Part 3 (1/2)

”They're flying him to Germany,” Maria told her. ”Savannah's finding out where. She'll call you. She wants to buy a plane ticket so you can...But I don't think that's a good idea. Not yet. Not until...”

”What aren't you telling me?” Jenn asked.

”Jenni, he's still alive, but-” She cut herself off again. Whatever that but but was going to be, she subst.i.tuted it with, ”He's strong.” was going to be, she subst.i.tuted it with, ”He's strong.”

”You need to tell me everything,” Jenn said.

Maria exhaled hard. ”I know. It's just...he lost so much blood,” she said. ”One of his teammates ended up doing a battlefield transfusion, and nearly died himself, because of it. Jenni, it's a miracle that Dan's still alive at all. If he didn't have the friends that he has...This would already be a very different phone call. As it is...”

Dear G.o.d. ”Was it an IED?” Jenn asked, because it was clear Maria had gotten at least some details.

”Indirectly,” Maria said, and her word only made sense when she added, ”Dan was a.s.sisting with the civilian casualties after some kind of car bomb went off, and a sniper started shooting. He was. .h.i.t.”

”So he's been shot,” Jenn said, meeting Jack's steady gaze, ”someplace where he lost a lot of blood. In his chest or-”

”It was his leg,” Maria told her.

”His leg,” Jenn told Jack, unable to keep herself from glancing down at his empty pant leg. Oh G.o.d.

”If something goes wrong with the surgery,” Maria said, ”or if he's too weak to be operated on...He could lose his leg. And that's one of the better-case scenarios. I really think you should wait before you go anywhere, Jenn.”

”I don't want to wait,” Jenn said. ”Tell Savannah yes, please buy me a ticket. Tell her thank you.”

”Jenni,” Maria started.

”I want to be there,” Jenn said. ”I need to be there when he wakes up, especially if...G.o.d, most people don't get that chance. I'm going to be there.”

”Jenn, he might not wake up.”

”But he's strong,” Jenn reminded her. ”He's a fighter. Just tell Savannah. I can be at the airport in an hour.”

Danny was was strong. He strong. He was was a fighter. a fighter.

But all young men and women who went to fight wars were strong. They were all fighters. And sometimes, despite that, they died anyway.

Jenn looked at Jack, who was still holding her hand.

And sometimes they lost their legs.

LAS V VEGAS.

DATE U UNKNOWN.

For too many years, there was no such thing as no in Neesha's world.

Dissent was not allowed, not without punishment.

Years ago, when she was first brought to this awful place, punishment meant an empty belly and nothing but a hard, cold floor to sleep upon, a faucet for water, and a bucket for her waste, while locked in a tiny, empty cell. That was often all it took among the other new girls to turn a no into a yes.

But in those early days, Neesha preferred the hunger, the bucket, and the cold floor to the pain and humiliation that came when the men-the clients or visitors, they were called-held her down with the weight of their bodies and jabbed themselves between her legs.

It was wrong, and she would not not do it ever again. do it ever again.

And she screamed and cried, which frightened the visitors, and kept them from touching her. It also made the tall man with the florid face who was her new lord and master angry, so he locked her again in that cell.

The hunger made her cry, but she still said no. And then a fellow worker, a girl who was older, saved part of her meals to share. She furtively pa.s.sed the morsels through the tiny window in Neesha's door. And so she put up with that hard, cold floor for nine whole days and nights of no, with only twinges of hunger instead of great, yawning pain.

But the tall man-Mr. Nelson-he must have found out about the food, because the kind girl vanished. Neesha hadn't seen her again, not even once in all of the years since.

It was then that Mr. Nelson brought Neesha and her no into a beautiful room-more beautiful than she'd ever seen before in her entire short life-where a magnificent meal was set out on a huge table.

He'd left her there, and Neesha, still hungry, had eaten her fill, filled, too, with hope that her grandfather, a man her mother had spoken of with such affection and respect, had somehow managed to find and rescue her.

But when a man came in, while he was, indeed, old enough to be her grandfather, he had a face as pale and a head as bare of hair as the moon. His eyes were not like Neesha's or her mother's. They were blue and flatly ugly, as if his soul had already left his body.

And although she hadn't yet learned to speak any American, she knew what he wanted from his gestures.

When she gave him her emphatic no, he smiled. And he didn't just take what he wanted anyway, like the other men before him, hands trembling and even weeping while they'd kissed her, before she'd learned that her piercing screams would scare them away when simply sobbing wouldn't.

Instead, he took while he beat her, and he laughed with delight even as she screamed. And then he took some more in ways that were meant to hurt her, until she lay naked and bleeding, too stunned to cry, on that beautiful floor.

The man washed himself after, whistling as he did so, and then he left.

Women came in then, but they weren't warm like her mother had been, back before she'd fallen ill and died. They cleaned Neesha and bandaged her as best they could, but they did it without any comfort or kind words. In fact, they spoke to her sternly. You reap what you sow You reap what you sow.

And then they brought her back to her cell, where she wept until she fell asleep.

The door didn't open for three very hungry, very sore days as she lay on the floor, curled up in a ball. And when it finally did open, it was once again Mr. Nelson who stood there, looking down at her as she trembled and wept with fear.

And he took her, carrying her because her legs wouldn't hold her. He brought her back, not to the beautiful room, thank G.o.d, but to a separate bathing room, where the cold, angry women again washed her clean.

They braided her hair in a way that made her look even younger than she truly was, and they gave her a new dress and delivered her back to Mr. Nelson, who led her to the smaller room where she'd first lived and served the visitors, before she'd dared to say no.

A man was in there, waiting. His hungry eyes filled with tears as he saw her, because he, too, knew that what he wanted to do was wrong because she was just a child.

There was food laid out in there, too. It was nowhere near as sumptuous as the feast she'd had three days before. But it was hot and it smelled good and it would fill her belly and give her strength. The bed in the corner was soft and warm. Neesha knew that, as well.

And although she didn't speak Mr. Nelson's language and he didn't speak hers, he made it clear that it was her choice. She could go in.

Or she could say no, and go back to the room where the men wouldn't kiss her and lick her with their tremulous mouths, touch her almost reverently with their trembling hands, but instead would hit her and bite her and laugh while she screamed.

Neesha went inside.

And she never again said no.

Not until years later.