Jean-Pierre has been gone for more than a week. I can’t understand what happened. Did I scare him away? If so, it seems he just moved out, because no one has approached the hastily repaired door to his apartment for a long time.
I don’t like what this is doing to me. Periodic anxiety is replaced by feelings of lethargy that are uncharacteristic of me. And my memories about the frog lover clearly contribute to an increase in oxytocin levels in my blood. Is it love? An exaggerated maternal instinct? I don’t know.
I thought I’d be able to recharge my batteries before the next contract. But it looks like everything’s going down the drain. Damn… What’s happening to me? Why do I understand so well what’s going on with my body, but don’t understand a damn thing about what’s going on with my head?
As I fall asleep, I see myself dragging my wounded partner through the desert again…
I’m dragging Jack through the fucking Syrian sand. The helicopter didn’t wait for us. We’re about 30 kilometers from base. I’m glad the Daesh fighters stayed behind in the old ruins far behind us. No one is chasing us, except for the damn sun. Jack is trying to help, but he is practically exhausted. Instead of his right leg, he now has a mangled piece of flesh with crushed bone sticking out of it. I applied a tourniquet and a makeshift bandage, but I don’t think it’s helping much. Jack has already lost too much blood and periodically passes out from weakness and pain.
“You have to leave me,” he repeats for the umpteenth time, regaining consciousness for a moment.
“I already told you, I don’t abandon my guys.”
“Right,” Jack jokes, trying to smile with his white teeth, “They’re the ones who abandon you because of your unbearably stubborn nature.”
Now, covered in blood and sweat under the scorching sun, he seems even darker than usual. We make a short stop in the shade of a small rock. I hurriedly unscrew the cap of the flask and give Jack a drink. He drinks greedily, gulping loudly, and, feeling a momentary relief, passes out again. Damn! It’ll be a shame if he kicks the bucket halfway there. I don’t know how far we have to go in this damn sand, and I’ve already used half my water on him.
I feel the concentration of vasopressin rising in my blood. My body begins to retain moisture more actively, and I feel a sense of confidence and anger toward the whole world. I lift Jack up again and continue dragging him, gritting my teeth.
“No, you’re lying, nigger! You’re not going to die on me. Not here and not with me, you black-assed bitch!”
Jack tries to push off with his good leg and smiles slightly without opening his eyes. We continue like this for another hour and a half or two. The ground under our boots becomes completely loose and sinks with every step. Our feet sink into the fine sand. The straight path in the desert is not always the shortest.
My partner is hardly helping me anymore. He leans on my shoulder with his heavy, exhausted body and just moans meaninglessly.
“Come on, let’s take another break, my dear… Let’s take a break.”
“There’s no time, Jack. We can’t waste time.”
“There will be plenty more… Let’s take a break.”
“All right,” I agree, leaning my partner’s back against the sandy slope of the dune like a sack. “But only for five minutes.”
“That’s good. That’s fine,” Jack mumbles without opening his eyes.
“Want a drink? Take it,” I offer, but he waves his hand dismissively in response:
“No, thanks. You need it more.”
I drink myself, not bothering to persuade this stubborn nigger. We’re about ten kilometers from base. Suddenly, Jack starts laughing nervously.
“What?”
“Just remembered. You told me how you went to the zoo when you were a kid.”
“Yes, sometimes they organized such entertainment for us at the orphanage.”
“And there, at the zoo, there was a man who took pictures for money. He carried a monkey on his shoulder…”
“Want to take a selfie together?” I laugh.
“Better have your monkey sing for you,” Jack replies, and without waiting for my approval, he starts singing, adding a feigned hoarseness to his voice:
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom, for me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
I see skies of blue, and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world…
Suddenly, he falls silent.
“Forgot your words?” I ask mockingly.
“I wanted to say that you have a disgusting stubborn character, my girl…”
“You already said that.”
“And I’m leaving you…”
“Stop it.”
“I’m sorry it turned out this way. But then…” You yourself…” he says and falls silent, lying on the sand with his head thrown back.
I rush to him, but I can no longer feel his pulse in his neck. My attempts to restart his heart are futile. I angrily punch my partner in the chest one last time:
“Bitch!” You did it after all… Bitch…
Tears well up in my eyes, and this time I don’t try to hold them back as usual. Something inside me allows me to cry now. For a while, I sit nearby, hugging my knees with my arms, and stare into the void. The sun begins to sink toward the horizon. I need to get myself together and to move so that to reach base before dark.
I get up and, after walking a hundred meters, turn back toward the sand dune, behind which the motionless body still lies.
“Hit the road, Jack…”
