Soldier's Rescue Mission

by Cindy Dees

  “Is there some danger in Acuna I should know of, amigo?” he asked the farmer.

  The Colombian shrugged. “People hear things. Rumors.”

  His alarm deepened. Elise was in Acuna. “And what do the rumors say of Acuna?”

  “This and that.” The man’s dark-skinned face gave away absolutely nothing. Ted had seen the stony expression a thousand times. Locals all over the world had the same natural suspicion of outsiders, no matter how much that outsider could help their plight.

  Reluctant to talk, huh? Ted reached for his wallet, but the farmer waved him off before the leather cleared his back pocket. Crap. The reason the guy wasn’t talking was fear, then. Not good.

  He said quietly, “Look. I’m going to Acuna because I have a friend there. A nun. She gives the locals medical care. I’m supposed to pick her up and move her to another village today.”

  “A nun?” The man abruptly looked distressed. “Then you’d better hurry, paisano. The Colombian Army’s headed that way.”

  The army? What did that bunch want with an out-of-the-way little hole-in-the-wall like Acuna? Did it have something to do with Elise or the kids she was supposed to rescue?

  He asked carefully, “Is there any group in that area that might…object…to the army’s presence?”

  The man nodded vigorously, but aloud merely said, “I know nothing. I say nothing. I no get in trouble.”

  Curses erupted unbidden in his brain. Not good. Elise and her kids were in that village, and it was about to become a combat zone. An urgent need to save them made his entire body buzz with tension. Ted grasped the man’s shoulder briefly. “Thank you. I’ll get that nun out of there as fast as I can.”

  “And then go west. Even a lion will not charge into a nest of vipers.”

  Which was a euphemistic way of the guy saying that no Colombian Army patrol would barge into the bulk of the Army of Freedom, which apparently was west of Acuna. Also good to know. “I understand, señor. Thanks again. God bless you.”

  The man nodded soberly. “Save the sister.”

  The wisdom of Elise masquerading as a nun was more apparent than ever. That farmer hadn’t been willing to say a thing until he heard that a person of the cloth was in danger. Then he’d spilled his guts.

  In a state shockingly close to panic, Ted drove as fast as the Jeep could go over the rutted road without ripping out its transmission. He slowed only as the jungle gave way to patches of farmed land, announcing an upcoming village. If the farmer had been accurate, this would be Acuna.

  A faint, deep noise caught his attention. Dismayed, he stopped the vehicle to listen more closely. He rolled down the window but heard nothing. He cut the engine, and silence fell around him. There it was again. A low, ominous rumble that he—veteran of years of military action—recognized immediately. His blood ran cold. Acuna was under attack.

  Adrenaline jangling through him so hard he could barely dial his satellite phone, he called H.O.T. Watch headquarters on the crisis line reserved for operators in trouble. It overrode all the normal phone lines into the surveillance facility.

  “Go,” a voice bit out on the other end of the line.

  “I’m approaching Acuna, Colombia. I’ve got mortar fire and need immediate satellite recon.”

  “Say mission,” the controller on the other end replied tersely.

  He thought fast. Part of special operators’ job around the world was to guard the safety of Americans abroad. It would do as an excuse to justify using H.O.T. Watch’s formidable resources to save Elise. “Civilian rescue. An American woman and two children.”

  “Roger. Telemetry is coming up now. Say your status.”

  “Not yet engaged. The players are unaware of my presence.”

  “Roger.”

  A new voice came up on the line. He recognized his boss, Navy Commander Brady Hathaway. “What’s up, Drago?”

  They’d decided to use his assumed name as his call sign on this mission. “I need to get into Acuna. There’s a woman—”

  His boss interrupted sharply. “And she pertains to your mission how?”

  Ted sighed. He knew the drill. Soldiers were emphatically not supposed to get involved with civilians on missions. Particularly female ones. But he needed H.O.T. Watch’s help if was going to get into the village and get out with Elise in the midst of a massive firefight between the Colombian Army and the Army of Freedom. He replied, “She’s a nun, sir. An American.”

  Hathaway swore under his breath, something to the effect of do-gooders barging in where angels fear to tread.

  “You have no idea,” Ted retorted. “This one has a freaking death wish.”

  “Will this rescue interfere with your primary mission?” Hathaway asked perceptively.

  It already had. He’d snuck out of Raoul’s camp, potentially pissing off the rebel mightily. For all he knew, he might have already blown the mission. “The nun seems to get a free pass into the rebel camps. She’s a nurse and a hell of a cook. She won’t hurt my mission.” Although, not kissing her again, and soon, might just kill him.

  Another series of low booms echoed across the valley.

  Hathaway reported briskly, “Colombian Army forces are firing on what appears to be a rebel patrol pinned down approximately two hundred meters northeast of Acuna. Do you have reason to believe sympathizers with the Army of Freedom are located in the village?”

  “Without a doubt, sir.”

  “That explains the attack, then. Okay, enhanced telemetry’s coming up on screen. Acuna consists of eight structures. One appears to be a business. Probably a general store. There’s a gas pump out front. The remainder are dwellings. We show no movement in the village at this time. Unconfirmed assessment: the locals are hiding or have fled.”

  “Best approach?”

  “Jungle comes within thirty meters of the east side of the village. But that brings you close to the rebel position. You will likely draw their fire if they spot you.”

  Grim determination to protect Elise and her charges flowed through him. “Then I guess they’d better not spot me.”

  “You going in wired for sound?”

  “Hell, yes.” He was no idiot. He wasn’t too proud to use the full resources of H.O.T. Watch Ops to stay alive. To that end, he moved around to the back of the Jeep and was relieved to see that Raoul’s boys hadn’t removed his large duffel bag of military gear from the vehicle’s cargo area. He spotted Elise’s medical bag, too. If only he got a chance to return it to her.

  He donned a Kevlar vest, throat microphone and utility belt with a full compliment of ammunition, grenades and miscellaneous gear. He smeared camo paint on his face fast and jammed a floppy hat on his head to break up his profile. He plucked some weeds and stuck them in his belt and the brim of his hat. Lastly, he slung an MP-7 over his shoulder. The small, semi-automatic weapon was ideal for short-range combat in heavy cover like a jungle or urban setting.

  “Moving out,” he announced grimly.

  Elise ducked as a loud explosion sounded nearby. Mia screamed and ran for Grandma, who hugged the little girl close and began reciting a Hail Mary. “What was that?” Elise cried.

  Grandma interrupted her Hail Mary long enough to grunt, “Army.”

  What were they doing here? Did they know about Garza’s children? Were they here to snatch the kids or kill them? Was this what it had been like for her parents the day Garza and his men had come for them? Panic threatened to overwhelm her. “We have to leave,” she told Grandma tersely.

  “We must pray to Heavenly Father and the Blessed Virgin,” Grandma groaned as another explosion rocked the house.

  Somehow, Elise didn’t think prayer was going to save them from this attack. She replied urgently, “God expects people of faith to take action to save themselves. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.” If she’d been there, she’d have told her parents the exact same thing. Would they have listened to her? Could she have saved them if she’d only been there? She had to save the chil
dren in her care, now.

  Emanuel ran in just then and headed straight for Elise. He wrapped his arms around her legs so tightly she couldn’t even walk properly. She bent down and peeled him off her thigh, lifting him into her arms. “Come on, Grandma. This way.”

  The older woman stopped long enough to grab a black shawl and a small, lumpy bag while Elise moved into the doorway to assess the situation outside. Sounds of gunfire erupted somewhere behind them. It sounded as though the fighting was on the east side of town. They would head west, then. There was a fair bit of open farmland in that direction, but if they stuck to the hedgerows separating the fields and went slow, they should have enough cover…she hoped.

  Grandma led Mia by the hand while Elise shifted Emanuel to piggybacking on her back. He cried against her neck, squealing every time a loud explosion blasted behind them. She didn’t shush him. Over the noise of the fighting, she doubted anyone would hear one little boy’s terror.

  They cleared the village quickly and began the careful trek across the fields. She just prayed none of them stepped on any deadly snakes as they waded through the tall grass and brush at the edge of the nearest field. Grandma and Mia went first, setting a pace the elderly woman could maintain.

  Shouting erupted behind them, and Elise dropped to the ground. Emanuel slid off her back, cowering against her side. She turned to look back at the village and was appalled to see soldiers breaking down doors and barging inside each house. Automatic weapon fire erupted inside one. Had her parents listened to their friends and neighbors being gunned down like this? She closed her eyes briefly and said a quick prayer for the souls of the unfortunate inhabitants who’d disastrously decided to hide rather than flee. Had her parents prayed together for salvation? Knowing them they had.

  The older woman crossed herself, and Elise belatedly—angrily—mimicked the motion. God didn’t save anyone. People saved themselves. “We’ve got to keep moving,” she snapped at Grandma.

  This time, she held Emanuel’s hand as the four of them crept forward. The boy’s eyes were huge with fright. Her unreasoning anger at her parents drained away, leaving behind only grief.

  “Emanuel,” she whispered. “Pretend we’re spies with important information that will defeat the bad guys and win the war for the good guys. We’re sneaking back to our own camp to share our news and will be great heroes.”

  The child nodded. It took a minute or two, but the terror on his face eased slightly as he escaped into the game. If only she could do the same. But she was all too aware of the danger they faced. She’d seen the results of civilians caught in the cross fire. She’d heard the screams, seen the wounds and mutilation, the vacant stares and tearing grief. Heck, she recalled all too well being that person, herself.

  She would never forget the day her family had been the targets. She’d left her parents in a village while she went on a day hike with some local youths to picnic and see a waterfall.

  The government officially supported missionaries and their work. But unofficially, elements within the regime—namely Valdiron Garza—had been convinced that missionaries stirred up the peasants against the government. He’d blamed the missionaries for the violence sweeping across the country. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter. A scapegoat had to be found, and who better than a bunch of foreigners who wouldn’t take violent action to defend themselves.

  When she and the others had returned from the outing, she’d smelled it first. A metallic scent of blood had floated out of the village on a gentle breeze. And then the unnatural silence had registered. Garza’s men had slaughtered every living creature in the town, down to the last chicken. She and the others had run for the village. Screams and moans from the others had started before she got to the farmhouse at which she and her parents had been staying.

  The house had been empty. She’d been hopeful at first that they’d escaped. Silly her. There had been blood, though. She’d followed the trail of it out the back door and into the low shed that served as a barn. And that had been when she’d spotted them. They’d been strung up from the rafters by their wrists like animals for the slaughter and were barely recognizable as human.

  Elise stumbled as the agony of that memory rolled over her. Even now, nearly six years later, it had the power to destroy her. A small hand tightened in hers, startling her. She glanced down and caught Emanuel’s huge, frightened gaze. They were the same, the two of them. Orphans both. Victims of violence beyond their control. Traumatized and terrified.

  She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  “Remember, we’re superspies,” he whispered.

  Her heart broke a little, but she managed to smile back, “You’re right.” She glanced ahead at Mia. Did the little girl carry memories as horrifying as hers? Did she have the same bloody nightmares? The same pervasive terror that she was next? The same sense of helplessness and hopelessness? She wouldn’t wish her experience on her worst enemy, let alone a six-year-old child.

  It took maybe twenty minutes to creep and crawl into the first underbrush west of town, but it felt like hours. Days. Finally, though, a canopy of green closed in overhead. The sporadic sounds of the battle behind them dulled, muffled by the jungle’s humid embrace.

  She’d fled into the jungle that day, too. Thankfully, some of the others had kept their heads better than her. They’d guided her to another village a few kilometers away. Put her on a bus and told her to go home.

  She’d refused at first. She had to get their bodies. Give them a proper burial. The others had pointed to the pillar of smoke and sparks rising over the ridge behind them as darkness fell. The army had seen to removing all evidence of the massacre. There would be no bodies left to bury.

  “Look,” Mia whispered urgently.

  Elise glanced back to where the child pointed and, through a small gap in the trees, saw black smoke billowing up into the sky. She groaned aloud. It was too much. Too close to history repeating itself. Her knees collapsed and she sank into the wet leaves.

  Grandma bent down to pat her shoulder and murmured implacably, “It was just a house. Just things. We are alive because of your quick action. And that is what matters.”

  Someone had said something similar to her that day, too. Lucky for them they’d gone on the hike or they’d be dead, too. It hadn’t comforted her then, and it didn’t now.

  “I’m so sorry,” she gasped.

  Grandma frowned. “For what? You did nothing but save us.”

  “I got you into this—”

  “No, you didn’t. I knew exactly who those children were when I agreed to take them in. My daughter was a maid in their home and she told me they were sweet babies who’d never done anything to anyone.”

  The admission startled Elise. “Why did you do it, then? Particularly if you knew who they were and that something like this could happen?”

  The older woman’s voice was deep and wise. “Now, Sister, you know how it is when you listen to your heart. Mine told me it was the right thing to do. So I took them in and got on with it. God will take care of the rest.”

  The woman’s indomitable faith was humbling. Elise knew without a shadow of a doubt she had no such strength within her. “Speaking of which, is there another village nearby? Do you know anyone in the area with whom we can stay?”

  Grandma nodded. “There’s a village about ten kilometers west of here. We might reach it by nightfall.”

  Elise was alarmed. Over six miles? Grandma was no spring chicken. Her back was hunched and her legs bowed with age. “Can you make it that far?” she asked doubtfully.

  “The Lord will give me strength.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “And I’m not quite dead, yet.”

  Elise had forgotten how tough the people were in this part of the world. Life had to be wrestled from the land by sheer force of will. She struck out in the direction Grandma indicated. The going was miserable at first, but then they found a footpath heading in the general direction they wanted. It probably was made and used by
drug runners or rebels, and she trod it gingerly. She really didn’t need to run into any violent insurgents with an elderly woman and two small children in tow.

  True to her word, Grandma held up for the long hike. They actually had to stop more often for the children to rest than for her. Mia was silent and uncomplaining, but Elise didn’t like the haunted look in her eyes. The child was far too aware of the fate they’d just escaped and appeared to be reliving nightmares of her own.

  She gathered Mia’s stiff body in her lap, hugging the child in spite of her apparent resistance to being comforted. She’d been Mia herself. She knew exactly how badly the child needed reassurance. She might not deserve love herself, but this child certainly did. “Sweetie,” she whispered, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you. I promise. And I’ll keep promising that until you believe me.”

  She thought she felt the little girl relax fractionally.

  “You’re the bravest little girl I’ve ever met. Not much longer, and then you won’t have to be brave anymore. You and me, we’ll have a little cry together, and then we’ll both feel better.”

  Elise’s heart melted as the child’s thin arms squeezed her neck in the briefest of hugs. It was a start. By golly, she’d help Mia make the long climb back to happiness if it killed her. Although she sincerely hoped it didn’t come to that. She rather liked being alive.

  It turned out Grandma’s lumpy bag was a few handy survival supplies, including a knife, a collapsible jug, and to Elise’s delicate American gut’s vast relief, a tiny brown bottle of water purification tablets. During one of their breaks by a stream, while they waited for the water she’d scooped into the jug to become safe to drink, Elise sat down beside Mia again.

  “How are you doing, short stuff?”

  The little girl merely shrugged. Elise winced. God, how she knew the feeling of being unable to express the horror consuming her.

  “I was pretty scared at first when we left the village,” Elise commented, “but then I remembered that God looks out especially for children. And since I’m with you and your brother, I figure I’ll be safe, too.”