Hold On (Delos Series Book 5) (16 page)

Callie knew both men were prepared for anything, and because it was winter, Beau had urged her to “dress down and dress warm.” The village sat at the foot of the mountains, surrounded by snow and in freezing temperatures that were normal for November. Callie was wearing her hiking boots, heavy jeans, and a white silk camisole instead of a bra. She didn’t like bras, and any time she could get away with not wearing one, she did. She’d chosen a bright red mock turtleneck sweater, a toasty combination of merino sheep’s wool woven with silk. The sweater kept her warm but not hot.

Her black hooded nylon down coat fell around her hips, keeping her warm, and instead of wearing her unlined leather gloves, Callie had opted for “serious” fleece-lined gloves. She wore a black and red knit cap and a knitted scarf wrapped around her neck. There was no way she was going to freeze outside in this weather.

Between her and Beau sat Beau’s huge rucksack. Knowing him, he had covered every possible need for any emergency. He had insisted she put a small knapsack together for herself, which she normally didn’t do, but she grudgingly carried some protein bars and several quarts of water, knowing the village did not have a well. Few of them did; the villagers relied on a nearby stream or river for water.

The village they were visiting today sat near a small river, which could have been foul, polluted, and not drinkable. No one had ever reported on its purity. The mountains hovering over this valley made their own weather, and snow could fall in the blink of an eye this time of year.

There was little conversation except for Mohammed merrily chatting away with Matt in the front seat. Both Matt and Beau wore radio headsets, earpieces, and mics close to their lips so they could be in constant touch with one another. That further upset Dara, because she thought they were wearing such gear because they expected to get attacked, but Callie assured her sister this was a normal part of their uniform when they were out on a mission. Dara seemed willing to accept Callie’s explanation.

Callie found herself less tense because she was sitting next to Beau. She was well aware that cars and trucks were often attacked on this lonely road. It was usually frequented by military convoys only, and they drove special trucks with trained drivers looking for IEDs planted beside the highway.

Beau had his rifle in a chest sling, the barrel pointed upward toward the ceiling of the van. Matt’s M4 was also up, and Callie saw his finger near the trigger. She realized that these men were on full alert and was both reassured and anxious, knowing they might have sensed potential trouble but weren’t sharing it with her and Dara. But if they truly felt there was trouble nearby, Callie knew they’d have told Mohammed to turn around and go back to Bagram. They would not put them in danger if they thought it was close.

Because Dara had never gone outside the confines of the base to visit a hamlet, Callie understood why she was worried. She had assured her sister they would be safe and that the people of the village would be very grateful that a real American doctor was coming to treat them.

Dara had regularly visited here once a year while Callie was in Kabul but had always worked only out of the Hope Charity in the major city. This was her first drive out to a nearby village. She had balked when Callie first asked her to come assist the villagers, but her sister cajoled her, telling her sweet stories about the babies who needed her help, and pointed out that villagers had no way to get medical services.

That had persuaded Dara, but the recent market blasts in Kabul had set Dara on edge as never before. She was simply not cut out for this kind of violence. Of course, no one was! However, the people of Afghanistan had been forced to endure war and violence for decades.

The desert began to shift and change from flatlands to bumpy hills covered with brush. They were slowly climbing, gaining elevation, and now Callie could see the snow-capped mountains in the distance. They were tall, rugged, and powerful looking, with dark, gathering clouds over the peaks, promising snow later today or tomorrow.

Soon enough, halfway through the narrow valley, Callie spotted the familiar thin ribbon of a dark green river off to their left. She saw trees, too, but the leaves had fallen, leaving bare branches in their stead. Towering evergreens stood in thick profusion alongside the naked trees.

Mohammed slowed the van and turned off on a heavily rutted, muddy road. It had rained up here, from what Callie could tell; she saw wheel ruts from carts drawn by donkeys or horses. The van bumped along slowly, and Dara gripped the arm of the seat.

As they approached a stand of pine trees, it appeared that the van would have to be steered between them. Beau and Matt suddenly became far more alert, alarming Callie when they suddenly took the safeties off their M4s. Did they see something? Callie knew Beau had gone over to HQ before leaving Bagram, getting the latest reports on the area. If any attacks had occurred in the last few days, he’d know. The good news was, there had been no reports of enemy activity. So what were both men studying so intently up ahead and to the right of their slow-moving van?

Beau moved his weapon, and Callie tried to scoot toward Dara so he had room to maneuver in case he had to use it. She still tried to appear relaxed beside her sister, but in truth, her heart was hammering away.

Trees and brush surrounded the van as it negotiated the deep, muddy cart ruts, barely moving through them at a sliding, slipping crawl. The wheels spun, the van moving sideways as Mohammed fought to keep it on the road. Dara gripped the armrest tighter, her gaze moving quickly from one side of the road to the other.

Matt and Beau were on full alert, braced as they continued to peruse a particularly enclosed area. Callie could see nothing. It was as if this stretch of the road to the village was walled in by sixty-foot pine trees and brush. Anxiety shot through her, and she worked to keep her expression calm, recognizing the signs of Dara’s barely suppressed panic.

When Matt spoke quietly to Beau in his mic, Callie couldn’t hear their exchange, but her instincts were on high alert. There was now a real sense of danger hanging over them and she gulped. Matt and Beau positioned their rifles on their shoulders, and Callie barely breathed, knowing something was terribly wrong up ahead.

And then the windshield shattered, exploding glass fragments everywhere, like sharp, glittering shards of ice.

“Get
down
!” Matt roared, aiming his M4 out the shattered windshield.

Dara lurched for the floor and Callie did, too. The deep-throated firing of the M4s hurt her ears as the van lurched from side to side.

Mohammed screamed, and then their vehicle skidded sideways as a
thunk, thunk, thunk
of bullets was fired into the careening vehicle.

Callie covered her sister with her body, holding on tightly to Dara. She felt the van suddenly lift off on one side.
Oh, my God
, she thought,
we’re crashing!

She clung to her sister, now balled up into a fetal position on the floor. They had been ambushed! She heard Beau’s voice above the roar, and Matt answered, the sounds around her cartwheeling together. Now she was panicking, too!

The van fell on its side, sliding off the road and slamming into the tree line, where it came to an abrupt stop.

Callie gasped, flung halfway across the seat. She grunted, flailing, as she tried to get up. Matt leaped out of the passenger side door. Once out, he tried to jerk open the van’s sliding door to free them. Her ears hurt as the roar of Matt’s M4 and the returning
chut-chut-chut-
ting of enemy AK-47 rifle fire converged. She couldn’t see the enemy but she saw the winking of gunfire coming at them from deep within the pine grove.

Callie’s ears hurt, and she twisted around, knowing she was a target as bullets tore into the van. Beau gripped her, shoving her hard between the front seats, trying to get her out of bullet range and behind the dashboard.

Matt was outside the van, firing slowly and carefully into the grove. Where was Mohammed? Callie pushed up on her booted feet, twisting her head toward the driver, and saw to her horror that he was slumped over, dead, with half his head missing.

Callie cried out and, panicked, tried to scramble out of the van. Dara was screaming in the back, having been thrown off the floor and into the wall of the van during the crash. Never had Callie felt so naked, so vulnerable, as she did right now.

The firing stopped momentarily.

“Get out!” Matt yelled as Callie struggled toward him. He kicked at the passenger side door wide open. Beau cursed, trying to jerk it open the sliding door open from inside. It was jammed shut!

“Exfil!” Beau yelled to Callie, meaning she needed to exfiltrate the van as swiftly as possible. Matt hauled Callie out the passenger-side door. He ordered her to stay down behind him. Dara was next as Beau pushed her roughly forward between the two front seats. Matt caught and dragged Dara out, pushing her down behind him, next to Callie. He lifted his M4 at the wall of trees, ready to fire.

Beau leaped out, right behind Dara, his eyes narrowed as he warily searched the wall of green facing them.

“Take her,” Matt snapped, guiding Callie to her feet. “Get into the hills! We need to separate. We can’t go together. We have to split up the Taliban force. Once you get hidden, call for help from Bravo and wait until the quick reaction force arrives.”

“Roger that,” Beau said, gripping Callie’s arm. She’d fallen into the muddy road on her hands and knees, and he moved her swiftly to the rear of the van once he’d pulled her to her feet. He halted behind the van and jerked open the hatchback, telling her to crouch so she wouldn’t become a target. He hauled out both rucks and brought one over to Matt, dropping it beside him.

Quickly, Beau returned to the rear of the van, shrugged into his ruck, and grabbed Callie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. Settling her muddy fingers around his web belt, he growled, “Come on, stay low and stay close to me, Callie. Don’t let go of my belt.”

Callie clung to that belt because her life depended on it. In seconds, Beau was crashing through the wall of evergreens opposite the attack.

Bullets started flying again, and Callie’s world consisted of ear-splitting sounds, branches snapping off near her head, and bullets whizzing just past her ear as she ran. At one point, she swore she felt the heat from one bullet pass her cheek; it was that close.

Beau was crouched, on full alert. She didn’t know how he could move so quickly with such a heavy pack on his back, but he did. The earth was spongy and muddy; Callie felt the sucking of the clay on her boots as she slipped and slid along the path.

They continued toward what she thought must be a river, and to her relief, she found that the deeper they moved into the grove of evergreens, the less fire they had to dodge. Finally, the firing ceased.

That was when she heard the sounds of the mud sucking at their boots and a gathering wind beginning to blow. Beau continued to trot through the woods, moving among the trees. Callie was breathless as she tried to keep up with him and tried not to worry too much about Dara. She knew Matt would protect her, just as Beau would try to keep her safe.

Callie had thought that the market bombing this past week had been terrifying, but this was far worse. Now she was the target, in hostile territory, with only one man, Beau, to keep them both alive.

Her lungs were burning and her breathing ragged and loud. Finally, Beau paused for a moment, looking around for a huge old tree. He slowed down slightly and gripped her hand. Using the width of the evergreen as protection from gunfire, Beau led her behind it, his M4 up and ready to fire again.

“Sit down,” he urged her. “We need to rest a minute.”

Nodding, Callie collapsed into the wet pine needles, grateful to sit for just a moment to catch her breath. Beau crouched down near her, pulling off his water tube from across his shoulder.

“Drink,” he coaxed, handing it to her.

Callie gave a jerky nod, seeing how nearly colorless Beau’s eyes were now. This was the warrior in him, she realized, sucking down the cold water from the CamelBak he carried on his ruck. It tasted so good! She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become, and now, sated, she pushed the tube back into the loop on his shoulder.

He turned, his gaze stripping her naked as he looked for any injury she might have sustained. “We were ambushed,” he told her in a low, raspy voice. “A large, unknown Taliban force hit us, and Matt and I split up to avoid leading them into the village. You and I are heading for the river, and we’ll remain in the hills for as long as we can. Matt and Dara are heading for the higher mountains. I’m calling in help from Bagram, but right now we need to get as far away from this van as we can.” Beau continued to look around the area. Everything was quiet. “Are you injured at all, Callie?”

“N-no, just scared as hell. I-I wasn’t expecting this.”

He snorted quietly. “We weren’t either. We checked all resources back at Bagram. The area was supposed to be nonlethal. The Taliban has obviously decided to become active now, even though winter is setting in. This is a new strategy for them.” Beau kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. The Taliban was constantly changing its tactics. In the past, when the first snows fell on the mountains, they would slink back to their villages or across the border and take a break. Now they were apparently still roving through the area. This was bad news for them: no village was “safe” anymore. He felt bad for the sisters. Callie had mud splattered on her cheek, and her eyes were filled with fear and anxiety.

He handed her the M4. “Hold this while I get my sat phone out of my ruck. I need to call Bagram. If we’re lucky, we’ll meet a Night Stalker helicopter and two Apache gunships a couple of miles away from here, get picked up and flown back to Bagram.”

He stood, shucking off his ruck. Callie held the huge, heavy rifle between her hands. She was no stranger to rifles and pistols, having grown up with them at the family ranch. But this rifle, the M4, was lethal-looking.