Ethan sat there, watching the dirt clouds rolling out across the valley like a toxic stain. Every once in a while, he could see the massive crater the ammo explosion had created.
Dagger and Dusty noticed nothing through their scopes. They continued to scan the area, looking for a survivor. All they witnessed was the massive, jaw-dropping crater, gouged from the explosion on the large hill.
Another call came in to Ethan. It was the Army. They were sending in a team to investigate the crash. He shook his head, not caring.
Trace scowled. “They don’t know how to hunt for survivors,” he snarled.
“Well,” Ethan growled, “we’ll search the area and we’ll do it right.” Somehow, he didn’t know how, he knew Sarah was still alive. He could feel her. He swore he could, even though the grief and terror was eating him alive. No one saw anyone egress from the helo. She could have died in the Black Hawk. She could have died on impact. Tait, who was more than likely her copilot, could be dead, too. No one could have survived that explosion. No one….
Chapter 7
The toxic fumes surrounding the forty-foot crater made in the hillside by the ammo explosion choked Ethan. He could taste the metal in his mouth. By the time they got airlifted over to the hill, the Army investigation team had already arrived. He ordered his SEALs to range wide around the hill, weapons up, ready for any Taliban who thought they might sneak in to find anything of worth left from the crash.
Angry and grief stricken, Ethan moved to the other side of the hill where the original crash had occurred. He studied the long, tall rocks rising up out of the earth. On closer inspection, he noticed shards of Plexiglas scattered across them. Ethan swallowed back tears, forcing himself to focus.
Trace took the southern end of the hill, starting at the top and slowly working downward. Dusty took north, Dagger, west, and he started moving down the east side. It was a diamond pattern of sorts, something SEAL squads utilized to protect their flanks and one another. This time, they were using it to try and find Tait and Sarah. If they’d survived.
Wiping his eyes in frustration, Ethan marked where the helo had originally crashed before it started to slide down the western slope. In his mind, he mentally visualized what might have happened. The impact would have blown out the entire cockpit canopy outward. He found immediate proof: thousands of shards of Plexiglas littered the ground. Halting, Ethan searched for boot prints, anything, that might suggest someone survived.
Scowling, he knelt down, looking at an impact area in the dirt. What the hell was that? Whatever made the impression in the dirt, it had miraculously survived the explosion. Or at least part of it had. Studying the shape, trying to figure out what it reminded him of, Ethan rubbed his sweaty face. He removed his black baseball cap and pulled off his sunglasses. He rose. Maybe if he got some distance from it, something would trigger in his memory.
His eyes widened. His heart started beating harder in his chest. Could it be? Could it? He took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the impression. Excited, he shrugged out of his ruck, walked forward and then gently laid his ruck backward, next to disturbed soil. Hope flared in his chest.
Christ, could it be a partial impression of Sarah’s ruck? Had she thrown it out the window? And it landed here?
His heart began to pound frenetically as his gaze mercilessly swept between where the Black Hawk had originally crashed and where the ruck had fallen. Measuring the distance in his mind, Ethan knew it was possible. He instantly called the three other SEALs to come and join him.
In minutes, they arrived, hope in their expressions. Ethan told them what he’d discovered, showed them the position of the helo and where he’d found the imprint in the dirt. All of them went over and looked.
Trace studied the imprint. “That’s Sarah’s ruck,” he said, excited. “She’s the only one in that helo who had one. It has to be hers!”
Dagger and Dusty, who were not only snipers, but expert trackers, studied it longer, bending over it, hands on their knees looking at the impression and then at Ethan’s ruck beside it. Finally they rose.
“Damn, that’s her ruck,” Dagger confirmed, grinning widely.
Dusty turned and peered over the steep hill that dropped a hundred feet down to a brushy spot. “Hey, take a look at this.” He pointed down the hill.
Ethan walked over and stood looking where he was pointing. There, halfway down, was a small tree. Half the limbs were snapped off and broken. And they were fresh breaks. He dragged in a serrated breath. “Sarah could have leaped off the helo, grabbed her ruck and fallen over the cliff? Or jumped down the cliff?” he wondered, looking at the other SEALs.
“Hey,” Dagger grumbled, hands on his hips, intently studying the tree, “this whole area was covered with thick black smoke. We couldn’t see a damn thing through our scopes.”
“Okay,” Ethan rasped, his mind racing, “what if Sarah was blinded by the smoke? She wouldn’t have known this cliff was here. She could have grabbed the ruck, turned around and fallen over it. If she did, it sure as hell would have sent her flying.”
“Yeah,” Trace muttered, “right into that tree.”
“We need to get down below it,” Ethan muttered, already moving. “Maybe there’s a boot print or something we can pick up on her down there.”
He skidded, fell and got back up, taking huge leaps to get down the twenty-foot slope to a small area enclosed by brush. Ethan could barely control his wildly fluctuating emotions.
He hit the bottom first, slowing his forward motion, his intense gaze sweeping the area, looking for anything. His lungs burned as he gazed toward the clearing. The blast had rocked the entire hill. The earthquake sized explosion had not disturbed as much on this side of the hill.
Wait.
His pulse skyrocketed even more. Ethan’s mouth thinned, his eyes narrowing on the edge of the area. Was that a boot print? Oh, God, let it be one! He hurried around the brush, kneeling down. Grief mixed with hope. There was a partial boot print, one half of it. He could see it clearly from heel to toe. Ethan almost cried out as he realized it was Sarah’s boot because she had the smaller foot of a woman. A man’s boot would be at least an inch or two larger. And a flight boot tread was configured differently from a SEAL type. This was a flight boot impression.
The other three SEALs joined him and peered intently over his shoulder.
“It’s Sarah’s boot print,” Ethan rasped. “I’d know it anywhere.” He pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of it.
“Has to be,” Dagger growled. “Too small a print for a man’s boot. And it’s definitely a flight boot.”
Ethan stood up, moving in the direction of her print. He shoved through seven-foot-high brush, arms up to protect his face. Pushing savagely through the green wall, he ended up popping out the other side of it. He was staring at a cave.
Ethan called the SEALs to follow him. Kneeling down, he got onto his belly and moved into the cave, searching it. It was small. Nothing could hide in it. A lot of the ceiling was now rubble on the floor, biting at his hands and knees.
Trace leaned down near the small opening. “Here’s a light,” he said, thrusting toward Ethan.
“Thanks.” Ethan turned on the flashlight, sending the beam to the right. Nothing. He flashed to the left. Scowling, he thought he spotted a tunnel. He crawled forward on his belly because he wasn’t going to fit inside too well. Ethan pulled himself toward the dark hole. Breathing hard, perspiration running off his face, he blinked back the stinging sweat. It was hot and stifling in the cave. Cool wind was rising out of it from an unknown source below.
And then, Ethan’s heart stopped.
There, down on a broken ledge no more than an arm’s length away, was a piece of green, torn fabric. He pushed forward, grunting and straining because his body was jamming into the sides of the opening. Ethan reached out for it and his fingers caught hold of the fabric. He gripped it and brought it back, anxiously studying it under the light.
; “I think I’ve found a piece of her flight suit,” he called back to the SEALs waiting anxiously at the opening. “I’m going to try calling out for her.”
Ethan turned, twisting his body as much as he could to be in alignment with the tunnel ahead of him. He arced the light downward. The bottom was slick and felt like silk, dry and smooth beneath his fingertips.
The tunnel opened up a lot, enough for Sarah to slide down into it. But where did it end? How far did it go? His mind had a thousand questions and no answers. Straining hard, the tunnel biting into his broad shoulders, Ethan realized it suddenly ramped downward at an extreme angle. His light faded into grayness and he couldn’t see any end.
He called out loudly for Sarah. His voice echoed down the tunnel. Anxiously, he waited, hoping to hear her voice at the other end. Nothing. Frustrated, Ethan yelled as loudly as he could. And waited. Sweat was stinging his eyes and he cursed softly, wanting Sarah to answer. Son of a bitch!
Had she fallen and lost consciousness at the other end? A broken neck? Oh, God. Ethan tried three more times and there was never a returning answer. The silence made him even more afraid for her.
He struggled and pushed his way out of the small cave. Trace grabbed his hand and helped him stand. They all looked to him, hope burning in their eyes.
“I’m calling Master Chief,” Ethan choked out, breathing hard. “He’s got to know an Afghan interpreter who knows this area. This tunnel goes somewhere. Maybe there’s a cave entrance to it. Maybe the terp will know.”
“Can’t we get some ropes to go down there? Slide down the tunnel?” Trace asked.
Ethan shook his head. “That opening’s wide enough for Sarah, but not for us. We’re too damned big and we’d get stuck.”
*
Sarah had to rest. She figured she’d walked nearly a mile in a tunnel that twisted and turned, went up and down. There was gray light ahead, which she hoped might be a cave entrance. She was dizzy, and realized she had neglected to drink any water. Kneeling, she opened the ruck and pulled out a one-gallon water jug, twisted off the cap and drank deeply.
The water tasted so good. Once she got her fill, Sarah set it aside, sank down and leaned against the tunnel wall. Hands shaking badly, she could feel an adrenaline crash coming. She needed some protein to keep going. Dagger had put all her protein bars in an outside pocket so she pushed up the flap and located them. The peanut-butter-and-chocolate bar tasted delicious. Her ears throbbed with pain. The pressure waves from the blast had made her scream in pain as they had rippled through the cave. Now all she could hear was ringing. It bothered her and she took off her tattered Nomex gloves and dropped them into the ruck. Her left ear hurt, stabbing, nervelike pain off and on. Touching the outer part of it, her fingers touched warm fluid.
With her other hand, she immediately pulled out her penlight, turned it on and looked at her fingers. Blood. She groaned and shut her eyes for a moment. Her ear drum had been blown. What about the other one? She quickly checked. No blood. Both were ringing so loudly, she couldn’t hear anything.
After finishing the protein bar, Sarah stiffly got to her knees, closed the ruck and swung it over her shoulders. Her bruised body had stiffened up and she winced. Nevertheless, she took off at a fast stride, wanting to reach the light.
It took another ten minutes. Sarah halted, holding her hand up to her eyes to protect them. Clouds hid the sun, but light was pouring into the enormous cave. Beyond it, she saw thick brush and some trees. Wary, she waited near the tunnel, cursing mentally because she couldn’t hear a damned thing. Finally, she moved cautiously around the cave wall. Taliban were everywhere, she knew. Peeking out the opening, she glanced at her watch. It was 1400. And with the cloud cover, it wasn’t as hot as it could have been.
Sarah found an alcove near the entrance, and quickly hid behind the rocky wall. Getting down on her hands and knees, she shakily opened the ruck. That radio was going to save her life. Anxiety sped through her as she opened it up. Ox had put the SEAL radio in the upper right-hand corner of the ruck. The light was gray and she finally located the radio in a plastic bag, to protect it from water damage. Sarah lifted it to open it.
Oh, no!
Gasping, Sarah’s eyes widened with shock. Holding up the plastic bag to eye level, she saw the radio had been smashed into three pieces. Anxiety and panic swept through her. Kneeling on the dusty ground, she opened it up and pulled out the pieces. When had this happened? How? And then she recalled rocks breaking loose on the ceiling of the cavern. A rock must have fallen on the ruck and broken the radio. She then reached for the radio in her survival vest. It had also been crushed, probably when she fell off that rocky lip, landing on her belly.
Her eyes burned with tears and frustration. No radio, no way to get help. If the search party didn’t find bodies at the site, and Sarah knew they wouldn’t, there would be no search-and-rescue helicopters looking for her either. Her mind turned to other options, hard choices she’d now have to make. She remembered the miles between Camp Bravo and FOB Thunder, and realized she’d have to make her way to Thunder. It was twenty miles away but still closer than Bravo. Dammit!
Sarah fell back, suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline crash pulverizing her. Her mind churned with options, with realities. She decided to stay in the alcove to see if she heard a search-and-rescue helicopter flying nearby. If they were looking for her, she could light a green flare and they would locate her via the smoke rising into the air. If none came, then, the torturous truth would be staring her in the face: everyone believed she’d died in that crash.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Sarah tipped her head back, closed her eyes and tried to think. Love for Ethan welled up powerfully through her and she wanted to sob. Would the SEALs believe she was dead, too? Ethan’s team was opposite where the crash had occurred. Her mind was muddled and she felt incredibly tired. For just a few moments, Sarah wanted to sleep.
*
Master Chief Gil Hunter looked at the evidence Ethan gave him out in the big room. All the SEALs who weren’t on patrol were there, silent and grim. Hunter appraised the picture of the boot print near the cave. The torn piece of fabric matched the other flight suit Sarah had in her room.
It was 1700 and everyone in his platoon was grief stricken. Ethan was understandably on edge. Gil could see it in his shooter’s gray eyes, red rimmed, haunted-looking. If it had been his wife out there, he’d be a wild man like Hawk, tearing up heaven and hell to find her. But it had to be done right. His mouth pulled in at the corners.
“Dagger? Go to my office and bring me the map of that area.”
Dagger hurried to the master chief’s office, found it and spread it out on the long table. Everyone crowded around it.
“She crashed here,” Hunter said, planting an index finger on the map. “You have twenty miles to FOB Thunder. Thirty miles back to Bravo. If Sarah isn’t injured, she knows by now that no one’s looking for her. And if we start buzzing search-and-rescue over that valley, they’re going to take fire and might get shot down by the Taliban. We’ve already lost one helo to a Stinger. We don’t know how many more Stingers Khogani might have left. This is Khogani’s area and he’s active in it. Plus, he’s smart enough to know if a helo is flying around looking for someone, someone managed to survive that crash. And then Khogani will start his own search for Sarah.” Hunter lifted his head and drilled Ethan a look. “We aren’t sitting on our thumbs here, Hawk. I want to save her just as much as you do, but roaring in there with guns firing isn’t going to get it done.” His voice hardened with authority. “It could get her killed. And a bunch of us, as well.”
Ethan nodded, his chest tightening. He’d come back to the base, madder than hell, raising all kinds of chaos trying to get his platoon to do something to find Sarah. The Army had turned him away, saying no one survived. They didn’t believe the evidence they’d collected earlier from the crash site belonged to either Army pilot.
Hunter watched Ethan settle down, his eyes becoming
less haunted, more focused. He said quietly, “Here’s what we’re going to have to do. We’ve had no radio call for help from Sarah. We have to assume the radio isn’t working. We don’t know why, but it isn’t.”
Ox snarled, “I checked that thing out last night, Master Chief. It was workin’.”
Hunter nodded, unruffled. “There’s no blame here, Ox.”
“Perhaps a rock from the ceiling of the cave damaged it. Or perhaps when she slid down that tunnel, the radio was smashed when she came out the other end of it.”
All the SEALs looked in the direction of the man who softly made those suggestions.
“Ah, Reza. Good that you’re here,” Hunter murmured, waving him over to the table. He offered his hand to the Afghan interpreter.
Reza made the customary Muslim salutation, smiled and shook Hunter’s hand. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You’re right on time,” Hunter said. He rolled his shoulders and looked at his men. “Reza is a Shinwari tribesman. Two years ago, Mustafa Khogani raided the village where he lived. His whole family, wife and five children, were murdered by him. The village was razed. A hundred and fifty innocent men, women and children died in that attack.” Gil’s mouth thinned. “Reza, who was the village cobbler, was twenty miles south at another village at the time of the raid. It’s the only reason he’s alive today. He’s been helping black ops in this area ever since to rid his valley of the Taliban.”
Ethan noticed how the lean Afghan’s face reflected sorrow. He couldn’t even begin to imagine losing his entire family. It was tragic. But he also saw a glimmer of life in Reza’s large, intelligent eyes. His black hair was receding from his forehead as he took off his dark brown rolled-wool cap and held it between his hands. “I’m sorry,” Ethan managed.
Reza bowed slightly to him. “It was Allah’s will, my friend. But there is nothing in the Koran that does not allow me to seek revenge against Khogani.” He opened his small, delicate hand. “I often work with SEALs in this area where your Sarah is missing.” Reza walked over to the map. He tapped the cave where Ethan had found the evidence. “This is a very long tunnel, perhaps nearly half a mile in length. When I was a child, we would enter the cave here and all of us would slide down it.”
Degree of Risk Page 10
