by Ronie Kendig
Aspen elbowed Timmy, feeling the sweat and grime that came with being in an African country during one of their hottest months. Even though they’d just left the base and would spend the day in the city looking around, she already yearned for a cool shower when they got back.
One of Talon’s drool bombs landed on Timbrel’s tactical pants. She half groaned, half laughed. “If I didn’t love dogs so much…”
Dane leaned forward, his arm stretched across the back of the seat, affording a little more room. “So, you prefer a drooling beast over a man?”
A caustic look slid into Timbrel’s features. “Is there a difference?”
The front end jolted, then the deafening noise and jarring beating the Cougar stopped.
“Blacktop!” Candyman announced as he patted the dash. “Knew you could do it, baby.”
“Thank God,” Timbrel muttered. “Now, can someone teach him how to drive?”
Candyman shot a wink over his shoulder. “She’s crazy about me, can’t you tell?”
Aspen resisted the urge to laugh. The two had been dogging each other since they reunited. If she didn’t know better, she’d think there was some serious romantic tension beneath all those jibes and cutting remarks. Well, not for Timbrel. But she worried Candyman might be getting some ideas about her.
Though only eighteen miles stretched between Camp Lemonnier and Djibouti proper, the atrocious road conditions slowed them. Now on the paved roads, they might make up a bit of time, but what was two minutes when it felt like the heat would bake flesh off your body?
As they turned onto Avenue Marechal, Aspen eyed the street of white buildings shadowed by trees and littered with women robed in black and their heads covered with vibrant, beautiful scarves. The town looked as if it had been designed in the seventies then never touched afterward. Still…“It’s pretty.”
“This side, yes.” Dane sat on the edge of the seat, forearms on his legs. “Go farther north or west, and you’ll find a stark difference.”
“Why?”
“French embassy.” Dane pointed to the building on the corner. “Farther down, a right onto Lyautey, and the American embassy is on the left.”
Ah. Of course. Couldn’t let some dignitaries or politicians live in poverty.
“Is that your way of saying we need to know where they are?” Timbrel’s words held accusation.
“Ignorance is a swift road to death.” Dane braced himself as they turned into a drive. The gate’s overhead ornamentation reminded her of the outline of a stepped pyramid. The vehicles pulled forward.
Concern rippled through Aspen. “Why are we here?”
Hand on the door, Dane hesitated. “To deliver the doctors.”
Her stomach twisted at the buildings around them. This? This was the hospital? She stepped into the unrelenting and balmy heat and stared at the buildings. Perhaps an inner-city clinic might look so dilapidated, but the main hospital for the city?
Talon sat by her feet on the dirt, panting. Aspen looked from one building to another, the familiar arches and the stark white, the smattering of pebbles that almost formed a road through the compound…She couldn’t fathom seeking medical help in a facility like this. She fed Talon some water then ruffled his fur. Red lettering over the doors—in French, leftover from the French influence and control of the country—identified the buildings. ORL MAXILLO FACIALE.
“See?” One of the doctors pointed down the drive a bit. “New facilities. Slowly, they are making progress.”
“U.S. has donated a lot.”
“Including hands-on help.” Aspen nodded as they followed the medical team into the multistoried building.
Over the next half hour, they toured the grounds. No marble tile or slate linoleum that lent a sterile feel to the hospital. Cement served its purpose, and where more sterility was demanded, tile covered 80 percent. Her heart misfired as she saw the building marked PÉDIATRIE. Around the entrance of blue-painted wrought iron stood several Muslim women, covered head to toe. Some held the hands of children.
Oh, Father, no. Aspen’s stomach tightened. She could endure and tolerate a lot of things, but seeing children in pain or hurting…A touch at the small of her back startled her.
“You okay?”
She peered up into the steadfast gaze of Dane. And felt foolish. “Yeah. Sure.” She shot a look at the pediatric unit. A cold, wet nose nudged her hand, pulling her attention toward Talon. As quick as she looked down, he trotted ahead, aiming straight for the children’s building. Blue trimmed the windows, curiously drawing her attention to the window AC units that had discolored to a dirty tan. Shrubs poked up from a hard-packed dirt flower bed. Not exactly the lush green lawns found at most American hospitals, but it added a bit of green to the stark landscape.
“This is unbelievable,” Timbrel whispered.
“Djibouti struggles,” said one of the doctors who led them onward. “Two out of three children will face life-threatening medical problems due to poverty.” He grinned and pointed to Talon. “I bet the kids will love to see him.”
“He’s not a pet,” Timbrel warned.
The doctor hesitated. “Will he be okay?”
Aspen smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” In fact, she’d taken Talon to parks to help him adjust to sounds, to learn that not every loud noise was a threat. He still had a long way to go, but the handsome guy had come far.
Inside, the doctors quickly made their way to a multibed open area where children lay in hospital gowns, bandages here and there, IV lines snaking in and out. Brightly colored cartoon characters were painted on some walls, their perspectives a bit distorted and odd against the aging wood, peeling trim, and dirty tile. Aspen cringed. This would never fly in America.
As they made their way over to the bed of a little boy, who sat up in the bed, his leg propped on a pillow, Aspen steeled herself. Why was it always so hard to see children suffer? Because they were helpless? Because it exposed her own vulnerability?
Dr. Gutierrez nodded to Talon. “Hassan would like to pet your dog.”
Gathering her courage, Aspen kept the lead loose so Talon wouldn’t feed off her tension if she’d kept it tight. “Tell him to hold out his hand, palm up.”
Gutierrez relayed the instructions, and the boy extended his hand. Small, brown, marked with scars.
Without any instruction, Talon nosed the boy’s hand then swiped his tongue over it, eliciting a peal of laughter from the boy. Pride ballooned through Aspen’s chest. It reminded her of what Austin’s partner—and superior—had done for her when he’d first joined her family.
Talon sniffed the air. What, had he detected the strong antiseptic odor? He shifted back and glanced to the hall, bathed in shadows.
Trained on the hall, Talon barked. Then quickly sat. Aspen’s heart climbed into her throat. She couldn’t see anything down there, but Talon was rigid as a board.
The boy jerked visibly. Let out a scream.
Talon bolted.
Eleven
He didn’t see that coming. Aspen blurred past him. Cardinal glanced to the rest of the team, already swarming toward them. They broke into a sprint down the hall. She whipped to the right, out of sight. Pushing himself, he fell into the training that was first nature as breathing: memorizing his path, monitoring his surroundings, listening ahead and behind, formulating a plan, then a backup.
Boots and shouts erupted from behind. Another turn. A flight of stairs presented themselves at a cross section. He peered up then right and left. Behind him.
Watterboy pointed to Cardinal’s left. “You go right, we’ll cover this.”
Cardinal lunged down the hall. Empty. He glanced back. The others were already backtracking. Hogan’s face bore the fury of fear.
“Where is she?”
Thud!
To his right, light burst from another hall.
“Talon,” came Aspen’s faint call.
She’d gotten farther away than he thought. He hopped back a step and spun
around. They were on top of him. He felt the friction of someone else’s elbow near his own. That ticked him off. Aspen was his responsibility. His priority to get her back home safely. No way would he be the cause of her death, too.
He burst out into an alley marked with aged buildings, dirt, a few dehydrated shrubs, dirt, a chain-link fence to the right, more dirt, and sun. Lots of sun. It felt like they’d stepped into a sauna. Sweat streaked down his back.
One of the men cursed.
“Aspen!” Timbrel shouted.
“What do we do?”
“I didn’t think Talon could move that fast,” Timbrel said. “He’s been nothing but lumbering and moping since I met him.”
“What spooked him?” Watterboy asked.
“No idea.” Cardinal stalked south of the pediatric building. There were any of a half-dozen routes they could’ve taken.
Hands cupped over her mouth, Timbrel shouted, “Aspen!”
Another curse.
“Hey,” Candyman said, “watch the language. There’s a lady present.”
“You wouldn’t know one if you saw one.” Timbrel called out to her friend again.
Candyman grinned. “She’s in love with me.”
For that, he was punched by two of his teammates as they fanned out, tense and alert, checking corners, alleys, buildings. Cardinal felt the heat—the 110 degrees and the scalding his conscience gave him for losing his target.
He turned, thinking he’d heard a dog bark. Head cocked to the side, he listened…
Hands stabbed at him.
Deflecting the move was instinctual. But he hauled those instincts in as he registered Hogan shouting something. “…fault. You better find her.” She’d drop him in a heartbeat. That is, if he let her.
“Shouting at me won’t help us find her.” Cardinal ripped out his phone. Punched in a number. Then a code. “I need eyes.” Teeth grinding, he stalked toward the gate, checking in, around, under, and over anything possible.
“Aspen, where are you?” Hogan’s shout reverberated through the hospital compound. Curious eyes peeked out of windows. Others stepped outside, watching as if they were some freak street sideshow.
“Here.”
The ever-so-faint word threw him around. He sprinted down the dirt road. South. Straight south. That’s the direction it’d come from. Aspen. He wasn’t one to panic. But this was close.
“Here.”
Just as her voice reached him, he saw paw prints in the dusty dirt.
“Over the fence,” she called.
Unbelievable. The dog had to have hopped up on that crate and leapt over the fence. It was several feet. But if he never stopped…incredible. Cardinal vaulted over it without a second thought. He touched the tarred alley that led back to Avenue Marechal.
Another dozen thumps and he knew the team had made it. He reached the corner, his breathing just above normal. Staying in shape benefited his career. Scratch that. It benefited staying alive.
Across the unenforced intersection, past a cluster of trees, a street led to what looked like a field. He shifted around and looked down the road…alley. Nothing.
A flicker to the left snagged his attention.
Aspen around the corner, already on Lyautey, waved before she started running again.
“Got her,” he threw over his shoulder. He stepped into the street. The wail of a horn nudged him back. Another car practically kissed the bumper of the first, but Cardinal launched himself over it to get to the other side. He aimed left—then skidded to a stop.
A rippling movement.
There, down that alley that led to an open area.
Talon!
Cardinal plunged down the alley. Pumping as hard as his legs would carry him. Blanketed in the shade of the buildings and the small trees lining the road, he pressed on. Thudding boots trailed him, followed by shouts and streams of communication one of the men had with Command.
He burst into the sunlight again and slowed. Where had she gone? He searched the circular area that looked as if it’d been cleared for building something. He breathed a little heavier, ignored the sweat sliding down his chest. His neck. His back—for cryin’ out loud! He was drenched.
Aspen trotted toward them, gulping air. Red splotches glowed against her white-blond curls now a sweat-stained brown. Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“He’s tracking,” Timbrel said.
“Tracking what? There wasn’t…anything in that children’s”—she swallowed—“ward,” Aspen said with a gasp, still out of breath from the run. “And where did he go?” She threw her hands up and walked out into the middle. “Talon, come.” She took a draught from the CamelBak strapped to her spine. She lifted a whistle, placed it between her lips, and blew.
Nothing.
“That thing even work?” Cardinal asked just to open the conversation. He knew it was one of those that emitted a high-frequency signal.
Worry lined her fair features. “He can hear it. Up to two miles.”
A string of old buildings lined the property on the northern side. To the south and southwest more recent buildings or those that had been updated. Like the Sheraton and casino cradled at the corner.
“Command ordered us back to base.”
Aspen spun toward Watterboy. “I’m not leaving without him. You shouldn’t either—he’s a soldier, just like you.” Her shoulders dropped, and Cardinal could almost read her thoughts, or he used to be. She scanned the area. “Just give me five more minutes.” Brows knitted, she looked ready to cry.
And in some weird way, that twisted Cardinal’s heart. “What can I do?” It was a stupid question. Even as it rang in his ears, he berated himself—what can I do? Find the dog! But it wasn’t that he asked because he’d had a brain fart.
No, the reason behind that question was far more dangerous. Because with those words, he knew beyond a shadow of any doubt or intention, he would break a Cardinal rule: Never be at the mercy of another.
“Find him.” Aspen felt like she’d just placed her heart, her very life, in the hands of a man who had the power to be her undoing. He knew too much. Like the words to say to convince her to do anything. The words to twist her soul into knots until it took hours—as it had last night—of quiet meditation on God’s Word to untangle it.
She chided herself, being on this mission to find her brother, but her thoughts constantly straying to this man. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Powerful chest and arms. But an even more powerful presence. Commanding. He had that effect on most everyone. She was certain of that because of Timbrel’s reaction. Like when water hit a hot frying pan. There’s that initial explosion then the sizzling till evaporation.
Aspen chuckled to herself. So, which of those two would evaporate?
“What’s that?” Dane asked, curving his spine a bit to bend toward her.
“Nothing.” See? There. He’d done it again. Picked up on a cue she hadn’t even realized she’d given off.
“Then you didn’t hear me?”
Her heart slipped a gear. “What?”
Dane stretched his long, tanned arm toward the row of crumbling buildings with bent, broken, missing windows. One no longer had a roof. “A couple of those are on brick supports.”
“Yeah?”
“He might’ve crawled under there.”
The thought seized her. “That’s what he does when he’s scared—gets under something.”
“Come on.”
“What’s going on?” Timbrel came up behind them.
“We’re going to search the buildings.” Aspen nodded toward the structures. “They’re on bricks, so—”
“He might be hiding.”
Nodding, Aspen fell into step with Dane. A move that felt as natural and comforting as if they’d held hands. Whoa, chief. She had to shake these thoughts. Stay focused on finding Austin. “He’s been worse since we landed here.”
Dane squatted next to a small building
then skirted around the foundation curling away from the rest of the house. He tugged it back.
Growling burst out.
Dane grinned. “I think we found him.”
“Talon!” Dropping to her knees, she felt a giddy bubble work its way up her throat. She touched Dane’s arm. “Thank you.” Palms pressed to the dirt, she peered under the building. Were it any other animal, had she not spent the last year coaching Talon through therapy and teaching him how to be a dog again, the hollow gold eyes glowing in the dark would scare the heebies out of her.
She resisted the urge to baby-talk him. Heath had challenged her on that the day dog and handler had met. Keeping her voice calm and controlled would help Talon’s mental state. Knowing he could smell her fear, she stowed it. “Talon, come.”
A high-pitched whimper.
Aspen dug his ball out of her pant pocket. “Here, boy.”
Gravel and dirt shifted in the darkened area.
Repeating the command went against all the training she’d accrued. But she wanted to coax him out. This was different, though, wasn’t it? He was in a dangerous place, with the heat and she wasn’t sure what else. She did, however, feel like they were exposed and vulnerable.
“Command’s ordering us back to the hospital. Temps are skyrocketing.”
“Here.” Candyman removed his SureFire and crouched beside them. He aimed it beneath the house. Light shattered darkness. “Here, boy.” He looked at Aspen. “Want me to go in and get him?”
“No.” Aspen lay on her belly. “If you go in, you block his only exit. He’ll feel trapped.”
Dark blond beard and green eyes considered her. “So, what you’re saying is he’ll bite my face off.”
“That’d be an improvement,” Timbrel heckled.
Candyman rolled onto his side and looked up at her, a hand over his heart. “I’m mortally wounded.”
“Does that mean I get your weapon and CamelBak when you finally die?”
“Just give me room.” Aspen nudged him out of the way. “Talon, come.”