Emma groaned. Pain made her open her eyes. At first, everything was blurry. Pain was radiating from her left shoulder. Her left hand felt numb and she couldn’t feel her fingers. Her head throbbed. And so did her cheek and jaw. Blinking, she realized Fahran was kneeling next to her, his little face anxious.
“Mem sahib! You live!” He touched her jacketed shoulder.
It took long moments for Emma to realize what had happened—and where she was. Fahran jabbered on in Pashto, telling her everything. Her ears were still ringing, probably from the blow she’d taken earlier to the head. Fahran started to cry.
“I—I’m so sorry, mem sahib Emma. You did not deserve this. I—I couldn’t do anything. I tried to get Benham to stop the plan. Oh! I thought you were dead after Lord Malik kicked you in the back.”
Emma lay with her cheek against the fine, cool dust of the cave floor for nearly five minutes, trying to absorb what had happened. Fahran’s tears rolled down his taut face making tracks through the dust on his cheeks. She tried to reach out with her left hand, but pain made her grunt. Her arm fell helplessly to the floor.
“Fahran,” she croaked, “help me stand up. Can you do that?” Emma saw the pistol laying in the dirt about fifty feet away. She knew from Fahran that he was supposed to guard her. A mere ten-year-old. Hatred for Malik gave Emma the strength she needed. As she sat up, holding her left arm tight against her body, she closed her eyes until the dizziness passed.
Fahran anxiously circled her. “What are you going to do, mem sahib?” He told her what Malik had done to her. That he’d kicked her twice.
Emma opened her eyes. She knew her left shoulder blade had been dislocated by Malik’s kick. “Help me stand. I need to reset my shoulder blade.”
Fahran gripped her right hand. Between them, Emma got to her feet. She staggered. Fahran threw his small arms upward and around her hips to steady her. It was enough. Emma heard voices wafting through the cave complex. She guessed the Taliban soldiers were not very close. The voices were muted. Good.
“Help me get to the wall,” she ordered, her voice low with pain. Every time she took a faltering step, the agony made her groan. Gritting her teeth, she relied on Fahran’s strength to get her to the wall of the cave.
Leaning against it, breathing hard, she felt Fahran’s hands continue to steady her. “I’m—okay,” Emma told the boy. “Stand back.”
Fahran backed away. He gave Emma a quizzical look. What was she going to do?
Emma sucked in a breath. Oh, God, this is going to hurt…. She hurled her back against the cave wall as hard as she could. There was a snap and her shoulder blade seated back into its correct position. Emma blacked out from the overwhelming pain and fell, unconscious, to the floor.
Fahran cried out and raced forward. Emma was dead! What had she done to herself? She lay on her stomach, her arms flung away from her body. Dropping to his knees, he sobbed out her name and shook her shoulder, trying to awaken her.
Emma groaned. She felt Fahran’s small hands gripping her flight suit near her right shoulder. The moment she groaned, he leaped way, frightened. The pain in her shoulder ebbed now as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Fahran’s eyes were huge. Tears glimmered in his dark eyes. “I’m okay,” she rasped.
With a moan, Fahran walked toward her, unsure. “A-are you dead? Or are you alive?”
Emma forced a smile that was more like a grimace. “I’m alive, Fahran. I dislocated my left shoulder.” She vaguely gestured toward the cave wall. “I threw myself into the wall to reset it. Do you understand?”
“N-no.”
Emma felt stronger, more clear-headed. Her left shoulder ached, but nothing like before. She tested her left arm and lifted it a little. There was pain, but it was now manageable. Worriedly, Emma couldn’t feel three of her fingers on her left hand. Had there been nerve damage when Malik kicked her unconscious? Had his boot severed those nerves? Fear struck her as she slowly opened and closed her left hand. If she couldn’t get back sensation in those fingers, she would never be allowed to fly again.
“You must come with me,” Fahran urged, coming over to where she sat. He whispered the words fiercely and kept looking toward the exit where the Taliban soldiers had left.
“Where? Where am I, Fahran? Can you help me get out of here?” She saw him screw up his small, thin face. He looked down a dark tunnel that lay opposite. Some grayish light came through it.
“You are on the other side of the valley opposite Zor Barawul,” he told her. Anxiety raised his voice and he sounded reedy. “You must follow me, mem sahib Emma. I know another way out of here! But it is dangerous. And only small people can slide through the opening.”
Emma nodded. “Am I small enough?” Her heart beat with hope. She heard the drifting voices of the soldiers. Would they come back and check on her? Emma knew Malik would kill her.
“Yes, yes, you are.” Fahran held his small hands about an inch apart in front of her face. “It is late afternoon. We can wriggle like escaping rabbits away from Lord Malik.” Anxiously, the boy looked at the opening. “They are eating and drinking now. There’s a great celebration because you were captured.”
Grimacing, Emma got to her feet. She gripped Fahran’s slender shoulder. “Show me the way to get out of here. Can you take me out of these caves and get me clear of Malik and his men?”
“Yes, yes, I can.” Fahran walked over to the pistol and then brought it back to Emma. “You keep this. I cannot kill anything.”
Her heart broke over the boy’s sudden, sagging face, tears in his eyes. Emma took the pistol and made sure there was a bullet in the chamber and the safety was off. “I understand,” she told him gently. Patting his dusty hair, she added, “Let’s go to Zor Barawul, Fahran. Take me home.”
The sun slanted steeply on the western horizon when Malik heard the cry of a guard. It was the soldier standing at the mouth of the second cave. Malik had been crouched in front of the fire, eating a juicy, warm rabbit leg. The scent of curry and hot tea filled the small, warm cavern. Malik stood up, the leg of the roasted rabbit in his left hand.
“Lord Malik!” the soldier panted, running into the cave. “Riders! Lord Khan and his men! They’re coming our way!”
“Mount up!” Malik roared. He took several more tearing bites from the rabbit and then threw it away. Turning, he said to Benham, “Get the American bitch. Bring her here to me.”
“Yes, Lord Malik!” Benham pirouetted and raced for the smaller cave via a tunnel.
Everyone else quickly stored their meager utensils in rags and hurried down another tunnel to where all the horses were tethered. Malik scowled. It would be impossible for Khan to find this place. This cave complex had never been discovered. Touching the dagger at his waist and then his pistol next to it, Malik picked up his AK-47 and ran down the tunnel toward the saddled horses.
Benham gasped as he skidded to a halt in the other cave. Breathing hard, he looked around. Where was the American pilot? And Fahran? Suddenly scared, Benham wondered if she had overpowered Fahran and run. But where? Anxiously, Benham searched the entire cave. Nothing. There were no voices, no noises. No—anything. Suddenly afraid, Benham spun around and raced as fast as he could. Lord Malik needed to know his prisoner had escaped.
Malik had just grabbed the reins of his white stallion when Benham burst into the cave. His black-and-gray brows drew down. “Where’s the American?” he roared at the approaching teenager.
“Gone!” Benham cried, sinking to his knees. All around him, riders and horses swirled. The tension was electric, dust raised by the horses suddenly whinnying and prancing around.
“What are you talking about?” Malik thundered as he mounted. He rode over to the cowering youth.
Benham choked out what he’d seen. “I-is there another way out of there, my lord?”
Scowling, Malik snarled, “Yes. It’s a small, narrow passage.” He glowered at the big, lumbering Benham. “You’re too large to go in there to see if you
can find them.” He jerked his head around and barked orders above the din. A very small, wiry soldier came running forward.
“Siamak, go into the tunnel where the American was being kept prisoner. She’s escaped into it. Find her. Kill her. Then, join us near Do Bandi. I’ll see your horse is left here for you.”
Nodding, Siamak bowed and took out his curved dagger from his belt. “As you wish, my lord.” He turned and ran out of the cave.
Turning, Malik raised his hand and roared, “Follow me!” He jerked his stallion’s reins and then trotted down another twisting, winding tunnel. Someone had lit a torch, the yellow and red flames flickering ahead of Malik.
Malik grinned savagely. He knew that this half-mile long tunnel, barely ten feet high, would lead them to a brush-covered opening that Khan knew nothing about. Within half an hour, they would be gone. Malik seriously doubted if Khan would even find this cave. It was all but impossible.
Gasping for breath, her shoulder burning, Emma crawled and wriggled through the blackness. Only Fahran’s small shoes near her face kept her hopes up.
“A little more!” Fahran gasped.
Hope sprung up in her. It felt as though she’d wormed her way through the narrow, twisting tunnel forever. Every time she reached with her left hand to pull herself forward, the burning sensation deepened in her shoulder blade. She tried to use her right arm, but it was difficult. Her head throbbed and Emma wished mightily for some aspirin.
As they inched around a curve, Emma gasped. Light! She saw sunlight coming in through massive bushes that grew in front of the entrance. She saw Fahran’s head bobbing up and down as he quickly scooted forward on his belly. Within three minutes, they were out of the tunnel and standing outside the thickets.
Holding her left arm against herself, Emma looked around. It was near sunset. The sky was a deepening blue as the rays of the sun shot across the tops of the peaks above them. Fahran dusted himself off the best he could. Emma glanced down at her flight suit: she was dirty from top to bottom. She turned toward the small, narrow inlet. “Fahran, is there a trail down to the valley?”
“Yes,” he said, suddenly smiling, relief in his face, “this way!”
Khalid rode with Jawid Khan, who had shown up with more men as they rode down through the valley. Khan’s white stallion was a pure Arabian, small and powerful. Khalid’s black gelding scrambled to keep up as they took a narrow, steep and rocky path up the side of a hill. Above them were caves. His terror over Emma being taken had tripled in the last two hours as they rode at high speed.
At the top of the hill, Khalid pulled his stallion to a skidding stop. His eyes were narrowed and he jabbed his finger to the left. Khalid squinted. He could see dust clouds rising far above them.
“What?” Khalid demanded, coming abreast of the panting white stallion.
Khan grinned. “Dust clouds indicate a large group of Taliban, brother. That is Malik! Let’s go!” He spurred his stallion up the steep hill, pulling out his rifle from the sheath as he did so.
Khalid didn’t question the man. Khan knew signs of Taliban better than anyone. His gelding was shiny with sweat, foam on his neck as he plunged up the hill on the heels of the white Arabian.
Khan gave a war cry of triumph as he breasted the hill. Khalid quickly saw why. There, no more than a mile away, in a slight meadow area, were twenty fleeing Taliban. And leading them on a white stallion was Malik himself.
“Do you see Emma?” he shouted to Khan, who was busy cocking his rifle.
Looking through his binoculars, Khan shook his head. “She’s not among them. Once we get them, we’ll find her location!” Khan whirled around, gesturing violently to his two hundred horsemen. For once, the odds were on his side. Normally, the Taliban outhorsed them and had more ammunition than they did. But not this time.
“Lord Khan!” Khalid shouted and pointed to the sky as two Apache helicopters hove into view. He pulled out his radio to direct the pilots to fire on the Taliban, “Malik is mine!”
Grinning wolfishly, Khan nodded. “As you will, brother. Let the Apache helicopters finish him off!”
Khalid knew he shouldn’t feel happy about killing twenty people, but he did. Since Emma wasn’t with them, he had the luxury of using the Apaches. As he called in the air strike, he wondered where she was. Had Malik hidden her in a cave? More than likely. Was she even alive?
Chapter 15
Emma was startled by two Apache helos flying overhead. They were firing off major expenditures of rockets. She heard the thuds, the explosions high up on the ridge above where they stood on the valley floor. Fahran clung to her, his head buried against her. Emma held him with her right arm, her left arm nearly useless. For about ten minutes, the combat helicopters circled like buzzards over an unseen prey. She couldn’t see who or what they were targeting, but guessed it was Malik and his horsemen. Grimly, Emma watched. She hoped the son of a bitch died.
“Come on,” she urged Fahran. Looking up, she noted that the sun had set, but the well-used trail was easy to see. “We’ve got another mile before we reach the village,” she told the boy.
Where was Khalid? Emma knew he’d be looking for her. They scrambled up the steep and rocky shrub-strewn slope. Breathing hard, slipping and sometimes falling, Emma thought she might be more mountain goat than human. Fahran, who was much lighter and smaller, climbed ahead. Sometimes, he would turn and hold out his small hand toward her. Emma’s left shoulder ached badly and her left arm felt better if she didn’t use it. She had to get to a doctor as soon as possible once she got back to the village.
As they huffed up the last, steep slope, Fahran cried out and pointed to the left. “Riders!”
Emma gasped and hunkered down on the gravel slope, the sharp stones biting into her knees. About a mile away on another trail that led directly to the village, she saw a band of over two hundred riders at a hard gallop. In the lead was Jawid Khan. Her eyes narrowed. Yes! Khalid rode next to him! Her heart tumbled and for the first time, Emma allowed the suppressed emotions to surge up through her. Khalid! He’d gone out on horseback hunting for her. And he was safe. Gulping, Emma fought away the tears.
“Come on, we’ll meet them at the village,” she told the smiling Fahran, her voice hoarse with tears.
The last thing Khalid expected to see when he galloped into the village of Zor Barawul was Emma standing in the center of the village with bedraggled-looking Fahran in hand. He skidded his gelding to a halt and leaped out of the saddle, his booted feet hitting the ground at a run.
“Emma!” he called, his voice cracking with emotion. How pale she looked. Emma held her left arm against her body, her right hand protectively drawn across Fahran’s thin shoulders.
“Khalid!” Emma didn’t care who in the village saw them. She rushed forward after releasing Fahran. Emma extended her right hand toward him. Khalid’s eyes filled with anguish and joy. As he approached, he gripped her hand and then closed the distance.
“You’re alive,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her mouth tenderly.
Emma’s world anchored only to Khalid’s warm, cherishing mouth against hers. She moaned softly and leaned against his strong male body. He took all her weight and carefully held her, as if she were a priceless glass vase that might shatter at any moment. The warm moistness of his breath reminded Emma of life, instead of death. She could have died. She knew that. Emma loved Khalid with a fierceness that swept through her as he took her mouth commandingly a second time.
Breaking contact with her, Khalid looked critically into Emma’s softened and teary green eyes. They were marred with pain. And relief. And love—for him. Was that really possible? Stunned, Khalid hadn’t expected to see that. Did Emma love him? Her eyes were shining with joy—for him alone. Her lips trembled and then she fought back the tears.
“Malik dislocated my left shoulder in the cave,” she whispered. She looked down at Fahran. “He helped me escape, Khalid. He’s the real hero here. Fahran risked his life to show
me another way out of that cave complex.”
Khalid tousled Fahran’s dusty hair. “Thank you, my brother.”
Fahran looked shyly up at the pilot and managed an embarrassed shrug.
“There’s a medevac flying in right now,” he told Emma, his fingers wrapping around her right arm. Sweat and smudges of dirt covered her face. Even her red hair was dust-coated. “Can you walk? Or do you want me to carry you?”
Giving him a half laugh, because it hurt to move with the inflamed and injured shoulder, Emma said, “God, no. Just keep a steady hand on me, Khalid.” Worried because three of her fingers were still numb, Emma wanted to see a doctor as soon as possible. The people of the village came out and offered help. Khalid thanked them and told them that Emma would be flown back to the base for medical treatment.
Near the edge of town, Kinah rushed over. She had concern on her face and her eyes were dark with worry. Emma assured her she would be okay after they carefully hugged one another.
“Malik’s dead,” Khalid told his sister with grim satisfaction. “The two Apaches came in and destroyed his entire army. There’s not much left of any of them.” He had wanted to race down that slope and meet Malik on the field of battle. Instead, Khalid had called in the combat mission over his portable radio. The two Apache helicopters had loosed an arsenal of ammunition that had killed every Taliban rider. Including Malik.
Emma closed her eyes for a moment. Then, she looked down at Fahran, who refused to leave her side. “Benham was with Malik?” she asked the child.
“Yes, he was, mem sahib.”
Nodding, Emma told Khalid what had happened. She saw the medevac flying over the mountain crest and heading directly for the landing zone just outside the village. Khalid gently placed his arm around Emma for just a moment, his embrace butterfly-light.
“We’ll get you to Bagram. I know all the doctors there. We’ll get you to an orthopedic and neurology specialist, Emma. He’ll make you well.” He bored a look into her fatigued eyes. All he wanted to do was kiss her senseless and hold her tightly against him and protect her from a world gone mad. But he could do none of those things right now. Khalid swallowed his frustration. He had to be patient. Emma was worried about her numbed fingers. All he could do was be at her side.
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