SEAL Of My Heart (30 page)

“How far are we from the outpost, Jackie?” Tyler bellowed.

“I can see it now. A click.”

“These ladies all healthy? Can they make it?” Jackie spoke Pashtu to the women who started chattering like a flock birds.

“You’re not seriously thinking of staying behind and letting them walk? I say we crash whatever’s up there, Tyler.”

“If we’re lucky, we’ll have a military vehicle, not a Municipal bus.”

“And if we’re not lucky?”

“I dunno. What difference will it make, anyway? We’ll be dead.”

“You heard what I said, you’re not gonna fuckin’ die on me, Tyler.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t promise you I wouldn’t die in a firefight. I didn’t promise that. Someone’s got to escort these women and Jackie to someplace safer. And I guess that someone would be you.” Tyler gave him a grin. “It’s all good, T.J. What we signed up for, remember?”

There was something peaceful about not having a lot of choices. It made the choices easier to make, Tyler thought.

Tyler checked his weapon and made sure everything was clipped in place. T.J. started to go for his bag to arm up, but Tyler grabbed his arm.

“Give this to Kate.”

“You fuckin’ give it to her yourself.”

“I mean it, T.J. Give this fuckin’ letter to Kate.” He handed the bloodstained envelope to his Team buddy. “You take care of her, and don’t let her buy any dolls or you’ll wind up like Timmons.”

“No fuckin’ way.” T.J. grabbed Tyler by the shirt and pulled him up off the seat, which hurt like a sonofabitch. “You’re gonna make it out, Tyler.” He dropped him unceremoniously back on the bench seat, stuffing the letter back in Tyler’s pocket and smoothing the Velcro closed.

Tyler could feel sensation in his leg diminishing by the minute. He was sorry the letter was stained with his blood. It would scare her a little. Hell, it would scare the living daylights out of her.

‡

T
he military transport
pulled up alongside the bus, with two of the occupants brandishing rifles. The driver pulled close to the bus, as if he planned to ram it.

Jackie played his part well, flailing his arms and shouting something in Pashtu, which triggered wailing from the women. Then he added in English, “I’m going to have to stop. Please tell me what to do.”

“You’re doing fuckin’ great, Jackie. Slow down but don’t stop,” Tyler said. “Ready, T.J.?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

Jackie shouted something in Pashtu and two of the women began to scream in unison, along with several of the children. Tyler knew T.J. would be swearing at the top of his lungs on a normal day. But this was no normal day. He was crouched behind one of the seats, a little mirror hanging from a wire so he could monitor the outside.

Tyler remained stuck in the rear of the bus, in the shadows, slumped down nearly flat on his back, legs stretched out in front of him, barely able to see above the window ledges while the bus began to slow down. The smoke bomb was done, but dust from the red soil was everywhere, filling the small compartment and making everyone cough. He pulled his desert scarf up over his mouth and then wrapped it around his head.

The hysterical crying was loud enough for the militia to overhear and they began to confer amongst themselves.

“Help me. I have to stop. Help me,” Jackie barked.

The bus grumbled slowly and ground gears, then hiccupped and bucked to a quick stop, jerking forward and back as the springs gave up the ghost. Tyler could hear T.J.’s “Oh, shit,” muffled by another headscarf.

The combatants carefully climbed out and searched the open windows, surveying the women and children who kept up their moaning and crying. The women cowered from the windows, switching to the other side of the bus when the militants came up to them. Finally they clustered in huddles towards the center of the aisle, which was just fine with Tyler, because they made good cover.

None of the men were curious about the back seat.

The two heavily armed men shouted at Jackie, demanding he get out of the bus, and he did so, holding his hands above his head. As one man stepped up into the passenger level, the other was right behind him. T.J. quickly jumped up and popped them before they even registered he was there, making the women scream even louder.

The two on the outside were getting ready to spray the bus with rounds when Tyler leveled his H&K and surgically fired off rounds through one open window without hitting the military vehicle’s sides.

Tyler checked the surroundings and didn’t see indications anyone was approaching, even from the rear. There was no question the sounds of battle would carry along the dusty ground devoid of plant or hill. But with the way of the desert and echoes, no one would be able to pinpoint exactly where the sounds had come from.

T.J. barked an order to Jackie, “Get your butt in here and shut them up. I can’t listen to this anymore.”

Jackie did as commanded, hopping over the seats, avoiding the dead bodies until he came to the group of women. He consoled Malalai, who sunk her forehead to his chest and sobbed in earnest. A couple of the young boys were peeking curiously out from the windows to see the carnage first hand. The crying and sobbing stopped.

Tyler managed to locate his cell phone’s shape by pressing through fabric of one Velcro pocket, making a note to check it for the battery he knew to be dead, like it had been a half hour ago.

The air was heating up without the forward motion of the bus. Tyler knew they would fry if they didn’t get underway in a hurry.

“T.J. we gotta get moving.”

“Roger that. What do you want to do with these guys?” he pointed to the two men slumped in the aisle of the bus, and jerked his chin toward the two outside as well.

“I think we have to take them along. Can we prop two of them up front behind the driver’s seat?”

In quick time, Jackie and T.J. had two armed militia strapped together and supported by the seat with Velcro strips and duct tape, one against the wall of the bus. With their heads slumped to the side, they looked like they could be sleeping.

The other two they carried to the rear of the bus, stripping them of weapons. T.J. held up a cell phone.

“Jackpot,” he said.

“You got any reception?”

“I got two bars.”

“Enough,” Tyler said and extended his hand. He called the number he’d been given for the SOP command center and gave his name and rank. “I know we’re about five klicks from the complex at Operation Pickle Jar—Jackie, what town are we headed to?”

“Walakan. Near Walakan.”

“Near the town of Walakan. We got one special operator seriously wounded, that would be me, and one healthy. We got a terp and five Pashtu women and six children on a bus. The thing is painted bright red and green. Just like Christmas. It would sure be nice if Santa Claus could come and get us right now.”

T.J. shot two of the tires flat on the Jeep and pocketed the keys. He fired up the bus as Tyler was signing off.

“I think I got through, but you best keep haulin’ ass outta here,” Tyler said. “Jackie, you see anything up front that looks familiar?

“Nothing yet.”

Soon abandoned vehicles and dead farm animals were found strewn over the countryside, indicating an army had been through. A thatched and mud hut was smoldering. They passed corrals, and live chickens that acted just like the chickens at home, Tyler thought, picking at the ground for bits of seed or something else to eat.

Nearly a half hour later, they came to a small outpost with a checkpoint that was abandoned. Tyler was feeling feverish and the swelling in his leg hurt. It had been over an hour since he’d been shot, and he knew he was running out of time. He knew once he started to cool off he would be in critical condition. Until then, the swelling and pain and heat were a good sign, the best he could have. He tried to get his phone and nearly dropped it. His fingers were so puffed up from the infection he knew was raging inside him, they were stiff. He managed to get a glimpse of a message Kate had left, but the screen went black and he couldn’t recall it.

“Shit.” He put the phone inside his T-shirt. For some reason, he wanted to have the text message Kate had sent him right against his heart. Maybe some fuckin’ Corpsman would find it and charge it for him. They’d know who to call, whom to notify, if—

He didn’t want to think about if. It was
when
now. All the time he had was in the present or forward.

He heard his bag hit the floor of the bus as it rumbled down the red clay of Mars. He’d always remember this area as being Mars. A far outpost he never wanted to return to. But he would, if they asked him. He just didn’t want to die here.

Glancing down to the bag, he saw the lavender deodorant Kate had given him. Painfully, he reached for it, flipping off the top, which flew to the seat in front of him and landed on the floor. He sniffed the lavender fragrance and it reminded him of Kate’s sheets, Kate’s bubble bath, her shower gel. Reminded him of her soft skin and how bad he wanted to see her. He pushed the deodorant under his T-shirt next to the phone. As much of Kate as possible was going with him, no matter where he was going. Her text. Her scent. Along with some fuckin’ bad guy’s DNA.

He heard the crackling of the letter T.J. had refused to take.

He extended the combatant’s phone to T.J. along with the letter. “You fuckin’ better take these. Make the call. I’m going to pass out, here.”

T.J. grabbed it.

And just then Tyler did pass out.

‡

T
he search for
Sheila was unsuccessful. Her home was vacated. Her car was missing, and there was no evidence of her at any of the places she normally frequented. She had simply vanished. The police put a trace on her and since she was presumed to have fled the state and considering the size of the theft—some four hundred thousand dollars’ worth of theft—the FBI was brought in.

The winery was shut down and workers were asked to furlough. The bank the Heller family had been with for three decades, since they still had considerable personal assets, covered their checks.

Though it was quietly investigated, on the third day a news crew got wind of the scandal and a front page article appeared in the local paper. This drew a call from Devon.

“So sorry, Kate. Why didn’t you call me?” Devon asked.

“I wasn’t sure how it would turn out. You know, they’ve implicated Tyler in all this. They didn’t want to make it public.” Kate admitted to Devon what she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself.

“Tyler? No way!”

“I know, but I saw the check…well, one check, anyway. Saw it myself. Made out to Tyler Gray and cashed, the bank said.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is he even a SEAL?”

“Of course he’s a SEAL. Why would you think otherwise? You think something like that would get by me? Nick hanging around a poser?”

“He had a thing with this lady, the bookkeeper. Her real name I guess is Joan something.”

“Impossible. Just not possible. How do you know this?”

“She described his tats. Only way she would know about them is if she saw him without his shirt. I didn’t take him there shirtless, Devon. I guess I could give him the benefit of the doubt, but somehow I did get the impression he knew her from his past.
Hopefully
his past. But I don’t know anymore.”

“I’m supposed to hear from Nick tonight. You’ll probably get the same Skype call. Be ready for it.”

“Not sure I’m ready for a Skype with Tyler or anyone.”

“You should have called me, Kate. Why didn’t you?”

“I just didn’t think it was possible at first, but I was asked not to mention the investigation to anyone, and the police still think he’s involved.”

“Kate. You’ve got to trust me. Tyler had no possible way of being involved in this at all. It would never happen, Kate. Never. These guys don’t do this. It is so completely unlike anything they’re about. These guys rescue people, they don’t prey on them.”

Kate was getting another call, and she recognized from the number of Tyler’s sister.

Oh great, maybe she’s involved too.

She decided to take the call, so wrapped up her conversation with Devon.