Hold On (Delos Series Book 5)

by Lindsay McKenna

  Beau had warned her that they could only use hand signals, and that if she needed something, she should yank on his belt to alert him. Her gloves were still soggy and her fingers had become numb hours ago. Callie could see white wisps of her breath in the frigid air. She fought back tears of frustration and gamely trudged on, trying not to think about Dara and Matt or their families. She was sure everyone was distraught over the news that they all were MIA.

  Callie realized that going through this ordeal was changing her feelings about going off to Afghan villages. Now she swore that if she was lucky enough to survive this situation with Beau, she was never going to another village outside the wire. It just wasn’t worth it. She knew her family worried constantly about her working in Kabul six months of the year. Maybe she needed to take a step back and really look at her decision, and choose a different lifestyle for the future. She didn’t belittle the good she’d done in the five years she’d spent off and on in Afghanistan. But at what price to herself and her family? Death by the enemy, if caught? She wanted to live. She was seeing everything she’d done thus far in this country through another lens right now. There were choices, for sure. And right now she had to focus on surviving so she could look at them when her life wasn’t on the line.

  Callie felt terrible that she’d tried to convince Dara that this would be a safe trip. How wrong she’d been! And what if Dara died? She shook off the thought. Don’t go there! she told herself.

  Distracted, she stumbled over a stone and reached out as she fell to her knees on the sharp gravel. “Damn!” she muttered, excruciating pain coursing through her.

  Instantly, Beau halted and turned, dismayed at the sight of Callie on the ground, her knees bleeding freely through her jeans, her face white.

  Callie sobbed, biting back most of the sound as she rolled over and tried to sit up.

  “Don’t move,” Beau rasped, crouching beside her, his hand gripping her shoulder. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”

  Groaning, she clutched her left leg. “Oh, God, Beau, it hurts … the pain, it’s so much!”

  “Where?”

  His voice was low, quiet, and calm, and it moved her away from impending hysteria as she breathed raggedly, her fingers gripping her lower leg. “M-my calf … it’s on fire!”

  “Okay, let me look,” he said soothingly, moving to her knee, leaning over her, running his hand knowingly down her left calf. The moment he encountered a huge knot of muscle, Callie cried out, the agony intensifying.

  “Hold on … ,” Beau said, and slipped his hands beneath her back and knees, lifting her up in his arms. It wasn’t going to be the most pleasant ride for her because she was crushed against his rifle, not his body. Whimpers of agony jammed in her throat as she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m taking us deeper into the woods. There’s a nearby cave, and we can rest there. You’ve got a bad leg cramp, Callie, but we can fix it. Just hang on …”

  She collapsed against him, biting down hard on her lower lip as she felt the sudden, unexpected knifelike pain ripping through her leg.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she sobbed, pressing her face against his wet neck.

  “Hush, it’s all right. You’re going to be okay, Callie. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be there …”

  The cramp in her leg seemed to multiply like angry, writhing snakes twisting her muscles, and all she could do was whimper, her lips tightly shut because she knew she had to be silent.

  Oh, God! Had her cries alerted any nearby Taliban? Panic surged through Callie as Beau carried her into a narrow cave, the opening partially visible, the rest covered over with thick brush.

  He moved quickly behind what he termed “a wing of rock” near the entrance. It was a wall of limestone, about five feet long. Behind it was a small room, which gave them a place to hide from possible prying eyes. He knelt on the dry dirt, placing her gently down and positioning her back against the smooth stone surface. Leaning close, he said, “Don’t move and don’t make a sound. I have to clear this cave first. I’ll be back as soon as I can …”

  He was gone like a shadow. Callie kept the NVGs on, watching him pull up his M4, unsafe it, and disappear. She tried to lean down and touch her cramped calf, but as soon as she touched it, more pain erupted around it. Teeth clenched, she leaned back, breathing raggedly, trying not to cry out in agony. She had never experienced anything like this before. It felt like knives repeatedly being thrust and twisted into her balled-up calf muscles.

  For a while, she lost track of time, gripping her upper left thigh as if holding it with both hands would stop the pain from drifting up her leg. It didn’t do any good. When Beau reappeared, she had no idea of how much time had passed. She watched as he placed his rifle against the wall, got rid of his ruck, and quickly opened it up.

  Callie could hear herself breathing raggedly, the sound carrying around them. Guilt ate at her. She wasn’t being quiet at all. She was putting them at risk because she couldn’t gut out the pain. What must Beau think of her now?

  “Here,” he said quietly, “take your glove off and open your palm.”

  Stymied by this request, she did as he asked, and with her NVGs, she saw he had, of all things, a small saltshaker. What the hell? He shook the salt grains into her opened palm.

  “Okay, pop the salt in your mouth. Now,” he ordered.

  What good was this going to do? She did as he asked and popped more salt into her mouth. By the time he’d put the saltshaker back into a plastic bag and dropped it into his ruck, the pain in her leg had started to reduce. Shocked, she stared at him.

  “The pain is leaving,” she managed to say. “What did you do?”

  “Good! I’ll tell you in a minute. I want you to lean back and relax. I’m going to get the rest of that charley horse worked out of your calf. And listen: try not to scream, okay?”

  Beau quickly pulled up her damp pant leg up to just below her knee and gently wrapped his hands around that fist-sized knot in her calf. This kind of leg cramp was the worst you could get, and he knew just how painful they were. He felt her flinch as he brought his hands lightly around the knot.

  “Is the pain still going down?” he asked her.

  “Y-yes.”

  “By how much? Give me a percentage.”

  Her mind was swimming with the shock of the pain and she could barely think. “At least half,” she gasped.

  Beau said, “Good,” and explained, “You’re dehydrated, and this is what leg muscles do when they don’t get enough water. That salt is replacing what was lost from your sweating, Callie. I’m going to give you more salt in another minute to continue to help reduce the knot, and then I’m gonna have to massage the rest of it out of your calf by hand. And it’s going to hurt like hell and you’re going to have to not scream. Okay?”

  Callie gave a jerky nod. “I can’t imagine it hurting any more than it does now.” She saw Beau’s mouth thin. His hands radiated heat. The skin was so sensitive that his callused hands around it made it hurt even more. But she didn’t pull her leg away. “W-will it go away?”

  “In time,” he said soothingly. He gave her more salt and waited a few minutes. “What’s the pain level now, Callie?”

  “Umm, maybe forty percent compared to a hundred percent before I put the salt in my mouth.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Okay, hang on and jam your fist into your mouth.”

  He made a movement, and a scream tore up through her chest. Callie bit down on the fist she’d placed against her mouth. Her back arched, her nostrils flared, and a sob erupted from her as his fingers, long and kneading, began to work on the last of that angry, twisted knot.

  For a moment, Callie thought she’d black out from the pain as it rolled up through her in wave after wave. And then, after the initial reaction, Beau’s knowing fingers began to loosen those tight, gnarled muscles and got them to start relaxing.

  Feeling the pain exploding within her, then going away minutes later made her breathe in ragged sobs,
her hand still against her mouth. She opened her eyes to slits, watching as Beau leaned over her leg, his mouth set, his whole attention on the damned cramp.

  Finally, the pain began to dissolve each time he nudged and forced another muscle to let go, to untwist and lengthen. She dropped her hand into her lap, breathing harshly, her head tipped against the rocky surface, eyes closed, shaking internally from that gutting agony.

  “There,” he murmured, beginning to smooth her muscles, stroking them, kneading them until they behaved once more. “You did good, Callie. Just try to relax now.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grunted.

  Beau smiled, understanding how she felt. “You’re going to be okay now, gal. I’ll give you more table salt in a minute, and then you’ll drink a couple of pints of water. We’ll hole up here until you’re stable again.”

  Closing her eyes, her breathing began to steady. It was not as explosive and harsh sounding as it had been, and she tried to ease her fingers out of a fist resting on her thighs.

  “God, that was horrible, Beau,” she gasped.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve had a couple of those myself. Everyone on my team gets them from time to time. They’re no fun.” He continued to smooth her calf, his hands firm, trying to get the muscles to remain relaxed.

  Shaking her head, Callie muttered, “You guys really do go through hell.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed in a drawl. “But it’s not always like what you’re experiencing. We do a lot of good out there in the badlands, and when we nail an HVT, it’s like Christmas to us. Makes everything we have to endure out here to find the sonofabitch worth it, believe me.”

  “I just never realized,” she began lamely. “You guys suffer so much … so much …”

  “Now, don’t you wander down into that box canyon,” he counseled, amusement in his tone. He gave her calf one more gentle stroke and then pulled her trouser leg down over it. “There, good as new.”

  She snorted, watching as he moved to his ruck. Callie held out her hand toward him and he shook some salt grains into it again. “What is this? The latest secret for dealing with charley horses?” she asked wryly, tipping her head back, allowing the salt to slide into her mouth and dissolve. She was starved for the taste of it, figuring it was a symptom telling her she was deficient in the mineral.

  “Oh, just a little country medicine my ma gave me,” he offered. Pulling out a quart bottle of water, he opened it and then handed it to her. “Sip, don’t glug. We’re gonna rest here for at least thirty minutes. You’ll need to get water into your system, so go slow but sure.”

  Right now, Callie would do anything he asked of her. “Can I take off my NVGs?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Beau, how are you doing?” she asked, concerned about him.

  “Fine.”

  Callie’s mouth twisted. “Would you tell me the truth?”

  He chuckled again, that rumble through his chest. “I have never lied to you, gal. I’m not starting now, okay?” He moved his head in her direction after he pushed up his NVGs.

  She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel that invisible embrace again, and she hungrily soaked it up. “Okay,” she whispered. “You just seem … well … indestructible—at least, in comparison to me.”

  “I am. I’ve had many years at this work. My body is primed for it. Yours isn’t.”

  “I guess I’m slowing us down.”

  “I was getting ready to call for a rest anyway.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yep. Now, keep sippin’ the water, because you have to hydrate, or that charley horse will come back with a vengeance. I don’t think you want another session with that, do you?”

  “God, no!” she agreed.

  “We’re going to have to stop about every thirty minutes and hydrate you from now on. Even in cold, wet, rainy weather like this we lose a lot of water to sweating because of the pace we’re keeping.”

  She dutifully continued to sip the water. “Tell me about the table salt, Beau.”

  He sat crouched in front of her, his long arms resting over his knees. “Baylee Ann Thorn’s mother is a homeopath. She’s our hill doctor up on Black Mountain. One time when I was home on leave shortly after joining Delta Force, I was telling her about the cramps I kept getting in my calves on long marches. She said to always carry a shaker of table salt because of the loss of salt in our sweat. If we took some salt grains, it would not only ease the cramp, it would get our electrolytes stabilized until we could get proper hydration. I found that to be true. Our whole team, including Matt, carries a saltshaker. They found out it works like magic.”

  “It sure did on me,” Callie whispered gratefully. “It took that pain level down to nearly bearable until you started massaging that knot out of my calf.”

  “Yeah,” he said softly and apologetically, “but this experience teaches you to hydrate, and we’re just gonna have to be more watchful and stop to get you to drink more often.”

  “I’m a liability,” she groused, unhappy.

  Beau reached out, gripping her glove. “Hey, understand this, Callie. You’re never a liability in my world.”

  She knew Beau was trying to stop her from feeling guilty and appreciated his low, warm response. Beau enclosed her hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. His courage was unflagging. “Ever since meeting you,” she said, “I wanted to know what the rest of you was like.”

  He snorted softly. “Be careful what you ask for. Right?”

  A faint smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “I’m not sorry this happened, Beau. I always thought you were an incredible man. I felt your warrior side was pretty much hidden from me.”

  “Oh? That I came off like some type B office pogue?” he jested.

  She smiled. “I loved the gentle side of you I saw at the orphanage. I knew you couldn’t be Delta Force if you weren’t a badass warrior.”

  Beau stroked her hand. “Well, now you’ve seen me, warts and all, gal. I hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to separate once we get back to Bagram.”

  Callie heard the teasing in his voice, his hand so warm and dry compared to hers. “If anything,” she whispered, suddenly emotional, “you’re such a hero in my eyes and heart. I just hope you don’t think less of me and walk away from me if we make it back to Bagram.” His hand tightened around hers.

  “Not a chance of that happening, gal, so don’t ever go that direction. You’re just as courageous as I am. You’re not a quitter. You’re the fighter I always thought you would be if you were in a desperate situation. I was proved right.” He released her hand and even in the darkness, he found her thick hair, stroking it gently. “If anything, I can’t see my life without you in it after we make it back to Bagram. Okay?”

  CHAPTER 12

  By the time dawn was rising on the horizon, Callie was exhausted. She had no idea how far they’d traveled. The rain had, thankfully, stopped a few hours ago, but her fingers were still wet and numb. Beau went around a hill; she was always amazed that he remembered where caves were located. He led her into one that required them to crawl in on their hands and knees, making her bite back a groan.

  Once inside, the bare light revealed what she was beginning to call a “comfy cave.” She heard water running, and with her NVGs on she could see water dripping from above into a small pool. She waited by the entrance as Beau cleared the place. There wasn’t much to clear because it was oval shaped with rocky walls and fine silt for a floor. It smelled musty and humid from the outside air.

  Beau came over, allowing his rifle to lie against his chest harness. He gripped her soggy, gloved hand and gave a gentle tug for her to follow him. Every step was agony, her knees feeling as if they would crack and fall off. She knew he was doing his best to keep them safe, and her heart swelled with love for him. He was at greater risk because she couldn’t keep up a killing pace for hours on end like he could. She was painfully aware that she was no match for his ability to endur
e hardship.

  She followed him to the rear of the cave, where it was darker. Callie had faithfully hydrated every half hour, and so far, there were no more of those horrible leg cramp events.

  Beau brought her closer to him and whispered, “There’s a tunnel here. It twists and winds, but at the end of it, there’s another cave that has an exit point in case we need to leave in a hurry. Just follow me. Watch your step, because there are lots of rocks jutting out of the floor, and they can trip you up.”

  She nodded, saying nothing and trying to catch her breath. In another minute, Callie found herself in a second cave, which had another entrance-exit point covered with thick brush. Here, the cave floor was smooth, without silt or sand in it.

  Even better, she saw another small pool of water. The cave wasn’t high, perhaps seven feet tall, and was rounded, in comparison to the other one, which was more oval-shaped.

  Beau shrugged out of his ruck near the pool, opened it, and laid out some items. He turned and pushed up his NVGs. “We can talk quietly in here,” he told her. “You won’t need your goggles anymore.” He pointed to his ruck. “There’s a washcloth, a bar of soap, and a dry towel I’ve laid out for you. There’s also that water so you can clean up a bit.”

  Nodding, Callie pulled the goggles down around her neck. She rubbed her face and grinned weakly. “That sounds wonderful. Thanks …”

  “I need to go back into the other cave and sweep it clean of our footprints,” he told her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Nodding, Callie watched him move like the silent ghost he was. Beau had to be as tired as she was. Getting used to the rhythm of black ops, she knew he was preparing to rest during the daylight hours, when they would hide and sleep. They walked at night because they could roam unseen by nearby enemy troops. How far were they from Bagram?