Their last conversation, the night before, haunted him. Sarah had made a breakthrough, a realization that she wasn’t going to be a monster mother in the image of Marg Caldwell, who had abused her. His mouth tightened. He knew their children would be beautiful and intelligent, like their mother. Sarah was an exceptional person, but she didn’t realize it. God, if he could just be given a chance to show her. If they just had the time…
Ethan turned over in the cot, jamming the pillow into shape beneath his head. He remembered one time at the village, how Sarah had lifted one little girl into her lap to fit her with a new pair of shoes. Just the glowing look on Sarah’s face, that vulnerable love being given to the child who looked up at her with such adoration, had told him everything. Sarah would hold their baby and give it every ounce of love she possessed. Despite her trauma, that line from her heart to children remained unbroken and strong.
Would they be given a chance to find out? Would Sarah survive this? His stomach clenched so damned hard, Ethan groaned, rubbing the area with his hand. Helplessness shadowed him like a demon, whispering all the terrible things that could happen to rip Sarah permanently out of his world. The only thing that stopped him from going ballistic was Sarah’s inner toughness, a soul-strength that had been developed from birth onward. She’d survived so many traumas where others would have been destroyed by them. She had a formidable backbone.
*
Sarah felt as if her knee joints were going to crack. The crash had jammed her knees but good. Wearily, she took note of the gray light on the horizon of the Hindu Kush mountain peaks. She was soaked from walking through one thunderstorm cell after another. She shivered because the temperature had dropped drastically. Early September was a turning point in the mountains. It could begin snowing at any time and she was not dressed or prepared for that kind of turn of weather.
Compressing her mouth, she moved into a cave that would be her layup for the day. She pushed up her NVGs and carefully stepped inside the dry maw. Moving to the rear, she saw there was a tunnel leading to the right and left. She heard nothing to indicate anyone was inside. She chose the right tunnel. It wasn’t that long but what interested Sarah were the four holes in the rock wall. She peered into the first hole with her penlight. If possible, she wanted to find one that was large enough for her to climb into and hide in.
All four tunnels into the wall were large enough for her. She chose the one that looked as if she could scoot deepest into it. Maybe she could get around that curve with her ruck and remain invisible to prying eyes. Did Taliban search these holes? Sarah had no idea. She sat down and drank water and ate.
Exhaustion stalked her as she stood and pushed her ruck up into her chosen tunnel. Scrambling up to it, boots pushing against the jagged white rock, she launched herself inside. She grunted and groaned, her muscles stiff because she was wet and chilled. Somehow, Sarah made it in.
Eventually, she was able to get most of her body around the curve. The only parts she couldn’t were her lower legs and boots. She used the ruck as a pillow. It was nearly dark in the tunnel, gray light filtering weakly inside. Closing her eyes, Sarah tried not to think about spiders and other creepy crawlies that might be sharing this tunnel with her. She hoped the tunnel would warm her up as her teeth began to chatter.
Her mind was restless at first as she lay there on the rocky floor. Her heart always remained focused on Ethan. Was he grieving for her? Thinking she was dead? Her heart ripped with pain over how he must be feeling. She tried to keep her mind on her progress during the night. She estimated she’d made it five to seven miles through the storms. It was a start, she reminded herself, her lashes falling against her cheeks. Her last thoughts were of Ethan and how much she loved him. Nothing else mattered to her but him and their promised life together.
*
The SEAL team located the pool cave after an hour’s walk from their infil landing zone. The sky was lightening in the east as Ethan crouched next to Reza, who was going to be their guide, at the lip of the cave. The SEALs were in full gear, with M4 rifles, heavy rucks, and twelve mags—magazines—of ammo for their rifle. They were going in prepared. Ethan pushed his boonie hat off his brow, sweating heavily. Anxiously, he looked around the outside of the cave. Dagger and Dusty, the snipers, were carefully walking past them, alert, their eyes on the ground, searching for any possible boot prints.
“There,” Reza said, pointing past Ethan, toward the edge of the cave. He came out of his crouch and carefully stepped into the cave. Pulling out a small flashlight, the Afghan moved the beam. There was a rock alcove and he halted, frowning.
Ethan took a long drink of water from his CamelBak. He watched Reza intently, anxiety coursing through him. They had to find Sarah’s boot prints here or else the mission would be scrubbed. There was no sense in risking a SEAL team in this hotbed of Taliban territory if she hadn’t come this way.
Reza crouched down, his light moving here and there. He lifted his head and gave Ethan a big grin. “She’s been here.” He gestured to Ethan. “Come, see for yourself.”
All the SEALs moved quietly into the cave. Dagger cleared the area and then came back to where they were all crouched.
“Look,” Reza said, standing and pointing, “her tracks show she stayed behind this group of rocks. And you can see an impression of her ruck, too.” Reza then followed the prints toward the rear of the cave, his smile growing. He turned and said, “Her prints are coming out of the pool area. I’m going to follow them, go down to it and see what I can find.”
“Hey,” Dusty whispered, standing at the other end of the cave opening, “more boot tracks.” He gestured north. “She’s walking this way, toward Thunder.” He grinned, throwing them a thumbs-up.
Relief almost shattered Ethan. He knelt by Sarah’s tracks, closed his eyes and tried to get a hold of his emotions. He felt Trace rise beside him and pat him on the shoulder.
“Your lady is a survivor,” Trace murmured, smiling.
Choking down his feelings, Ethan rose and rasped, “I want to wait to contact Hunter until Reza returns from the pool. He might have some more intel.”
Nodding, Trace looked around the huge cave. “We’re on it, bro.”
Dagger was moving slowly around the rest of the cave. He then slipped like a silent shadow down the tunnel to the left. When he reemerged, he was scowling.
Going over to Ethan and Trace, he said quietly, “Plenty of horse prints, sandal prints and bare feet back there. All Taliban.”
Nodding, Ethan watched the right tunnel. He knew Reza would be trotting a mile to reach the pool. Anxiety sped through him. “How old?”
Dagger shrugged. “Can’t really tell except the tracks are clean and sharp. They’re not worn down by time and they haven’t deteriorated. Maybe two or three days ago, the Taliban camped in here.”
“Let’s take ten and get water and food,” Ethan told them. What had Reza found? Sarah’s prints were leading out of that tunnel, into this cave. Dusty had located her prints heading north. His hands shook as he pulled a protein bar from one of the pockets of his H-gear. Sarah was alive! She was ambulatory. Oh, God, protect her out there. Please…God…
Reza returned half an hour later smiling and carrying Sarah’s helmet. He joined the SEALs, who were eating and tanking up on water. Crouching near Ethan, he said, “I also found another piece of her uniform.” He handed the small piece of fabric to Ethan. “She hit the water and got out of the pool. She sat down with her ruck near the pool. The room is heavily littered with rocks that have fallen from the walls and ceiling. I’m sure it is because of the ammunition blowing up. I found her helmet near the wall of the cave. Her tracks are good and steady, so while she may be bruised and shaken from the crash and sliding down into that cave, she appears healthy.”
More relief flooded Ethan. Dagger took a photo of the fabric and Sarah’s helmet. It would be uplinked from his computer to Camp Bravo. “Okay, I’m making a call to Master Chief Hunter. Good work, Reza. Get som
e food and water and then we’re moving out.”
*
Sarah heard screams. At first, she thought it was her screaming. Jerking awake, she hit her head on the top of the tunnel. She cursed softly, held her head and tried to orient.
More screams. Women. Two different screams.
Scowling, she pushed herself out of the tunnel, her heart starting to pound. Sarah had seen a Shinwari village surrounded by a five-foot wall as she’d stopped at this cave at dawn. It was at least a quarter of a mile away from the cave itself.
As she slipped out of the tunnel, she put on the ruck and pulled her .45 from her shoulder holster. Something was terribly wrong. She hurried to the entrance of the cave and peeked around it. No one was there. The shrieks of a woman were clear now. Her heart rate amped up as she sprinted to the entrance. It was a little girl’s shriek that scared her the most. So much like her screams as she was dragged out of her hiding place by Bill Caldwell.
Sarah made sure the path was clear outside the cave before she sprinted into the brush on the opposite side, trying to see what was going on. She crouched at the edge of the bushes. Her eyes widened. Adrenaline surged through her.
There, less than sixty yards away were four Taliban soldiers and their horses. They had caught a young mother and her daughter, who was about nine years old, outside the protection of the walls of their village. Two soldiers were dragging the woman to the ground, grabbing for her dress. Sarah’s gaze swung to the child. She was fighting, kicking and screaming, terror in her face as one soldier shoved her down on the ground. They were laughing and grinning at one another as they loosened their trousers.
Violent rage flowed through Sarah. She wasn’t going to let it happen. No way. She lifted her .45, both hands around it, drawing a bead on the soldier who was with the child. She knew she was compromising her position. And she knew Taliban usually moved in bands of ten or more on horseback. Son of a bitch! Mouth tight, her eyes growing to slits, Sarah let her finger brush the trigger. The .45 bucked in her hands, but she swiftly brought it back into place, aiming for the next soldier. He was knocked backward off his feet by the second bullet. She then sighted the two who were bending over the mother. Her shots were quick and both went down before they could reach for their rifles. The horses startled, galloping off in different directions.
Sarah wiped her mouth, moving into a crouch, her heart hammering away. She watched the mother scramble to her feet, scoop up her sobbing child, and flee back toward the safety of her village. Other villagers were now running out to meet her, men with rakes and shovels, coming to try to protect them.
Sarah smiled a little, watching the four soldiers on the ground. Two were still weakly moving. The other two were dead. She stood, trembling violently. The child’s cries had torn through her and Sarah wasn’t sorry she’d protected them. No one had protected her, but by God, if she was around and saw it happening to another child or woman, she’d do something about it.
Sarah walked back toward the cave. She heard a sound that resembled thunder. The sky was cloudy and it looked as if it was going to rain again. What the hell was that noise? Turning, she halted at the cave entrance. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the pounding of horses’ hooves. Damn! More Taliban. Looking around, Sarah realized her pistol shots had drawn them into the area. Fright moved through her as she turned on her booted heel and ran back toward the safety of her tunnel. Without a doubt, they would aggressively search the area for her. Now her life was in real jeopardy.
Sprinting to the tunnel, Sarah threw the ruck into it and scrambled inside. The sounds of angry screams and orders in Pashto drifted into the cave. The Taliban soldiers on horseback were pissed. Breathing hard, she pushed forward into the tunnel. Sarah could hear her flight suit ripping here and there, but didn’t care. She had to hide.
*
Mustafa Khogani cursed richly from his black Arabian stallion as his twenty men surrounded four of his soldiers lying bleeding on the ground. Who had done this? He glared toward the Shinwari village, the high wooden door shut.
Several of his men had dismounted, going to help their wounded comrades. Rubbing his black beard, Khogani’s dark brown gaze swept the area. The only place those shots could have come from was that cave directly in line with his soldiers’ bodies. And it had been a .45 pistol. He knew the different sounds of the weapons Americans carried. His mind reeled with possibilities. SEALs carried a SIG Sauer 9 mm pistol. The only ones who carried .45s were helicopter pilots and Army officer land forces.
“My lord,” a soldier said, running up to him. “Two are dead and the other two—” he shook his head “—they will die, too.”
“Ask the two who are alive what they saw. Who shot them?” Khogani growled, his anger building. The cave. Someone was in that cave. Who? His men had brought down that Black Hawk helicopter with the Stinger missile. Was it possible the crew survived? He shook his head, finding that impossible. Still…it was a .45 and Army pilots wore the pistol in a shoulder holster.
His eyes grew to slits as he turned his stallion around, measuring where the bodies of his men were in relation to the cave. He noticed a lot of brush just outside it. Had the pilot seen them? And if he did, where was he now?
“My lord,” the soldier panted, “the one says the shots came from that cave.” He pointed toward it.
“Just as I thought,” Khogani snarled. “Mount up! Leave these men where they are. We’ll bury them after we’ve found the infidel who has killed them.”
Within minutes, the twenty men were at the cave. Khogani told them to remain on either side. He didn’t want tracks destroyed. Ordering one of his trackers to look for fresh tracks, he waited impatiently on his horse. He looked up. It was a hundred-foot wall, part of a larger hill above them.
He watched his tracker move, crouched, head down. Breathing hard, Khogani wanted this dog of an American. It must have been someone from that helicopter crew who had survived. It had to be! And Khogani wanted to find him.
“My lord,” the tracker called, “fresh prints, one person, military tread.” The Afghan pointed toward the rear of the cave. “And he went this way. There are tracks leading out of the cave toward that brush.” He gestured toward it. “And then, he is running back into the cave, that way.”
Khogani gave a hand signal for his men to dismount. He left the saddle, handing the stallion’s reins to an awaiting soldier. “Follow me. We’re going to find this demon!” he roared, pulling out the pistol from his holster. Unsafing it, he put a cartridge in the chamber of his Glock 19, walking with murder in his eyes to where his tracker was standing.
*
Ethan’s head snapped up as he heard the first shot. The echo rolled down the valley toward their position. The rest of the SEALs froze, as well. It was a .45 pistol! Ethan knew the sound well. And then, three more shots were fired. He cursed softly. It had to be Sarah’s pistol! All the Army pilots carried one.
“What the hell?” Dagger growled, listening.
Trace cursed softly. “Man, that has to be Sarah.”
“It sounds at least five miles away from us,” Reza said.
Ethan grimaced. The sky had retained its low ceiling and was completely clouded over. No drones were up due to the CAT. The satellite couldn’t pierce the cloud layer. They were screwed. His mind whirled with options. Would there be more gunfire? If there was, it meant she was fighting a force of unknown size and strength.
The air grew quiet once again. They waited and looked at one another. What had happened? Ethan wondered. Sarah knew better than to fire off a pistol in a heavily enemy-held territory. Especially in daylight hours. What had made her to do that? Had the Taliban found her?
Frustrated, he called into Camp Bravo and reported it. There was nothing anyone could do at this point. If Ethan sprinted five miles down that goat path in front of the caves, it could get them all killed. He had to slow down and think.
Dusty walked over. “Listen,” he told Ethan, “she’s compromised he
r position, wherever she is. It’s bound to draw Taliban attention.”
“I know that,” Ethan rasped, anger warring with fear.
“We need to be cautious, but head north,” Dagger said, scowling. “We could run into another Taliban force. With no drone eyes on this mess, we’re blind. We can’t just go running into the fray.”
Ethan nodded. “All right, let’s saddle up. Dagger, you’re point. Let’s take it cautious. The Taliban knows an American is in the vicinity. They may think the SEALs are around, too.”
Trace grinned. “We are, bro, and maybe that will help Sarah. They know we’re out hunting them down.”
Ethan allowed his men to go in front. Dagger was not only point, but also looking for tracks. The path was muddy and Sarah’s boot prints were easy to follow. What kind of trouble was she in? Why the hell did she fire her pistol? He didn’t want to know. The only fact staring them in the face right now was that the Taliban must know her position. Son of a bitch!
Chapter 9
Khogani followed his trackers. The boot tracks ceased because the passageway within the tunnel was all rock and no dirt. No one could track on rock. His lips lifted in a sneer as he looked down one passageway and then the other.
“I want a soldier in each tunnel. Run it back as far as it goes. If you see the American, I want this infidel alive. And if you find nothing, come back and let us know how long the tunnels are.”
Instantly, two men bounded forward, then split up. Rubbing his beard in frustration, Khogani wandered down the tunnel to his right. There were four narrow channels going back into the massive rock wall. He stopped at each one, assessing it, looking for broken pieces of rock on the floor beneath to suggest someone might have climbed into it. It could be a clue. It could also be an animal taking up residence in it. Or a human. No one knew how far these tunnels went in or where they went. Still, Khogani knew from experience, people hid in them. He smiled a little, continuing his stroll farther into the tunnel. There was a way to fix that, too.
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