Trinity: Military War Dog

by Ronie Kendig

  The team! Did they get buried. Were they lost?

  “So … we are alo—on our own.” Her eyes sparkled, the light of his shoulder lamp glinting off the mahogany irises. Wide. With fear.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get out.”

  “How?”

  He didn’t have the answers, but he wouldn’t accept that they would die in this cave. Could they dig their way out? How much snow had heaped on them?

  “We’ll get out.”

  “Where are they?”

  Ignoring the question, Haur clambered over the mound of snow that had dumped down the mountain, narrowly avoiding him and the others who took shelter beneath the lip of the overhang. Hands plunged through soft, shifting snow. Cold seeped up his sleeves and made his bones ache. Balancing on a boulder that had made the journey with the snow, Haur wobbled. Weak knees, trembling hands. The terror of being buried alive had choked off any bravado or confidence he’d held a few seconds earlier.

  That and the conviction that he knew what caused the avalanche. But revealing that would get him killed.

  Soldiers skittered back and forth. Dropping to their knees, digging with gloved hands. A couple produced collapsible shovels, then went to work.

  “Anyone got them?” Watterboy threw himself over one mound after another, searching. Shouting.

  Haur slid a glance to Bai, who stood back, staring. No, not staring. Watching. Enjoying. Haur had had his suspicions about his captain, but the movement out of the corner of his eye in the seconds before he heard the loud crack—which was really a boom—could only be one thing.

  A grenade. Thrown by Bai up onto the shelf.

  Which triggered the avalanche.

  And buried Meixiang.

  The soldiers rushed around. Frantic. Scared. His stomach churned. Meixiang had more information on Jianyu and the Chinese government than anyone else. He must be certain that information was protected. Kept from the wrong hands.

  “Storm’s letting up.” Watterboy’s voice boomed over the unsettled area. “Candyman, we got coms?”

  “No coms,” Rocket announced from his position.

  Just as the storm had let up, the avalanche slowed them.

  “Then get it! We need coms—yesterday!” Watterboy’s face was red, his posture rigid.

  “There’s no signal,” said a shorter, black-haired man who sat on a pile of rocks.

  “Then get off your lazy butt and get me one.” Watterboy’s shout echoed through the narrow valley as he stabbed a finger in a southern direction.

  Haur shifted. Glanced up. South? Or was he pointing west? With the sun hiding behind the clouds and storm, there was no telling.

  “Hey,” Candyman spoke with a hiss. “Lower your voice. Anything could trigger another one.”

  The dog bounded around the area, sniffing, whimpering. The spook and the man he rescued—a man named Toque—trailed the dog.

  A stream of curses mingled with the fluttering snow. “I want them found!”

  Candyman knelt beside Trinity. “Where are they, girl? Find Ghost!”

  Nose up, she sniffed. Leapt over upturned debris. Sniffing. Bounding.

  It was hopeless, was it not? They would not find Ghost or the spy. Not with the way the snow heaped against the opening. Most likely they were buried anyway. That much of the mountain surely filled in the hole.

  Watters went to his knees with a shovel and started digging. “They were right here. Let’s get them out.”

  “Think that cave had another way out?”

  Haur considered the question spoken with a British accent. “It is possible.”

  “How would you know?”

  Haur understood the animosity, even though he now knelt to aid in digging. “These mountains lead to the Wakhan Corridor and river in China. There are many tunnels and caves there.”

  “Remember, Jia said she and that little girl found a way through another tunnel.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But we don’t know there was a way out. I went into that cave—there wasn’t anything but walls.”

  “Keep digging,” Watterboy ordered.

  Candyman shook his head. “What do you think about sending me, Scrip, and Putman on ahead to try to gain radio contact, get us help up here?”

  Watterboy hesitated. Pushed back on his knees, sleeves soaked from digging. “Do it.”

  Haur did not miss that Bai had not taken up the task of trying to find the Americans. He stood to the side. “We should help,” he said in their tongue.

  “You saw how little regard they had for our people,” he replied back in kind. “How can I help save the life of a woman who betrayed and violated all of China?”

  “Because you value life, not politics!”

  He saw it. For a fraction of a second, Haur saw the sneer bleed into his captain’s face. And just as fast, it was gone.

  Haur went back to digging, both figuratively and literally. His time was short. To accomplish his mission, to carry out his intentions, he must not let himself be sidetracked by anyone else’s leanings. “You will give them the wrong idea,” Haur muttered to Bai.

  “As you are Colonel Zheng.”

  He would not be goaded, not by this man, no matter how much he once trusted him. “‘Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.’” Slowly, Haur came to his feet. “It is prudent not to forget the ways of old, the proven tactics of our ancestors.” He let his gaze drift to Bai’s. “I see your doubts, both the spoken and unspoken. And I see more.” He let the words hang in the air. “We have our mission.”

  “Why did you not go with them into the village to confront Jianyu?”

  The moment of truth. Could he convince his captain? “Because the girl has become a higher priority. Do you realize who she is, Bai Ling?”

  Question glittered in the man’s gaze. “You know?”

  “Yes, I know. And do you see my brother here?” Vehemence streaked his words. “I will return her to General Zheng. I will restore honor to the Zheng name.”

  Bai’s head tilted up slightly.

  “Do not question me again, or I will make that your last.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Find anything?” Lonely and hollow, her voice skipped along the curves of the cave.

  “No.” With that blinding light on his shoulder, Heath returned and crouched. His gray eyes bounced over her face. “You’ve got a sheen.”

  She didn’t want him worrying about her. They had bigger obstacles to tackle. So, despite the pain and the fire dousing her courage, Darci managed a smile. “If that’s your best pickup line, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “Ha. Ha.” He swiveled and went to one knee and tugged off his gloves. Heath pressed the back of his icy hand to her cheek. “You’re hot.”

  Another smirk.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  Darci couldn’t help but laugh at him stopping her comeback line. “What? It’s okay for you to be direct and forthright, but not me? You shouldn’t worry so much.”

  “Easier said than done.” He smoothed out the thermal blanket. “Lie back down. You should rest. Who knows what’s ahead. I’ll pack ice around your fingertips. They’re bleeding again.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Don’t get all modest on me after making every comment into an innuendo.” Heath’s smile trickled through his words as he bent over her. “How’re your ribs?”

  “Some guy just dove into them.”

  “What a jerk.”

  “Yeah.” Darci turned her face toward the wall, not out of modesty, but so he wouldn’t see her face tighten at the pain. She could still breathe, so he hadn’t done further damage, but holy cow, it hurt.

  Cool air swept up her shirt as he lifted the blanket and took her hand. He hissed.

  “That pretty?”

  “As beautiful as you are, there’s no way something like this can be described as pretty.”

  Darci’s pulse ricocheted off his words and thumped aga
inst her chest. Had he really just said she was beautiful? Was he being sarcastic? Only one way to gauge that—the eyes. She glanced back. Thick browridge—a sign of intelligence—hung over eyes laden with concern.

  No sarcasm. Did he mean that?

  Why was she wishing so hard that he had?

  He angled around, then pushed on to his haunches, reaching for something. He turned back and his gaze collided with hers. Softness filled his features. Handsome, rugged, yet … soft.

  “You just have to complicate things.”

  White-hot fire shot through her. Then icy cold. She would swear she heard sizzling and realized he was packing snow and ice around her fingers to stop the bleeding. The pain blazed up her digits, through her wrist, and into her arms.

  Darci squeezed her eyes and groaned.

  A pause was followed by another application.

  “Infection’s trying to flare up,” he said as he pressed a hand to her cheek. Awareness flared through her, but the pain and the severity of the situation doused that tremor of longing.

  “I always wonder what my mom’s last days were like.”

  Heath stilled, his somber gaze coming to hers.

  She knew what he was thinking—that she shouldn’t be talking about last days. But … this is how she dealt with things, talking or thinking about her mom. “She was martyred.” Why did she want him to know everything about her all of a sudden? “Taken in the middle of the day while my father was out of the country. We never saw her again.”

  Heath eased down and drew up a leg to his chest. “In China?”

  With a nod, she gave away a key piece of information. Weird. Darci didn’t mind. She trusted him with this. Besides, if they died … “She was a Christian. And my father was very influential and powerful, and of course that couldn’t be tolerated. They’d tried to convince him to do away with her, but he loved her too much. He’d been trying to make arrangements to move her back to the States, but …”

  “Jia—”

  “Darci.” Oh no. Had she just done that? Okay, well … it was okay. “I want you to know my real name.”

  Something slid through his expression. “Darci. I like it.” Though small, his smile was thousand-watt power. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. Oh good grief. Can we say “schoolgirl”? Stick with facts. Those I can handle. “I was born Jia, but when my father and I fled China after they murdered my mom, I took her name for safety’s sake.”

  He nodded.

  “Anyway … sorry … don’t know why I’m rambling.” Heat again soaked her cheeks.

  “I like it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all romantic on me, cowboy.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “What?”

  “That I’m a cowboy—well, not really, but I grew up in Texas.” He shrugged and looked so adorable and boyish, she couldn’t help the smile. “Doesn’t that make me an honorary cowboy?”

  “Do you mean ornery cowboy?” The laugh made her stiffen, then she relaxed out of the fiery breath. “I’d love to see you in a cowboy hat.”

  “Nothing doing.” He looked sheepish and ran a hand along the nape of his neck. “My head’s too big.”

  Darci threw her head back and laughed. It made her insides hurt, but it also made her insides giddy. Curling an arm around her waist, she pulled herself up.

  “Whoa.” Heath’s smile vanished as he reached for her. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. I’m sick of lying down.”

  “Lying down gets you better.”

  She cocked her head at him. “It gets me dead.”

  His lips flattened. “Not on my watch.”

  A strange twisting and warming melted through her frozen exterior. Was he feeling what she felt when they were together? Did it matter? Burnett would go ballistic if he knew she hadn’t severed their connection. She’d lose her job.

  “Why do you do it?” he asked as she propped herself against the wall.

  “Do what?” Wow, sitting up hurt like crazy. On second thought … She slumped a little, alleviating the pressure on her ribs.

  “Be a spy.”

  Darci frowned at him. “Why are you a soldier?”

  “I felt called.”

  “Felt?”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “Your story first.”

  She smiled again. It felt so good. When had she smiled so much? A real smile, not one to get what she needed? “My mom.”

  Heath watched her, his amazing gray eyes penetrating her barriers. And strangest of strange things—she let him. “Justice. You wanted justice for her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you gotten it?”

  She let out a soft snort. “Several times.”

  Arm dangling over his leg, he didn’t let up. “And has it worked? Has it given you what you were looking for?”

  How had he seen straight to the dark chamber where she kept that secret buried? She hadn’t thought it possible anyone would understand that mission after mission left her only with more emptiness. Not a sense of justice. Doing this—spying, intelligence work—had driven her to fill the hole. To somehow give to others what nobody had given her mother—a chance, a way out. She didn’t blame her father … much. He’d been out of country when the police snatched her off the street.

  Heath gave a breathless laugh. “I see …”

  Why did she feel like clawing that smile off his face? “Shouldn’t you be looking for a way out?”

  With a stiff shake of his head, he pushed onto his haunches. “Point taken.” He angled toward the back, darkness drenching her vision and mood.

  Panic swooped in on her. He was gone. Gone! “Heath?”

  “Don’t worry.” Boots scritched over hard earth. “I’m not going far.”

  Darci laughed at his joke—there wasn’t anywhere to go. Had he said that because he knew it’d scared her? As stillness and quiet vied for her sanity—pulling at her common sense that there was nothing to be afraid of, that Heath wasn’t going to vanish and leave her alone …

  “Hey.”

  She sucked in a quick breath at his voice.

  “Might’a found something.”

  “What?” A way out? Would it be that easy, that quick?

  “A whole.”

  “A whole what?”

  “No—hole. At the very back. Missed it when I looked before. It’s not much bigger than me. And …”

  “And what?”

  “It goes straight down.”

  Heath stretched his arm into the space and wagged his arm. Nothing but icy air, but … was that a breeze? Or was that just him stirring up the air? He aimed his SureFire down, hoping to see how far it was.

  His stomach flipped when the darkness ate up the light. No bottom? There had to be. Nothing was infinite. Except God.

  Lying on his side, he scanned the area around himself for a rock. He dragged a golf-ball-size one within reach and flopped back onto his belly. SureFire aimed over the chasm, he dropped the rock. It whipped out of sight. The darkness ate it, too. Finally, a plunk—distant and almost inaudible.

  C’mon. Don’t do this to me. They needed to get out of here.

  Heath eased away from the chasm, mind chugging. Trapped in here, did they have much of a choice? He roughed a hand over his chin and cringed at the stubble.

  “Down how far?”

  In a squat, he eased himself out from the compressed space and strode back to Ji—Darci. “It seems bottomless. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing but emptiness down there.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “I know.” He lowered himself to her side, noting she was once again upright. “I told you, you should be lying down.”

  “Yeah,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. “I never have done too well under orders.”

  “They weren’t orders.” Man, she got under his skin fast and deep. “Just strong suggestions.”

  She grinned, and Heath looked away before his mind could wander. C
ould wander? It already had. What was he…? Oh yeah. The hole. Chasm. No way out. Heath ran a hand along his neck and scratched it. They were out of options, but if the gentle stirring of air was a breeze, at least they wouldn’t run out of air.

  Ice could be melted for water.

  Three days. They’d be okay for three days.

  Food … that was another thing. What was in his pack? Heath turned, and the light cut through the darkness to where his pack … had been. Now lost to the avalanche. Maybe it wasn’t buried too deep and he could reach it. On his knees he moved to the barricade of snow, ice, and rocks. Crap. He couldn’t even dig—his shovel was in his pack.

  Tension wrapped a vise around him. Heath balled up his fists. Couldn’t a guy just get a break? He punched the ground. Everything for survival was in that pack. His shovel, his ammo, MREs … His fist impacted dirt. Pain spiked through his elbow and shoulder. Jammed into his neck.

  “What now?”

  “Nothing.” He wouldn’t fail her. As he bent forward, it felt like his entire brain dumped into his forehead. Heath swung out a hand to steady himself. Pounding returned with a voracious roar.

  Hands cradling his head, he clenched his eyes shut. Father in heaven … please.

  Heath … Heath …

  Was that God calling?

  Rolling out of the pain, he wriggled his shoulders and neck as his eyes opened—he jerked. Darci knelt in front of him. Her face wrought.

  “Heath … you there?” She tucked her chin and peered up into his eyes.

  Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? How her concern for him felt like a warm salve over his wounded heart and mind?

  But it was embarrassing. Humiliating. He edged away. “Yeah. Just … a little pain.”

  “I think you need to go back to kindergarten and learn what little means.”

  “Funny.”

  “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

  Cowed beneath the intense pressure, he slumped against the wall.

  “Let me try something.” She touched his shoulder again. “Okay?”