He didn’t waste time placating her; he stuffed his hand into her thigh pocket and grabbed the papers in there. He found the letter and stuffed it in his own pocket, before replacing the notebook and loose papers back in hers. “Got it. I’ll look after it. But I’m going to do everything I can to get you home to her, okay?”
“Look!” Beth grimaced as she propped herself up on one elbow and pointed up the valley where they had left their truck. A huge cloud of sand was making its way toward them, seemingly in slow motion. She made as if to get up, but fell back down with a moan as soon as she tried her leg.
The impending sandstorm made up his mind. They couldn’t get stuck in it—Beth would die in all likelihood. If they didn’t move now, the storm would be on them, and no rescue would be able to get to them until it dissipated. No time for second-guessing.
A cloud passed in front of the moon, and Walker instinctively jumped up. “Put your weight on your good leg.” He held her opposite hand as if they were about to shake hands, and he pulled her up. “Come on, Garcia. Walk it off.”
She breathed a laugh as he bent his knees and gently slid her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, so her good leg bore the brunt of pressure against his shoulder. She wriggled pretty weakly in protest.
“What the fuck? Put me down. I can walk,” she said, her words not reflected by the strain in her voice.
Yeah, not so much. “Sure you can, sweetheart… I mean Sergeant. But we need to run. Are you going to stay with me?”
“I’ve got your six,” she whispered.
He launched his pack on his other shoulder and took off, away from the sandstorm. He knew he could outrun it—it was slow-moving—but the quicker he could get her to a reasonable landing zone, the quicker the helicopters would land and get her to a hospital.
The cloud passed the moon and in the sudden light they were sitting ducks. Another shot rang out, whizzing past so close he could feel it rip the air next to his face. Beth’s stomach tensed muscles against his shoulder and she pulled herself up. One hell of a soldier. One hell of a woman.
She let off three shots as he ran, and then she flopped back down. “Got him,” she said. And then there was silence except for his own breathing that filled his head. Blood pounded in his ears as he ran. Blood pumping, and breath puffing.
In out, in out, nearly there, nearly there.
His muscles strained under her weight, and the eighty pounds of their combined body armor, but he’d trained for this, and frankly, it wasn’t his first rodeo. It was his eighth. His legs kept pumping toward safety.
He hoped.
The familiar whop whop of a helicopter penetrated his thoughts, as well as the more constant gunshots as he neared the last of their vehicles. Five soldiers were on the ground, firing their weapons into the hills opposite them.
He skidded to a halt and laid Beth down. He dropped alongside her and asked for a sit rep from the guys.
“Marks took one to the face. We lost him. There seem to be about eight TBs left in the hillside, but they’re not giving up. Only small arms fired, so I figured the helo can land over there to the right of the valley entrance.” The soldier pointed to the only real possible landing zone for the choppers.
“I have to go clear the LZ, Beth. I’ll be back.” He looked at her but she didn’t look back. Eyes closed and barely breathing, she looked like she had already checked out. His heart clenched.
No. Fucking. Way. He pulled the tourniquet tight again, and started CPR. “Hey, you.” He slapped the nearest soldier on his helmet. “I need you to do CPR while I clear the landing zone, okay? Keep the tourniquet tight.”
The soldier took over without question. And then realized who it was. “Shit, is this Garcia? Oh man, my wife will kill me if I let her die,” he said.
“So will I. Keep that thought in the very front of your mind. I’ll be back in a few.” He hesitated for a second. Could he trust the soldier with her? Everything in him wanted to stay and breathe life into her himself, but he was the only one who could talk the pararescuers in, and the only one who could clear a landing zone to the pilots’ satisfaction.
Walker grabbed his radio and one of the soldiers’ flashlights, and ran to the potential LZ. He walked the square, checking for IEDs or anything suspicious. He didn’t think there would be, because the convoy had passed over this area on their way into the valley. He could still see their tire tracks. But it was better to be safe than sorry. As he paced, he couldn’t stop thinking about Beth. How pale and lifeless she looked in the moonlight, how shallow her breathing, and how totally opposite that was to how she normally was: vibrant, prickly, beautiful, and strong.
The gentle whop whop of the helicopters became much louder as he finalized checking the LZ. He took out his radio.
“This is Playboy. PJs come in.”
There were a few seconds of silence, during which he checked his radio for loose wires. Then, “This is PJ one, Playboy. How’re we looking?”
“We have five able soldiers, one KIA, and one seriously injured. I’ve set up the landing zone at these coordinates.” He rattled off a series of numbers.
“Can you light it up?”
“Roger that.” Walker snapped some green chem lights from his pocket, and threw them to the corners of the cleared landing zone. He would normally use flares, but he didn’t want to give the Taliban an invitation to pick the PJs as their new target. Once it was clear the helo was good to land, he sprinted back to Beth. Please, God. I’ll do anything if you just let me get her to the hospital alive.
The second trail helicopter opened fire into the hills, backing up the guys on the ground. Two Combat Rescue Officers ran from the helicopter toward them, weapons drawn. They took one look at Beth and started work on her. They secured her tourniquet and put an oxygen mask over her face.
Walker stood back and let them run with her back to the helo. His heart rate finally normalized, but the clenched fist in his stomach did not fade. Following the others to safety, all he could see was Beth’s white face, and he wondered if she would live to have the promised dinner with him. As he unclenched his fists to climb into the Pave Hawk helo, he realized his fingers were crossed.
Other Books by Emmy Curtis
Pushing the Limit
Over the Line
Dangerous Territory (novella)
Read Simon and Sadie’s story in COMPROMISED, coming Spring 2016!
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
A Preview of OVER THE LINE
Other Books by Emmy Curtis
Read Simon and Sadie’s story in COMPROMISED, coming Spring 2016!
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Emmy Curtis