“Lydia!” Please be there. He didn’t want to believe all his efforts to keep her alive had been for nothing.
After another half-dozen steps, he stopped. Soft sounds to his right. A large pine tree had broken near the base and fallen, and the trunk formed a narrow angle to the ground. Branches and leaves made it hard to see what was behind it. Maybe Lydia had moved there for safety.
“Lydia?” he said quietly. She might be hurt. He stepped forward to see behind the log but froze almost immediately. Black fur was visible just above the trunk. He slowly drew the OTF knife. Near the end of the log a bear cub appeared, sniffing along the ground. It paused to look up at him.
One moment he was watching it, the next he was sliding over the ground in a confusion of limbs. He came to a stop and painfully rolled over to his back. A black bear loomed over him, straddling his legs. He had lost the OTF knife and swept his hand over the ground to find it.
Shots were fired, sounding close.
The bear swung its head north, and then stood up on two feet.
Bender rolled his head to the side. Lydia was walking toward him, the Glock held in both hands and aimed at the bear. Her bravery astounded him. He wanted to tell her to run.
Instead she stopped and fired the gun again. The bear dropped to all fours, spun, and ran off, the cubs in tow.
“Good girl,” he murmured. It was then that he felt the pain—a sharp stinging across his upper back. It felt like the bear had torn him open. His body was limp. Used up. He wondered if he was dying. He realized the Rattler and rifle had been torn off his body.
Lydia knelt beside him, setting the Glock down.
“Just give me a minute,” he gasped. He stared up at her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Did you catch the bad man?”
“He won’t hurt anyone. We’re safe now.” He wanted to change the topic. “Can you see if there’s anything on the ground by my feet? I think the bear might have torn my sling bag.”
She crawled away for a minute, returning with a handful of items, including beef jerky, protein bars, and a small flashlight.
“Why don’t you open two of those bars and we’ll have some lunch.” He wanted to smile but his back burned now.
She complied and they chewed in silence.
An owl gave a po-po-po-po whistle in the distance.
He grimaced over the pain everywhere on his body. He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t. “What kind of owl do you think it is, Lydia?” he whispered.
She listened. “I don’t know.”
“Boreal owl. I have a daughter your age who loves birds. We have contests on hikes to see who can name the most species.”
Her eyes glistened.
He took a deep breath. “I’m hurt, Lydia. I need to rest. Can you sit by me and watch out for the bear?”
“Okay.” She sat and crossed her legs.
“I won’t sleep too long,” he whispered. He was out immediately.
Sometime later, he wasn’t sure when, something pricked his attention, pulling him out of a dark, restful place he didn’t want to leave. He cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry from sleep and welcoming dreams. Not far away he saw legs. Someone standing. A rescue party? His gaze moved upward.
A man was hunched over, clutching his chest with one hand, a knife gripped in his other.
Adam.
Chapter 10
Bender’s first thought was how the hell had the man survived this long? He guessed Adam could ask that of him too.
Lydia was standing, holding the Glock with both hands and aiming it at the terrorist.
Bender wanted to tell her to pull the trigger, but his lips and throat seemed too dry to get the words out.
Adam lurched forward, raising the knife.
Two explosions. Lydia’s Glock.
Before he closed his eyes, Bender saw Adam falling.
Sometime later his shoulder rocked back and forth until he opened his eyes again. Rachel was beside him. It surprised him and he wanted to hold her, but his arms wouldn’t move.
“Rachel,” he murmured.
“C’mon,” she said.
“I can’t,” he mumbled. A tear escaped his eye. He was failing his daughter. “I’m sorry, Rachel.”
“Lydia!”
He blinked. Lydia stared down at him. The confusion of the dream slipped away.
The forest was darker. Panic. For a moment he thought they had missed the midnight pickup. His voice was hoarse. “Walk to the pickup point. Get help, Lydia. Then we can go home.”
She just stared at him.
He realized why. She had no home. It was an effort just to move his lips. “Do you have any aunts or uncles?”
“Aunt Mary. She’s my mom’s twin sister.”
“That’s great. Where does she live?”
“Michigan.”
“Do you like her?” he murmured.
She nodded.
He closed his eyes, unable to hold off his fatigue anymore.
“Jerome!”
He blinked. Lydia was shaking his shoulder again. Blood loss made him weak. “I can’t walk on my own.”
“I’ll help you.” She looked down at him, a determined expression on her face.
Maybe he could cover a little distance. Get her started. He dreaded the pain that would bring. “All right,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here so you can see your aunt.”
With her help he slowly eased himself onto his side, and then sat up, gasping. Tears filled his eyes. Shifting to his knees, he reached out to Lydia. She grasped his arm and helped him to his feet. He staggered under the burning sensation that shot across his back. Bending over, he groaned.
Lydia handed him the Glock, and he feebly stuck it in his belt. They would have to leave the other guns.
“Find my knife.”
She did, and he had her place it in the belt-sheath for him.
“Flashlight,” he gasped. “You hold it.”
She picked it up. Taking a breath, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned on her for support. He didn’t want to move. Every movement either burned his back or stabbed his ribs. Using the compass, he set a course for northwest.
He paused to stare at Adam. Face down. He looked at Lydia.
“I shot him.” She stared at the body.
Her voice was steady and that gave him hope her action wouldn’t traumatize her further.
“You did the right thing. You were protecting me and yourself. You’re very brave.” Amazed again at her strength, he squeezed her shoulder.
She looked up at him, her face strained, her voice wavering. “I didn’t shoot the bear because I didn’t want the cubs to lose their mother.”
Like you lost your mother. “Your mother would be proud of you. I am too.” For a moment he felt horrible that he hadn’t saved her mother, and that Lydia wouldn’t have a mother to love her all her life. He had to get her to her aunt. It gave him strength and determination to stay upright at least until they reached the canoe.
She wiped her eyes and he shuffled forward. It was slow going. He had to steel himself to the fact that they had miles to go. Heading northwest, they passed Kaysan.
Bender stopped to lean against a tree. He closed his eyes, half-awake.
In seconds Lydia was nudging him. “Come on.”
For a moment he wavered, and then she tugged him forward. He leaned on her shoulder with his hand.
The pain came at him in waves and often he had to stop. Every step hurt. Lydia kept him from falling. He wasn’t going to make it.
The canoe, he told himself. For Lydia. For Rachel.
He paced himself, leaning on her the whole time. After a while he could sense her tiring beneath his weight, but he couldn’t remain upright on his own. His back felt wet where the bear had struck him. He tried to ignore it.
During the walk he kept his eyes barely cracked open, enough to see his feet. A deep sense of satisfaction swept him that he had saved Lydia. It would help her
that she had saved him from the bear and Adam—and was saving him now. Anything to give her strength to face her losses was good.
It made him realize again how strong the girl was, and how strong Rachel was—he should have climbed the vertical chute cave with her. They had found it on one of their adventures. She had wanted to do it, but he had told her she wasn’t ready. She was. He was the one who hadn’t been ready—always obsessed with the nth degree of safety.
Rachel needed to know he believed in her, trusted her. He should have let her do easy caves by herself to gain confidence. He could have monitored her while allowing her to go in alone. Imagining her face lighting up when he told her his decision gave him strength to fight the pain and motivation to keep shuffling forward.
They stopped frequently so they could both rest. A number of times he mumbled, “You’re very brave, Lydia. Thank you.”
It took the better part of four hours to reach the river and find the canoe. Lydia pushed it into the water, wrapping the canoe line around a log. Bender just stared at it, exhausted.
Lydia returned to the tree he was leaning against. He didn’t want to move.
“Come on.” She moved closer to him.
Just across the river. Then he could tell her to go on her own. He carefully put his arm across her shoulders.
“Okay,” he murmured. He stumbled down to the canoe, collapsing into it, and managed to get himself onto a seat to paddle. That effort made him gasp.
He let Lydia do most of the work, while he remained bent over, trying to guide the canoe from the stern. The sky cleared, showing an early moon. For a moment they stopped to look at it, while they drifted on the river. It was all he could do to keep from passing out.
After the crossing, Lydia got out and pulled the canoe a few feet onto the sand. He stared at the water, not wanting to get out. She splashed into the water by the canoe and reached for him.
He grabbed her hands and stood up, wobbly. When stepping out of the canoe, his toe on caught on the gunwale and he fell face first into the river. Water surrounded him and he gulped it down. He reached out to push off the bottom but couldn’t feel it. Panicked, he tried to stand, but couldn’t orient his feet.
Lydia’s arm slipped beneath his shoulder and he used her to brace his feet in the mud. He worked himself upright, coughing water and gasping. The water was cold, actually a balm for his back.
He stood hunched over, hacking to get water out of his lungs. After a minute he trudged through the mud to the shore with Lydia pressed against his leg and side, helping him stay upright.
Once out of the water, he paused and closed his eyes—and almost fell over.
“Keep walking, Jerome!”
He opened his eyes and obeyed, not stopping again, afraid if he did he would never be able to start again.
It was another nightmare hike to the lake.
When they reached it, he slid his shoulder down the trunk of a pine tree and leaned against it, closing his eyes. His back throbbed, his side ached, and he just wanted to sleep.
Lydia sat down and leaned against him. He wanted to mumble to her to wrap his coat around her, but he didn’t have the strength to do it. He faded away into oblivion.
Chapter 11
Sometime later the noise of a boat engine entered his dreams and someone was pushing his shoulder.
“Wake up, Jerome.”
He did, surprised he was still alive.
Lydia stood nearby and stared down at him.
“Signal three times with the flashlight,” he murmured.
He didn’t see what she did, but in minutes strong hands pulled him to his feet, bracing him, nearly carrying him as he dragged his feet down to the boat. The man steadied him when he stepped in and slumped onto a seat. Lydia climbed aboard herself and sat beside him.
Unable to lift his head to look at the man, he remained hunched over.
“Anyone else coming?” asked the driver.
Bender couldn’t shake his head.
“No,” said Lydia.
The engine started. He was grateful the wind hit his back and not his face. He dozed.
Sometime later they woke him, took the gun off him, and two men helped him climb out of the boat and into the seaplane where he was helped into a seat. He didn’t want to move again. He couldn’t.
A medic on board removed his jacket and shirt, gave him some morphine, and then proceeded to clean and bandage his wounds, a tortuous process that he suffered through in silence, kept half-awake by the pain.
Finishing up, the medic nodded to him. “You’re lucky to be alive. I’m surprised the bear didn’t tear your ribs out.”
“I had a Cordura sling bag on my back.”
“Lucky.” The medic draped Bender’s torn shirt and jacket over his shoulders, and then put a blanket over his legs and lap.
Next the medic checked Lydia for injuries. Not finding any, he wrapped her up in a blanket in the seat next to Bender.
Lydia curled her legs beneath her and leaned over to rest her head on Bender’s lap. She was breathing peacefully in moments. He put an arm around her, his eyelids heavy. He forced himself to remain awake.
“I need to speak to someone about intel,” he murmured. The morphine was easing the pain.
The medic nodded and left.
A man wearing a black Lycra hood came back from the front passenger pilot seat, trading places with the medic—who went up front and donned a pair of headphones. Bender guessed they didn’t want him listening in.
While Lydia slept, the hooded man sat in front of him, wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and black shoes.
“Phone in my pocket,” he murmured.
The man dug it out. “It’s ruined. Water.”
“Yeah.” From memory, Bender gave the three phone numbers to the man, who wrote them down. He explained the liquid VX plan and the information Elias had given about the contacts and passwords, cautioning that the passwords might be warnings. He also mentioned Lydia’s aunt in Michigan.
The hooded man said, “Tell me what happened on the Op and how you lost two men.”
Bender hadn’t expected to be debriefed now and the question caught him by surprise. On the return walk he had no time or energy to prepare his story. It made him wonder what authority the man had. He was also annoyed that the man implied it was his fault Brad and Charlie had died.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The man spoke matter-of-factly. “Colonel Danker sent me. I’ve decided to debrief you now so you can get better medical attention on the next flight.”
He accepted the explanation and sleepily recounted the story of Brad’s death, his interrogation of the terrorist, his capture, and Charlie’s death. After that he finished the story quickly, leaving out the part of risking the mission to protect Lydia. Instead he said he used Lydia as a means to stay alive and escape, adding that she saved his life by scaring the bear, by killing Adam, and by helping him reach the exfil point.
Without saying anything, the hooded man stared at him for a minute. He finally said in a cool, detached voice, “Tell me again what happened, moment to moment, after Brad died.”
Bender looked at him with bleary eyes. “I’m tired.”
“I need to hear it again now, while it’s fresh.”
He became wary, realizing the hooded man didn’t believe his story. Very carefully he told the story again, maintaining what he had said the first time. Exhausted, it was easy for him to mumble and nod off at times during the story.
When he finished, the hooded man said, “I want to hear the part about your escape up to killing Elias once more, then we’re finished.”
Bender stared at the man. “Don’t you believe me?”
“You know it’s a required part of Blackhood Ops. Thoroughness.”
Going even slower, he told the story a third time. He sensed the man either reveled in violence or wanted to catch him in a lie. Either way, Colonel Danker and the hooded man would never be able to verify what had ac
tually happened.
“Did you get attached to the girl?” The man leaned forward. “Did that make you take unnecessary risks?”
Bender didn’t answer.
“You have a daughter, don’t you?”
Bender glared at him. “How do you know I have a daughter?”
“It’s my job to know. Answer the question.”
“I stopped a terrorist plot that was much more serious than the smaller action described by Danker in the pre-Op briefing.”
“Colonel Danker.”
Bender ignored the correction. “Do you think I could have done that if I was worried about saving the girl?” He was concerned the man would try to question Lydia. Then again, he doubted the interrogator had that right or authority.
“The girl puts Blackhood Ops at risk.” The hooded man said it factually.
Bender glanced at Lydia’s face as she slept on his lap. The only reason he was here was because of her. Anger rose in his throat, but he calmed himself. “She doesn’t know anything about me or the terrorists, or what any of this is about.”
The hooded man stared at him, his voice sounding clinical. “If it was a family cabin her aunt might have access, or request that the Canadian government look into it to obtain her sister’s body.”
He thought about that. “Tell the aunt that a man hunting in the woods helped Lydia escape from her parents’ killers and leave it at that. The woman might request her sister’s body, but she won’t want Lydia to relive the event by telling the story to Canadian police, and Canada can’t extradite Lydia for questioning. The U.S. government will put up roadblocks to any of it, especially since she’s a minor.”
The hooded man seemed to consider that. “I have to call Colonel Danker and get his decision.”
Bender stared at the hooded man, wanting to put a fist into his face. He kept his voice calm. “Tell Danker there is no decision to make. She goes to her aunt.”
The man stared at him a few moments, and then went forward again to radio Danker, once more switching places with the medic. In a few minutes he was back in the chair in front of him, the medic leaving again.
Bender hid his tension with sleepy eyes.
“Colonel Danker says that should suffice. We’ll make sure the girl gets to her aunt.”
Balance of Trust Page 6