Ethan could barely hold on to his own emotions, visualizing Sarah’s miserable life, the doll being the only positive thing in it. He wanted to kill those two sick animals who had no business raising any children. Controlling all of that, pushing it deep into a box inside himself, he rasped, “Remember when we flew into the village with Emma? All those boxes of shoes my mom had had her church gather for the children?”
“I do.”
“I remember watching you with all the little girls standing in your line to get fitted for shoes.” Ethan gave her a tender look, sliding his fingers along the slope of her cheek. “I was so touched, Sarah, by how you cared for every one of them. When you could, you brought them onto your lap, put your arms around them, hugged them, smiled at them. I saw every little girl light up and glow beneath your care. They loved your maternal nurturing. They felt it. Hell, I just sat there watching you, amazed by your effortless ability to reach out in such a loving, gentle way with those kids.”
Nodding, Sarah said, “Yesterday, the pieces fell into place for me, Ethan.” Lifting her head, she met and held the warm look in his dark eyes and felt his hands move gently across her shoulders as if to soothe her or give her support. “I finally realized that of all the things that are broken in me, my ability to nurture and to be maternal, wasn’t harmed. It was all there. Alive and well. Hidden? Yes. But when my memory gave up Annie, my doll, and how much joy and peace it gave me all those years, it told me that Bill and Marg had never destroyed my sense of selfhood in that way.”
“Where is this going?” Ethan asked her hoarsely, seeing the strength and determination in her eyes. There was a new sense of confidence and calm within Sarah. He could feel it. And the look in her eyes was steadfast and certain.
“I’m not going to let the Caldwell’s take away what I know I have,” Sarah told him, her voice low with feeling. “I know I can be a good mother to a child, Ethan. I know it because my memories of Annie, of being good to her, loving, caring and guarding her, were there all those years.” Sarah wiped her eyes and murmured, “Bill might have stolen and destroyed other parts of me, but Marg in her own way, left me intact and strong when it came to my own sense of mothering. I might not know how to fold a diaper or wash a baby, but those are things that can be learned. What I do have, Ethan, is my fierce love for all children. And I know that when we’re married, I want a child by you. And I have complete faith in myself to be a good mother. I won’t ever hit my child. I can funnel all those wonderful, undamaged parts of me, my ability to love and nurture a baby, into our child.” Leaning up, she touched his mouth. “I love you, Ethan. I want children by you and nothing is going to stop me.”
He felt the gentleness of her mouth sliding against his. Ethan didn’t know whether to yell out in triumph or cry because Sarah, despite everything, was a fighter. She wanted to get well. She trusted herself enough now to know what was right and wrong for a child. Ethan swept her into his arms, wanting to feel her soft, lush body against his. Taking her mouth, feeling her life, her heat, her love for him, damn near made him cry. Fighting the tears, he framed her face and drew away, holding her soft, moist gaze.
“That’s an incredible breakthrough. Just—” he shook his head, his voice unsteady “—incredible…” and Ethan couldn’t say any more, a lump in his throat.
Sarah felt his powerful emotions, he could see it in her eyes—she felt his love for her, his pride. “You want children, Ethan. I felt that and I knew it.” She touched his cheek, holding his gaze. “You didn’t push me on it, though. You told me that whatever I wanted was fine with you. That you loved me.” Sarah ran her fingers through his short hair. “Thank you for giving me that control and decision. I don’t think I’d be standing here sharing my epiphany with you if you hadn’t. You loved me enough to set me free….”
*
“Ready, Tait?” Sarah sat in the right seat of the Black Hawk, finished with their preflight checklist. It was 1000, and because they were standby pilots for the day, they got the unwanted duties. This morning, the helicopter had a pallet of twenty-five 105 mm rounds for the Howitzers located at FOB Thunder. They were at maximum weight, the loadmasters carefully situating the pallet in the rear cabin, making sure it was anchored and would not move around. Thick green nylon straps held it in place. If placed wrongly, the helo could crash.
“Yeah,” Tait muttered, quickly putting the checklist on his kneeboard.
Sarah looked back into the cabin before harnessing up. The loadmaster gave her a thumbs-up after a second check on the dangerous pallet load. She nodded her thanks to him. Down to her left, she’d put her new SEAL E-and-E ruck behind her seat. It was heavy enough it wasn’t going to go anywhere, she thought, with a smile. The loadmaster slid the door shut.
“Okay,” she murmured, “let’s take this load to Thunder. You’ll take us off and fly us to the valley. Once we enter the valley, I’ll take the controls. You will be watching for RPGs, bullets or Stinger missiles that the Taliban might throw at us.”
Tait, who was twenty-two, recently married and on his first tour in medevac after training, muttered, “This sucks. Friggin’ clear-air turbulence and that front coming through the area is forcing us to stay in the valley, not above it. If we could fly above it, we wouldn’t be automatic targets for the Taliban.”
Sarah’s hands flew over the instrument panel. “It happens, Tait. Not the best day to fly with a pallet of explosives that could vaporize us and this bird if we ever got hit. Weather’s a bitch, but there’s no way I want to put this bird in clear-air turbulence, either. It could tear us apart or cause us to crash. So, take your pick of the lesser of two evils here, okay?” Sarah grinned over at him. He was tense and worried. This was his first flight with ammo on board. Sarah had done it many times and knew it could turn dangerous and ugly. She had enough experience and confidence to feel okay with the load.
“Those 105 mm rounds,” Tait growled. He went about his copilot duties to get the bird ready to start up the engines. “They scare the crap outta me. If one of those thirty-three pound shells ever went off in here, they’d never find any part of us.”
“True,” Sarah said. “And we’re carrying more than one.” She looked over at him. It didn’t matter if one shell blew or all of them—it would take only one and no one, no search team, no dog, would ever find a cell of them left after it exploded.
Sarah felt lighter this morning, the talk with Ethan last night taking a huge load off her. Maybe one of those demons that she’d carried so long wasn’t hers anymore. They’d been imprinted upon her by a dysfunctional man and woman. And when Ethan held her, she had cried in his arms afterward, but it was a cry of joy and celebration, not pain or sadness.
Sarah wanted to carry Ethan’s child in her body. She knew without a doubt she could be a good mother. Nature would take over for the lack of nurturing she received as a child. She was grown now, an adult. Sarah knew she wouldn’t be a perfect parent, but she could use what happened to her as a child to make sure it would never happen to her and Ethan’s child.
Sarah could use the blackest part of her life and flip it to the opposite end, light and awareness, and practice that instead. She’d never felt happier. More alive. More hopeful. She’d seen the hope burning in Ethan’s eyes, too. He wanted children. He grew up in a loving household where children were respected and fiercely loved. He would help her navigate the waters of raising a child.
Love welled up in her chest and Sarah allowed herself to feel it fully, as if she were finally coming alive after twenty-nine years of living in some kind of emotional desert.
She glanced up at the threatening sky. Weather desk had shown her earlier that a major cold front was rolling through the Hindu Kush mountains. It was early September, monsoon time for Asia. In Afghanistan, it meant cold fronts finally bringing rain to this parched desert land. But the one-hundred-plus degree heat rising off the valleys and mountains hit that colder air and thunderstorms were the result. That and deadly clear-air turbu
lence, or CAT, which could tear a fixed wing plane or helicopter apart in a moment. CAT was nothing to take lightly.
“Dammit,” Tait growled, finishing and double-checking his harness, “I feel like we’re going through the Valley of Death.”
Sarah chuckled. “I didn’t know you to be so dramatic, Tait.” A grin edged her mouth as she noticed that the young Army warrant was worried. Reaching out, she said soothingly, “It will be okay. You’ve just gotten married, your wife just told you she’s pregnant, so there’s a lot on your plate right now. Everything is going to be fine.”
Tait gave her a relieved look, his green eyes dark. “Thanks for understanding. I don’t mind flying medevac. That doesn’t scare me.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and said, “That monster in the back scares the livin’ bejesus outta me.”
“The 105s can’t blow up,” she said, trying to hide her smile, pulling on her Nomex flight gloves and making sure they were secure. “It takes an explosives charge behind it to send it flying through the air. And only on impact will a 105 detonate. So relax. Okay?”
Tait grumbled to himself as he secured everything in the cockpit. “We’re ready to roll.”
“Okay,” Sarah said lightly, “let’s get the first engine online.” She sat back and let him do the dog work. He’d flown enough with her and built his confidence up enough to take off and land. He wasn’t ready to bring the bird into a hot landing to pick up wounded yet, however. She was proud of Tait’s work ethic.
The Black Hawk’s engines began to whistle. There was one on each side of the rotor assembly, which sat on top of the roof. Sarah enjoyed the vibration of the engine, as if it were waking up. Tait got the second engine going, adjusted the fuel throttles overhead and then she made a call to the tower, asking for permission to make a rolling takeoff. After receiving it, Tait engaged the rotor, the blades starting to move sluggishly around and around. As he fed the engines more fuel, the helo began to shudder and vibrate around Sarah.
Tait pulled down his dark visor over the top half of his face, guiding the Black Hawk with the rudders beneath his feet. Sarah sat back and became his second set of eyes. A load of ammunition was a critical flight and no one wanted any accidents on the ground with another aircraft. She threw a thumbs-up at him after checking out both windows to ensure no other aircraft were in the vicinity. Tower gave them permission to roll.
“Take off,” she told Tait.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Sarah adjusted the overhead throttles, feeding the two engines maximum fuel for takeoff. Because the helo was maxed out weight-wise, Tait took the helo to the very end of the three thousand foot runway. They would roll down the length of it, gathering top speed needed to lift off with the pallet on board. Sarah watched the instrument panel for him. In no time, the helo took off, grabbing air to gain altitude in the cloudy morning sky.
“Nice takeoff,” Sarah complimented him. She saw him grin a little, relief in his expression. Tait loved flying like she did, always feeling better in the air. Turning, she looked between the seats, ensuring the pallet had not shifted or moved. It was where it needed to remain. If the pallet was loose it would slide and then the weight differential would put the helo in jeopardy. And no matter how much a pilot worked the controls and rudders, they could never overcome the three-thousand-pound difference. The helo would then be out of their control. And in their business, there were no parachutes.
Chapter 6
“FOB Thunder this is Heavy One, over.” Sarah waited for an answer as she took over the controls from Tait. Ahead of them was a narrow, green valley with nine-thousand-foot mountains rising on either side of it. To her, it looked like a gauntlet. This was Taliban territory and the enemy utilized the hundreds of caves in the honeycombed dolomite mountains on both sides of the valley. Plus, mountains created dangerous down drafts that could suck in a helicopter, slamming it to the earth. She guided the Black Hawk over to the western side, hugging the mountains at eighty-five hundred feet. Any higher, and they could encounter CAT, which wasn’t an option with a pallet of ammo on board.
“FOB Thunder, Heavy One. Over.”
Sarah said, “FOB Thunder, will arrive in ten minutes with your pallet of ammo. Be ready to unload? Over.”
“Roger that, Heavy One. We’re waiting for it. Contact us five minutes out. Over.”
“Copy that, FOB Thunder. Heavy One out.”
Sarah gripped the controls a little more firmly. Up ahead was a thunderstorm looming to the north of FOB Thunder. The base sat upon an eighty-five-hundred-foot hill, overlooking the valley of Shinwari villages. Sweat began to gather on her upper lip. She glanced at Tait, who was tense but focused, doing his job of looking for the winking of rifle fire or an RPG being thrown at them.
If they flew down the center of the valley, they became a target for Taliban encamped on both sides of the mountains surrounding the valley. This way, they had only one side firing at them. Still, she continually tweaked the controls, feeling the sucking in of the drafts created by being so close to the mountains. The valley was a mile wide, small and narrow.
*
Ethan was on comms, sitting with the three other SEALs dug into a hide for the two snipers, Dagger and Dusty, who were actively searching for Taliban down below and to the north of their position through their scopes. They’d been flown in before dawn by Night Stalker Army helo pilots and dropped off. So far, the SEAL snipers had found nothing. That didn’t mean the enemy wasn’t around. They knew SEALs would be hunting them so they were always hiding and taking advantage of the thousands of caves in the area.
Ethan was surprised to hear Sarah’s voice, suddenly realizing her call sign meant she was carrying weapons or ammunition on board. She had standby duty today. Scowling, Ethan picked up his binos—binoculars—and aimed them south to pick up the Black Hawk. Sure enough, it was just entering the valley.
“Hey,” Trace whispered, sitting nearby, “what the hell is that helo doing so low in the valley? That’s bad news.”
Mouth quirking, Ethan muttered, “It could be weather related. That’s Sarah piloting it.”
“Dammit,” Trace breathed, squinting and looking south. “We know Taliban are down to the north of us. They’ve been seen peeking out of caves they’re hiding in.”
Tension raced through Ethan. A terrible feeling overwhelmed him. Maybe because Sarah was being forced to fly low to avoid clear-air turbulence, he felt the sudden tension. She was flying a damn load of ammo, forced to stay within the confines of the valley, the helo became a juicy target for every Taliban who heard the whumping blades. The noisy blades would alert their enemy in a heartbeat.
Ethan couldn’t stand it. He laid down the binos and took another radio to switch to the air channel that would connect him with Sarah.
“Heavy One this is Enterprise Actual. Be apprised of tango activity in this valley. Can you adjust your altitude? Over.” Ethan knew Sarah would recognize his voice. She knew he was in a valley on patrol, just not which one.
“Enterprise Actual, this is Heavy One. No joy. We are sandwiched between CAT and our present position. Cannot, repeat, cannot fly above the valley. Over.”
Son of a bitch! Ethan’s mouth curved downward. He heard Trace curse and shake his head. “Roger that, Heavy One. Out.” How much he wanted to say to Sarah and couldn’t. Every radio transmission was recorded for all to hear in Bagram. She probably heard the tension in his voice, though, wanting her to climb to hell out of this poisonous valley.
The whumping of the blades echoed strongly now. He watched through squinted eyes as Sarah hugged the side of the valley opposite where his SEAL team was located. His heart rate picked up, knowing she was taking ammo to the FOB at the other end of this valley. Dammit!
He pushed his fingers through his hair. The two snipers were prone, overlooking a ledge, their .300 Win Mags focused on some caves a quarter of a mile away from them. They were patiently waiting for the Taliban to leave the cave and then they’d pick th
em off. The Taliban knew the SEALs had them dialed in, so they were staying put, at least for now. It became a waiting game.
Suddenly, Ethan heard a sound that turned him to ice. Jerking a look to his right, he saw a bright flash out of that cave the snipers were watching.
“Hell!” Dagger yelled, “Stinger!”
Gasping, Ethan grabbed his radio, terror galvanizing him. “Sarah!” he yelled, “Stinger three o’clock. Evade! Evade!”
*
She had seconds to respond. Oh, God, no…
Ethan’s hoarse shout of warning rang through her helmet at the same time a buzzer inside their cockpit screeched its warning of a missile targeting them. Sarah saw the Stinger erupt from a cave across the valley. Instantly, she turned her bird’s nose toward it, trying to make her helo a smaller target of opportunity.
“Chaff and flares!” Sarah ordered Tait.
She prayed the counter measures would work. He would hit the triggers and small rockets would fire from beneath the belly of the Black Hawk. Flares were hot and could also be part of their evasive maneuver. The rockets were designed to lure the heat-seeking missile away from an aircraft to follow them, instead.
“Released!” he yelled, his voice cracking with terror. Sarah saw the missile streaking toward them. One mile. Just one mile. And she was up against the mountains and couldn’t maneuver, evade or get the helo out of the way. Gripping the controls, she gritted her teeth, the warning scream constant in the cockpit now. The mountain had her trapped.
She turned the Black Hawk so its left side was toward the Stinger and she had the mountain on the right, her side of the cockpit. Everything started to slow down and that was when the adrenaline poured through her body. She felt the helo shuddering around her, saw the blinding glare of the missile coming straight at them. Heard Tait on the radio, yelling their position and reporting a missile being fired at them to TOC—tactical operations command—in Bagram. He gave the code word three times, letting them know they were going down.
Degree of Risk Page 8
