12 Minutes (#2 in Military series)

Chapter 28

Abbas looked across at his disciple, his eyes noting the blood on his trouser leg, before he asked him something in his native tongue.

"Hey, hey!" Marc snapped making Abbas look at him in anger from the corner of his eye, "You don't get to speak to him until you let the others go. That was the deal." Marc reminded him.

"Why the bag on his head?" Abbas asked in his heavy accent as he squinted at the bag.

"It was a precaution," Marc replied before he added, "That and we couldn't stand to look at his face any longer."

Glaring at him Abbas turned and said something to his comrades behind him in his native tongue when two men began to step forward to take the man away.

"No," Marc reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder to drag him back behind him, "Let Safia and the others go first."

The two Taliban fighters paused beside Abbas, waiting for orders, whilst he stared at Marc for a few long moments. Eventually he raised his hand and the two men stepped back like well trained dogs. Marc removed his hand from the man's shoulder to show his cooperation but he kept him close behind him within his peripheral vision.

"What," Abbas began to speak, slowly as he tried to find the right words, "makes you think that Safia and the others want to leave me?"

Marc frowned a little, not sure what he was implying, before he looked down at Safia and saw her head bowed, her eyes glued to the ground and Abbas's hand gently touching her shoulder. He wasn't gripping her, forcing her to stay. She could quite easily slip away from how loose he was holding her but she remained there, but that did not mean anything Marc knew. He could be holding her in multiple different ways including psychologically.

"Safia?" Marc crouched in front of her as he tried to look up at her face but she turned away and it felt like a kick to the chest, "Safia? You remember me, don't you? You write to my wife and me." He felt uncomfortable mentioning Jules in front of Abbas, worried he may hurt her, but he needed to get through to Safia. "I'm here for you Safia."

Something he must have said caught her interest because she raised her head and looked at him and he saw how terrified she looked and it ripped his heart to see those large onyx eyes glittering with unshed tears. But then she shook her head and took a step towards Abbas like a child hiding under their father's arm to protect them.

"Safia?" Marc whispered in shock, "Safia, it's me. Marc. Marc and Julia; we saved you a few years back from these same people."

"These people are my people," Safia looked to Abbas for approval as she said it in a quiet, timid voice but Marc knew that someone had put those words in her mouth.

"No, Safia," Marc shook his head as he shuffled a little closer and stretched out his hand but Safia flinched away from him, "No, they're not. We're your people. Do you remember Julia?" He looked at her earnest. Safia gave the tiniest nod but it fuelled Marc's hope. "Yes, Julia. She misses your letters terribly and we were both worried about you."

"But- But you not wrote back," Safia whimpered in broken English, confused, "You left me."

"No," Marc shook his head as he heard the pain and confusion in her voice, "We did write back. We did."

"You left and- and Abbas . . . he come to orphanage and show me what true family is," Safia looked up at Abbas, whose hand had grown tight on her shoulder, "Yes, Abbas?"

Marc stared up at the man that had hurt him and saw the tight smile pulling in the corner of his lips as he began to hurt someone else.

"Yes, Saffy," Abbas replied and Marc gritted his teeth because that was the nickname he would use but Abbas had now ruined that for him too.