Navy SEAL Rescue

by Susan Cliff

  “They haven’t seen us,” Layah said.

  “With any luck, they never will,” Hudson replied. Then he went over the side of the cliff. She studied his technique, which was similar to the fixed-rope climb. He braced his boots on the rock face and descended in confident motions.

  No problem, she told herself. Just don’t let go. And don’t look down.

  She took a deep breath and followed him over the edge. It was terrifying, but doable. She focused on holding both ropes in a tight grip and working her way down, hand over hand. About halfway down the cliff, Ashur caught up to her. She tried to climb faster, aware that their time was limited. Her upper body didn’t have the strength for the task. Her biceps quivered from exertion and her grip weakened.

  Ashur paused, looking over his shoulder at her. “Are you okay?”

  She clung to the rope, shaking. She wasn’t okay.

  “Layah,” Hud yelled. “Don’t panic. You’re almost there.”

  “I can’t do it,” she shouted back.

  “Wrap your legs around the rope and slide down to me slowly. I’ll catch you.”

  She followed those instructions for the last few meters, until she was in his arms. When her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled. She collapsed in a heap next to Hudson. He kept his gaze on Ashur, who finished the climb without trouble.

  They were on a narrow strip of land at the river’s edge, exposed to anyone who glanced down the cliff from the plateau above. The only shelter was a deep depression in the sandstone. She dragged Ashur that direction and put her pack down inside. Then she stood by Hudson while the others made their descents. Nina accidentally kicked Yusef in the head, but he held on. So did she. Oshana needed the most help. She didn’t even get halfway down before she started to slide. This resulted in rope burns and a minor fall at the bottom.

  Layah and the others scrambled into the sandstone cave to wait for Aram and Hudson. Aram joined them first. Oshana clung to him, sobbing. Hudson pulled down the rope so the horsemen couldn’t follow them. Then he squeezed in next to Layah.

  “Did they see you?” he asked Aram.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Although Hudson spoke in English and Aram replied in Arabic, they seemed to understand each other. Ashur put his ear against the sandstone to listen for the sound of approaching hooves.

  “They are here,” he said quietly. “They stopped.”

  Aram drew his rifle. Layah prayed the horsemen didn’t have their own ropes. If they came down here, there was no escape. There would be an ugly gun battle, and her people would lose.

  “Where is your pack?” Oshana whispered to Aram.

  He pointed up. Layah’s stomach dropped as she realized what had happened. In the rush to get down the cliff before the horseman spotted him, he’d left the pack behind. She prayed the strangers would not disturb it.

  Her prayers weren’t answered.

  Seconds later, the pack landed in the middle of the river with a huge splash. Layah and the others watched in horror as it floated to the surface. The pockets were unzipped, as if the contents had been ransacked. No one moved.

  Then the men on the cliff above them opened fire.

  Layah clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her scream. Hudson put his arms around her and Ashur, shielding them with his body. Bullets tore through the canvas pack in a chilling display of gun power. The pack jumped and flipped from multiple impacts. Then it sank into the water and didn’t resurface.

  “They can’t get down here,” Hudson murmured. “They’re just trying to scare us.”

  “It’s working.”

  The men continued to fire, peppering the surface of the water and the shoreline. Mud and pebbles sprayed up from the ground. Layah closed her eyes, plagued by flashbacks of horror. She’d heard the sound of gunfire too many times. Too many battles, too many bombs. Too many mangled bodies.

  She took a deep breath and focused on Hudson. He felt warm and strong and solid. His arms made a heavy band around her and Ashur. Although Hudson was a trained soldier, acting on instinct, she appreciated his protection. There was something comforting, and achingly familial, about their huddle. Ashur couldn’t push her away in the cramped space. Hudson might not love her, but he cared about her. He cared about their safety.

  After a few minutes, the shooters seemed to lose interest. Ashur put his ear to the sandstone again to listen for the horses as they left. Hudson and Aram emerged from the hiding space with caution. When no one fired at them, the others filed out.

  “You think they’re looking for another way down?” Hudson asked, studying the cliffs all around them.

  “I hope not,” Layah said.

  “We should have shot them,” Ashur said. He always favored the most violent solution.

  “We don’t know who they are,” Layah replied.

  “They are the same Da’esh swine who destroyed our relics,” Ashur said. “Or they are murdering Turks, who also deserve to die.”

  “They could be Kurds.”

  Ashur shrugged. He didn’t like the Kurds, either.

  “Whoever they were, they had several high-powered rifles,” Hudson said. “Shooting at them would have been a serious mistake.”

  Ashur went quiet, unable to dispute this logic.

  They headed downriver, following a narrow edge along the base of the cliff until they found a shallow section. Then they were forced to cross through ice-cold, waist-deep water. There was no time to stop or change clothes after. Hudson insisted they keep moving at a brisk pace.

  Layah continued forward in soggy boots and wet, mud-splattered pants. She wondered if the horsemen had been unable to pursue, or decided not to for geographical reasons. The river marked the border between Turkey and Iran. The Da’esh were extremely unwelcome here.

  So were Americans, but that couldn’t be helped.

  Early in the evening, they reached the top of a hill overlooking Rajan, a tiny town in northern Iran.

  They’d made it. This marked the end of their journey on foot. They’d escaped Iraq, survived the mountains and avoided being detained in Turkey. Now they would travel across Iran in a vehicle. With any luck, they’d arrive in Armenia tomorrow.

  Layah should have been overjoyed. This was the moment she’d planned and hoped for and worked toward for months. But the accomplishment felt empty, because the danger wasn’t over. Bringing an American into Iran put everything at risk. If they were stopped and questioned, Hudson would be taken into custody—or killed.

  She’d never forgive herself if he got detained here. She’d meant to warn him at the Turkish border. Then they’d run into trouble and she’d held her tongue. Now they were stuck, and she wasn’t sure how to break the news.

  “What town is this?” Hudson asked.

  “It is Rajan,” she said. “My aunt lives near. She will shelter us for the night.”

  They headed toward a cluster of trees on the outskirts of the village. Then she sent Yusef and Nina to find a pay phone or internet café. They would contact Miri while the others rested. Layah didn’t want anyone to see Hudson. European looks weren’t that remarkable in this region, but they needed to be extra cautious.

  Hudson was the last to remove his pack and sit down. She noticed his wince of pain. Her gaze traveled over his body, settling on a red stain above his knee. His pants were ripped. “You’re injured,” she said in surprise.

  He covered the spot with his hand. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

  She realized that he’d been hit with a bullet fragment or a piece of rock while he’d been shielding her and Ashur.

  “Surely you don’t expect him to come with us,” Aram said in Assyrian.

  “What do you suggest?” she returned, bristling.

  Aram glanced back the way they’d come.

  “He’ll be recaptured. He doesn’t kno
w where to go.”

  “He can take care of himself. It’s not our concern.”

  “You agreed to bring him along!”

  “To Halana,” Aram said. “Not Rajan.”

  “I won’t send him back.”

  “Will you tell him where we are?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, her stomach roiling. “I’ll tell him when it’s safe.”

  “Your affection for this infidel makes you foolish. But then, you have always had a weakness for outsiders.”

  The dig at Khalil didn’t sit well with Layah. Neither did Aram’s arrogant attitude. She’d arranged for this entire journey, which Aram had greatly benefited from. She’d spent the last of her money on gear and guide services. “We might not be in this position if you hadn’t left your pack at the top of the cliff.”

  “I had to climb fast, because you women are slow and weak!”

  Oshana touched his elbow. “Shlama, Aram.”

  “What’s his problem?” Hudson asked, glancing from Aram’s angry face to Layah’s. “Do you need me to shut him up?”

  Layah ignored Hudson. “Was your passport inside the pack?” she asked Aram.

  “No. Oshana has it.”

  “I agree with Aram,” Ashur said. “You risk all of us to protect this American who left my father to die in the streets.”

  “He took a bullet for us,” Layah replied. “Look at him.”

  “It’s a flesh wound.”

  She swallowed her response, aware that Ashur’s heartbreaking past colored his opinions. Aram was a young hothead, quick to judge. They both used sharp words without thinking. Instead of arguing with them, she rummaged through her pack for the almonds and raisins. She was in charge of this expedition. She would bring along whoever she liked.

  Yusef and Nina returned with good news. They’d been able to call Miri from a pay phone at the pharmacy.

  “She’ll be here in thirty minutes,” Yusef said.

  “She won’t shelter an American,” Aram said. “Her husband won’t allow it.”

  Layah gave him a quelling stare. He was irritating, but he had a point. “We’ll see.”

  Hudson knew they were talking about him, and he didn’t seem to care. He stretched out on his back and tucked his hands behind his head.

  “Aram wants to leave Hudson here,” Layah explained to Yusef.

  “Yusef sides with me,” Aram said.

  “No, I don’t,” Yusef said.

  “What?”

  “We are not animals.”

  Aram took offense to Yusef’s strong opposition. “I am an animal for considering our interests ahead of his?”

  “We’ll let Miri decide,” Layah said, ending the conversation. Then she leaned against her pack and closed her eyes. She didn’t know what her aunt would do. If Miri refused to shelter Hudson, Layah would have to accept it and say goodbye. She couldn’t run away with him. She was going to Armenia with Ashur. She’d made a vow to take him to a safer place.

  She owed her brother that much.

  Chapter 13

  Hud considered making his escape.

  The village had a public phone. Yusef and Nina had already used it. One call to his commander would end this farce. He could get up and walk away anytime.

  But he didn’t, for several reasons. It was difficult to go unnoticed in a village this small. He also wasn’t sure what the consequences would be for Layah. As soon as he made contact with the navy, he’d be given specific instructions about where to go and what to do. A plan would be set into motion, with no turning back. Within hours or minutes, he’d rendezvous with personnel from the nearest US air base. There was one in Incirlik, by the Syrian border.

  He’d have to tell the truth about how he’d arrived in Turkey. He couldn’t claim to have escaped the Da’esh on his own. He couldn’t have climbed the mountains without specific gear. If he said he’d agreed to help Layah, he’d be in violation of military regulations. If he said she’d forced him to act as their guide, she could be prosecuted. No matter what story he told, there would be complications. Her family might get picked up by the Turkish police, or sent back to Iraq.

  Whatever happened would be out of his hands, and he didn’t want to put her at risk. Waiting until they were in a more populated area would be safer for both of them. He could disappear in the crowd. She could continue to Armenia. Everyone wins.

  Decision made, he rested his eyes for a few minutes. They were arguing about him. Maybe Aram had accused him of dishonoring Layah again. Hud was too tired to care. He’d stayed up all night guarding the camp. No one had come to relieve him of the duty, and he’d been reluctant to disturb the love tent. He had nowhere to sleep, anyway.

  It rankled a little that Aram was getting in Hud’s business, after Hud had given him the privacy to bang his wife and cuddle with her for hours. He’d also saved their asses on the cliff. But whatever. Hud had bigger concerns. His thigh ached like a son of a bitch from the ricochet wound, and he was starving.

  He needed to eat and rest. Then he could think about the next step.

  A flatbed truck rumbled down the road less than an hour later. The woman who emerged greeted Layah with a warm hug. She cooed over Ashur, who shrugged off her attempt to embrace him. She smiled and pinched his cheek instead. Aram and Yusef introduced their wives. Then Layah grasped Hud’s hand and pulled him forward. He didn’t understand the words she spoke, but he got the impression she was misrepresenting their relationship. Aram scowled in the background.

  Hud wasn’t sure how to greet Layah’s aunt, so he put his hand on his chest and said hello in Arabic. It must have been okay, because the woman beamed at Layah. There was a flurry of questions and responses. Then it was time to go. Layah took the passenger seat, while the rest of them climbed into the back.

  Hud sat next to Ashur. It was a dark night, full of stars. He was happy to be off his feet. After the day they’d had, he was happy just to be alive. As they left the village and traveled down a deserted road, he felt at peace.

  “How did Layah introduce me?” he asked Ashur.

  “She said you were Khalil.”

  All his good feelings evaporated. “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “Isn’t he dead?”

  “Yes, but Miri doesn’t know that. Our family does not speak of him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He was not Assyrian.”

  Hud fell silent, lost in thought. Something wasn’t right, beyond Layah’s family secrets. She hadn’t mentioned an aunt in Turkey. She’d said her people weren’t safe here. They were traveling east, which didn’t make sense to him. His mental map of the area was fuzzy, but he was pretty sure they had to go north to reach the Armenian border. East was...somewhere else. Tajikistan? Azerbaijan?

  He closed his eyes in an attempt to picture this part of the world. He’d been all over the Arabian Peninsula. He’d cut his teeth in Afghanistan. In between was a cluster of places he’d never visited. His mind drifted to a tour of duty in the Hindu Kush, a land of snow-capped mountains and jagged peaks.

  When the truck came to an abrupt stop, he jolted awake. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. So much for staying sharp.

  Ashur gave him a rude shove.

  Hud gathered his pack and climbed down from the bed of the truck with the others. They were in a hotel parking lot. Layah urged him into the shadows while her aunt arranged for the rooms. Five minutes later, Layah had a set of keys. She unlocked the door for him and Ashur, ushering them inside.

  Hud looked around. It was nothing fancy, just two beds and a bathroom. No phone or television. Ashur collapsed on one of the beds and didn’t move. Hud wanted to do the same thing as soon as possible.

  “I should care for your wound,” Layah said.

  “Let me shower first.”

  She no
dded, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you have dirty clothes, I will take them to wash.”

  Most of his clothes were on his body. He removed a few items from his pack and put them in an empty bag. Then he retreated to the bathroom to strip down completely. His reflection wasn’t pretty. He still had a good amount of muscle, but zero padding. He needed a shave. There were minor cuts on his rib cage, left elbow and left thigh.

  He placed the dirty clothes outside the door and turned on the faucet. The water was lukewarm and he had to duck his head to wash his hair, but it felt glorious. He enjoyed this shower as much as the last one. Maybe more. He relished the smell of the soap, the lather of shampoo, the feel of his own clean skin.

  While he dried off, he noticed a place card on the sink. There were squiggles in Arabic or some other language. In English, it said Hotel Urmia.

  Urmia.

  He’d heard of Urmia.

  Urmia was in Iran.

  He wrapped the towel around his waist, his pulse racing. There must be some mistake. They couldn’t be in Iran. The name of the hotel didn’t mean anything. The soap could be from anywhere. Layah wouldn’t bring him to Iran. Would she?

  He came out of the bathroom in search of answers. Ashur was still sprawled on the bed, snoring. Layah was sitting on the other bed with her medical kit in her lap. Her eyes traveled down his torso and settled on his rib cage. She rose to her feet, brow furrowed. “You have more than one injury.”

  He held still while she examined the wound on his side. Her hands were firm and gentle. He gripped the towel at his waist, steeling himself against her touch. His body didn’t care if she was a schemer and a liar. It wanted her all the same.

  “Come and sit.”

  He followed those instructions in silence. He didn’t ask any questions, because he knew. They were in Iran. There was no other explanation. He knew, but he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge her betrayal.

  It was so much like Michelle’s.

  His stomach clenched at the thought. He remembered how it had felt to stand next to his wife in the doctor’s office, puzzling over her due date like a goddamned fool. In the two years since, he’d wondered if she’d planned to keep the secret forever. Would she have raised the child as his? Would he have held the baby and loved it and then one day, when the kid was half-grown, noticed her lover’s eyes staring back at him?