NINE

Screams, cries and ghastly noises surrounded them as the day fell into night. Whispers could be heard between men, conversations of escape, torture and death. Members of different platoons going through horrific treatment, for nothing other than pleasure. Guards laughed, snickered and talked among themselves in languages foreign to them. But the worst part about this particular camp they were at, was the unknown.
Groggy and irritated, SPC Carter opened his eyes only to be met by absolute darkness. At least while his eyes were closed he could see images, colors, faces of what he thought the students looked like.
He lifted his hand in front of his face and winced, sucking in air through his teeth. Sharp pain shot through his side sending cascades of bright lights in his direct line of sight. As soon as his hand dropped down to his side the darkness took over his sight.
“How long have I been out?” Carter drug out each word, still feeling the side effects of the morphine in his system. How many was he given?
“Please for the love of God, man, be quiet!” an unknown voice said from one of the darkened corners. He'd thought by hearing the others cries, that they would at least know better than to bring unwanted attention their way, maybe not. Being here, all alone in the dark, never being tempted to edge himself closer to where the sun shinned through the branches, he'd been able to escape death numerous times. But now he didn't feel blessed only cursed in this hole, only able to close his eyes, seeing the one face he'd dreamed of, her face, Brianna. He sighed, leaning his head back against the soiled dirt, eyes glistening, he held his hand over his heart and trembled.
“Soldier, how long have you been here?” Captain Dumas asked, voice quivering but faint. Trying to think back to when they were pushed in this hole, he didn't remember seeing anyone else or hearing them but there was someone here now.
“Counting how many times the sun has risen then fell....um....sixty-two times. Give or take a few.” SGT Thomas whispered, amazing himself that he could remember after everything else that's happened. And then thinking this way, caused a shutter to run through his spine.
Everything that went wrong that first day they we're brought here, the family, friends that were tortured for information they didn't know then killed out of sure pleasure, haunted him. He was as far as he knew the only member left of Bravo Company, 1st platoon.
They all sat and listened with heartfelt pain to the story SGT Thomas was telling them about how they were captured, what they did wrong and who paid the ultimate price for it. With heavy hearts, tears running down their cheeks and unspoken prayers, they secretly planned for their escape. Knowing full well that all of them may not get out alive but all willing to do it for a chance to free another.

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Adam inwardly cursed himself for being a coward, for not helping Brianna with a simple task to give back. Strolling down the road, kicking the loose pebbles, head down and hands in his front pockets, he received the answer he was waiting for. His cell phone, the one he'd carried with him every where was going off. Signaling him to return to base ASAP. After all this time, he thought, why would they call on him now?
Pulling his hands out of his pockets he sprinted for his house, out of breath and pushing himself to move faster. Once inside he immediately grabbed the phone and dialed. Hearing a familiar voice pick up the line, he knew right away that this was no prank, it was the real deal. His anticipation sky rocketed, beating his heart to a rhythm he was very familiar with, one that he'd only had when faced with a crisis.
Striping his clothes off in a hast, he jumped in and out of the shower in five minutes. Grabbing his pressed army greens, polishing his bars, he walked causally to his car and headed for base.
Within a half an hour he was standing at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, head held high, standing across from Major Sanders, a friend and honored man. His eyes shinned with respect, knowing deep down inside that if he accepted this mission he wouldn't be coming home.
“This is highly classified information I'm handing over to you, you must keep this tight lipped.” Major Sanders said, jumping right into things. “We have satellite images showing an enemy camp. We believe this is the same camp where our own are being kept. We've been watching them move about, changing locations every few months but they've been settled here for longer than anticipated. We're moving out soon to take back what is ours.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Lieutenant Banks replied, eager to jump in with both feet. Doing this, he thought, would be just what his brother would want. Helping out our fellow soldiers, helping them find their way home. Pride hit him hard, hearing his brothers voice in his head, seeing him smile from across the room brought tears to his eyes.
He would do this for not only his country but for his friends, for her. He'd put himself in the hot zone to bring back his soldiers, to make right what he couldn't before, to set things straight.
“You'll be given seventy-two hours to prep but then I need you back here, wearing your jungle camouflage and be ready for deployment.” Major Sanders smiled, blotting back his own tears and reached out to shake the hand of a friend.
Snapping to attention, Lieutenant Banks saluted him before realizing what he was doing. His smile faltered as he stared down at the Major's hand and the tears that he'd held back, fell.
“Adam, I should be saluting you.” Major Sanders withdrew his right hand, raising it up and saluted him. Both officers were crying, reaching around the desk they embraced each other knowing what danger lay ahead. Adam's cries however were hitched in his throat, breathing in deep shallow breaths and trying to keep composed.

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Sitting on the porch, Brianna watched the dew glisten in the sunlight, heard the birds call to one another but really watched nothing in particular. Her eyes red and puffy from crying herself to sleep the night before. Wishing for everything to be a dream would be heartbreaking, she didn't want to go through again.
This time she had now was the only time she allowed herself to cry, to let go of the mask she'd been wearing and release her pain. But never loud enough to alert anyone around, even if the nearest neighbor was miles away.
She'd already gotten together with half a dozen friends and they all put together their boxes of love to send off to the soldiers to whom they received their own personal letters from. Only Brianna couldn't send one off to her soldier, he'd never get one and thinking about it now brought the tears back to her eyes. Jason would never know how she truly felt, he'd never be able to unwrap her heart and hold it close.
Chills ran down her back, causing shivers to cascade throughout her body. Brianna was starting to wonder how much more she could handle without falling off the deep end.
She let the shivers run their course, shaking her head she stood and walked back inside the house.