Chapter 7
Caitlyn glared at her surroundings. She and Dr. Robertson had been forced out of the camp at gunpoint and whisked here. Robertson and she sat on the ground under guard in a rebel camp. She remembered several of her patients had caused a ruckus; then she’d been hit from behind. She reached up and pressed a hand against her pounding head.
She still had stitches from her first head injury. She knew Ryder and the rest of his team were out there somewhere. She had to hold on. Give her captors no reason to kill her. Give Ryder time to get to her as she knew he would. The guards here were laughing and joking but underneath was anger. As if somehow her team had insulted them by capturing as many rebels as they had in the first place.
She wondered how pride and ego could play such a major part in war. And yet, it appeared to. In truth, the world was a mess. Glancing around at the enemy camp, she didn’t see any of their badly injured members. She studied their faces carefully, but they appeared to have taken whoever was ambulatory, the others left behind as casualties of war. Or possibility shot so they couldn’t talk.
One of the guards nudged her with the end of his rifle. She stood up, Dr. Robertson at her side. Trying to guess what they wanted but not understanding the language, the two were prodded to a large tent.
Inside the tent it didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust and to see several men on the ground, obviously hurt. And then she understood. They’d brought the two of them, a medical team, to help their own injured. She rushed to the first man and dropped to her knees. She placed a hand on his neck out of habit yet instinctively knew they couldn’t help him, not if she couldn’t find a pulse. His chest cavity had taken several bullets. She shook her head, got up and went to the second man. Dr. Robertson bent over the third.
“I have a pulse here,” she said quietly.
“This one is going into shock.” He glanced around. “We need medicine, bandages, IVs, blood.”
She turned to the man with the rifle pointed at her. “Is there medicine? Supplies? We need something to stop the bleeding.”
The man shrugged and raised the rifle to her head.
She stared at him. “We can’t help them without something. We need supplies.”
The man at her side groaned. She returned her attention to him, ripping open his jacket. There was a little bit of blood on the top left shoulder. But that seemed to be a superficial wound. She checked over the rest of him. His lower body was fine, but his head showed trauma. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, hearing several yells as the men scowled at her.
She pointed to the flashlight on the phone and turned it on so she could check the man’s head. As soon as the light shone, the other rebels around her fell silent. She studied the head wound, realizing he’d probably just been knocked out. He would need a few stitches, but she could do little without the necessary tools.
She got up and joined Dr. Robertson who stared down at a man with an ugly abdominal wound. “Gun shot?” She dropped to his side.
He nodded. “Looks like it may have lodged in the spine. He needs surgery.”
“We don’t have anything to treat him with,” she exclaimed. “We don’t have any dressings. We don’t have any antibiotics. He’ll die a very slow, painful death without surgery. Infection is a definite issue.”
Dr. Robertson gave her a hard look. “They will blame us if we don’t treat these men.”
“One is already dead,” she said in a low tone, studying his young face not even of an age to shave yet. Her heart aching, she said, “Such a waste.” She turned to the two living patients. “The other one is alive with a minor head injury. His pulse is strong and steady. He should wake up soon. This guy, however …” She glanced down at the thirtysomething man with a grimace.
“And that is war, my dear. That is war. This is only one of hundreds they’ve probably already buried.”
She stood and said to the rebels, “He’s going to die.” She pointed to the stomach of the injured soldier. “We need supplies and medicines.”
The man in the doorway holding the rifle on them sputtered a stream of words neither understood. He quickly disappeared from the tent. She didn’t even have clean water to wash the wound. Or a sterile dressing to put over it, just to keep the dust out. She glanced down at her dirty clothing. Nothing she wore could be used either.
A few minutes later, two men walked in with boxes they dumped onto the floor. She opened them to see dressings and medicines.
“Yes.” Although probably stolen from their camp, she dove into the boxes. The next half hour was painful. She was glad the patient was unconscious but administered morphine to kick in before he woke up. They found the bullet on the spine had missed the spinal cord. Still soft tissue damage could kill him within days as he bled heavily. Thankfully he was unconsciousness. Given his heavy blood loss, she didn’t expect him to wake up anytime soon, if at all. Dr. Robertson did the best he could. They had no IVs, no blood and no liquids to give him, but they did administer several more shots of morphine and antibiotics for any infection.
The bleeding slowed eventually. In normal circumstances he’d be flown to a hospital. She didn’t think there was such a thing here. Her heart went out to the young man. He could pull through; she’d seen it happen, but these were definitely less-than-ideal circumstances. If his wounds became infected …
Sitting beside Dr. Robertson, together they waited, checking often on the two living patients as the hours passed slowly. “Do you think they’re coming for us?” she murmured, knowing the doctor understood who she talked about.
“They’ll destroy this camp, and hopefully we’ll get rescued in the process,” he said drily.
She understood what he meant. A lot of priorities came with a war. Retrieving their own personnel was at the top of the list, but they also had to make sure this didn’t happen again. At least not again by these particular rebels.
She was so tired. She sat with her head resting on her knees. “Do you think it’s safe to sleep?”
“Go ahead and nod off,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep an eye on the patients.”
She didn’t want to say anything about the one patient, but they both knew how poor the young man’s odds were. She tilted her head to the side and let her eyes close. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could wake up to find this was all a nightmare, and she was back in her own bed?
Just as she started to go under, she heard an odd sound—almost a whisper. She lifted her head and looked around. The two injured men still lay on the floor as she’d seen them last. Dr. Robertson had stretched out with his head on his hands, his eyes closed as if sleeping. But his breathing wasn’t deep enough. “Did you say something?”
He rolled his head to the side and looked at her. “No.”
She frowned. “I thought I heard someone call my name.”
When it didn’t come again, she dropped her head back to her knees, letting her eyes close. Hearing it again, she bolted to her feet and spun around, but the tent was empty. Then an odd scratch came from behind them. She walked to the back of the tent and said in a low tone, “Hello? Is anybody there?”
“It’s Ryder.”
And she smiled with relief and joy filling her heart. He’d come after her. Oh, thank God.
*
He’d seen Caitlyn and the doctor forced into the tent. However, maneuvering around to the back to see inside the camp and getting up close to their tent had been nearly impossible. He’d watched as a guard left and two soldiers arrived with boxes. Supplies, he presumed. He couldn’t see any other reason to kidnap a doctor and nurse unless their services were required.
Both soldiers came out again without the boxes, meaning Dr. Robertson and Caitlyn might not be guarded inside. But Ryder couldn’t be sure. He’d waited, but now that he had confirmed she was in there, she was his number one priority. He needed a way to get those two out.
One guard stood watch in front of Caitlyn’s tent, but others were close by. Only a major diversion would give Ryder the opening he needed.
A few minutes later he saw such an opening. Two guards came to the tent and spoke with Caitlyn’s guard. The three walked off to the left to speak with somebody in front of another tent.
He slipped his knife along the back of the tent and slipped his head inside. Caitlyn and Dr. Robertson were sitting on the ground, waiting. They bolted to their feet as soon as they saw him. Behind them he could see men stretched out on the ground. He motioned to Caitlyn and Dr. Robertson to hurry. As soon as he got them out, the doctor whispered, “One man will die if we don’t help him.”
Ryder shook his head and urged them to the tree line. Soon afterward a shout came from the camp, followed by gunfire. Ryder watched as the enemy soldiers spread out. “It’s too late to help. They know you’re missing now,” he continued, watching as two men went into their tent.
The shadows showed the pantomime going on inside. One shot the other, then fired multiple times at the ground as if at different targets. There were shouts, raised voices and then several more shots. Only one man came out of the tent.
“Did he shoot his own men?” Caitlyn asked in a low voice, tucked up close against Ryder.
“Too many bullets were fired to kill just one man,” he murmured. “I suspect he not only shot the guard but also the injured soldiers you treated.”
“Why would they go through all the work to save them only to shoot them?” Caitlyn asked bewildered.
“It’s quite possible that kidnapping you wasn’t sanctioned by the rest of the group. Think about it. If someone had an injured family member, he’d need to find medical help. If they had no doctors to treat him, then it would make sense to kidnap you and bring you back to treat their loved ones. However, by kidnapping you two, it guaranteed we’d come after you and rain all kinds of hell down on the camp.” He paused, then added quietly, “Now can you see him being punished and the original injured soldiers being shot?”
Unfortunately she could imagine that all too well. “That sucks.”
“Yes, it does suck. Welcome to war,” Ryder said in low tones. “I wish to God you’d stayed in the States.”
He had to get her back to the camp safely. That was miles away. He knew the outpost she’d come from had already been moved. Better if she was back at one of the main Forward Operating Bases—FOBs for short. Any one of the dozens they had here in Iraq would be better than the smaller mobile outposts. “We have a long way to go. Let’s move.” And he led the way into the hills. Thankfully his orders had been to get her back to the camp she’d been sent from, not the outpost. That meant driving. The rendezvous point had already been changed once. He needed a pickup for these two.
“What about the rest of your team?” Caitlyn asked.
“They’re down there,” he said. “My job is to get you two back to safety.”
There was a whole lot more to it than he’d volunteered. No way would he leave her as a prisoner of war, not when he started to suspect he might be one of the reasons she’d come here in the first place. Out of guilt or to apologize, he didn’t know. But the last thing he wanted was to have her injured or killed because of him. She was a hell of a woman, a fine nurse. That they’d fallen out didn’t change the fact she was a keeper, and any man she chose was a hell of a lucky man.
Avoiding the main routes, he led them toward the rendezvous point.
They kept to the little cover available, but this was a dry and arid land and didn’t offer much protection. They weren’t more than a mile away when he heard a vehicle.
And it wasn’t one of theirs.