Stolen Rainbow: 2nd edition

By Susan D. Peters

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE RAINBOW EXPLODES?

The life of Marine Captain Jewel Dubuclet is thrust into shambles when on routine patrol in Afghanistan her Humvee trips an IED wire. The result is death and devastating casualties for her men, and for Jewel, the loss of her right leg. She is airlifted to safety and a state-of-the-art rehabilitation hospital, but her recovery is stalled. Feelings of shame, guilt, and a loss of her physical identity thrust her into depression. Assisted by a skillful psychologist, who connects the suffering captain to the valor of an historic warrior Queen, and the tenacity of her driving physical trainer, Jewel gradually accepts her new normal and the unforeseen promise of love it brings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunrise Consulting
• Release date: Jun 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9780982712566

Susan D. Peters

Susan Peters, a native of Chicago’s south side, is a graduate of DuSable High School and DePaul University. Always adventurous, Susan’s curiosity lured her to Liberia, West Africa for eleven years. Her family’s escape during the Liberian Civil War is the spellbinding account of her first book, a memoir, Sweet Liberia, Lessons from the Coal Pot. Sweet Liberia, received the 2010 Black Excellence Award for Non-Fiction by the African American Alliance of Chicago and in 2011 the book was awarded a prize for Non-Fiction from the Illinois Press Women’s Association. A lifelong author of poetry, inspirational essays, short stories, and plays her writings will be featured in the IPWA’s 2014 anthology, a collection of the works of twenty-three women writers. Broken Dolls, Susan’s second book, represents her foray into the mystery market and is the first of a series featuring Detective Joi Sommers as its heroine. Her latest, “The Chef’s Choice,” is a light-hearted romantic novella. Susan produces a weekly talk radio program for an academic medical center. She has raised five children and is a proud grandmother.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Marine Captain Jewel Dubuclet struggled to settle in next to Humvee driver Sergeant Dustin Landry. The burly, muscular man took up more space in the lightly armored vehicle than he should have. Perhaps it was his overblown personality that made her long for six or seven more inches between them on this mid-morning patrol with her crew of four. Gunner Barron Avery was the point man, and field radio operator Corporal Marsh Bennett sweltered in the back of the vehicle with his equipment and other paraphernalia.

Today was another in a stream of two weeks of dreary sameness. They routinely patrolled the camp’s perimeter and the 15 to 20 miles nearest them to control against clandestine encroachment by Taliban insurgents. Prevention was better than surprise bombardment of incoming mortar rounds. She’d seen the bodies of Afghani men, women, children, and too many U.S. soldiers ravaged by mortar blasts. She swallowed at the bad taste of putting down the starving dogs that came to feast upon the mangled flesh of victims.

Goddamn it’s hot. Don’t know why it’s botherin me as much today. You think I be use to it by now, said Avery, the Mississippi boy, who in the gunner’s position had the heat smacking him directly in the face.

I’m feeling like a sardine in a goddammed can.

Gunner Avery pulled the oversized lucky green and white polka dot handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat that streamed from under his helmet. He took no end of teasing about the kerchief that he said his grandmama gave him for luck.

I sho would love a can a sardines today, though, he said wistfully. I kin just bout smell sardines and crackers smothered with mustard and Tabasco.

Gunner, give it a rest, you bout to make us vomit! Jewel shouted.

She thought she heard Gunner Avery mumble a response but sank into her own thoughts. She thought about how her soft hair curled in the humidity-laden air of Louisiana and longed for the smell of freshly caught seafood–not stankin ass sardines. Instead, she was surrounded by dry rocky soil. She knew God had a plan for putting people in different places. Where you grow up has a lot to do with how you grow up, and she felt a little sorry for the Afghani children, especially those who grew up working very hard to get very little. A Black girl could understand that.

Yet there were days during a patrol when she stumbled upon a farm, a patch of greenery, where an Afghani family was channeling water runoff from melted mountain snow to grow vegetables. Louisiana got between 48 and 70 inches of rain a year in stark contrast to Afghanistan’s 12 inches annually. Looking around, all she was reminded of were the ruins of antiquity.

As Gunner Avery turned his head to stuff the handkerchief back into his pocket, perhaps uncomfortable by the damp hankie too near to her, Jewel scooted closer to the door. They heard a loud explosion and experienced its tremors. A fissure of rocks pelted the sides and top of the vehicle.

Holy shit! IED on the left! shouted Avery. Fuck, we’re in a kill zone!

A blinding flash followed by a blast ripped the Humvee apart. The force flung Gunner Avery through the air like a tin roof tossed in the winds of tornado alley.

The cloud of white smoke meant that the Humvee had tripped the wire of an IED. Jewel did a self-check, using her hands to touch her face, but was distracted by moans and a shriek from an undetermined source. Smoke choked her, forcing her to cough up a hot liquid. Then came a nauseating stench that she recognized as fresh blood.

She’d hit her head inside the vehicle, causing it to pound, blinding her with pain. Wiping away the blood that streamed in ribbons down her face she became sleepy and fought to remain conscious. She felt Sergeant Landry pulling her, extricating her away from the metal wreckage. She willed her hands to work with her rescuer to push away the glass and metal fragments that sliced through them. Barely 20 feet away from the wreckage she saw their Humvee engulfed in flames.

BOOM!

With a second blast, the gas tank ignited, raining hot metal fragments upon them.

In the distance, she saw Gunner Avery. He had sustained the worst of the initial blast, instantly being catapulted from the vehicle.

Avery! she shouted with failing strength.

No response.

Just yesterday they laughed and joked during dinner, marveling at the fact that his 23-year-old wife had just delivered their first baby, a boy, Barron Jasper Avery, Jr.

Gittin outta here in 30 mo days. I’m gonna beat cha back home, he chirped with his soft Southern accent.

Jewel struggled to grip the field glasses attached to her belt. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw that half of Avery’s face was missing. He had been literally decapitated. She choked on the reality that moments ago, he spoke his last words to her.

Jewel heard a desperate cry for assistance shouted over the static of radio waves. Corporal Bennett lay splashed against a huge rock soaked in his own blood.

"Holy shit! This is radio operator Corporal Bennett! Mayday! Mayday! We’re in a kill zone! We hit an IED.