I Own the Dawn: The Night Stalkers (5 page)

“Chief Medic Ray Mackenzie?”

“Mac will do. What can I do for you, Smith?”

“Kee.” They shook. Hard to resist doing the full-on bone-cruncher most guys expected, but he was a medic and you don’t mess with their hands. Still he cranked down a bit and she gave back as good as she got.

With a nod toward the seat opposite, he set down his own food.

“What can I do for you, Kee?”

“Like to ask about Dilya.” She sat down.

“Dilya? Oh, the Uzbek kid.”

“Uzbek?”

“Uzbekistan, about three hundred miles that way.” He pointed north toward the mountains.

“She came through that?” On the Pakistan side of the border, the Hindu Kush mountains would kill you. On the other side, the Afghan war doubled the hazard. Neither was a place you entered and expected to live. To pass through both? What did that take?

“Must have. Though you were about halfway there when you picked her up. She has no other language but the bit of Russian.”

“You speak Uzbek? Uzbeki? Whatever.”

He dug in a pocket for a moment and tossed her a thin volume little bigger than the palm of her hand.

O’zbek–English Phrase Book.

“Great. What do I do with this?”

Mac looked at her and shrugged. “Extra copy. Give it back when you’re done with it.”

“Thought I was done when I gave her to you.” She flipped the pages but they were a blur, none of the words made sense at the moment, not even the English ones. She didn’t want the kid.

Mac shook his head and cut a chunk out of his pancakes. “I’m just medical. I checked her out, she didn’t like it much. Eleven or twelve, I’m guessing. Intact. Nothing broken. No real bruises either, banged shin and other kid stuff. Serious calluses on her feet, girl’s walked a long way without shoes. Other than borderline starvation like every other kid within five hundred miles, she’s fine. We’re forward operations here, so there isn’t any liaison or community service to deal with her. Makes her your problem. Give her food and get her gone.”

“Gone to where?”

“Refugee camp about fifty miles that way.” He pointed his pancake-laden fork south instead of north this time before filling his mouth. The look on his face was a little sour. She felt a chill up her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. She’d wager the camp deserved that grimace.

***

“Major Beale.” Kee stepped up and snapped to attention in front of her commander where she sat with her husband over their breakfast. Resisted the salute. She didn’t expect a lot of help here, but Beale was her CO. Next place to go and you don’t ever skip the chain of command. Ever. That’s one she’d learned more than a few times the hard way.

“At ease, Smith. What’s on your mind?”

She dropped into parade rest.

“Dilya, ma’am.”

“Dilya?”

“The girl we picked up. Rescued.”

The two of them turned to look at the tiny girl sitting beside the tall Professor, who appeared to be teasing her at the moment, making Dilya laugh. At least most of her food was still on the plate. “
Asta-asta
, Dilya.”

“She okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Medical checked her out.”

“Good. That’s done.” Major Chunk-o-Muscle Henderson went back to his breakfast, but Major Beale watched Kee a moment longer.

“I think that perhaps you should sit with us a moment, Sergeant Smith.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Sir.” She didn’t relax when she sat, but remained bolt upright. Even so, she was inches shorter than either of these two perfect specimens of the human species. Their kids were gonna be stunners.

Focus, Kee.

“I’m worried about what’s to become of her, ma’am. Medical suggested a Coalition Forces refugee camp south of here.”

“Jali. Big one. Twenty or thirty thousand last I heard. Does she have any family?”

“Unknown. We think she was trying to steal food from that RPG team we deep-sixed the other night. A couple meters closer to that jeep and she wouldn’t be here now. I’m guessing that she and her family walked over the Hindu Kush from Uzbekistan. Maybe got lost. Eleven years old and alone.” Kee managed to keep her voice steady. She knew how that felt. Knew it far too well.

Major Henderson stopped eating and Major Beale paled.

“Damn!” He whispered it quietly. “Poor kid.”

“Medical pronounced her okay and she’s bright, just starving and lost. They dumped her back in my lap and I don’t know what to do with her, ma’am.”

“That camp is full of Afghanis.” Beale looked toward the kid again.

Henderson picked up the unfinished thought without the slightest break, like one person speaking with two voices. “Probably not a lot of love lost with the Uzbek. Uzbekistan provided part of the invading Russian forces for years. But she’d be better in that camp than with the villagers here.”

The three of them sat there in silence. Beale stared off into space for a moment then looked at her husband. Some silent communication happened so fast Kee barely saw the flicker across the Major’s eyes as he made his decision.

He shrugged. “Should only take an hour. We’ll brief at 1800, which will give you an hour and a half before I need you on the line.”

Beale nodded and turned to Kee. Just raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch.

Kee sat frozen in place, she’d never seen anything like it. Not even squadmates who’d served multiple tours in the same company communicated so effortlessly. Beale and Henderson had a harmony between them that Kee could feel. Even if she didn’t believe in it.

She jerked to her feet, jarring the table, and nodded her thanks before heading off.

She couldn’t begrudge the kid the hour and a half of sleep Kee’d just lost in the deal. It wasn’t as if they were doing her any favor.

Archie stared down through the Plexiglas windshield that wrapped from behind and over his head, around the console, and ended near his feet. He usually appreciated the panoramic view, except when it let him see all the people shooting up at him. Or now.

They’d lifted from Bati, a quiet village of five thousand with a hundred-odd Special Forces operatives and a dozen helicopters camped in their abandoned soccer stadium. Twenty minutes by chopper they had done more than passed over fifty miles of arid, rolling landscape of grays and browns. They had crossed into another world.

Jali refugee camp sprawled across miles, and Archie hated it more each time he saw it. He leaned forward as if the extra few inches would let him see more clearly out the windshield of the chopper.

At first glance, the camp looked like a giant spider sprawled across the face of the desert. A dark central body made of tents and a vast mass of humanity. The legs, too many of them, long streams of people. People moving away from the camp, fast. Something was very wrong.

As they flew closer, he could see that the camp below them roiled in chaos. Solid rivers of seething humanity surged from the camp without appearing to ease the tight packing of those still within the camp’s perimeter. Neat lines of large tents funneled the shoving crowds into narrow pathways. Even as he watched, a tent collapsed and part of the crowd surged over it as others struggled to escape from beneath the heavy canvas.

Archie scanned the skies, but the late afternoon blue shone clear to the horizon. If there was any gunfire going on in the camp, he couldn’t see the telltale flashes. He double-checked the console. Radar showed clear. The infrared FLIR couldn’t see anything in the afternoon heat, which was about the same as human body temperature, but neither did it show any hot sparks of weapons discharge.

He reported his findings to the Major in a single word, “
Niente.
” Nothing. After flying together for almost a decade, they rarely spoke more than a word. Didn’t really need even that very often.

People were streaming out of every gate, clearly overrunning every guard station. A line of official vehicles roared campward along the main road, and he could almost hear the horns blaring. The crowds parted like a river on either side of the vehicles. Troops at the gates were trying to stem the flow with little luck, but reinforcements were pouring in. After a moment, he spotted a concentration of troop carriers by the main gate. He pointed, and with a nod, the Major landed near them, hovering long enough to let the downblast of the rotors clear the people out of a landing space for them.

Kee climbed down and had tucked Dilya close under her arm by the time Archie joined them. The girl tried to stand tall, but he could see the shivers that periodically shook her shoulders like a leaf. Not much taller, Kee was a tower of strength beside the little girl, but looked little more stable for all that.

Major Beale and Big John stayed in the chopper with the rotors spinning at about half. That kept the curious and the desperate at bay. And if that didn’t, Big John had unslung his carbine and glowered out at the world from the center of the cargo bay, a massive and evil-looking bulk in the shadows.

Archie unslung his SCAR carbine and did his best to dangle it casually from his hand, while Kee’s remained strapped across her chest. He unfolded the stock, making the thing look even nastier. People backed away from them, leaving as wide a path as the pressure of humanity allowed. He took station on Dilya’s other side as they headed toward the cluster of vehicles.

“Who’s in charge?” Kee shouted at the first soldier with a ranking on his collar. Red beret, British, one pip on his collar, a second lieutenant. Archie could barely hear her over the seething ocean of twenty thousand people all in a panic. The man pointed toward a Hummer flying the red, white, and blue Union Jack of Britain and a dozen men gathered close about.

Once they were closer, Kee pointed to a man in close conference with two others. “He has the most noise on his collar.”

Indeed, two pips and a crown. They moved up close behind him.

“Sir?”

The man glanced at her and looked back at the map spread over the hood of his vehicle, dismissing her as useless. Before she could grab his arm and find herself in real trouble, Archie stepped in.

“Begging your pardon, Colonel, sir.” He snapped a sharp salute and held it.

The Colonel looked irritated, but at least acknowledged him with that flat-handed, palm out British salute that they used, even in the field.

“First Lieutenant Archibald Stevenson III of U.S. Army 160th SOAR, 5th Battalion.” He dropped to parade rest. He checked to ascertain that Kee wasn’t about to attack the Colonel for ignoring her. The man wasn’t being sexist, he was busy. With Kee in full flight gear, the Colonel probably didn’t even know she was female.

“SOAR?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What can I do for you? We’re a little busy.”

He nodded toward Dilya, now cowering against Kee.

“Refugee. Uzbekistani. Picked her up the other night.”

“Well, you can’t bring her here. Afghanis would kill her on sight, if they didn’t have enough problems of their own.”

“What is going on here?” The noise surged to cover his question then washed back to a mere roar. It was a good choice that he’d kept his helmet in place simply for the sound protection.

“Local militia came in to do some recruiting.” The Colonel pointed to the map indicating an area about two-thirds of the way across the camp.

“Typical problem around here. A few dozen fanatics start stirring up a rumpus, and twenty thousand who’ve lost their homes flee in panic. All in terrified belief that the war has reached out to shred their lives yet again. Happens every few months, takes a day or two to put the place back together, with everyone a day or two closer to starving. We have it handled.”

One of his lieutenants tapped his arm for attention. The volume escalated and they all turned in time to see a human wave surging in their direction.

The Colonel shouted over his shoulder, “You can leave her with the Corporal over there.” He indicated with a quick nod. “God help her.”

He turned away to his people and roared in a voice loud enough to carry to the dozen troopers station around his Hummer, “Ready arms.” Every trooper took his carbine off safety and propped it against his shoulder. Archie couldn’t believe he’d do it.

“No!” Kee’s cry was drowned out by the next order.

“Into the ground, fire!”

At the roar of gunfire, the surge broke and the hundreds of starving refugees turned and drove back into the crowd, searching for a different escape from the driving pressure of the myriad souls behind them.

Smart. Shooting into the ground. Couldn’t fire into the air or their bullets could kill someone a mile away and they’d never know.

Archie scanned the crowd, spotted the Corporal with the clipboard talking to a couple of families so newly arrived that they didn’t know running away at the moment might be a better choice. He looked at the vast array of tents, row upon row of people praying that they were anywhere else.

Then he looked at Kee and Dilya. The woman and the girl from opposite sides of the world holding on to each other.

Would they be surprised to know that their expressions were the same? The narrow girl in white and the sloe-eyed warrior. Both stared at the camp with a mix of horror and fear. A stillness about them told him they were past shock and well along the road to numb. No motion.

“Come on. We’re leaving.” He leaned in and shouted to be heard.

Nothing.

Kee turned to him with desperation written wide on her face. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“Now. Move, soldier.” He had to shout to be heard as the mob surged once more in their direction despite the leading edge struggling to stay clear of the guns. The Brits unleashed another volley of shots into the ground. Kee and Dilya each jumped as if they’d been the targets.

Kee looked at Dilya and back to him, shaking her head. She mouthed over the noise, “No.”

“Both of you. Back to the chopper!” He knew his shout couldn’t be heard this time. He grabbed both of their shoulders, turned them as one, and gave them a sharp shove.

They stumbled, but in a moment they were running. He was hard pressed to keep up as he kept turning to check behind. But the Brits appeared to be back in control for another few minutes.

As soon as he’d buckled his harness, he turned to check that the women were strapped in. Kee was huddled by the rear cargo net, her vest’s harness clip snapped to the net. Dilya wrapped tightly against her despite the harness and gear Kee wore strapped across her body. Kee holding on just as hard. No force could pry the pair apart. Close enough.

“Get us out of here, Major.”

They were airborne before he’d finished speaking.

He glanced back once they were clear to make sure everyone was safe.

John remained out of his seat, his monkey harness snapped into a ceiling loop, moving from open cargo door to open cargo door as he tried to cover both sides of the craft with his carbine rifle.

Kee held the girl on her lap and the pain wracked her face. Odd, she appeared so strong, yet she came apart over a native orphan girl. Not that he didn’t feel sympathy. Not that he didn’t wish he could solve the problem. But he’d never suspected Kee had such an open heart. All that bravado and posturing, pierced by a young girl.

He had been drawn to the Sergeant the first instant she had stood there by the chopper, her hair glinting in the sunlight, her stance proud and fearless. He hadn’t even noticed her tight T-shirt and amazing body at first. It was her eyes, a straight punch to his gut.

He could feel Emily watching him as he turned back. She’d caught how long his attention had been diverted to watch Kee, even if he hadn’t.

“Let’s go.” Pointless remark, since they were already gone, Jali camp fading quickly into the afternoon’s heat shimmer.

Emily cocked her head ever so slightly without turning to face him, a nod toward her rank insignia. Reminding him of his own.

He shrugged. Yes, he knew.

Archie turned his attention back to scanning the terrain and the skies. Checking their course and their fuel.

He tried to picture the milling crowd, panicked by the gunshots and also by the abrupt departure of their helicopter. The crowd stirred and swirled in circles leading nowhere. Nowhere for them to go but the desert. Nothing but miles and miles of dry, arid desert.

But all he saw were the warrior and the little girl.