“Okay,” she said, easing away. “I understand. I don’t want anyone else killed.” She felt tears behind her eyes and forced them away. “My God, did you see poor Mohammed? He was shot in the head.”
“Yeah,” Beau uttered. “he was a good man. He didn’t deserve what he got.”
“They’d do the same to us, wouldn’t they?”
He saw the stark terror in Callie’s eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Matt and I and the rest of our team do this kind of thing all the time. We’re used to working among the enemy. We’re good at what we do, Callie. Just keep your faith.” He picked up her hand, settling it on his web belt near his left elbow. “Okay?”
Beau didn’t want her going to pieces and was depending on her rugged roots as a rancher’s daughter, raised in the wilds of Montana and accustomed to a harsh environment. Beau was betting that Callie’s backbone was made of titanium—and now it was going to be tested.
“Okay,” she said, her voice more steady. Her hope rose a little as he reached back with his gloved hand, squeezing her hand around his belt. Appreciating his thoughtfulness, Callie felt her throat closing with terror of the unknown. She pushed it back. Beau needed her courage, not her fear.
However, she worried about Dara. She trusted Matt’s abilities, but her older sister wasn’t in great physical shape. Nor was she the type to work out, like Callie was. She would be a huge liability to Matt now that they were making a run for it. Callie was glad that she’d put in her three or four days a week at the gym in Bagram. If ever a workout would pay off, it’s now, she told herself.
She not only did belly-dancing exercises, she also ran three miles most days on a treadmill. Would it be enough? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to put Beau and herself in jeopardy if she could help it.
Beau looked one last time behind them and then silently moved out at a strong pace. Callie watched what he was doing, so she could emulate his movements. He was careful not to step on any branches that might crack or snap, alerting their enemy to the direction of their whereabouts. Thirty-five miles! It seemed daunting to Callie as she tried to keep up with Beau’s long-legged stride. They had soon covered a good distance across the floor of the woods that surrounded them. Everything was silent, but that scared her, especially because there were no birds calling. All she could hear was the wind sifting and singing through the evergreens above them.
They could have died in that van if not for Matt and Beau’s quick thinking. Was Dara injured? She hadn’t appeared to be. She was white with terror, but Callie hadn’t seen any blood on her. But things had happened so swiftly as the two operators had grabbed them out of the van, heading in different directions, that she couldn’t really tell. Her heart was pounding, her mouth open as she tried not to make any noise as she breathed. Beau was in a crouch, his M4 ready, and she had no doubt that the Taliban was following them. And the mud on the ground was making them easy targets to follow.
Oh, God …, she prayed. Please help us!
CHAPTER 10
They reached the river in two hours, and by the time they did, Callie was sobbing for breath. Beau had slowed down a number of times so she could rest briefly, and she felt guilty as hell. She was sure that she was slowing them down so much that the enemy would easily catch up with them.
Beau had done his best to find places that hid them—at least, better than if they were just strolling through the open forest. There were hills scattered throughout the region, and often he would find a rockier area for them to cross, rather than continuing along the forest’s floor. This left far fewer tracks for their hunters to follow.
Now, her lungs burning, she pressed her hand against her chest as Beau led them to the area where the woods thinned out. Ahead of them lay the dark green waters of the river. It wasn’t a wide river, maybe two hundred feet across, with blackish gravel on the shoreline.
Beau suddenly surprised Callie by taking her hand off his belt, bringing her beneath his arm, and holding her close. Callie groaned and sagged weakly against him, grateful for the sense of safety he provided.
“Hold on,” he murmured against her ear, kissing her temple. “I’ll get you out of this or die trying.”
His voice was low and husky, and Callie clung to him, now absolutely terrified. Never had death seemed so close. Would they survive? They could be killed, or even worse, taken prisoner and tortured.
Callie had heard too many gory stories, seen too much evidence on the Internet of what al-Qaeda and the Taliban could do before trotting out their tortured prisoners for the rest of the world to view.
She pressed her face against Beau’s shoulder, inhaling his scent. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but this wasn’t the time. Besides, he wanted their talk kept to a minimum.
Still, she was heartened by the tender way he cradled her against him, silently infusing her with the strength and confidence that would get them out of this situation.
Sliding her arm around his waist, holding him, she swallowed back her tears and her terror. Sure, she wanted out of this, but that wasn’t an option.
“How are you doing?” Beau asked, his voice low, lips against her mussed hair.
“Are you serious?” Callie heard herself saying, and managed a half grin.
“I know,” Beau admitted. “I feel the same way. But look—our team has been up and down this river often,” he told her. “It goes for about fifteen miles, winding in and out of a lot of hills before we have to strike out away from it. The rocks will hide our tracks and slow the Taliban down. You can’t find tracks in gravel unless they’re really obvious.”
He looked up as the first raindrops struck his face and turned, easing his arm from Callie and drawing her hood up and over her hair. “It’s going to rain, and probably snow later,” he told her. “Is that jacket of yours rainproof?”
“Yes.”
Nodding, he pulled up the hood on his cammo jacket, the bill of his baseball cap protecting his eyes from the rain, which was now gaining strength. “There’s a small cave about half a mile south of here. It’s never been used, as far as I know, by Taliban or by the goat herders, mostly because it’s pretty small. It’s not big enough for a band of goats to huddle inside it. Locals will know about it, but the Taliban usually isn’t local.”
“Are we going to hole up there?”
Beau checked his watch. It was now noon. “Rest a bit,” he said, turning, holding her gaze. He saw a red scratch mark on her jaw. “That hurt?” he asked, lightly touching it.
“No. Why?”
“You were hit by some brush there.”
“Oh.” Callie’s mouth twisted. “I don’t even feel it, Beau.”
“It’s the adrenaline,” he assured her. “When you’re scared, adrenaline dumps into your bloodstream. You can have a broken bone and never feel the pain from it—or a bullet hole through you.”
A cold chill worked down through her. “I don’t feel the scratch, so I guess the adrenaline is working.”
He watched the rain veil coming off the mountains somewhere behind them, stretching out across the narrow valley where this river twisted and turned. “This is gonna be a constant kind of rain for a while,” he murmured, holding her gaze. “That’s good news for us. The mud that’s on our boots will wash off as we skirt the edge of the forest and walk in the gravel. It will make it nearly impossible to track us.”
He didn’t want to tell Callie just how damned skilled the Taliban were at following their enemies. A good tracker could literally study the gravel and be able to tell where a person had put down the heel of his boot.
Beau didn’t want to make her any more anxious than she already was. Yes, he knew it would slow their enemy down, but it wouldn’t stop them from trying to locate them. Their only recourse was to stay on the move. Unfortunately, he could see fatigue tightening Callie’s flushed features.
“How are you holding up, gal?” He saw Callie’s green eyes grow soft for a moment as he grazed her cheek, w
anting in some way to help ease her anxiety and fear.
“I’m getting tired. I don’t know how far we’ve gone, but I’m starting to stumble.” She looked dismayed, and he knew she felt guilty about holding them back.
“We’ve probably made about seven miles so far. But we’re heading west, not south. Bagram lies to the south. I had to take us here to the river, or we’d have been sitting ducks if we’d headed straight south from where the van was ambushed.”
“So we still have thirty-five miles to go?”
“’Fraid so,” he said, apology in his voice. “My first priority is getting you to as safe a place as possible. Then we can lay out a plan for moving south.”
Her legs felt tired, and she could feel the beginnings of cramps in her calves, but Callie wouldn’t complain. Beau had enough on his mind to keep them from falling into enemy hands or worse. She managed a sour smile. “I’d give anything to be in that tub at the Eagle’s Nest right now.” She watched amusement gleam in his light gray eyes for just a moment.
“I’ll get you back there. Maybe not as soon as you’d like, but it’ll happen. Just hang on, Callie.” He patted her damp, muddy knee. “Come on, I need you to hydrate. If you don’t keep drinking water, you’re gonna cramp up, and that’ll be painful.”
Callie drank until she couldn’t drink anymore, and Beau drank like a camel. He then pulled two protein bars from a pocket, handing her one after he peeled it open for her.
“Two things we have to do: eat and keep hydrated. We’re burning up thousands of calories right now, and we’ve got a long way to go. Eat it all, okay?”
She did. The rain was thickening until it was a constant gray veil all around them. Sounds became muted, the drops plopping regularly on her jacket’s hood and shoulders.
“Is this rain helpful for us?” she asked, hoping for good news of any kind.
“Yes, very. If it keeps up like this, and I hope it does, it can potentially wipe out some of our tracks on the floor of the woods.”
“Beau, are you scared, too?” she asked him, savoring the sweet, tasty grains of the protein bar.
“Nah. This is routine for us.” He gave her a wry smile, wanting to reassure her and dull her fear. “We’re trained up for this, and you aren’t. We know the dance out here in the badlands, Callie.”
For the next two hours, drenched by rain falling softly around them, they made their way along the riverbank, always hidden by the line of trees. Callie never saw any enemy but heard gunfire from time to time, and that was all she needed to know they were out there, still hunting them.
Beau was a consummate hunter himself, reminding her of her grandpa Graham, who had taught her and Dara how to find and follow deer tracks. She didn’t like to see any dead animals, so her grandpa had never allowed the girls to follow him deep into the Montana mountains where he actually went hunting.
Now she was getting a firsthand look at what Delta Force operators did, and if she’d thought their work was dangerous before, she had a whole new perspective on it now. Beau and Matt went out into godforsaken places like this, hunting down HVTs—high-value targets—and keeping the people of this country safe while they routinely laid their own lives on the line to do it.
Yes, Dara had every reason to worry about Matt. Callie was sure that if they were still alive, Dara also had a deeper appreciation for what he did than before. What motivated them to do this kind of thing? Patriotism? It was beyond Callie to understand how one could live in constant danger like this.
*
Near 1500, Beau could feel Callie really beginning to lag. She was stumbling a lot and fighting to keep up with him, and he could feel her nearing a point of exhaustion. After finding a small cave nestled in one of the larger hills near the river, Beau led Callie through a wall of thick, tall brush that swatted at their faces and bodies. He gripped her hand and brought her close to him, using his own body as a shield to protect her as they popped out the other side, revealing the dark entrance.
Unsure whether or not the cave was occupied, Beau signaled her to move to one side of it and stand quietly while he went in to see if anything or anyone was in there. M4 raised, he crouched and disappeared into the gloom.
After five minutes, he gave her the all clear. Beau led her inside the cave, and guided her to its rear and then down a tunnel. Grayish light spilled into the other end of it, lighting their way. The area was oval, with rocks jutting out here and there, the limestone walls a combination of interwoven shades of white, light gray, and cream. There was another exit, a slender opening that looked like a ragged slit a giant hand had carved into the limestone with a huge blade.
“We can talk here in low voices,” Beau reassured Callie, halting her in the small oval cavern. He released her hand and began to unbuckle his ruck, pushing it off his shoulders. “Make yourself at home.” He smiled a little, hoping to lighten her mood with some positive news.
Callie slowly pulled the wet hood off her hair. Looking down at her muddy gloves, she pulled them off and sighed. She wished she had a comb as she tried to regather her hair into a ponytail, but the band holding her strands together had broken a while ago.
“Here,” Beau urged, taking a dry blanket out of his ruck and placing it alongside the smoothest wall of the cave. “Set your gloves on some of the rocks and let them air-dry.”
“And my coat, too?”
“That too,” Beau agreed. He pulled out an empty plastic gallon jar from his pack and walked over to the slit, setting it down so the water could run off one rock and drip into it. He added purification tablets to it, just in case. In Afghanistan, bacteria could quickly infect and/or kill you if you drank untreated water.
The air in the cave was warmer than the outside, humid air. Glad to be rid of his vest holding pockets of ammo magazines, Beau put everything on one end of the blanket, where he could grab it in a hurry, if necessary.
“Have you been in here before?” Callie asked in a quiet tone. She was so happy to get out of her coat and hung it on a nearby jagged outcropping.
“Many times. Our team has camped in here during the daylight hours and then we go active at night.” He stripped down to his dry T-shirt and cammos, taking off his baseball cap, running his fingers through his long, thick hair.
Giving Callie a critical look, he saw her fingers were white. Moving to her, he took her hands into his, feeling how cold and wet they were.
“They’re pretty numb,” she admitted, standing so close to him that she could feel the heat rolling off him. Even though the temperature was falling and it was chilly outside, they had been hiking at a fast, steady pace.
“Let’s get you warmed up then,” he growled, releasing her hands. Turning, Beau pulled out a sleeping bag from his ruck. He laid it out and opened it up. “Come here.”
She came over, feeling how stiff her knees felt, how tight her calves were, screaming at her to sit down and rest.
As if reading her mind, Beau said, “Come on, sit down with me. I want to get you warmed up.”
“Best invitation I’ve had all day.” Callie grinned weakly, coming to sit on the soft sleeping bag.
Beau’s arm went around her shoulders, drawing her against his tall, lean body. “You’ve earned this,” he breathed against her hair, kissing her temple, wrapping her up beside him. She melted like warm honey against him, and he could feel her exhaustion. Callie, he was learning, was pretty good at hiding her feelings from him. However, Beau needed her to be honest about how she was doing so he could pace himself against her condition.
She wrapped her arm around his middle, snuggling beneath his arm, her face pressed against his chest, her knees drawn up against his lower body.
“Better?” he asked, inhaling her scent, closing his eyes for just a moment, loving her more than he could tell her right now. Beau could feel a slight tremor through her.
“Better,” Callie whispered. “I needed this … thank you …”
He looked at her, concerned. “I want you to re
st, Callie. Close your eyes. If you can nap, that would be great. We’re safe in here.” That was a lie.
“We aren’t leaving here soon, then?”
Hearing the hope in her voice, he said, “We’re staying here until dark. Then it will be time to move again. You’ve got about two hours to nap. I’ll hold you safe, gal.”
His words put out the fires of her anxiety, and Callie sighed, surrendering to Beau in every possible way. Her voice slurred as she whispered, “I’m worried about Dara …”
“She’s in good hands with Matt. They’ll be okay,” he reassured her, sliding his hand down across her unruly red hair, the ends damp and rain-sodden. “Save your energy for yourself, Callie. Go to sleep …”
An hour later, Beau sat there on guard. One of them had to remain awake and alert. His mind whirling with thoughts, questions, he couldn’t help wondering how Matt was doing. Dara wasn’t nearly as fit as Callie, and he knew Matt would have his hands full trying to escape with her in tow.
Fortunately, his team had been trained to deal with unexpected conditions as they were, not as they would be if ideal.
He had let Callie think they were safe, and he held her, sharing his body heat with her, hoping it would dry her, warm her, and help her recoup. Night was a natural protection against the Taliban, who still didn’t have night-vision goggles. Therefore, at night the enemy always camped somewhere, made tea, ate dinner, and then slept throughout the night.
Taliban were usually active only during daylight hours. Beau never took that as gospel, though, because some warlord from Pakistan might spend the money to buy his soldiers night-vision goggles. That would allow them to roam the night like the Delta and SEAL teams did.
His heart turned to Callie, and he looked at her tenderly. Her hair tickled his cheek, and he ached to take her out of this hellhole they’d just stepped into. Thirty-five miles, plus the seven miles they’d already walked to the river, was a lot for any person to undertake. It wasn’t unusual for his team to cover ten to fifteen miles a night, depending on the territory and geological conditions. His body was so toned physically that without Callie in tow, he could have been halfway to Bagram by now—and a hell of a lot farther from the Taliban he knew were tracking them.
Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) Page 13