“Hostile approaching!” one of the Blackhawk gunners urgently sang out.
They had already loaded Crutch and Voodoo, and Snake was checking them. His face was tense, knowing they were on borrowed time and things could go south for them at any minute. The whole march to the secondary pickup point had been tense, a battle against time and distance in the effort to save them, and underscored by the sick knowledge that they’d lost Babe and been forced to leave her body behind.
Levi’s head snapped around. He’d seen his men loaded, and he was getting ready to do what he had to do, knowing he might not ever see them again. Going back was a huge risk, with maybe a fifty/fifty chance of getting out alive. He’d take what water and food they had with them; he couldn’t travel during the day, on foot, in heat that would likely be in the 130-degree range. He’d been awake all night and would have to shelter during the day, get some sleep, then start out when the sun went down and the heat dissipated some. The bodies they’d left behind would have been sniffed out by the desert predators by now, and they might have gotten into the ruin—He shut that thought down, fast, because he couldn’t let himself go there.
He’d find her, find his Babe, bury her if he couldn’t bring her remains out.
But first they had to deal with one more piece of shit in a shit-filled mission.
The gunner had brought his barrel around. Levi narrowed his eyes, gripping his own weapon, moving for cover. Then—something. Something about the distant approaching figure made him shoot his hand out, grab the barrel, and push it up. “Wait,” he muttered, staring hard through fatigue-blurred eyes. The unknown lurching toward them was small, a woman or a kid, and thin, and so completely covered with dust that making out individual features was impossible. But the clothes were . . . not Syrian, and there seemed to be a long mop of hair swinging—
“It’s her,” he said, blurting the words before his brain could catch up to his mouth.
“What?” Boom whirled, already halfway on the helicopter. All of them turned, staring hard at the stumbling figure approaching them. But Levi knew, knew somehow in his gut, and relief hit him so hard he almost staggered himself.
Then he was running, bent low under the whirling blades of the helicopter. “Wait, man,” the gunner said sharply, but Levi charged across the sand and rocks toward her. If anyone was chasing her, she’d need cover. If no one was chasing her, she’d need help, because she was lurching wildly, unable to keep a straight course. Boom caught up with him and the two of them closed on her.
His throat clogged, choking him with a massive wave of emotions he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t joy, it was as if he’d been thrown into hell and suddenly jerked back, as if his life had been over and now it wasn’t.
He and Boom reached her, reached out to support her. If he hadn’t known it was Jina, he wouldn’t have recognized her. Her face was gaunt, coated with sweat and dust, her eyes blind and staring. It was as if she didn’t see them, as if she was so focused on keeping her feet moving that she plowed right into them. Levi caught her, then caught the feeble punch she threw at him because she was who she was and never stopped fighting. “Easy, babe,” he said, then dipped his knees and tilted her over his shoulder, stood upright with the slight burden of her safe in his grip. The scent of blood hit him, made his stomach twist.
He and Boom loped back to the helicopter. Boom climbed in, reached out, and Levi handed her over. The helicopter had room for eleven combat personnel or six stretchers; with Voodoo and Crutch on stretchers, space was tight, but there was room to lay her down.
“Leave me alone,” she muttered, the words barely legible.
Levi vaulted aboard, yelled, “Go!” to the pilot, and they lifted off in a storm of dust and debris. He reached out and gripped one of her ankles, knowing what kind of shape her feet were in, to ease her boots off.
She kicked out violently, her heel catching him on the shin. “Leave me alone,” she said again, her tone fierce, then she turned on her side with her back to them, curling up in a protective ball, and he saw her go limp.
With a quick check on the two wounded, Snake scrambled over to her, shook her. She didn’t respond.
“She’s out!” Levi yelled as he swiftly began unlacing her boots.
Snake put two fingers on her neck, checked her pulse. “Heart rate’s too fast!” he yelled back. Quickly he pinched the back of her hand, watched the skin stay pinched. “Dehydrated, bad! We need to get some fluids in her!”
Voodoo and Crutch were already getting fluids, in an effort to keep them alive until they could get to a field hospital. There were no more IV lines available. Severe dehydration was critical; she might go into cardiac arrest. Abandoning her boots, Levi grabbed one of the remaining bottles of water, poured it over her head and the back of her neck. She didn’t move, even when the water ran down into her face. She couldn’t swallow; she was unconscious, and she’d choke if they tried to pour water down her. Pouring it over her wasn’t much, but it was all he could do to cool her down with the supplies they had. He held his hand out and Boom slapped another bottle of water into it.
He slowly poured more water over her head while Snake cut her boots off. Her socks were bloody—not just a little, but bloody from her toes up to her ankles. Snake cut the socks off, too, exposed her raw and bleeding feet. There was almost no skin left on her heels or across her toes, just exposed meat.
“Ten minutes!” the copilot bellowed, aware that every minute counted.
Ten minutes. They were almost there, if Voodoo and Crutch could hang on. In ten minutes, they’d have help, blood and antibiotics to support them while they underwent emergency surgery. In ten minutes someone would start an IV line, get some fluids in her before she started convulsing.
Ten minutes.
It felt like a lifetime.
Jina woke in a white tent. She stared around, her vision blurry. She was lying down; her tired brain deciphered that much. But she didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t alone; she could see what seemed like a row of people . . . maybe. Or maybe she was alone.
She didn’t care. Everything was at a distance, and that was okay. She didn’t want to think, or feel. She closed her eyes and drifted off again.
The next time she woke, she was more aware, but still not quite with it. The white tent was gone, and there was a droning noise that annoyed her. She moved fretfully, frowned when her hand caught on something, lifted it to stare at the IV in the back of her hand. She frowned again, because her hand was stained and dirty.
A big hand caught hers, lowered it beside her. Levi crouched beside her, his face swimming into focus. He looked terrible, unshaven, dirty, his gaze somehow savage. “You’re okay,” he said.
She considered that. She remembered running through the desert, remembered the desolation and despair. She remembered a lot, she just didn’t care about most of it. “Voodoo?” she croaked. “Crutch?”
“They’re holding on. We’re on our way to Germany.”
That was all she needed to know. Escaping was easy, because she was tired, so very tired. She simply had to close her eyes to shut him out, and she did.