Degree of Risk

by Lindsay McKenna

  *

  Sarah barely breathed, her eyes shut, head pressed against her ruck. She heard the Taliban enter the cave. One man’s angry voice took charge. Then she heard more talk and they were drifting back into the area where she was hidden. Heart pounding, adrenaline surging, Sarah wished she knew more Pashto in order to follow what they were saying more easily.

  Sweat rolled down her temples, the tunnel hot and stuffy. She tried to pull her legs in a little tighter, but the curve prevented it. She heard another man barking commands, the voice was right next to the tunnel where she was hiding. Gritting her teeth, Sarah knew she was in a defenseless position. The thought hit her that one of the Taliban could climb into the tunnel, search it and discover her. Her heart leaped with fright.

  Placing her face into the ruck, opening her mouth to breathe through it, she tried to remain absolutely still. There was no help arriving. She was on her own. It was like hiding in that closet, waiting for Bill to come and find her, drag her out of it, drag her into his bedroom.

  Oh, God, no…

  Her fists curled around the ruck. The horrors of those times, the terror, roared through Sarah. Only this time, if she was found, she’d be interrogated, raped, tortured and probably beheaded in the end. She pressed her sweaty face into the ruck, barely breathing, hearing the man’s grating, angry voice so close to where she was hidden.

  She wanted a chance to live! To survive this. If she hadn’t shot those four enemy soldiers, they’d never have known she was here. Sarah shook her head. It didn’t matter. She was damned if a woman or child was going to be raped. Her life in trade for the other two. Ethan’s face hung before her. How she wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare. If only he knew she was alive! That she loved him.

  Suddenly, AK-47 gunfire exploded nearby. Sarah jerked. She nearly screamed. The gunfire was long and continuous. She heard the roar and reverberation in the surrounding rocks. What the hell were they doing? And then, she gasped. Her eyes widened with terror, her heart thrashing in her chest. They were systematically going from hole to hole, firing into them!

  No! She tried desperately to get her lower legs and boots around the curve to protect herself. Bullets would ricochet off the round, narrow walls and she could easily be killed.

  The next blast of the AK-47 roared through the area. She pressed her hands against her ears, sobbing for breath. It was the tunnel next to hers. They would be firing into hers next. The sound was deafening. Sarah couldn’t hear anything, her ears ringing from the blasts. Sarah felt like a trapped animal, nowhere to go. Oh, God, I’m going to die!

  The shooting stopped.

  Sarah tensed, gritting her teeth, eyes jammed shut. She shoved her face into her ruck, pulling her arms over her head to try to protect herself. She heard the grate of the barrel of the gun slide into her tunnel. She stopped breathing.

  The roar of the AK-47 blasted into the tunnel. The bullets were on automatic, shredding the area, exploding huge pieces of rock off the wall, debris shot in every direction. The roar stunned Sarah, and she cried out into her ruck. Bullets spun and struck the rock, sparks flying. The snap and pop of bullets flying past her head was terrifying. She felt one graze her arm, slicing open her flight suit. The roar kept going and Sarah felt as if it wouldn’t end.

  Suddenly, she felt a numbness in her left calf. She’d been hit!

  The gunfire stopped.

  Hand across her mouth, she felt pain rip up her leg, past her knee. Clenching her teeth, Sarah jammed her face into the ruck to stop from screaming. Her flight suit was covered with dust and rocks that had been torn off the walls around her by the bullets. Thick dust hung in the air, making it hard for her to take a breath. Blinking, the sweat stinging her eyes, she didn’t dare move.

  The voices moved on.

  The blasting of an AK-47 began again. This time, on the other side of her tunnel. Sarah let out a gasp, knowing no one would hear it with the thundering echoes caused by the AK being fired. Warm fluid leaked over her calf. It was blood but she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t even sit up or reach back to look at it or apply pressure to it. Her heart felt as if it would explode out of her chest. Sarah was afraid someone would hear it.

  The AK-47 stopped firing.

  She heard someone laugh and speak in Pashto.

  Laughter. Someone was laughing? Cold rage flowed through Sarah. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to keep her breathing silent. The dust was thick and she gagged. She couldn’t cough! Her flight suit was soaked with sweat. Her hands trembled as terror held her in its grip. She had never felt as trapped as right now.

  *

  Ethan and his team were making their way down the goat path when the shattering sounds of continuous AK-47 fire made them freeze. They looked around, crouching, M4s up. Dagger gave a hand signal. Ethan moved to him.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Dagger growled.

  “I don’t know. Never heard anything like it,” Ethan said, breathing hard. The sky was turbid, threatening rain. “Let’s melt into this cave. Clear it first.”

  “Right.” Dagger gave another hand signal to the other SEALs to join him.

  Ethan rubbed his face, stymied. What the hell was going on? He’d hear automatic bursts of an AK-47, a halt and then it would fire again. Clearly, Taliban was ahead. For the thousandth time he wished a drone was overhead to give them live video feed so they could see the size of the force and where they were located.

  Dagger came out of the cave, giving him a signal that the cave was clear. Ethan walked slowly, listening to a third firing of the AK-47. It was about four miles ahead of them from what he could estimate. When they gathered as a group off to one side, everyone drank water and ate several protein bars. Ethan saw Reza scowl. The Afghan said little. If he was asked a question, he’d answer it. Otherwise, unless it was important to the team safety or tracking, he remained silent.

  Bothered by a fourth round of gunfire echoing down the valley, Ethan went over and sat with Reza. “What do you make of it?” he asked the Afghan.

  “You will not like my answer, young friend.” He unwrapped some goat cheese and broke off a piece between his short, lean fingers.

  “Tell me.” Ethan felt his heart clench.

  “When Khogani’s Hill tribe swept through our villages, many of our older people, our young and our women ran for the caves to try to hide from the attacks.” He drank some water from his goatskin and wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve. “Mustafa Khogani went after them. In many of the caves, there are holes big enough for a child or adult to squeeze into and hide.” His voice lowered, black brows dropping. “Khogani figured it out and had his soldiers fire their AK-47s into the tunnels, thereby killing whoever was in there. They put the rifle on automatic, the ricochets killing almost all of those who were hiding.” He lifted his chin and stared over at Ethan’s narrowed eyes. “No one can survive that without a wound.”

  An icy shiver coursed down Ethan’s spine. He swallowed hard. “Then,” he forced out, his voice guttural with fear, “Sarah might have hidden in one of those holes and they know it?”

  Shrugging, Reza whispered, “Yes, but I hope I am wrong.”

  Turning away, Ethan blinked back tears, wanting to scream out his rage. He felt so damned helpless. He rose to his feet, going toward the front of the cave, wiping his brow, trying to think. If Sarah was wounded, she could die or bleed out. They just didn’t have time! Taking a shaky breath, he rested his hands against his hips and stared out into the muddy-looking sky. It was going to rain shortly.

  *

  As night fell, Sarah hobbled to the cave opening. It was raining heavily. She lowered her NVGs over her eyes and turned them on. The goat path was muddy, churned up by horses earlier. She gingerly tested her left leg. Remembering how Ox had told her to clean out a gunshot wound, she’d been relieved to have the numbing lidocaine to make it a less painful process. With a pair of latex gloves on, Sarah had placed antibiotic ointment into the hole through her cal
f. She then placed a battle dressing around it and then used some green duct tape to wrap the bottom of her trouser leg closed, trying to seal off the wound from outside debris and bacteria.

  Pain stitched up her leg. Grimacing, Sarah pushed out into the night, quickly becoming soaked by the rain. Thunder rolled up north and she saw lightning dancing across the black sky. Tonight her objective was to make it within two miles of FOB Thunder. She had a lot of walking to do on a bad leg. She’d lost some blood, but not enough for her to be concerned about.

  Sarah headed out, the thunder growling and rolling down the valley, the rain slashing at her face. It was colder tonight and Sarah wished for a warm jacket. Or better yet, Ethan holding her. The goat path was muddy and slippery. If not for Ox putting in high-dose ibuprofen as a pain killer, Sarah would be feeling the wound a lot more. There were twinges for sure, but it didn’t cripple her or slow the pace she set for herself. She amassed her resolve; she had a long walk in front of her tonight. She knew the Taliban was aware of her presence. Maybe they thought they’d killed her back in the cave. Let them think that.

  She’d gone half a mile when a huge scree slope with a one-thousand-foot wadi, or ravine, confronted her on the right. The rain was easing, but the thunder and lightning were frequent. Looking up, she saw the wadi was thick with trees and brush. A shiver of fear rippled through her. Taliban often hid in them.

  Taking no chances, Sarah assumed there were men and horses somewhere in that wadi. She decided to go down the rocky slope, beneath the area, and then climb up the other side in order to get on the goat path once again.

  Her boots kept slipping on the wet rocks. Holding out her arms to balance herself, Sarah had no depth perception with the two-dimensional NVGs. Sometimes, her boot would slip deep and then her ankle would unexpectedly twist. Mouth tight, Sarah was pounded by wind gusts roaring down the valley. She was halfway across when a lightning bolt struck within half a mile of where she was. Automatically, she winced and crouched. She lost her balance, being pulled backward by the heavy ruck. With a gasp, she landed hard, the Kevlar helmet she wore taking the brunt of a hit on the rocks. Stunned, her vision temporarily blown by the lightning, she lay there panting, her breath knocked out of her.

  Sarah lay there knowing the Taliban could be right above her. What scared her even more was she heard the soft snort of a horse in the wadi. Her heart rattled wildly and adrenaline poured through her. She had to get out of here! Rolling over on her hands and knees, Sarah shakily got to her feet. Her head ached like hell. The rain began again, another thunder cell coming across the valley. Her vision returning somewhat, she held out her arms, continuing doggedly, one step at a time, to get to the path.

  It seemed like hours before she made it around the wadi. Sarah tried to trot, but her wounded leg protested powerfully, nearly buckling her knee. Groaning softly, the rain slicing at her, Sarah felt cold stealing into her bones. Her fingers were numb and she noticed vapor shooting out of her mouth. It had to be near freezing. Snorting, she thought it would be a hell of a thing to find her body tomorrow morning lying on a goat path. Killed by hypothermia, not a Taliban’s bullet. The black humor boosted her spirit and she walked as fast as her wounded leg would allow.

  All the time, she kept remembering Ethan’s poem to her, the words inspiring her, telling her that she was worth saving and that it was worth fighting to get back to him, to his arms.

  By the time dawn crawled up on the cloudy, angry-looking horizon, Sarah had made it to the base of one of two hills she’d have to climb tomorrow night in order to get to FOB Thunder. She could see the Army outpost sitting on a hill about two miles away, a dark silhouette emerging out of the night. Wearily, she found a small wadi and crawled down into it. She needed to sleep. Her leg was aching like fire itself and she could feel she had a fever. Not good.

  Unhappy that she hadn’t been able to clean the wound out properly, she remembered Ox telling her that even though she took antibiotics, it would take forty-eight hours for them to kick in and begin to work. Between her shivering, teeth chattering and not being able to feel her hands or feet, Sarah tried to find somewhere to keep her out of the wind and rain.

  *

  “She was here,” Reza said, crouching at the cave entrance, pointing to her track.

  Dagger growled, “The Taliban was in here.” He pointed to all the other tracks.

  Ethan’s heart was pounding. They’d evaded Taliban on horseback hours earlier. He’d gotten photos of the leader on a black horse with about twenty soldiers behind him. He’d sent the photo back to Master Chief Hunter via a satellite link with his laptop. This mission was about recovering Sarah, not engaging the enemy. The SEALs had faded into the brush alongside the goat path, completely unseen as the enemy galloped by them.

  Ethan tried to keep his emotions in check. They had already cleared the cave. “Let’s explore those tunnels back there,” he said, leaving Dusty to guard the cave entrance.

  Turning to the right, Ethan jerked to a halt. Spent AK-47 cartridges were piled up beneath each hole in the wall.

  “This is where they were shooting into them,” Reza said.

  “How do we find out if Sarah’s here?” he choked out, eyeing the holes. They were all too small for him to crawl into.

  Reza took off his hat and his vest, handing them to Ethan. “I will search.”

  Ethan’s throat closed up. Panic hit him. He wanted to cry but couldn’t. Reza quickly wriggled into the first one and disappeared. Had she been shot? Oh, God, no… He blinked rapidly, forcing tears out of his eyes. Dagger and Trace trotted down the other tunnel.

  “Clear,” Reza called back.

  Ethan watched him climb into the next one. He couldn’t think. Holding his breath, not wanting to hear Reza say anything but “clear.” Wiping his sweaty brow, his gaze was glued to that tunnel.

  “Clear,” Reza called.

  Once out of the tunnel, the Afghan held up another piece of flight uniform to Ethan. “She was in that one. I found this and some other fibers stuck on the walls.” He frowned. “I saw blood. Not a lot, but some. I think she managed to get most of her body around the curve in this tunnel. Only her feet and lower legs would have been unprotected.” He shrugged. “Maybe a foot or leg wound?”

  Relief surged through Ethan. “Okay, good work,” his voice was shaking. “What now?”

  Reza took his vest and drew it over his shoulders. He then placed his rolled hat on his head. “We look for blood. If she was shot in the foot, her print will not be solid and flat.” He turned, and walked out to the main cave.

  Ethan called back Dagger and Trace, ordering them to join them in the cave. He looked out of it, dusk coming rapidly. Dusty was kneeling down next to Reza and they were pointing at something. He walked over.

  Reza glanced up. “Blood here.” He pointed into the spots in the dirt. He rose, moving closer to the opening.

  Dagger and Trace came trotting back. Ethan explained what they’d found.

  “Come here,” Reza called softly, gesturing for Ethan to join him on the goat path.

  Ethan looked where the Afghan was pointing in the mud.

  “These prints are about ten hours old and they are Sarah’s. You notice, both her right and left foot are flat and solid.”

  “Meaning,” Ethan whispered, “she took a lower-leg gunshot wound?”

  Nodding, Reza followed up about five more feet. He straightened and turned around. “We don’t know how bad it is.”

  “Knowing her,” Ethan said, running his fingers through his short, wet hair, “she slapped a dressing on it and continued to walk last night.”

  “Hmm,” Reza murmured. “From here it is ten miles to the twin hills below FOB Thunder. She could walk it, providing the wound does not slow her down.”

  Ethan threw his hands on his hips, thinking. They’d tracked last night until her boot track was washed out by rain. They’d stopped, eaten and slept in a cave, up at dawn this morning. Now they’d push hard to find he
r. No rest from here on out.

  *

  Sarah heard a sound. Was it the nightmare she was having? Her fever was at one hundred three and she was sweating. Her body was on fire. Her dreams were shadows and threats. She saw Bill’s face and cringed, trying to get away from him. The sound came again. Whispers of a man’s voice. He was close. And he was going to grab her and hurt her. No!

  Sarah felt a man’s hand settle like a claw around her shoulder, jerking her upward.

  Gasping, her eyes flew open. A cry tore from her as she saw a black-bearded man, his eyes almost as dark as obsidian and without life in their depths, grinning savagely into her face. He was surrounded by other men, all their rifles pointing down at her. The garlic on his breath nearly made her want to vomit as he dragged her across the rocks, through the brush and out into the open.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Sarah struggled as he jerked her into a sitting position. He never quit smiling. An evil smile. A smile that told her she was a prisoner of the Taliban. Nostrils flaring, she stopped struggling. There were at least twenty men in a circle around her.

  “We finally caught you,” Mustafa Khogani crowed softly, his face in hers. His glance cut down across her wet flight suit. He spotted blood on her left leg. He chuckled a little, tightening his fingers into the collar of her flight suit. “I see we did wound you. You were in that cave, were you not?” His black eyes bored into hers.

  Sarah said nothing. She knew the drill on becoming a prisoner. Her heart sank, flailing wildly in her chest, adrenaline powering through her. There was nothing she could do. They’d caught her. A part of her died in that moment, the hope that she might get out of this situation, gone.

  Mustafa released her and stood. He looked around. Dawn was coming, the stars overhead fading. “Jawaad!” he snapped to his second-in-command. “Get her on a horse, blindfold her.” He saw the ruck in the bushes of the wadi. “Bring that along, too.”