Free Poppy Day by Amanda Prowse

withholding that information. It was an unbearable thought; unbearable for him, for any man, for any person.
    ‘Please, Rob. I’m not stupid, and I want to tell you that, even though you don’t know me either, you can trust me too. I will not reveal what you have told me until you tell me I can. I promise you.’
    Poppy could tell that at that precise moment Rob hated his job, hated the fact that she was being forced to negotiate, to bargain, when it was she that was the victim. He looked at her like she was a brave little girl who had every right to know about her husband, the person that she had exchanged vows with.
    ‘Poppy, I can see that you are far from stupid, but you must understand that it’s not only my career that is on the line here, but possibly other people’s safety; maybe Martin’s safety. Do you understand the implications of that?’
    She nodded, understanding that this was real. He did have more information. This was no bluff; her instinct was right, Martin was still alive, but he was in danger. Her Mart, her beloved; hang in there, baby…
    Rob shook his head as though he couldn’t believe that he was going to fly in the face of his superiors and against all he had been trained to do. He was doing it to give information to Poppy Day, a young girl, on nothing more than a hunch. She was very glad that he did.
    ‘When Martin’s patrol went out, it was with an American sortie into the mountains. The Americans knew that it was a hot spot, a recognised enclave for insurgent activity, they had all been fully briefed.’
    ‘You make it sound exciting, like Mart would have wanted to go, but I bet he was shit-scared.’
    Rob smiled at her, drawing from experience, thinking back to his last tour. ‘You’re probably right. It’s difficult to describe exactly what it’s like in theatre. You are shit-scared sometimes, but it’s also exciting, and if it’s not exciting then it’s usually boring, so you almost welcome the excitement to escape the boredom. Ultimately though, you are doing what you are trained to do and you feel invincible…’
    ‘Shame no one told that to Mart’s colleague, the one that’s deceased.’
    Rob nodded. Touché.
    ‘So what happened on this sortie or whatever it’s called?’ Poppy felt her face flush, embarrassed to be using army terms. It made her feel like she was hamming it up in some crappy American war movie, or was one of those nutters who live with their mum until they are fifty, who love guns and combat magazines . She started to chew the nails on her other hand. Her stomach was in knots.
    ‘They were in a convoy of vehicles. The one in front got surrounded by locals and contact was made—’
    ‘They made contact?’ Poppy pictured the soldiers and locals shaking hands and swapping details: ‘Hello there! Lovely day!’
    ‘—contact as in exchanged fire.’
    ‘Oh.’ Rob’s clarification caused the images of the hand-shakers to turn red and slip Dali-like until they formed a pool of blood.
    ‘The soldiers from some of the other vehicles dismounted and went to the aid of the first, but it was a carefully planned ambush. The group were surrounded and two soldiers were taken, Martin and Aaron. It seems the purpose was to take hostages. The feeling is that one soldier has been killed to show they mean business, but that means, Poppy, that Martin is alive and they will keep him alive as he is their bargaining chip.’
    She tried to filter the information. Hostage. Prisoner. Captive. Try as she might to make sense of it, the words felt alien, especially when referring to her husband. She once again saw the image of Martin shouting and then winded as they struck him. She could guess that much, but what with? Was he hurt? ‘Who are they, the group that has taken him, do you know?’ She wanted the detail; knowing this would help her understand and she wouldn’t sleep until she knew as much as the army did.
    ‘It is a group that’s named after its founder