Hung (38 page)

"
H
as
anyone taken a look at you?" she asks, typically businesslike. I suppose that it's easier to bury yourself in your normal routine than deal with an unrelenting, often painful reality.

"
M
e
?" I reply, half distracted by watching a soldier in camouflage fatigues walk up to the door of Mike's hospital room and exchange words with the man already standing guard.
Surely they aren't planning on taking him anywhere, are they?

"
K
atie
!"

"
H
mm
? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"
I
was asking
if you've let anyone check you over yet? What's on your mind?" she asks, looking inquisitively at me, sharp as ever – instinctively registering that something’s changed with me.

I
can see
it in her eyes.

"
W
hat do you mean
?" I ask, doing my best to beat around the bush. I haven't told anyone yet – hell, I haven't even taken a pregnancy test to confirm what, in truth, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. No one knows their body like a pregnant woman – and there's that small matter of somehow missing my period for three months. That should have been a dead giveaway…

"
Y
ou're different
…" she says. "They didn't
do
anything to you, did they?" she asks worriedly, a horrified look on her face. I realize that I'm going to have to come clean – if only to spare her from her own imagination.

"
N
o
, nothing like that," I hasten to say. "Sophie – there's something I have to tell you, something I was planning to say before – well, you know."

"
W
ell
, what is it?" she asks expectantly.

I
decide just
to say it. "I'm pregnant."

T
he silence hangs
between us for a few seconds as a stunned Sophie processes what I've just said. I try and put myself in her shoes, thinking about how I would react if that kind of completely unexpected piece of news had been given to me after I'd been panicking for two days about my best friend's kidnapping.

I
'd be surprised
…

"
Y
ou're what
?" she says, her mouth opening and closing like a lost goldfish. "Pregnant – how?"

"
M
ike
," I say simply.

"
I
t was him
!" she exclaims excitedly. "He was the hunky piece of meat you slept with a few months ago – the one you wouldn't tell me anything about. And then he went and saved your life! My God!"

"
W
ell
," I smile, "I guess when you put it like that, he is kind of a catch – isn't he!"

"
H
e's more
than a fucking catch, girl!"

I
break away
from the conversation, realizing that a couple of soldiers are blocking the corridor. Sophie looks a bit surprised, before she quickly follows the direction of my stare. "Who are they?" she asks.

I
keep staring
, ensuring that it's just a change of guard and that the Army isn't planning on taking Mike anywhere just yet. I told them he would need to be under medical care for a couple of days – and the officer in charge seemed grateful that he had a couple of days breathing room to figure out a solution to the problem Mike's posing.

"
T
hey’re here
to guard Mike."

"
M
ike
? Why the hell would he need guarding? He was the only one who did anything to try and help us – I mean for Christ's sake, he saved your life! And apparently he did something even more impressive – he got you to loosen up…"

M
y eyes flick away
from the back of the departing military policeman and back to Sophie's outraged face.

"
T
ell me about it
. Listen, Sophie?"

"
Y
eah
?"

"
I
need
you to do me a favor," I say. She leans in towards me conspiratorially.

"
A
nything
, you know that!"

"
I
just need a bit of
, I don't know – thinking time. Do you mind keeping an eye on Mike's door? If they try and march him off anywhere, kick up a fuss – okay?"

"
O
f course
. Is there anything else I can do?" she asks, as though this isn't exactly the kind of favor she was expecting me to ask for.

"
N
o
, I just need to go for a walk and clear my head."

"
A
re
you sure I can't take a quick look at you first? Maybe check out the baby?" she asks worriedly.

I
reach
up and grasp her arm, giving it a friendly squeeze. "Seriously, I'm fine. I gave myself a tetanus shot as soon as I walked through the door, and I’ve checked its vitals. For the rest of it, I just need a week's sleep!"

S
ophie looks at me doubtfully
. "Well – if you're sure…"

"
I
am
," I say, turning on my heel. "And Sophie – thank you."

***

I
think
I know Mike well enough now to know what he'd want me to do in this kind of situation – and I highly doubt that it would be to sit by his sick bed weeping. And even if he was that kind of guy, I'm certainly not that kind of girl. I'm the kind of girl who needs to get shit done – and fast. And if there's one thing that I know that a hero like Mike would be doing if he wasn't stuck in a hospital room, it would be checking up on Jake.

S
o that's
what I'm going to do.

I
walk briskly back
to the section of the place where the pound is located, not wanting to waste any time. I'm pretty sure that the soldier won't have soon forgotten my last visit, and I allow myself a small grin as I picture his terrified face. Then again, if he doesn't have those dogs in tip-top condition, I think, then he's going to have more than just me to deal with…

"
H
ello
…" I call out, rapping on the same bland door as last time, hearing my voice echo out into the vast warehouse space beyond, "is anyone in there?"

T
his time Fred fairly leaps
out of his office, looking like – well, a cowed dog, with none of the predatory swagger that he enjoyed last time I had the misfortune of acquainting myself with him.

"
H
ow you doing
, miss?” he asks, almost bowling me over with his polite attitude, which certainly wasn't on display last time. "I heard about what happened to you…"

O
h
, I think to myself – that's why. Perhaps he thought he might be able to get away with treating the dogs in the abominable manner he had, given that I've been kidnapped by the Taliban. I allow myself a small, fleeting grin, imagining how disappointed he must've been when it turned out that I had returned to Bagram safe and sound.

"
W
ell
, thanks, Fred," I say noncommittally. "What about you – and more interestingly, what about the dogs?"

T
he way
he reacts to what is, in truth, a fairly mundane statement is extremely interesting – he has an almost physical reaction, like he's being scalded. I get the sense that he's even more nervous of me than the last time we crossed paths, which is hard to believe. Maybe, I think, it's because of the enormous amount of media attention that I'm vaguely aware has been focused on me since the kidnapping. That would make sense, anyway.

"
I
n tip-top shape
." He nods obsequiously, doing his best to avoid looking directly into my eyes as though afraid to meet them. "They've had everything they could want."

"
G
ood
," I say, stepping through the doorway into the warehouse and looking around. I don't give Fred the chance to protest my entrance, not that I think he's got the balls to do so right now, anyway. "Show me to them?"

"
O
f course
."

I
could get used
to this, I think, unable to stop a smile creeping to the corners of my mouth. Luckily for me, Fred has his back turned, so doesn't notice my quiet moment of self-satisfaction. I notice as I walk behind him that he's almost physically hanging his head in shame, and his shoulders are hunched over and sagging.

I
can barely believe
that this is the same man who tried so aggressively to force me to perform sexual favors on him! It's almost unbelievable! I form my hand into a fist, squeezing down gently. It might not be much of victory – but it's mine.

H
e leads
me down the long road of cages, and I can scarcely countenance the change. Where before the dogs looked scared and limp, their fur dull and eyes jaded, now the beautiful animals are just that – beautiful. Every single one has a full bowl of water, and sitting just by that, a plate of clearly recently emptied food.

"
H
ey
, Charlie!" I call out, recognizing the dog in the nearest cage. The change from last time is astounding – his cage is clean, with no evidence of the dog mess that befouled it last time, and his fur is clean and glossy, his eyes excited and full of life as he jumps at the front of the cage, standing on his hind legs and resting his front paws on the metal grate.

"
F
red
, get Jake out for me," I order, making sure that not even a hint of doubt enters my voice. Somehow, I feel like we've adopted some kind of pack dynamic – like I'm the alpha dog, and he's a former leader who's now cowering before me!

I
feel
, deep down, that Fred must've suffered some kind of trauma in his past to make him turn out like this, and the caring part deep inside me, the part that spurred me to become a nurse in the first place, and then sent me out to the middle of a war zone, clenches as I realize that I'm basically manipulating the man.

S
till
, it's all for a good cause, I think to myself, looking around at the transformed warehouse. No longer do the dogs look scared, or worse – depressed – but they look full of life, and they've clearly been out for long and frequent bouts of exercise.

"
C
harlie
, stop that!" I say, unable to stop a hint of amusement creeping into my voice as the happy dog slobbers all over my fingers, curling his tongue so that it fits through the small metal grate. I reach a couple of fingers in and give him a scratch under the collar, and he rubs his neck against the cage gratefully.

"
M
iss
?" Fred says behind me. I spin and see him holding Jake on a collar, and notice that Jake's looking at me, ears pinned back, as though he's ready to pounce. I don't blame him; no matter how much conditions have improved in the pound, Jake's a smart dog – and I have no doubt that his memory stretches back long enough to remember how he was treated last time…

I
reach out my hand
, palm up. "Hey, buddy, how you doing?" I ask gently, injecting a tone of concern into my voice. I see his ears flicker, as though he's processing my unexpected presence. He cocks his head to one side and looks at me in confusion. "That's right, it's me! Fred, let him off the lead, will you?"

F
red does
as he's told without raising a hint of concern, and Jake leaps towards me – all of his momentary doubts forgotten, and smothers me with affection, jumping up and placing his paws on my chest. "Down boy," I say, after allowing him to lick me for a few seconds, and turn back to Fred. "I'm going to take him with me – okay?" I say, making sure I phrase it as an order, rather than a question.

F
or the first time
, I see a flicker of emotion crossing Fred's forehead as he scrunches it up. I can almost see the train of thought speeding, or in his case probably trickling, treacle like, through his brain.

"
I
'm not
sure I can let you do that, miss…" Fred says. "I'd lose my job for sure this time!"

"
A
nd what happens
to your job," I ask stiffly, "if those videos get out, huh? I'm pretty sure your company is gonna want to keep that contract, and if that means firing you – then they'll sure as hell do it!"