The sun was shining directly overhead, and as Declan crept his way back around the base of the mountain toward the abandoned mine buildings, he had to talk himself into the fact that it had been twenty-four hours since their nightmare had begun. He almost didn’t even want that sun to rise.

Senses alert, eyes constantly skimming the landscape, he stayed as low to the ground as he could, running doubled over so far he felt the strain in his back when he found no suitable cover to proceed otherwise. This plan of his was risky but necessary. They couldn’t continue into the desert without supplies. They needed food and water, and at least one weapon. More importantly, some way to make contact with one of the advance units that might be in the area.

Then he thought of how good it would be to come back to Sophia, and to see that same light shining on her face. That was enough motivation for him. He hoped by then he would have gotten what he needed. He also hoped the shine would be even brighter than the sun’s reflection.

By the time the sun had risen completely, hanging like a giant yellowish-orange ball in the eastern sky, he flattened himself to the ground and peered over the ridgeline, down to the scattered structures below. The recent memory of his beating there got his heart pumping, left him filled with bloodlust, but he tamped it down. He was here to help, not get them both killed. Not to die and leave Sophia out there alone.

But now he had to focus on what the sun also lit up, how it shone brightly across the clearing, and the men walking around with automatic weapons. Declan could tell by their patterns that it was a route patrol. Perimeter checks. He knew also that these wouldn’t be the men who were looking for him and Sophia. He shuddered to think where they were.

He belly-crawled down the side of the mountain, taking as much advantage as he could of the low-lying ground shrubs. There wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He forced himself not to move too quickly, though his heart pounded, and he fought the urge to hurry. Movement attracted the eye, especially with the early morning shadows dancing along the hillsides. The dirt beneath him felt warm and would grow even warmer as the sun rose higher.

As he got closer, he could spot more men, not searching the mine shafts but loading gear into a van. When the van began to pull away, Declan had to lie flat on the ground behind a cluster of rocks. His face against the warm sand, he closed his lips tightly to keep the grit out. He tried not to inhale the dust of the Afghan desert, tried not to taste how dry and hot and miserable a place it was. He could taste bitter disappointment for not acting sooner, for being caught in between. Disappointed that Sophia was now vulnerable.

Disappointment turned to fear as he saw the van speed away past him, barely a hundred yards away, climbing slightly uphill and following the base of the mountain. It was a much quicker drive than his careful walk, and they were already driving up the slope toward the mine openings, the white van bouncing and swerving its way up a narrow cart path. Like so many high-stress situations during his combat career, the action slowed down considerably. The van slowed in his mind to a crawl, matching his thought process for a moment. The mild twinges of panic he had to bat away with the knowledge that they wouldn’t know about the air shaft. They wouldn’t know where Sophia really was—as long as she was quiet and still as he’d suggested. What could she have possibly gotten up to aside from thinking about the dinner that had started this whole nightmare?

He watched, careful to keep his body still as the van stopped at one of the openings, the men pulling out boxes of what he now could see were explosives. He knew instantly what they planned. They would set explosives inside, trigger cave-ins, trap them inside. The nightmare would get even worse.

Though he also imagined the opportunity this had created: a unit with fewer men. If any men at all. A chance to make his way to the buildings below and slip inside undetected. He moved, still carefully, but at a more hurried pace, crawling his way toward the buildings, constantly aware of his surroundings, watching for signs of life. Even the man who’d been patrolling was gone. For how long, he didn’t know, but he had to risk it.

He lay still for several moments near the edge of the shrubs. An open dirt space between him and the shadows of the first building, maybe fifteen, twenty feet across. It might as well have been a hundred. No cover. His heart pounding, he swallowed as he glanced behind him and up the slope. The men from the van stood clustered around one of the mine shafts. No one looked his way.

He took a breath, held it, then quickly stood, half hunched over, and dashed toward the cover of the building, half expecting the sharp burst of automatic gunfire, the impact of a bullet in his back. He made it. He dropped low and scrambled around the corner of the building, out of sight of the mountain for now. He paused under an opening that in the past might have held glass and listened for any sign of movement inside.

Nothing. He crept to the door and slipped inside.

Inside, trying to quiet his panting, Declan quickly found and rummaged through a messy tool box. An old, rusty knife would have to do for now. Yes, it would do just fine. A jagged slice through someone’s neck wouldn’t be very pretty, but it would do the job. Then he sought food. It was his lucky day. There in the corner, he saw a small pile of American MRE packs and several small bottles of water. An old military-style flashlight with a hooded red lens.

He filled his cargo pant pockets while holding his breath, taking another good listen for any surprise visitors. The whole place had been so quiet, even the wind had died down. It was just him, alone, breathing quietly, hungry and thirsty and needing to see Sophia.

There was an odd set of wires leading out of the room, in the opposite direction whence he came. Before leaving, he would have to know where they went and why. Then suddenly he had an image flash through his mind of a blinding white flash of a detonated mining charge.

Had they rigged up a trap for him to walk into?

He could feel the sweat already beading at his hairline as he sped around the corner to find what had been set in place. The wires were an unusual find, and he had a definite bad feeling about it.

Once he turned the corner, there was something worse to worry about. A man sitting at a desk, back still turned but then saying something that Declan couldn’t understand. It sounded like a question. For a second, the idea of responding something in Farsi crossed his mind. But running in the opposite direction without explanation seemed like a better option.

“Wait,” the man said.

Declan brought his hand to his waistband, to where the knife was waiting, his fingers slowly gripping the handle when he watched the man turn.

It was their interrogator, Sajad, pointing now to an old, dusty backpack lying on the ground. Declan knew it as an American radio unit, a Comm 3. And the way Sajad had pointed at it had given him some hope. Sajad’s other hand went to his face, an index finger shushing his lips.

Sure, Declan would be quiet for now. But later, there would be much to talk about, and doing it over the air back to his own base.

He nodded to Sajad, removed his hand from his knife, and moved toward the back to inspect it. The thing was pretty beat up, but checking inside, Declan saw that the actual radio unit was in decent shape. He clicked on and heard the relief of a fuzz signal. He nodded again to Sajad, not knowing why he’d been so charitable, but he could figure that out later, too. Right now, he had someone more important waiting for him.