Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Running Fire (32 page)
Getting off her knees, she walked over to Mina who stood
patiently watching, her ears flicking back and forth. Taking the sat phone, Khat
had to make a call to J-bad and alert Hutton she had one of the SEALs in her
care. She hoped she was in time so that no wife and parents of this man would
get a call from a casualty officer, telling them that he was missing in action.
Pushing a strand of red hair off her brow, she punched in the numbers.
Hutton came on the other end, and Khat told him what had
happened. The best news was the other three SEALs were picked up down at the
bottom of the slope an hour later by a Night Stalker helicopter. And Hutton was
surprised to hear about her patient. Everyone thought he was missing in
action.
“That's Petty Officer First Class Michael Tarik,” he told her.
“He was leading the team.”
“I rescued him out of a wadi. He's unconscious. I'm hoping
he'll wake up pretty soon.” She chewed on her lower lip, watching him beneath
the glow of the lantern. Even now, he looked hard. A warrior.
“Report in tomorrow morning. I hope he makes it. There's no way
we can drop a Medevac in there to pick him up. We just got a drone up, and that
mountain you live on is crawling with Taliban. We've counted about a hundred so
far, so keep a low profile.”
Khat snorted. “Don't worry, I will. I'll contact you tomorrow.
Out.”
Walking back to her mare, she tucked the sat phone away in the
huge leather saddle bag. “Come on, girl, your turn. I'll bet you're starving.”
Khat led the mare to the other side of the tunnel, about ten feet away from
where Tarik lay. She stripped the mare of her saddle, the SEALs gear, brought
her a bucket of water, curried her and then retrieved a flake of alfalfa hay
from a nearby room. She shut the gate because Mina would wander in there and eat
herself into colic. Khat didn't need one more emergency on her hands right
now.
It was her turn. She grabbed her small towel, a washcloth and
Afghan lye soap from a hole in the cave wall. She smelled of raw-fear sweat, and
she could feel the grit of dirt chafing her flesh. Grabbing the kerosene lamp,
some unscented shampoo, a comb and brush, she walked the fifty feet into the
waterfall cave. She had fashioned a bench out of rocks with a piece of wooden
plank across the top of it a long time ago. Laying her towel over it, she
quickly stripped herself of boots and clothes. The water was going to be
seventy-five degrees because that was the cave's temperature.
Stepping into the sandy bottom of the small pool, the coolness
felt wonderful against her hot, sweaty body. Closing her eyes for a moment, she
pulled the rubber band out of her hair and allowed it to swing free. Soon she
would be clean. This was one of the few perks of living in the Hindu Kush that
she looked forward to. The light spread out, eventually graying at the edges as
she moved into the clear green, waist-deep water beneath the waterfall.
Every once in a while, Khat would look in the direction of the
SEAL to see if he was conscious yet or not. She hoped he would awaken. With head
wounds, one never knew.
Tipping her head toward the falling water, she groaned with
pleasure as the wetness soaked into her long, thick hair. In moments, it would
be soaped up, the grit and dirt cleaned from her strands and scalp. This luxury
didn't happen often. Tonight was a special gift to her.
Copyright © 2015 by Nauman Living Trust
ISBN-13: 9781460380703
Running Fire
Copyright © 2015 by Nauman Living Trust
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