Voice of Freedom

by H. L. Wegley

  Then his arms softened, forming to the contours of her body.

  Julia looked up into what had been fierce eyes.

  Now, Steve's eyes focused on her, intense, but no longer threatening.

  He cupped her cheeks and tilted her head upward.

  Steve wanted to kiss her.

  “Steve, how much do I remind you of Steph?”

  “Enough. But not … too much for—”

  She placed her fingers over his lips, softly. Not ending the moment, just postponing it. “What is it you really want, Steve? Your twin sister back, or a woman who will be much more than a sister? I need to know.”

  He answered her, but not with words.

  His kiss was not what she expected from a warrior. So gentle.

  Was it really possible that God could create men whose jobs were to kill people when necessary, but having hearts that could leave behind the callous killing, return to a loving state, and come home as caring husbands and fathers?

  If God could create such men, did that mean people like her, a person who despised killing, could have a relationship with such a man?

  It was her first real kiss. Julia had never let any boy or man kiss her. Not on the lips. But how had she let her mind go on such a wild excursion in the middle of it? Somewhere in all of those thoughts, their gentle kiss had ended. She missed at least half of it and there was only one way get it back.

  Steve’s eyes held a puzzled expression, plain to see even in the starlight. “Julia, what are you thinking? If I shouldn't have done that, I'm—”

  Julia stopped his words with a kiss that she initiated, one that she would end, but not before she savored every second of it without any distractions. As Steve would say, mission accomplished.

  But, now, what must Steve think about her. “Steve … I … I want you to know that I’ve never done that before … ever.”

  She had no idea if this relationship could ever work, long-term. But, for the moment, Steve Bancroft, the warrior, had stolen her mind and heart with a story and a kiss.

  From somewhere in the past an old western movie came to mind—a story about a sheriff who married a Quaker. The title was something about noon. When her mind replayed the plot, Julia hit the stop button before she reached the ending.

  I won’t base my values on some old Hollywood movie.

  She ditched the movie and focused on Steve. What if it turned out that the man with his arms around her only wanted a sister to save? After tonight, could she be that for him? It wasn’t what she wanted. But maybe it was what Steve needed to heal from his wounds. If that was really the case, she would be that sister for Steve, no matter the pain.

  But, if Steve wanted Julia Weiss, the woman, she was willing to see where this relationship led. But what if it led her to high noon and left her with a gun in her hands?

  Could she kill someone to save her friends’ lives? To save Steve’s life?

  She had no answer. And that meant her friends couldn’t rely on her. She couldn’t even rely on herself.

  A verse came to mind about being immature, a child tossed to and fro by the waves, blown around by every wind of teaching. That was Julia Weiss, uncertain about important issues. And her uncertainty, at a critical moment, could get them all killed.

  Chapter 15

  Julia sat beside the huge glass window looking eastward, where the horizon had slowly brightened over the past fifteen minutes. High in the sky, indigo gave way to purple and purple became royal blue near the horizon. Now, a hint of yellow lined the jagged mountain tops to the east.

  Seated in the rickety wooden chair they’d found in the lookout, Julia could peer out the bottom of the glass without overly exposing herself to anyone studying the lookout with night vision goggles.

  She looked at Steve’s G-Shock wrapped around her hand. 0355.

  It had taken her until nearly three o’clock to convince Steve that he needed to sleep for a while. It had also taken an appeal to his machismo and duties as a Ranger, duties which she had said he could better fulfill if he rested.

  And he had given her strict orders to wake him at 0400.

  As exhausting as the climb up Bolan Peak had been, Julia couldn’t sleep. Outside, somewhere in the night, highly trained soldiers sought to kill her. Inside, another battle raged between her head and her heart. This battle was the real reason why she persuaded Steve to take a nap.

  Steve lay on the old wooden bed frame, breathing deep, barely audible breaths. How could he sleep so peacefully when in three or four hours their pursuers could make an assault on the peak? Maybe Rangers couldn’t survive the rigors of warfare without being able to sleep when any opportunity arose.

  Steve had shown her how to use the complex goggles, called a NOD. Over the past hour, she had scanned the mountainous land in the entire eastern quadrant and found no signs of the men who had chased them. But Steve had assured her that Hannan’s Rangers wouldn’t find her and Steve’s trail before daylight.

  0359. Better not be late, if she wanted Steve's continued trust.

  Julia dropped from the chair to the floor, placed the night vision goggles in the chair, and crawled to the old wooden platform where Steve slept. She rose and sat beside him.

  Steve lay on his left side, facing her. How would a big, strong Ranger react to being poked on the shoulder while he slept … a Ranger who’d seen a lot of war and killing? Would he become violent like someone with PTSD? Or…

  Somehow, without her noticing, his right arm had curled around her. Steve's eyes opened. “Good morning, Jules.”

  Jules? Where did that come from? For twenty-four years Julia had rejected that nickname, every time someone tried to tag her with it. But, with Steve, it sounded nice … closer than friendship. Maybe too close. “Should I hum Reveille, or something? It's 4:00 a.m.”

  “You mean 0400. Have you seen anything?”

  “Only a starry night sky, dark forests, and a beautiful sunrise in the making.” She stuck a thumb out at the east window.

  He slid his body toward his feet, swung his legs over the edge, and sat up beside her. “Before it gets any lighter, I should take a look while any peeping Hannanis still think they’re hidden by the darkness.” He glanced toward Benjamin's goggles in the chair, then back to Julia, focusing on her face. Rather, part of her face … her lips.

  Like she had thought several times over the past few weeks, it would be nice, but probably just a nice fairy tale.

  Two months ago, if anyone had told her she would spend the night with a ruggedly handsome Army Ranger in a remote Forest Service lookout, allow him to kiss her, return his kiss, and now be seriously considering a repeat, she would've considered them delusional. It was a nice delusion, but still the stuff of fairytales.

  Julia couldn't. Wouldn't.

  Steve's eyes flickered disappointment. He looked away and focused on the east window. “I need to start looking for any signs that they found our tracks … or us.”

  He slid off the bed into a crouch and waddled to the chair, staying below window level. “Why don't you rest while I watch?”

  Exhaustion hit her the moment Julia rolled onto her side on the bed frame. The cause was as much emotional as physical, and it took her mind into a fuzzy state of semi-consciousness.

  Steve's story and his wounds had moved her. He had been scarred as badly as her and sharing their wounds had forged a strong emotional bond between them. Where would it lead?

  Right now, she was too far gone to explore the future.

  Steve sat in the chair, leaning forward, staring out the window.

  The fuzziness carried her into its warm embrace, safe with Steve on sentry duty, the man who would give his life to protect her.

  * * *

  Steve pulled the goggles from his face and looked across the tops of the mountains.

  A small arc of yellow crowning a mountain to the east leaked light onto the higher hills and mountains. Above the yellow arc, a semicircle, like a strange rainbow, ran the red side
of the color spectrum from yellow-orange, to red, to deep purple.

  The valleys below remained shrouded in darkness, creating such a contrast in light intensity that the goggles gathered too much light. They could damage his eyes or the goggle’s sensors.

  He pulled out the protective lenses Benjamin said were for daytime use. Steve locked them in place, turning the goggles into ten-power, daytime binoculars. He set them on the ledge beneath a huge glass window and glanced at Julia.

  She hadn't moved since she dropped off an hour ago. This incredible woman had expended so much energy, physical and emotional, that he would let her sleep as long as possible.

  She looked younger than twenty-four and her face, expressing complete peace, gave her the look of an innocent child. But, according to her experiences in Africa, that innocence had been stolen by visions of violence, the worst of mankind's inhumanity to man. Steve had fought that violence in Afghanistan, violence ideologically or demon driven by the writings of a man Steve believed to have been Satan’s pawn used to delude and enslave a billion victims.

  Steve turned back toward the window and picked up the goggles. He studied the ridgeline to the west, the one he had carried Julia up last night. His jaw clenched when he spotted movement on the ridge.

  Five men in tac gear stood on the road, while a sixth waved to the others from a spot thirty yards below. They had found his trail.

  By pushing themselves to their limits, he and Julia had reached the base of the two-hundred-foot cliff below the lookout in slightly over an hour and a half and, in another ten minutes, they had reached the lookout. Hannan's men would have to track them. It would take at least three hours for them to arrive.

  Steve lowered his head, barely peeking over the window ledge. He zoomed in on the men and studied them through the goggles.

  One man on the road raised his hand and seemed to be pointing directly at Steve's face. Clearly, they suspected the lookout. Would they rush toward the lookout, abandoning tracking, entirely? Probably.

  Three hours had just become two. The danger sent adrenaline coursing through his veins, revving his heart.

  Steve turned toward Julia to wake her.

  She had already sat up on the bed and now stared wide-eyed at him. “Steve, what is it?”

  He crouched, moved to her side, and sat.

  Julia circled his waist with her arms and look up at him with questioning eyes, but eyes without fear. “We're going to have some company, aren't we?”

  He put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. “Six visitors, in about two hours.”

  Julia's eyes seemed to scan the lookout cabin from one side to the other. “I'll never forget this place, or …” She leaned against his shoulder. “But we need to go now, don't we?”

  Having Julia with him might change his strategy. And there could be some real surprises as their pursuers used all of their available resources to eliminate Julia and him.

  She raised her head. “Well, don’t we?”

  Steve weighed his answer, then found he didn’t have one. “Maybe. But maybe not.”

  Chapter 16

  0505. As Steve looked out the window to the northeast he iterated over all possible scenarios including both leaving the lookout and staying. No matter how he tried to change the ending, it concluded the same way. He and Julia would be killed by gunfire or incinerated.

  He had brought Julia with him because the team believed he could protect her and fulfill his role in baiting Hannan’s men. How had he overlooked the greatest danger of all?

  Julia had been studying his face for the past minute, searching for an answer to her question about leaving. Steve didn’t have one, not a satisfactory answer.

  “Steve, we can’t just stay here and let them kill us. Why can’t we leave now? I can run. I won’t slow you down.”

  He didn’t reply.

  The searching look in her eyes turned to a questioning frown. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me…” She turned away from him.

  He hooked her upper arm.

  At his touch, Julia stopped moving.

  “I’m sorry.” He gently turned her back to face him. “We’ve got a big problem, and I don’t have a solution for it, yet.”

  She rested her hand on his forearm. Julia had no clue how her presence affected him. Her touch, her resemblance to Steph … it brought back all the guilt. And now this. “Jules, we can’t make a run for Happy Camp.”

  “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t talk like that. I thought we laid the ghosts to rest last night.”

  “This has nothing to do with ghosts.”

  Frustration flooded Julia’s face, just as it had back at Jeff’s house when Brock questioned her pacifism. “Steve, those men could be at the base of the cliff by six o’clock. Then the shooting starts. Maybe it’s time to share your plan. I can help, you know.”

  He turned and sat on the bed. The only answer he had come up with for this dilemma bordered on lunacy.

  Julia sat beside him. “It’s okay to tell me. I won’t think you’re crazy.”

  She had read him. Read him like a book. No more keeping secrets from Julia. But this plan required her to trust him even more than when they escaped Jeff’s house. How could he get her to trust him when he wasn’t sure he trusted himself?

  Steve took her hands in his.

  She scooted closer to him. “Well?”

  “It’s like this. As soon as the forest is light enough, that stealth chopper will take off.”

  Julia gasped. She scanned the horizon to the north then focused on Steve’s eyes. “There is no safe place, is there?”

  “I’m guessing it will take off around 0600. It could be bearing down on us by 0610. I don’t know how many men will be on board. Maybe the rest of the team that went after Jeff and the others. But—”

  “It has guns and rockets onboard, doesn’t it?”

  Steve nodded. “Guns for sure.”

  “I guess we can’t run down the road. We’d be easy targets.”

  “The chopper’s a Stealth Hawk, an MH-X3, a machine that supposedly never went into production. I’m thinking it did, but it was kept secret. And in a stealth configuration, I don’t have a clue what kind of arsenal it carries.”

  “So a super-secret helicopter with six men on it will—”

  “Five men. Maybe less. We took one out at Jeff’s house. Don’t know how many Benjamin got. A Ranger detachment has twelve men. And this team also has a pilot.”

  “But, Steve, if you’re right, the men on the ground and the helicopter will all get here a little after 6 o’clock. What can we do?”

  Steve drew a long breath and released it slowly. He met Julia’s intense gaze. “We have to shoot down the chopper.”

  She released his hands. “Are you nuts? A silent helicopter just swoops down on us out of nowhere and you shoot it down with your M4?” She ended her rant with her eyebrows raised and a thumb pointing at his rifle leaning against the wall.

  “Jules…”

  She huffed a blast of air. “I’m sorry.” She took his hands again. “How are we going to do this? We’ve only got about fifty-five minutes.”

  “This is how my plan works. Two of the men I saw coming our way are carrying long backpacks. Quivers filled with—”

  “With thermal bears?”

  “Yeah. Thermal bears and launchers slung across their backs.” He paused. “So, I head down the mountain about 0530, take out one of their men, hopefully a man bringing up the rear. I steal his thermal bears and his launcher, then hurry back up to the top before the fun begins. Now, we don’t have much time, so—”

  “What about the helicopter?” Her eyes widened. “You’re going to shoot it down like …”

  “Yeah. But not like the Apache at your house near Crooked River Ranch. This time, we give the chopper a thermal bear to warm the pilot’s feet.”

  “While you’re doing this, what about me
?”

  “I need two things from you. Are you any good at art?”

  “You must mean the art of war?”

  “Not exactly. More like sculpture. Can you rig up something that looks like the top of a person’s head, peering over the window ledge?”

  “I can come up with something that will look okay at a distance, but don’t they have binoculars?”

  “Just do your best. We only need to fool them for a short time.”

  “Okay. But you said two things.”

  “I need to be out of here and headed down the mountain in less than five minutes. So you complete the head and be ready to leave in four minutes. That leaves me one minute to find a hiding place for you among the rocks on this peak.”

  “Steve, you’re not going to leave me here.”

  “Jules … you’ve got to stay. You’re not trained for what I have to do. I’ll be moving fast, silently, and … well, I can’t take you with me.”

  “If we do this, Steve, you’ve got to promise to come back for me. I’m not afraid to die, if I have to, but I don’t want to die alone. And I don’t want Hannan’s men getting their hands on me. Abdul, Captain Blanchard’s interrogator was going to…” She looked down at the floor.

  “I know, Jules. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get back to you.”

  Julia cupped his cheek with one hand, gave him a weak smile, then searched for materials for her project.

  While Julia fashioned a head using an old towel and a magazine left in the lookout, Steve searched the path up the mountain looking for the six men. Within thirty seconds he found movement a short way up the mountain. They moved straight toward the cliff.

  Steve noted several landmarks to use as checkpoints while navigating down the mountain to get behind the men. He picked his likely ambush point, memorized the landmarks around it, and put away the NOD.

  Julia crawled away from her creation, now peeping out the window. An incredible likeness to a human head.