Chapter 7

Heather lay back on her bed with one arm covering her face, the other by her side and her hand squeezing and releasing the duvet. She was still trying to come to terms with what was going on with Donnie McGregor.

"Girl, you have got to get a grip! I can't believe how quickly I turn to mush around him. I've never acted like this before. It's like I'm in heat or something whenever I'm close to him. Even chatting online tonight, what was that about? He takes charge and my panties get wet and I'm rubbing myself. Oh god. He could tell I was doing something. How am I ever going to talk to him tomorrow? I'm so embarrassed."

Heather wasn't to know it, but she was being affected by the gift that Epona had given to Donnie. She was normally a very grounded but conservative girl. Donnie's confidence and self-assuredness, the way he was willing to take charge of a situation, combined with his rugged good looks, just added-up to an irresistible package.

While Heather arrived at school still worrying about how she would be able to look Donnie in the eye, Christine and Ronnie met up to put their plan into action.

"Are you sure that he won't blow up when he finds out?" Ronnie asked.

"You don't know Donnie very well if you think that's a possibility," Christine told him. "Donnie is a pussy-cat and when he sees how many people have voted for him he'll feel he has a responsibility to accept. Trust me on this."

The two students huddled in a corner of the senior common room as they completed the nomination form for the elections to the pupil council. Christine wrote Donnie's name and his registration class number on the form. She added her own name and class number before she signed the form and slid it and the pen over to Ronnie. Each nomination had to be supported by at least two students from the senior phase. Ronnie completed his details and signed the form. Christine took the completed form, folded it and slipped it into one of her textbooks.

"I'll drop it off at the school office on the way to class," she said. "Who else have you spoken to about getting the word round?"

"Everyone in the classes I share with Donnie is in on it, how about you?" Ronnie asked.

"All of the girls are voting for him. He is the school hunk, as well as being far too clever for his own good. The fact that he's so modest with all that he has going for him is just the icing on the case. Believe me, the female population of this school alone will make sure Donnie wins this thing hands down," chuckled Christine.

"But today's the final day to register a vote. How can we be sure that they'll all manage to get their votes in?" asked Ronnie.

"Oh don't worry about that. When I say 'all of the girls are voting for him' I mean that the girls have already voted."

"But how could they? Donnie's not even been nominated yet!" Ronnie asked, his confusion evident on his face.

"There was never any doubt that Donnie would be up for election and the girls knew that. Don't you guys get it yet? We girls run things around here!" Christine laughed once more.

Donnie was once again already sitting at a table in the lunchroom when Heather asked if she could join him.

"Of course! Seeing as we're going out together tomorrow, it would be a bit strange if I was to say no, wouldn't it?" Donnie laughed.

"It's just that I logged-off in a hurry last night," Heather managed to get out.

Donnie saw immediately that Heather was worried about his reaction to the night before. He thought he knew just what to say to help her get past that.

"Hey, but last night was fun though, wasn't it? I don't know why we've never chatted before. They say that some people are born to be in front of a camera, the lens seems to love them – what is it called again? Aye, photogenic, that's it. I have to say that you look every bit as beautiful on webcam as you do in the flesh."

Heather blushed at the outrageous compliment, but couldn't help smiling too.

"Oh god, he's doing it to me again! Get a grip, girl!"

Donnie decided to just act as if he didn't notice how flushed Heather was in the hope that he would give her time to compose herself.

"So, are you wondering what I've got planned for tomorrow then?" he asked.

Heather was trying to pull herself together and appreciated Donnie being so cool about things.

"He really is a nice guy," she thought to herself and then decided she should try and say something in response to Donnie's question.

"You said to wrap up well, so I'm guessing we're going to be outside," she said.

"We could be going skating," Donnie suggested, teasing her.

"I guess I'll just have to wait and see, you're the one in charge here," Heather replied and shivered a little at her own words.

"Yes, I am, aren't I," Donnie grinned. "There is one thing though; I don't have your address. If you don't tell me where to pick you up, this date could be a pretty dismal affair."

They both laughed as Heather told him where she lived.

Seconds later, Donnie's smile faded a little when he heard a familiar voice in his head.

"Dòmhnall, I apologise for my timing, but I have need of your service and I'm afraid it is urgent," said Beira.

"What do you want me to do?" Donnie asked.

"Find somewhere close by where no one will be able to see you disappear," she told him.

Donnie thought quickly. There were student toilets here at the lunchroom and that was undoubtedly the closest place that met Beira's requirements. He would need to explain his departure to Heather though.

"Listen, I've got to catch one of my teachers about something, but I'll pick you up at 2 tomorrow. Okay?" he asked.

"Sure. Do I need to bring anything? You know, money, food?" Heather enquired.

"Nope. It's all taken care of. All you need to bring is you," Donnie answered, standing up and lifting his lunch tray. I'm really looking forward to it and I hope you're not disappointed."

Heather was still grinning as he left the table and slid his tray with the dirty plate and cutlery into one of the racks put there for just that purpose. Donnie hurried to the toilets and locked himself into one of the two vacant stalls.

"I'm going to be reported missing in my afternoon classes," he warned Beira.

"I've got that covered. Now, listen to me closely. I want you to lie down on the floor before I send you where you're going. Whatever you do, don't sit up. You might also want to connect with what you think of as the gift from Tailtui."

That was undoubtedly the most information that Beira had ever given Donnie and he knew her instructions had to be important. He lay down as best he could in the cubicle and reached out to connect with all of his gifts.

"Am I in danger?" he asked.

"I will be watching over you," the goddess replied.

Donnie gulped. That didn't sound encouraging. Before he could ask any other questions, he experienced the now familiar vertigo as the goddess transported him to his next challenge.

September 2009, Wana, Waziristan, Pakistan/Afghan border

The first things that Donnie became aware of were the heat and the sounds of gunfire. He focused on Beira's instructions and remained lying on his back. Above him he could see a rocky hillside. His sense of smell told him that there was something different about the place he now found himself, it didn't smell like home. Carefully turning himself over onto his front, Donnie tried to absorb everything he could see.

There was a man lying beside him dressed in khaki coloured robes – they looked middle-eastern in style. The man had a similar coloured keffiyeh or shemagh wrapped around his head. What attracted Donnie's attention most though was the blood leaking from the man's side. He has lost a lot of it if the pool on the ground was anything to go by.

They were both behind a rocky outcrop and Donnie could hear bullets hitting the rock and ricocheting off with a zinging noise. Donnie guessed they were part way up a steep hill or mountain. Below, he heard excited shouting in what sounded like Arabic. The human voices mingled with the harsh sound of gunfire.

Taking a chance, Donnie raised his head and looked over the protecting outcrop. He looked down several hundred yards onto a grey-brown dusty valley. Immediately below him was a square compound of some kind, its walls matching the colour of the surrounding arid soil. Behind the compound he could see a grove of stunted trees, olives possibly, and beyond that he thought he could make out a dirt road.

To his left he saw a figure running downhill chasing a small herd of what looked like goats. The gunfire was coming from around twenty men who were methodically climbing towards him.

All of this happened in an instant and Donnie pulled his head back behind the rocks before someone shot it off.

"Shit! No wonder the goddess warned me to keep down. These guys mean business. Now what do I do? As always the goddess hasn't given me any clues. Why transport me here at this moment?"

Donnie looked at the wounded man again.

"Why put me here if not to heal him?"

Realising that time was critical; Donnie rolled over beside the man and laid his right hand over the spot where the blood was coming from. The man's body flinched at the touch and he tried to turn, a wicked looking blade arcing towards Donnie's throat.

"Shit!" Donnie exclaimed.

Instinctively, he threw his right arm up to block the knife and then managed to grab the man's hand with his own left hand.

"I'm trying to help you for fuck's sake!" he screamed.

He was looking into the Arab's dark eyes and he read confusion there. The force of the man's push towards his throat relaxed and Donnie was able to take the knife from his hand.

The Arab looked him up and down, taking in his school uniform and then he closed his eyes for a moment, a spasm of pain wracking his body from the sudden exertion.

The Arab's eyes opened again and Donnie was surprised to hear him speak English with a Scottish accent.

"Who the fuck are you and how did you get here?" he asked.

"Time for that later," Donnie replied. "I need to get you fixed up. There are about twenty guys climbing the hill with guns and I don't think they're looking to invite us to a barbeque."

"Look, I'm hit. Get yourself out of here and I'll try and hold them off for as long as I can," the man said through gritted teeth.

"Shut up! You don't understand, I think I've been sent to make sure you get out of this alive," Donnie shouted in the man's face.

He returned his hand to the wound and sensed that the bullet had entered at the front and passed through without hitting any bones. Donnie had remained connected to all of his gifts and he immediately started sending healing waves down his arm. While he was doing that, he took in the rifle lying on the other side of the 'Arab' and the small radio pack.

"This shouldn't take long, I hope not given how close these guys are, but can you tell me what I've got myself into?" he asked.

The 'Arab' hesitated a moment, as if thinking how much he could tell, and then explained the situation a little.

"The bad guys coming up the hill are Lashkar-e-Taiba, a Pakistani terror group. They've got what they euphemistically call a Madras down there. A Madras is a school, but this one is actually a terror camp, used for training. I've been watching them and sending intelligence back to my superiors."

Donnie cold sense and see the man's strength returning as he worked on him. He was sending a mixture of healing and strength down through his fingers in an effort to repair the damage as quickly as possible.

Abruptly the man sat up and tore Donnie's hands away from his wound.

"Okay, I believe that you can perform miracles. You can finish this later if we get the chance. Right now we need to get ourselves out of this mess. I don't suppose you can shoot?" he asked.

"I've hunted deer in the past," Donnie replied.

"Hallelujah! Here."

The man thrust the rifle into Donnie's hands.

"Fire short bursts. No more than three rounds at a time if you can. Don't worry if you don't hit anything, your job is to slow them down while I try and get us some help."

Donnie saw that he had picked up a head-set for the radio and assumed he was trying to contact the help he had referred to. He turned away and took a deep breath before raising the rifle.

Best not to appear in the same spot as last time," he thought to himself.

Crawling to his right, Donnie popped up and sighted over the rifle down the hill. He tried to do as he'd been told and fire off short bursts. The rifle kicked up fiercely and he adjusted his hold to counter that before firing another burst. Donnie was gratified to see that the men coming up the hill were diving for cover.

Behind him he heard the 'Arab' talking on the radio, but none of it made any sense to him. He decided it was time to shift positions again and ducked down.

"We need to hold them for twenty minutes, that's how long it's going to take help to get here. Give me the gun," the Arab ordered.

Donnie handed it over and watched as the man took up a new position and began firing short bursts down the hill. He crawled over beside him and laid his hands over the wound once more.

The 'Arab' ducked back behind the outcrop and looked at what Donnie was doing.

"I've got no fucking idea how you're doing that, but keep it up. By the way, my name is Archie Roy."

Donnie heard the name and associated it with the accent.

"You're not an Arab, are you?" he asked.

"Hell no! All of this is part of blending in. We try not to get noticed in my line of work. I'm from Dundee," Archie laughed.

Archie turned and moved further along the outcropping before raising himself and firing a number of short bursts. Donnie continued to heal the wound until he sensed that it was done. He was just about to remove his hands when he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Screaming, he dropped his hands and fell to the ground only to have Archie fall on top of him.

Pushing the man off, Donnie realised he was uninjured but that the pain he had felt had come from Archie taking another round, this one to his right shoulder.

"Shit! Will you stop getting shot!" Donnie groused.

"They're too close. We need to put some distance between us or our help is going to be useless," Archie responded.

"I'll fix this as we go. Just hold my hand," Donnie ordered.

"Are you fucking crazy? You want to run up this hill holding hands? Are you some kind of fruit?" Archie screamed as he hefted the radio and prepared to make a run for it.

"Hold my fucking hand! That's an order!" Donnie snarled in reply.

Archie blinked and looked at the boy in front of him. For some reason it felt as if the boy was more in charge of the situation than he was, which was just not possible. Was it?

"Hand!" Donnie demanded, holding out his own right hand.

Archie took Donnie's hand, all the while shaking his head, and then both of them began a crabbing scramble up the hill. They could literally feel the rounds whistling past them and Donnie seemed to understand that they needed to move in a random pattern. As well as sending strength and healing power through his hand, Donnie used the hold to pull and push Archie in an erratic pattern of left and right moves.

He allowed Archie to pull them to a stop every twenty yards or so, and that allowed him to fire some bursts back down the hill.

"Let go of my hand!" Archie screamed.

"No!" Donnie screamed back.

"I need to change the fucking magazine! Let go of my hand!"

Donnie realised this was important and interrupted his healing to let Archie pull the banana clip from the rifle and shove a fresh one in. Without being asked, the older man grasped Donnie's hand again once the change had been made and they scrabbled onwards and upwards.

"What's your name?" Archie gasped as they climbed.

"Donnie, Donnie McGregor," Donnie panted.

They climbed over the lip of another outcrop and Archie called a halt.