Chapter Five
G race’s stomach dove into her combat boots. “How long until we can expect a rescue?”
“Don’t know,” Sharp said, his gaze roaming the area around the aircraft. “It depends on whether the pilot was able to radio our situation out before we crashed or not. If he did, then we should see help soon. If he didn’t, we’ll be on our own for a while.” He glanced down, a grimace creasing his face. “How’s Rasker?”
“He needs immediate surgery. He’s got a skull fracture and probably a hematoma.”
“His brain is swelling?”
“Yeah. If it swells too much, it could kill him.”
“Can you do anything to help him now?”
“The only thing that’s going to help him is if I drill a hole through his skull and drain away some of the fluid collecting in the bruise.”
“Fuck.”
“I don’t have the equipment or the drugs. Plus, so far, it’s just you and me. And one of us needs to watch out for more bad guys with guns. We need another pair of hands.”
“I’ll keep a lookout and stay with him while you see if we can find anyone else who might be in better shape and able to help.”
Sharp turned to move away, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. Your leg. It’s bleeding pretty steadily. Let me bandage that up for you.”
He looked like he was going to refuse, but then he nodded. “Make it quick.”
She grabbed a bandage out of the pile of medical supplies she’d found earlier and quickly wrapped his thigh. “I’ll need to take a closer look later.” He nodded while scanning the area outside the aircraft.
She left Rasker with Sharp and continued searching, praying she’d find someone else who was healthy enough to help her. But she only found bodies, none of them alive.
Time to talk to Sharp.
She headed back to where she’d left him watching over Rasker, but Sharp wasn’t there.
Gunfire erupted, and she ducked down over her patient, then looked to see where it had come from. Sharp was laid out on the ground a few feet from the aircraft, firing his rifle at three Afghan men. They returned fire, bullets ploughing into the ground all around him, but Sharp didn’t move or stop firing until all three were dead.
He left them where they lay, got up into a crouch and approached her. “Any luck?”
She snorted. “No. Everyone else is...dead.” That last word got stuck in her throat and she had to struggle to breathe around it.
She glanced at Sharp. He was staring at her hands. They were covered in blood and shaking.
His gaze met hers and he asked, “How much water do we have?”
“I don’t know, hadn’t even thought about it.” She should have. Had the crash scrambled her brains?
“Can you take stock of what’s usable? Water, food, first aid. Gather what you can and get it ready in case we have to leave in a hurry to find shelter.”
“I’m not leaving Rasker. Not unless there’s...” The words stuck in her throat, but she shoved them out anyway. “No hope.”
“Doc, I don’t want to leave him either, but we’ve got to have a Plan B ready. Okay?”
He was talking to her like she was a two-year-old, and outrage allowed her to refocus on the situation rather than her reaction to it. “I’m not going to freak out.”
He smiled at her; it wasn’t on his face long, but it was enough to tell her he didn’t believe a word.
“I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Give me the I’ll take care of the poor defenseless female look. I did save your life a few minutes ago, remember?”
“That you did. My apologies.”
He was humoring her. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I need you to slap me out of my hysterics.”
That made him laugh and he shook his head. “I’m never bored around you, Doc. You say the craziest things.”
She let out a sigh. “For some reason crazy doesn’t seem like a bad thing right now.”
“Ready to get back to work?”
“Yeah.” She glanced around. Smoke from the wreckage rose into the air. It was probably visible for miles. “How much trouble are we in?”
“This is going to draw unwanted attention, but if we leave, our rescue won’t be able to find us.”
She looked out over the desert, searching for movement or the flash of sunlight reflected off a weapon in the distance. “How long can we stay?”
“As long as we can. How’s Rasker?”
She went back to check on his vitals. Sharp followed, his gaze alternating between watching her and the landscape.
“Not good. His breathing is shallow. If we can’t get him some advanced medical assistance very soon...” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
“Understood.” His voice vibrated with restrained violence. “I’m going to walk the perimeter. Gather supplies as you can.”
Men often dealt with grief by getting mad at it. It was probably the healthiest response for the situation, but she was going to have to watch him close. Make sure he didn’t do something stupid. Or brave. Or both.
Just like he was watching her.
Grace checked her patient again—no change—then began collecting water, food, and assembling a comprehensive first-aid kit that wouldn’t slow them down if they needed to run. She found and grabbed three additional magazines for her gun, then added them to the pile.
“How’s it going, Doc?”
“Bare necessities are ready, but time is running out for Rasker.”
“We’ve got movement,” he said, sliding behind a large piece of metal. “Take cover.”
Grace moved to try to cover the injured man with anything that might protect him from gunfire.
She was dragging a wrecked jump seat over when Sharp yelled at her, “Get down, Doc.”
A bullet pinged off something metal above her head. She dove for the ground, and discovered the Beretta in her hand. She stared at it like it was a live grenade for about half a second before turning and firing it out at the desert and the men coming toward them.
“Sharp?”
“I’ve got incoming on my side, too!”
“I’ve only got one extra magazine on me!”
“Look in your back pocket.”
She slapped a hand on her back pockets and discovered one additional magazine. “How the hell did you put that in there without me knowing?”
“I did it when you were having your hysterics.”
The cad. “So you figured that was a good time to cop a feel?”
“I’m a guy. It’s always a good time for that.”
They’d survived a helicopter crash that killed most of their team, armed extremists were trying to kill them, and he was thinking about getting his hands in her pants? “Asshole,” she yelled.
“What? I can’t hear you over the hail of bullets trying to kill us.”
“You’re lucky there are worse assholes for me to shoot at.”
“Promises, promises, Doc.”
“Just don’t get shot. If anyone gets to shoot you today, it should be me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She focused on the men approaching her side of the wreck. She hadn’t hit anyone yet and she was down to five bullets. Taking time to reload was dangerous. Dare she change her tactics? Would hesitating now, letting them rush forward to give her bigger targets, make the situation worse or better? She’d hesitated before while under fire and had regretted it ever since.
She chose to wait, her stomach twisting, hands shaking, and breathing coming in pants. She waited, allowing them to get closer. Closer. Closer.
She took aim and fired.
One. Two. Three. Dead.
Relief shot champagne into her blood, which went straight to her head. This time she’d made the right choice. “You still shooting at yours?” she asked Sharp.
The only answer was a burst of gunfire. “Not anymore.” He came through the wreckage and glanced out at the bodies on her side. “You’re a good shot, Doc.”
She’d killed three more people. Five altogether. The fizzy feeling went flat. “Yay me.”
“When you say it in a monotone like that, it doesn’t sound so happy.”
She stared at her hands, which were vibrating at a rate that would have done an earthquake proud. She’d been fine, fine until Marshall had reopened the emotional wounds Cranston’s death caused. Son of a bitch.
She wasn’t like this. Wasn’t someone who couldn’t handle her shit. Until today happened. “Sharp, I think I need that slap now. Um, just as soon as I throw up.” She stumbled a few steps away and let her stomach complete its protest. She stood there bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees until the nausea and dizziness passed.
She turned to check Rasker’s pulse. Weaker and slower. He didn’t have long.
She glanced outside. The sun beat down on the desert with unrelenting heat, but it was getting closer to the horizon. Nighttime wasn’t far off, and darkness would bring out even more predators. Rasker wouldn’t make it without surgery. If he didn’t get that surgery soon, he wouldn’t make it at all.
Time, the conditions, and the men trying to kill them were all the enemy. She and Sharp had precious little to fight them off with.
“Have you been thinking about our escape plan?” she asked him.
He didn’t stop his inspection of the horizon. Moving from side to side of the aircraft, watching for more unfriendlies. “Yes.”
“I’ve got everything you asked me to gather. I just need to find a couple of packs to carry it in.”
“Check the same spot as those medical supplies. There might be some at the very back.”
She did and found three that were relatively undamaged. She quickly packed two of them and placed them where they could grab them on the run if they had to.
“Have you got enough ammunition?” she asked.
“I grabbed everything I could get my hands on.”
She glanced out at the desert. Desolate and empty of life. No help or safe place in sight. “Is it going to be enough?”
“Probably not.”
She grunted. Sharp had something huge going for him. He didn’t lie.
Grace checked Rasker’s pulse again and found it had slowed even more.
He wasn’t going to make it and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to change it. Tears cooled her face, but she let them fall. No one besides Sharp would see them.
People said she was cold behind her back, thinking she didn’t care, that she really was as unfeeling as she often appeared, but they were wrong. She cared too much, and sometimes her emotions got away from her no matter how hard she tried to lock them down.
Keeping the fingers of her right hand on his carotid pulse point, she smoothed her left index finger down his nose. “It’s okay to go, Rasker,” she whispered to him. “It’s okay.”
The pulse under her fingertips slowed and disappeared.
She stood, looking down at the dead body of her brother-in-arms, then glanced at Sharp. “I’m done,” she said, and was shocked at how bleak her tone sounded. “I’m so done .”
He looked at her. “I wish we could be done, but for us the shit’s just getting started.”
She glanced at him. His face was drawn in sad, angry lines, his mouth pressed tight, and the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. “We need to go, and I need you to keep up. Can you do that?”
She swallowed a bitter mouthful of regret. “Okay.”
Sharp came over and picked up one of the packs. “We’ll head northeast for a bit, get lost in those hills.” He paused for a moment, then met her gaze with a frankness that told her she might not like what he was about to say. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Doc.”
Who did he think he was, a superhero? “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sharp.”
He put his hand under her chin and took a small step closer. “I don’t make those kinds of promises.”
Despite the temperature, she shivered and stepped into him so she could soak up his body heat and strength. She was going to need it. “I’m one lucky gal to have a friend who’s as badass as you.”
He didn’t answer, just stared down into her eyes as if trying to convey a lifetime of messages in just a few seconds.
The moment passed, he stepped back and moved out.
She grabbed the other pack, shouldered it, and followed him away from the wreckage.
How would a rescue team find them now?
How long could they last on their own?