“Tape it,” I insisted.
“But,” Henry began to interject.
“Just tape it,” I replied firmly.
Mikey and Abraham looked between us, unsure who to listen to. Finally, Henry nodded at me. “Tape it,” he breathed out, understanding this was a field dressing situation and that I was going to do what I was going to do.
I nodded in return.
Mikey placed the tape over my bare skin, pressing it down to assure it wouldn’t come off anytime soon. I dropped my tunic over the dressed wound. I’d like to say it felt magically better—but it didn’t. I turned back to Henry. “Once we jump, you go another mile then circle around, get her and the kid, and you get the hell out of here as fast as you can. Don’t slow down to say goodbye, or to even wave. Just get as far away as you can as quickly as possible. They followed us here, not to your village. You don’t want them tracking you back there. They got you once. They get you again, you won’t be ransomed.”
He nodded, understanding. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
“Just take care of your wife, okay?”
I glanced at Randall and tilted my head. "You coming, or staying?"
He leaned over the seat, looking between us, definitely torn.
Mikey held out a rifle. “If you come, you’ll need one of these.”
Randall blinked, dumbfounded.
“Hate to put pressure on you, but you have about sixty seconds to decide,” I said as I took several grenades and a rifle from Mikey.
I glanced at Abraham who looked at me strangely. I turned around, nodded slightly, my hand on my heart, before taking his hand and shaking it. “Allah be with you, my friend,” I said with all the sincerity I could muster.
Abraham put his hand to his heart as well and nodded, a sad smile on his face and then replied in broken English. “And with you.”
“Henry,” I said, reaching out my hand.
He shook it firmly, then grasped the wheel again. “God be with you.”
“Let’s hope so,” I replied, as I looked ahead. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep, painful breath. Well, here goes nothing.
Chapter Fifty
Henry headed between two groupings of trees and then, momentarily, slowed. Mikey and I threw the doors open, jumped, tucked and rolled away from the vehicle. I didn’t see Randall behind me, so I assumed he chose the latter and stayed in the truck. I crawled quickly to the underbrush as Henry picked up speed and headed in the opposite direction, where he would circle around and hopefully find his wife near the rendezvous point a half-mile away. I saw Mikey under the brush at least fifty yards opposite me, then looked through the flurries around us at the advancing vehicles. There were two for sure, possibly three. As I prepared to pull the pin on a grenade, I hoped Mikey was doing the same. The hillbilly armored Humvees—no doubt made from equipment left by Pakistan, the Russians, us, or any number of friendlies trying to free the Afghans from dogmatic sects over the past thirty years—barreled closer. We each stood long enough to toss the shells before throwing ourselves back into the snow.
Both armaments hit their targets. The two trucks between us exploded seconds apart. Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire—bullets flying too close for comfort, as a third and fourth vehicle approached. Mikey returned fire, while I rolled farther under the small grouping of trees. When the occupants of one of the vehicles fired at Mikey, I, in turn, riddled their truck and bodies with bullets. I must have hit the driver because the truck careened to the left, out of control, until it made a complete circle. Then it rolled two times. Some were thrown, and some jumped into the snow, as the vehicle rolled over, crushing their bodies beneath it.
A shot whizzed by, missing my head by mere inches, hitting the bark of the tree beside me, creating dozens of tiny pieces of shrapnel. I didn’t have time to search for the shooter since I was momentarily distracted by the vehicle headed toward me. In fact, it was heading right for me. I didn’t have a clear shot at the driver, and with only seconds to react—and the fact that someone was now firing at me from behind—I aimed at the tires as I rolled out of its path. It didn’t exactly have the effect I had hoped for, as it continued—undeterred—exploding through the brush and missing me by less than a yard before turning and aiming at me again. Two men jumped from the truck as it turned. I glanced in Mikey’s direction. He was now in a hand-to-hand fight with one of the survivors, leaving me to dispose of those from the fourth truck. I heard roaring and looked up in time to see the Unimog barreling toward us.
Henry aimed for the vehicle that had changed direction and was now headed right for him. I raised my rifle and took out one of the two men on foot. The other dropped into the snow and out of sight as the Humvee picked up speed, directly in Henry’s path. I guess they had no clue just what damage the all-terrain vehicle could do, wrongly presuming they might possibly win this game of chicken.
When I looked back, the soldier in the snow was rising to stand, lifting a rocket-launcher onto his shoulder and pointing it right at the Unimog. I aimed at him and fired, hitting my mark, but not before the rocket burst lazily from its tube. Henry must have seen it because he, Randall and Abraham jumped from the vehicle the exact moment the ordnance left the cylinder. Seconds later, the Unimog exploded, its gas tanks igniting before somersaulting into the air in a ball of flames. The Humvee couldn’t turn fast enough to evade a collision. I watched as what was left of the fiery Unimog fell on top of it, crushing the remaining men inside.
I heard her scream my name and turned. Mary Beth and Rafi were running across the snow toward the Unimog. I stood and yelled at her, startling her. When she turned, I motioned for her to get down. They both dropped to the ground, flattening themselves into the snow. I crawled to her as quickly as I could, wrapping myself around her trembling body.
“I thought you—.” Mary Beth sobbed, looking at the burning vehicles.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” I exclaimed.
“You didn’t tell me good-bye,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the cold.
Shots rang out around us. I looked for Henry and Abraham and Randall, who were all crawling toward Mikey, now half of a football field away.
“Keep your head down.” I pressed her into the snow. “Dang fool woman!” I gasped, looking around. “Stay here,” I insisted, as I crawled away from the canopy of trees to assess our situation.
Suddenly, another man—one I hadn’t seen jump from any vehicle—stood and picked up the rocket-launcher at the foot of his ally. When he raised his head, I dotted his eye. He slid to the ground like a rag doll, his blood mingling in the snow with that of his dead friend’s. As I ran across the clearing, bullets buzzed around me like bees, from in front and behind, and I realized I was caught precariously in the crossfire. Mikey stood, took aim and shot indiscriminately to draw the enemy fire. I dropped, pulled out a grenade and then tossed it at the overturned vehicle, which one of the gunmen was using for cover. It detonated seconds later, righting itself, pinning the soldier underneath its massive snow tires.
“Everyone stay down,” I called out until I was able to confirm the kills. “Mikey!” I yelled, pointing toward the third vehicle we’d set on fire.
Mikey nodded. Got it, Ro. Manspeak.
As I walked toward the crimson patches of snow, a shot rang out. It came from behind as five horses raced across the white horizon. Four trucks and horses? A whole army had been hidden somewhere in the hills, and I never even saw them. Something moved to my right, and I turned in time to see Abraham running at us just before he knocked me out of the way. More shots rang out as we both fell backward into the snow.
“No!” I screamed, quickly standing, aiming, and emptying my rifle into the throng. Two mounts and their riders took headers into the snow, as three other men jumped from their steeds and scattered. The terrified beasts endeavored to run away from the battle, as best as they could, considering the terrain and the snow. I dropped and crawled to Abraham, dragging his body
across the fresh powder to the underbrush near where Mary Beth and Abdullah’s brother hid. She quickly crept to him, tugging at his clothes, trying to find where he was hit. Suddenly, she stared up at me, a look of surprise on her face. When I glanced down, I saw he was wearing my tactical vest. I grinned. Smart boy. He was unconscious but alive. He’d be sore-as-hell tomorrow. Bullets whistled around us. “Don’t move,” I instructed, wagging my finger at her to make my point.
In her eyes, I saw something I never imagined I’d see. Fear. I wanted to hold her and reassure her that everything was going to be okay. But, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Slowly, Mary Beth forced a smile, understanding. Only, how could she? Her life—our lives—were about to change forever. I merely smiled in return and nodded. No words.
I tried to catch my breath once more as I raced forward again—well, as fast as I could, considering my condition—my finger never leaving the trigger. I don’t know how many soldiers I did or didn’t hit, but I ran out of ammo on my way. I slid across the snow, arriving next to Mikey, Henry, and Randall. “I’m out,” I gasped, as I shakily reloaded and then took everything Mikey could spare.
“Cap, you look bad,” Mikey offered.
“Thanks,” I grinned, feeling considerably worse than I looked.
Henry reached for me, and I batted his hand away. “I’m fine, Doc.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with concern. “Mary Beth?”
“She’s fine, too. She and the kid are under the brush.”
Henry quickly stood and screamed out. “Mary Beth!”
I jerked him back down as I turned my head and saw her raise up just slightly.
“Mary Beth!” he called again.
Through the smoke and burning vehicles, I thought I saw her rise to her knees.
“What is it with you people? Do you want to get shot?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lone soldier raise his rifle and aim for her. I rolled, aimed and fired—immediately gunning him down. “Cover me!” I called to Mike. As I crawled away, I yelled over my shoulder, “and keep them down!”
I heard a distant rumbling and looked skyward. Oh, my God! Was it possible they were early? They were still miles away, but at least they would be here soon. Actually, they would be heading a mile away, to the coordinates I sent Kevan. I glanced back to Mikey, pointing into the air. He had also heard the unmistakable sound of our freedom, for he nodded, made a circular motion, and then pointed toward the area where we were to be rescued. I gave him a thumbs-up, then quickly turned.
Mary Beth was on her feet now. I raced for her, running around the burning vehicles between Mikey’s and my positions, repeatedly motioning for her to get down. She merely looked at me, confused. A moment later, a figure crawled up behind her, rising from the snow, as though in slow motion. My heart raced as I ran faster, my strength waning. I stumbled and then recovered, my eyes never leaving his as he grabbed her from behind and placed a knife at her neck.
Adrenaline coursed through my body—the only thing keeping me upright. The man’s bare fingers lifted Mary Beth’s chin to expose her throat, taunting me as to what was about to happen. His other hand slowly pulled the scarves from Mary Beth’s face before tentatively removing them from his own. It was a face I’d seen a thousand times. The one that haunted my dreams. He was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of my brothers in arms and thousands of his own countrymen, and one that I’d killed a hundred different ways in my mind. He was the reason I was on this God-forsaken mountain in the first place. And now, he was the man who held my very life in his grasp. He was my target.
Chapter Fifty-One
I held my rifle immediately in the air, then slowly lowered it onto the ground like an offering, my eyes never leaving the knife at her throat, as I tentatively stepped toward them.
Mary Beth trembled, whether from fear or cold, or both, I couldn’t venture a guess—her eyes closed tight.
It can’t end like this, God. Please…
The helicopters were closer now, maybe a mile away, probably hovering over the LZ. They must have seen the smoke, if not the explosions themselves.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mikey, Randall, and Henry running in our direction. “Mikey, get them to the chopper, now!” I screamed without turning away. “Now!” I kept my eyes on the man that held Mary Beth hostage. I tentatively moved my hand to my hip and shoulder pack and removed them. I pulled my knife from the waist pack, with two fingers, dropping it on the ground as I continued to step toward him.
“Take me,” I said in Pashto. “A woman’s life means nothing here. Taking an American soldier would be a great honor. I surrender myself to you.”
I could hear Henry yelling in the distance, but the sound was swallowed in the echo of the wind from the approaching helicopters.
Mary Beth opened her eyes, staring past me. “Rafi, no,” she moaned, her voice constricted from the pressure against her windpipe. The young man slowly passed me, bravely approaching them. Rafi spoke firmly in Pashto, telling his fellow countryman that he was making a grievous mistake, explaining that she was a nurse.
“You would die for this woman?” His eyes moved to Rafi as he turned slightly, holding Mary Beth more tightly, his back to Mikey, Henry and Randall.
Rafi didn’t even hesitate and then nodded. “Yes.”
The turbaned man immediately drew a pistol from his belt and shot Rafi in the head.
Mary Beth screamed, as the man turned to face me once more, holding the knife so close to her throat that I could see her skin pressed against the blade. She closed her eyes again, tears escaping their corners. I heard her mumbling. Praying. I was twenty feet away.
“Silence,” he growled at both of us. “I know what you are,” he directed at Mary Beth, his cheek pressed to hers. “You come here thinking you can change our country, but you’ve changed nothing. It is our land! Of one faith!” he barked, glaring at me. “And you. You kill the innocent, and then you build a hospital and show it to the world, but don’t tell them that it is you that is filling it.”
“You’re absolutely right. I deserve whatever you decide.” I could hear the helicopter as it hovered nearby. Plainly—hopefully—they could see what was playing out just yards away and were assessing their options. I could only pray that no one would try to shoot from that distance and chance hitting her. Fifteen.
He pressed the knife closer to her skin, his eyes darting between me and the chopper. I saw a trickle of red slide down her throat. “I know who you are,” he growled against her face. “And I know where you are from. And when I finish here, with you, I will go there and kill every last one of my traitor countrymen.”
“What is honorable about killing a woman?” I taunted. “She has no value to you. She is nothing, less than nothing.” I continued to slowly approach him. “My family is wealthy. Very wealthy.” Twelve.
Slowly he lowered his knife away from her throat, beside her arm. I glanced down at the red in the snow surrounding Rafi’s body. When I looked back up at my target, my eyes stayed on his.
“I surrender myself to you,” I repeated, offering my hands to him. “She’s of no consequence to us.” Ten feet.
“You’re right,” he said. In one swift motion, stabbed Mary Beth in the side, twisting the knife. Her eyes opened immediately in surprise and then closed again as she slipped from his hands into the snow at his feet.
“No!” I yelled, pulling the pistol from the back of my belt as I ran toward him. He aimed as I fired until my gun was empty. Every shot hit its mark, and he fell backward into the snow. Dead. I dropped to her side, gently turning her limp body over. I touched her throat as I felt a cry leave my own. I quickly cradled her in my arms, then lifted her and raced toward the helicopter that was now on the ground, an Apache gunship circling the kill zone from the air.
Two soldiers met us halfway while four others fanned out, surveying the landscape as they approached. Brothers in arms, immediately encircling us. Staying by my side; protecting me while we moved a
s one toward the waiting helo. Henry jumped from the open cargo door—and the hands of those holding him back—calling Mary Beth’s name over and over again as he raced to my side and took her from my arms. His face portrayed sorrow and pain as he hugged her to his chest, carrying Mary Beth the rest of the way.
Immediately, I rushed back to the wooded area where Abraham still lay, the soldiers following close behind, confused. My breathing was labored as I struggled to complete the distance. I removed my gear from Abraham’s body, dropping it into the snow; then lifted and carried him as well. I stumbled and one of the soldiers, realizing I wouldn’t make it, took the young goat herder from my grasp. When we finally arrived at the chopper, a lieutenant stood fast; insisting that I couldn’t bring a national on board.
My chest was so tight, that I could hardly breathe, but, somehow, I found the strength to push the man out of my way. Just before fisticuffs flew, Kevan stepped from the co-pilot seat. I looked him in the eye and informed him, in short, tight, gasps, that if Abraham didn’t go, I wouldn’t go. I wasn’t about to leave him there to fend for himself. How could I, with other enemy combatants possibly nearby and already en route? Not to mention that he could freeze to death.
Kevan sighed and shook his head. “You haven’t been back two minutes, and you’re already bucking the system?”
“Wouldn’t want to disappoint,” I wheezed, matter of factly. Suddenly, my legs gave way. I reached out, bracing myself, before falling against the outer wall of the chopper and sliding into a crouched position. It was thirty-something degrees out and sweat stung my eyes.
A moment later, I was being dragged aboard. The corpsman blinded me with a pen light before tearing and cutting at the clothing I wore. While Kevan stood over me, he simultaneously signaled the pilot that we were ready to lift off, by swiftly rotating his finger in the air. I felt an injection and lay my head back, shivering as the layers of material fell from my body. The medic’s hand moved to my ribs, finding the silver tape that was placed there an hour before. He looked at me, perplexed. I tried to catch my breath as my eyes turned to Abraham. The corpsman attending to him gave me a thumbs-up, and I wheezed a sigh of relief. Then, I turned my attention to Henry as he and another soldier tended to Mary Beth’s wound. There was so much blood. And she still wasn’t moving.
The Missionary Page 25