Spy # 13

A War Of Connection

A nurse entered the room and called out, “Ms. Soriano’s attendant, please come inside.”

Jason gently patted his best friend on the back, signaling that he needed to answer the call. Hurriedly, he stepped forward and asked, “Yes, what’s going on?”

The nurse, a tall, dark-skinned woman—half Nigerian—with neatly curled hair resting on her shoulders, appeared anxious and distressed as she prepared to deliver the news.

“Mr. Stanford, Ms. Jane has been diagnosed with dengue. We need a blood donor to help restore her strength.”

Jason immediately responded, “What is her blood type?”

“She is type A,” the nurse answered, then asked, “Are you the same blood type?"

“Yes, I am,” he replied, his voice firm as he confirmed her question.

The nurse finally felt relieved. “Alright,” she said. She instructed him to eat first while she prepared to conduct the necessary blood tests before proceeding with the blood transfusion for the patient.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in the Philippines—a country known for its peaceful and friendly people—many were disturbed by the news of terrorism abroad. Fear spread quickly, and some people began to judge hastily, casting suspicion on individuals from Afghanistan and others living in the Middle East.

A quiet sense of dread settled in Jane’s mother as she sat rigidly on her worn wooden chair, her hands tightly clasped on her lap. Her eyes were glued to the television screen, unblinking, as if looking away for even a second would cause her to miss something important.

Rosa, fifty-four years old, had lived a simple life as the devoted wife of a humble farm worker in their province. Hardship was not new to her—but nothing had ever frightened her like this. Every headline, every breaking report made her heart pound harder against her chest.

As the news continued, hope and fear battled within her. She silently prayed that her daughter’s face would appear on the screen—not as a victim, not as a casualty—but alive. Safe. Breathing.

In the stillness of the room, only the voice of the reporter echoed, while a mother’s trembling heart waited for reassurance.

Jane’s father reassured his wife that they would soon see their beautiful daughter and that everything would be fine.

When he noticed the exhaustion in Rosa’s eyes—tears of fragile relief beginning to form—he quietly turned off the television. He handed her a glass of water, hoping to ease her tension.

Then he gently faced her and said, “Rosa, you need to calm your mind. She’s grown now, and she’s brave.”

At that moment, the tears she had been holding back finally fell. They streamed down her face relentlessly, releasing the fear and worry she had been carrying in her heart.

In her solitude, Rosa chose not to argue. She remained quiet, carrying her worries in silence. All she could do was hope and pray for the safety of her only daughter, longing for the day she would finally come home.

Meanwhile, Jane was slowly recovering from the intense exhaustion she had endured. Gradually, she regained consciousness and gently opened her eyes. Her vision was still blurred, and her body felt weak. She searched for Jason, but he was nowhere in sight. Her gaze drifted around the room, disturbed by the steady mechanical hum of the machine above her. Pale and fragile, she lay there, still drained of strength.

At last, the door swung open, and a familiar man entered the room—Mr. Stanford. Relief flooded his face when he saw that Jane was finally awake.

Jane attempted to move, but her body was still too weak. She pressed her hand against the bed for support, struggling to gather the strength she had lost.

She murmured something that only Jason could understand. Fighting through the pain, she softly whispered, “Ja…” but stopped, afraid that saying his full name would exhaust the little strength she had left.

“Don’t move. Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with worry.

In response, she gave a slight nod, assuring him that she was slowly regaining her strength.

Shortly after, the nurse entered the room and began examining the patient, while Mr. Stanford stood nearby, watching her with deep concern.

The nurse turned to him and said, “Mr. Jason, are you prepared for the blood transfusion? The patient requires additional blood due to a severe infection. We will begin the procedure at 2:00 PM. Also, this is Ms. Soriano’s cellphone. She is a Filipina from the Philippines.”

After mentioning her nationality, the nurse left the room wearing a slight smile, though a hint of confusion lingered on her face.

He sensed a hint of discrimination, but he understood her curiosity about Jane. She walked away quickly, leaving him alone for a moment as the blood transfusion began.

As he watched Jane, he felt something he could not quite explain. Her light and gentle personality brought him a sense of relief. In a few hours, he hoped she would be fine. Deep inside, he had great confidence that she would recover easily from her illness.

Jane’s eyes filled with emotion when she woke up and saw him quietly watching over her. As the nurse entered the room, her curious gaze lingered on them, silently wondering about the true nature of their connection. However, she quickly returned her attention to her duty and prepared for the blood transfusion.

She gently inserted the needle into Jason’s wrist and connected the tube to Jane’s arm. Moments later, the transfusion began. Jane slowly opened her eyes and gazed at the strong man standing firmly beside her bed. His presence brought a quiet sense of comfort as she lay there, regaining her strength.

On the other side of the world, the news department was in turmoil after learning that Jane’s signal had been cut, leaving them unable to obtain any information while the war in Afghanistan continued.

Ms. Nicole Smith, the newscaster, was live on air conducting a serious interview with a correspondent currently assigned in Afghanistan.

“Kellie, how is the situation now in Afghanistan? Do we have any updates from our correspondent in the area?” she asked.

While she remained focused on delivering the news, Jane’s colleagues behind the scenes were urgently trying to establish a stable connection to gather any information about Jane. It had already been one week since she had last gone on air.

“Anne, when was the last time Ms. Jane sent a live video and audio report?”

Anne shrugged and replied, “I’m not sure, but I’ll check.”

She turned her back to them and focused on the monitor, clicking through several files. Opening the SNG truck monitoring folder, she searched for the most recent transmission record.

“Oh, here it is,” she said. “The last time she transmitted a live report was last Tuesday at 6:00 PM, Afghanistan time.”

Brenda, Jane’s friend, felt a small spark of hope after hearing this and immediately asked Anne to send her a copy of the report.

“Okay,” Anne said with a sigh, her eyes rolling slightly.

Eager to find answers about Jane’s sudden disappearance from the screen, Brenda ignored Anne’s dry response to their colleagues. It almost seemed as if Anne was not concerned about their coworker’s whereabouts.

When the show ended, Ms. Nicole Smith, the news anchor, went backstage and approached them.

“Brenda, is there any update on Ms. Soriano? She has been gone for almost two weeks now, and her disappearance has become one of the top news stories. Her parents have already expressed their concern and disappointment about what happened.”

Although her eyes showed a sense of worry, Ms. Smith managed to remain calm and professional. Like Brenda, she strongly believed that Ms. Soriano would one day appear on screen again and prove her courage in the field.

Deep in her heart, she trusted that Jane was not only brave but would someday become a great newscaster—a promising news anchor of her generation.