by Dana Marton
When the last piece of fruit was gone, he stopped and buried their leavings, then held out the AK-47. “You know how to use this?”
She shook her head.
“Not much to it. Just aim and squeeze the trigger.” He waited until she took the gun, tested its weight, held it to her shoulder. She looked unsure of herself, but at least she was giving it a try. He nodded to her with encouragement when she handed the rifle back, then turned and continued walking. “In case something happens to me,” he said, “keep east by the sun.”
Better to be prepared for every eventuality.
He had learned that lesson well as a marine, then again when he’d entered special training after being recruited into the SDDU, Special Designation Defense Unit, America’s secret weapon against terrorism. SDDU soldiers were expected to be the best of the best, and damn, it had stroked his ego to have been chosen. They had better weapons and more freedom to use them than anyone, and didn’t have to report to Congress or any military chain of command, but went straight to the Homeland Security Secretary.
Hell, Congress and all those generals didn’t even know the SDDU existed. The unit had been created to deal with problems that couldn’t be addressed in the open. To effectively fight terrorists who broke every rule, the U.S. needed a team that didn’t have any rules tying their hands, either. And that was the SDDU.
It really burned him that he had gotten taken out on his first mission. And the fact that he would never now pass the physical to get back in got under his skin even more.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. If we come across trouble, drop and roll to cover.”
Brian pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his bad leg. The old injury made a big difference. Not just the limp, but how weak the muscles were. It had been a while since he’d walked any farther than the bushes to relieve himself.
He had exercised over the years with the guerillas, done more push-ups and sit-ups than any ten men in a lifetime, but it was hard to exercise his legs in a cage that didn’t allow him to stand up. He hated the weakness, the knowledge that he was outnumbered and outgunned. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the woman depending on him now, raising the stakes of failure.
Damn. Things hadn’t exactly turned out as he had expected. She ended up being more capable than he had thought, and he less so. It ticked him off and so did the sudden doubts that assailed him. Had he done the right thing by dragging her into the jungle? He had thought he could protect her, but what if he couldn’t?
What the hell made him think she was better off with him? Maybe Omar would have reined in his men. Her letter would be on its way to her family by now. Sure as hell, he could offer her no guarantees.
“Thank you for bringing me with you,” she said from behind at the exact worst moment.
He turned back to her. Didn’t she realize they were in just as much danger now, if not more, than in the guerilla camp?
“You can thank me later. If we make it out of the jungle alive.”
HAMID WENT THROUGH the plans, thinking of the men he had chosen, reevaluating them one by one. He trusted them as much as he trusted anyone. The first phase of his plan looked good to go, but phase two bothered him.
His men had taken too many hostages. Americans, too, which could spell trouble. Westerners didn’t understand this part of the world, weren’t willing to play by its rules. He had made a fortune and financed a veritable army by picking up a Japanese or Russian businessman now and then, demanding silence and ransom from their families.
This time, it might be different. Just the scale of the kidnapping guaranteed that the government and media would get wind of it. He hoped to hell they didn’t choose to interfere. A smooth transaction was in everyone’s best interest.
He shuffled the papers and cursed Muhammad, the captain responsible for this mess. Muhammad was greedy, both for money and power. He bore watching.
The steel door opened and one of his men came in. “A messenger came from Omar.”
From Omar. It had happened then. He nodded his approval to let the messenger in, only slightly surprised, with a faint regret for the death of Jamil, who had been a friend in the old days. So the younger brother took the camp. It wasn’t altogether unexpected.
Omar was another man he wouldn’t want to turn his back to. In fact, Muhammad reminded him of Omar a lot.
The messenger looked unsure of himself as he conveyed his leader’s greetings.
Hamid waved away the formalities. “How are things with my friend, Omar?”
“Jamil had an accident.”
He expressed his regrets, having no illusions about what had happened. Most likely, the accident had been a bullet in the back. Omar had been coveting his brother’s position for years.
Hamid leaned back in his chair, considering how this would effect his plans. He had been trying to get Jamil to join the operation, but Jamil had dragged his heels, disliking making war on civilians. Omar had no compunctions, which would make things easier. But could a man who would kill his own blood be trusted?
He watched the messenger closely. “All is well in camp?”
The man looked down. “We had a hostage that escaped.”
Hamid lifted an eyebrow. Omar wasted no time going after money, did he? “The jungle will take care of him.” He shrugged.
“It was a woman. That soldier prisoner broke out and took her with him.”
He sat up straight, interested now, knowing well of Jamil’s foreign soldier, the man he had insisted on keeping against advice. It was a running joke in the camps, how Jamil got stuck with him, wanting to make a point to his younger brother on who made the decisions.
That man could make it out of the jungle. That man could bring the army back with him. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Omar has everyone out looking?”
The messenger nodded, looking more nervous now than when he had arrived.
“Did anything else happen?”
“He—the prisoner—got some notes Omar sent you about Jamil….”
“And?”
“He pledged his help with the attacks.”
He stood up so fast he knocked the chair over. Swore. Damn the incompetent son of a bitch. He would not have his operation compromised now, not when everything was ready to go.
“Anything that would give us away?”
“That’s all he told me,” the man rushed to say.
He called out, and two fighters rushed in.
“Jamil’s prisoner escaped yesterday. Send as many men as you can. Have Muhammad take them.” This once, his captain was welcome to go overboard.
COME ON. COME BACK.
Audrey sat by the cave’s entrance, the AK-47 laid across her legs as she stared into the jungle. She had no idea what time it was. Her watch, along with her jewelry, was the first thing the guerillas had taken after they had captured her.
Brian hadn’t been gone more than a half hour, an hour at tops, but it felt like ten. She had plenty of time to worry about a whole list of worst-case scenarios. Like what would she do if a tiger decided to pay her a visit, or the guerillas found her, or something happened to Brian and he didn’t come back.
She rubbed her eyes. God, she was driving herself nuts. Brian would be back soon. Everything was going to be fine.
He had gone off to see if he could scare up some meat. They needed protein for strength, couldn’t survive on fruit, he’d said. He’d promised to build a fire when he came back. She decided to focus on that. Her clothes were no longer soaking wet, but still damp enough to be uncomfortable.
He would be back for her. She had to believe that. She listened to the birdcalls above, watched for the burst of color that flashed between the branches now and then.
Was Nicky out there somewhere looking up at the trees, same as her? Dear God, let her be unharmed.
Something rustled in the undergrowth to the left. Her muscles tensed, her heart in her throat in an instant. She tried to see beyond the p
rofusion of green fronds, but couldn’t make out anything. She gripped the gun and drew farther back into the cave.
More noise, then a branch snapping. She held her breath. Brian? She didn’t dare call out. Then she saw the fronds move. Something was definitely there, coming toward her.
A young fighter stepped into the clearing, scanning the area, rifle at the ready.
Her blood raced so fast it made her dizzy. She held her breath, hoping he couldn’t see her in the darkness of the cave.
But he did, and smiled when their eyes met.
He called back, a single word, but no response came from behind him, which gave her hope. Maybe he had wandered out of hearing distance from the others.
She scampered back toward the deeper reaches of the cave, gripping her own gun in her sweaty palms, although she didn’t dare shoot. She had never shot anything. Her chances of hitting him were one in a million.
If she started shooting he would shoot back, with considerably more skill than she had. And a gunshot, too, could alert the rest of his group to their whereabouts. She would only use the rifle if she had no other choice, and only if she was sure she would hit him.
As young as he was, she was no match for him. Escape and evade, the term she’d heard Brian use popped into her head. Panic propelled her forward as she turned to run, seeing less and less the farther in she got. Her boots slammed against stone, the sound echoing in the cave, mixing with the slap of her pursuer’s steps.
Brian had said there were lime caves in these mountains that went on for miles underground. If this one had a fraction of that space— If she could evade this man until Brian came back— She rushed into a dark corridor, gasped the musty air, fear sending her lungs into overdrive.
Blindly she ran forward, her hands stretched in front of her in the darkness, hoping the path was straight. It wasn’t. She smacked into the stone wall and dropped the gun, bent to search for it but felt nothing other than small rocks, cold and sharp under her fingertips. It had to be here. She swept the ground, frantic.
The man was close enough for her to hear his breathing, smell his sweat. Forget the gun. Her hand on the wall, she moved ahead, hoping for a fork in the road, or a crevice she could flatten herself into while he went by.
She hadn’t walked a few steps when she was brought hard to the ground. The pain in the side of her skull was blinding. Her head spun for a moment as she struggled against the weight that pinned her down. She clawed at him, felt his fingers close around one wrist first, then the other as he swore in the darkness.
“No. Please.” She tried to catch her breath.
He pulled her to her feet and dragged her toward the light. She kicked and missed. He shook her and dragged her on, threw her to the ground once they were back in the larger cavern that received enough sunlight to see.
He asked something she couldn’t understand. She shook her head as she sat up, then noticed the knife in his belt and lunged for it.
He outmaneuvered her with ease, but ended up falling on her, pressing her back into the sharp rocks.
Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have gone for his weapon. She had really pissed him off. The sight of his anger-reddened face paralyzed her limbs. Then his features changed as he brought up a hand to cup her breast.
“Stop.” She struggled against him with new desperation.
He reached between them and ripped her pants. A scream pushed its way up her throat but she swallowed it back. His people were probably closer than Brian. She didn’t want them to find her. There was a slim chance she might be able to fight off this one, but if the rest came, she was finished.
She felt around with shaking hands for a suitable rock on the ground. Nothing but dirt and gravel. Figured. At least a half-dozen rocks dug against her ribs. She tried to twist aside, but the man on top of her wouldn’t allow her the movement.
Expect the worse. Expect that you’re going to get hurt. The words of some self-defense expert from a TV show a couple of years ago floated back to her. She had to keep a clear head, resist the panic, look for an opportunity.
The man on top of her was stronger than she, and it wasn’t even so much his extra bulk of muscles, but that he knew how to fight. She could do nothing to stop him.
Accepting the inevitable brought a strange sense of control. When he violated her body, there would be a moment of advantage. She would wait for that moment and try again for his knife. She would not allow him to take her back to camp. That was the most important thing. No matter what else he did, he must not keep her from her mission. Not when her sister’s life depended on her.
She steeled herself, but instead of the pain she expected, the man’s head snapped back and he fell from her. Brian slit the attacker’s throat with one smooth move from ear to ear and shoved the lifeless body to the side.
“Are you all right?” He turned to her.
She stared at the gushing blood and threw up the bananas.
When Brian stepped forward, she backed away in horror. He towered over her, his hands bloody. It was okay. He was okay. He was the guy who had saved her, she told herself, but her brain had trouble catching up.
He stood for a moment, looking at her, then went to squat next to the man and search the body. She looked away, gagging anew at the sight of the blood that was now pooling on the ground.
“We have to get moving,” he said a minute later.
She nodded and stood, held her pants together with one hand as she walked toward the opening of the cave.
“Where is the other gun?” Brian left the man and was coming toward her with the new rifle and the extra knife.
She flinched away. “Back in the corridor. I dropped it.” Her voice trembled. “It’s too dark to see in there.”
He looked her over, then went back to the fallen man, took his belt and held it out for her. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it. Brian nodded and gave her the rope that held up his own pants. When she didn’t move, he helped her tie her khakis in place, touching her as little as possible. She was shaking by the time he was done.
“There are a half-dozen guerillas a quarter mile downhill. Stay behind me and stay quiet,” he said as he stepped out of the cave.
Chapter Three
His knee was killing him. Brian looked up, but could not see the sun from the thick canopy above. Still, it had to be close to the end of the day. The animals were beginning to make their evening sounds, and light had dimmed a little in the last half hour or so. Night fell fast in the jungle, and they hadn’t found shelter yet. The hillside was supposed to be riddled with caves. Just not when you were looking for one.
“We’ll stop here,” he said.
At least the rain had quit for now. He leaned his gun against a tree trunk and scanned the ground for some dry leaves and twigs. But, of course, everything was wet and so were they. The air was cooling off fast. Their soaked-through clothing would be cold and uncomfortable during the night, if he didn’t manage to make a fire.
He was used to this state of miserable affairs, but she wasn’t. If she got sick and weak it would slow them down, and that was something they couldn’t afford. And there was the matter of food, too. While he would have been fine with eating the meat raw, he doubted she felt the same. “Look for anything you think might burn.”
“Won’t a fire give us away?”
“Nobody walks in the jungle at night unless they absolutely have to. The chance of injury is too high, too easy to fall into something, getting bitten by things you can’t see.” He didn’t mention the night predators, didn’t want to make her too nervous to sleep. “My guess is Omar and his band will hole up somewhere for the night and start out fresh in the morning, hoping they’ll come across our trail.”
He reached for the paper in his shirt pocket. Soaking wet. Figured. A few minutes passed before he found a handful of dry leaves under a bush. He crumbled the leaves into a small pile, set a chunk of dry bark on top of them. From his shirt, he got some of the rope Audrey had be
en tied up with. That was wet, too, but it didn’t matter for his purposes. He peeled off a quarter-inch strand and made a small bow with a green stick. Then he found a dry one, sharpened one end and placed it in the middle of the bark next to the tinder and began moving it with the bow, as fast as he could, putting on the pressure.
He saw Audrey shiver from the corner of his eye. It would have been good if he could have brought the shirt from the man he’d taken out at the cave, but he had to leave it behind. The last thing you wanted in the jungle was to smell like blood. She probably wouldn’t have put it on anyway.
“Can I do anything?”
“No,” he said at first, then changed his mind and instructed her on how to make a sleeping platform. Better for both of them if she pulled her own weight. If anything happened to him, her life would be easier if she’d learned a few skills. He worked on making the fire while he explained what needed to be done.
An hour went by, maybe two, before he caught the faint scent of smoke—he had lost his once keen sense of time while in the cage. He blew gently on the leaves until he saw the first ember glow in the night that had fallen around them. He gave it more air then fed the small fire. There. They would be fine.
Audrey brought him a handful of dry twigs.
He took the wood with a nod. “Are you all right?”
She hadn’t said a word since they had left the cave. He had let her be, not wanting to push.
“Fine.”
The fire had grown enough so he could see her face now. Her expression was somber, but the shock and revulsion he’d seen at the cave were gone. She had been scared out of her wits. The man he had been four years ago could have comforted her. Now he had no idea what to say, what to do.
He was no good for her. Hell, he was probably no good for anyone. For anything.
The question he had tried to avoid wouldn’t go away. How was he supposed to go back to normal civilian life?
