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Hira lay in the hospital bed, her headscarf wrapped around her head and over her face. She couldn't bear to have her face showing to strangers, after all this time of keeping it hidden. For the most part, the doctors and nurses had been kind to her and allowed her to keep her face covered. If it was necessary to show it, a woman did whatever was necessary. Hira appreciated their sensitivity to her religious beliefs.

The bullet had gone through her shoulder and done little damage, it just hurt more than anything. It would take a while before she would have full use of her arm again, but that didn't bother her. What did bother her, though, was that they would give her no information about Howie.

Hira had seen the soldiers dragging him off, he had called out to her. She was sure that he had seen her face, had known that she had slept with him the night before. She wondered what he thought of her - was he mad that she drugged him? Or sorry that he had slept with her? She really wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was safe.

A nurse came in and gave her some medication for the pain. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep; it was morning when she woke. When a man in a dark suit came to speak with her, the nurse made him wait until she'd eaten, had a sponge bath, and her dressing had been changed.

“I'm Steven Johnson, assistant to the US ambassador to Iraq,” he introduced himself. “I need to speak with you, if you feel up to it.”

“Yes, of course.” She took a sip of water from the glass next to her bed. “But first can you tell me how Howie is? No one will tell me anything.”

“Mr. Dorough is fine. He's on his way to Germany right now for a medical check and then will be flown back to the States to be reunited with his family.”

“He was not hurt?”

The man shook his head. “He's suffering from a little malnutrition and dehydration, that’s all.”

“I did what I could,” Hira said softly. “They did not want to feed him, but I snuck him food.”

“He told us that you did that, even though the two men would've beaten you if they had caught you.”

“It is true. But it would not have been the first time, or the last, that they beat me.”

“Can you tell me how you came to be with those men?”

Hira explained all the humiliating details. Instinctively she knew she needed to be honest with him. The fact that Howie had told him what happened assured her she needed to do the same, so she answered all of his questions.

“And how do you feel about Mr. Dorough?” he asked softly. He had been treading very lightly with her, she seemed very fragile at the moment and he didn't want her to break down.

“I...I care for him very much,” she said. She didn't want to examine her feelings for him too closely, afraid of what she might find. She was not at all sure they were going to give her asylum, despite the fact that she had told them where the rest of the prisoners were the night before.

“You care about him enough to have had sex with him?”

Hira blushed a deep red beneath her veil. “I did not do it in order to get asylum, if that is what you are thinking,” she said, her voice hard. “I would never use him that way.”

“That is what he said too,” Steven assured her. “I just needed to hear it from you too.”

“Am I going to get asylum, Mr. Johnson?”

“I don't know yet. It is a very political thing, you understand.”

“If I am forced to stay in Iraq, I will certainly face a long and terrible death if they catch me. I am considered a traitor by many for helping you recover the prisoners.”

“We understand that, but there are certain protocols that we must observe.” He leaned over and touched her hand softly. “We're doing everything we can - we don't want you to have to go back,” he assured her.

“Thank you.” They talked for a few more minutes and then he left, leaving her feeling more depressed than ever. She had a gut feeling that they were going to turn down her request.

Hira slept off and on all day, the nurses fussing over her and cajoling her to eat. Several of them sat and chatted with her once they learned she spoke excellent English. She asked them many questions about life in America. They confirmed everything that Howie had told her, even down to the skimpy bathing suits that were the norm for American women. The nurses, in turn, asked her about her life and were amazed at how little freedom Iraqi women had, and the limitations that were placed on them because of the dominance of men in their culture.

When night fell, a nurse brought her medication for pain again, which made her very sleepy. During the night, she woke to see a man standing over her. She was groggy, she wondered what he wanted - no one except the nurses came in during the night.

The man grabbed her arm and yanked her from the bed; she tried to scream but his hand covered her mouth. He pulled out her IV; blood ran down her arm and dripped onto the bed. It was then that Hira realized she was being kidnapped and she fought with all her strength to get away from him.

Biting down on his hand, she managed to twist away briefly - but he grabbed her injured arm and twisted it, the pain caused her to nearly black out. As he dragged her away, she kicked at his shins and tried to break free. Down a long hallway, she struggled to get free, desperation giving her strength. He finally turned and hit her hard in the face; she fell against the wall, unconscious. He picked her up and carried her to the end of the deserted hallway.

At the side entrance of the building, at the end of the main hallway, a large cart of dirty linen sat near a door. The man looked around, no one was nearby and the place was quiet. He threw Hira into the cart, covered her with dirty linen, and pushed the cart out of the building.

When the nurse came in a few hours later to check on her charge, she found her gone and blood everywhere. She called security, who then called Mr. Johnson from the ambassador's office.

“We believe she was taken against her will,” the officer told Steven. “The blood droplets by the bed and in the hallway are scattered, not in a line as if the person was walking. Looks like she was fighting pretty hard, there is blood on the walls too.”

“So you don't believe she left voluntarily?”

“No, she was on pain medication and a mild sedative, she couldn't have left on her own without help.” They were walking down the main hallway as they spoke. “Now look here - there is a smudge of blood on the wall, as if someone had fallen against it and slipped down. And the blood trail ends here too. We think someone picked her up and carried her at this point.”

“How did someone get in here and kidnap one of your patients without anyone seeing a thing?” Steven asked.

“I don't know, sir. It's possible they had a man inside with security clearance - we have quite a few civilians working in this area. Could've been someone in food service or laundry or the cleaning crew - most of them are Iraqi's.”

************************

When Hira woke, she found herself in the back of a beat up pickup truck. It was just before dawn, the glow of the sun barely lighting the horizon yet. She was gagged, her hands tied in front, but her feet weren't tied at all. She didn't move for fear of alerting her captors that she was awake. She looked around the best she could - there was no one in the bed with her. Two men were sitting in the cab, talking quite animatedly as they drove along the highway.

Hira inched her way towards the back of the truck, moving ever so slowly so as not to attract the attention of the men in the cab. When her feet reached the tailgate, she pushed it softly - she could tell that it wasn't shut securely. It swung down, Hira closed her eyes and braced for the loud noise she was sure it would make. But the tailgate didn't make any noise - the bumper was long gone and the tailgate just swung in the breeze.

With a sigh of relief, Hira inched ever closer to the opening. She could see the dirt road outside, the tires kicked up a fine dust as they drove along. They were in a deserted area, Hira wanted to get out in an area where there would be someplace for her to hide. Before long, the truck slowed slightly as it entered a village. It was just past dawn, few people would be out this time of day.

Hira braced herself for the impact; she knew it was going to hurt when she rolled out of the truck. She hit hard, and then rolled towards the side of the road. The flimsy hospital gown did little to protect her; she could feel the rocks tear into her skin. It took a few minutes to regain her breath, but when she looked around the truck was gone - she could see the taillights disappearing down the road. With great effort, she climbed to her feet and headed for the nearest building. The place had been abandoned after it was shelled. The roof was missing but the walls still stood - a perfect place for her to hide while she decided what to do.

Her wound had started bleeding again because of the fall; she pressed the bandage against it to try to stop the flow. What she really needed was to get the ropes off her hands. A large piece of shrapnel was imbedded in the wall; it was just what she needed. Hira ran the rope over the sharp metal edge, eventually cutting through. With her hands free, she pulled off the gag and threw it into the corner. On second thought, she picked it and the severed rope up and buried them in debris; she didn't want to leave behind any evidence of her being there.

Hira peeked out the doorway; there was no sign of anyone in the road. Luck was with her again when she saw laundry drying at the house next door. She snuck over and took a shirt, pants, and a plain headscarf. She removed her own silk one and left it to replace the items she stole, she hoped the woman wouldn't be too upset; she’d be able to sell the silk headscarf and buy replacement garments.

Hira crept back to the burned out building. She removed the gown and tore it into long strips, then removed her bandage and used the strips to dress the wound. She buried the bloody dressing and carefully pulled on the new shirt - she did not want to appear in public with a bloodied shoulder - it would be a dead giveaway for anyone looking for her. She adjusted the headscarf so that none of her face showed and then crept from the building again.

Once in the village, Hira waited for the market to open. It was a good sized village; she prayed that someone there would be able to change some American dollars into Iraqi dinars. She had hidden Howie’s money in her underwear; the nurses let her use the bathroom instead of a bedpan so she was able to keep it a secret. Hira wandered the market, finally identifying a man capable of changing her money. He charged a large sum for the exchange, but she knew it would buy his silence.

Hira bought some food and waited for the bus to arrive. She squeezed into the crowded vehicle and found a place to stand near the back. Once again she changed buses several times, backtracking and going in the wrong direction to throw off anyone trying to locate her. She finally arrived at her destination two days later, exhausted and in great pain.

Going to the back door of the house, Hira knocked and waited for someone to come. She explained to the man she was a friend of Saleena's and he invited her in, calling out to her friend. It was a tearful reunion; they hadn't seen each other in several years. Saleena asked her brother to bring the doctor to the house; when he came he examined the wound and dressed it, giving her a shot of antibiotics in case it became infected.

“Oh Hira, I cannot believe what has happened to you since school. Did your father really give you to the drug lord?”

“Yes, I did not want to go but I could not let my little sister go to that horrible man.” She took a sip of the tea her friend had brought her. “And my brothers did nothing to stop my father. They are afraid of him and what he might do to them.”

“Then they are cowards,” Saleena said vehemently. “Your brothers should have protected you.”

“You are not married?” Hira asked. Her friend was only a year younger than she was.

Hira’s heart broke at the look of sadness on her friend’s face. “Salid and I had a home, we were expecting our first child…but our home was destroyed by a mortar shell. My husband and his parents were killed, I lost the baby.”

“Oh Saleena, I am so sorry.” She hugged her friend, holding her tightly until her tears eased.

“I loved him very much, Hira. My father allowed me to marry for love; he wanted me to be happy.”

“I am so sorry that happened. You deserved so much better than that.”

The women talked for hours, catching up on their lives since they were roommates in school. Saleena consulted her brother and he agreed to let Hira stay with them until she could find a permanent home. Hira had no idea what she would do in the future or where she would go. She couldn't go back to her family, her father would kill her for the shame she had brought upon them. And if anyone of Abu Hasal's group found her, it would be a long and painful death.

Hira settled into the routine of the house, cooking and cleaning in return for them letting her stay. She didn’t like going to the market with Saleena as she felt it was too dangerous, but she did it anyway because her friend asked her to. She still wore her face veiled, even inside, although Saleena begged her to remove it. Hira still was not prepared to do so; she felt great shame at everything that had happened to her.

Saleena's brother Naseem thought her the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. He watched her bathing through a secret hole in the wall. He lusted for her and dreamed of taking her as a second wife, but he didn’t think she or his first wife would like that plan. Naseem knew men who would pay many dinars to have her. Perhaps he could find a way to force her to prostitute for him. She was now dependent on him for everything, which gave him control over her life.