Chapter Forty-Eight
Hadhramaut Governorate, Yemen
Nate had learned a lot in the last few hours by virtue of their unfortunate predicament.
They were tied to a metal pole that was staked into the ground, thankfully in a seated position.
Circled around them were several Bedouin-style tents and not far from where they were seated was a fire that appeared to be used for cooking and heating water for tea.
Their central position made it impossible to attempt to defeat their restraints and escape, but it also made it a gold mine for gathering information, as all the activity happened in a flurry around them.
Their captors had no idea both men spoke Arabic.
Nate had a much higher fluency level and wasn’t sure that Shane was picking up on everything being said, but he understood perfectly, and translated in hushed tones.
The men who held them made no effort to communicate with them, and Nate assumed they spoke no English and didn’t consider the possibility that their captives might speak Arabic.
It gave him ample time to listen as the terrorists spoke freely among themselves.
What he had learned so far was that they were in a camp to the south of the Saudi town of al Kharkhir, across the border on the Yemeni side.
These men, who he was pretty confident were Al Qaeda, used the camp when they wanted to shake the town down for supplies, which meant they hadn’t traveled far from the crash site.
Nate was certain Tim and Wally would come looking for them, but he would have preferred that they stay away and keep Ana safe.
He shuddered to think what would become of her if she was captured by these terrorists and was somewhat comforted by the fact that it was him here and not her.
Even still, Nate was terrified. He and Shane were essentially in the worst-case scenario.
Al Qaeda hated Westerners, and Americans most of all.
It was certain that the men would kill them, but it was what they would do to them first that really made Nate’s skin crawl.
Execution by beheading was a foregone conclusion, and Nate only hoped that he still had the strength to fight when that time came, and to make them shoot him instead.
So much for lost cities, he thought absently.
There had always been a chance of failure, even though he had been so certain he was right.
What he hadn’t anticipated was a gruesome death at the hands of terrorists.
Although there was still time, and as yet no one had paid them much attention, which he found highly unusual.
He calmed himself long enough to start thinking through options.
Nate refused to believe there was no escape.
He simply needed to look for opportunities.
Things got really interesting when the leader, Omar, made a phone call.
He was going to trade them to someone else; someone who was going to pay him a lot of money.
He was also going to allow the mysterious buyer to execute them at dawn, which meant they had some time.
This new information allowed Nate to relax and begin focusing on his surroundings and their prospects for escape.
He assumed the person on the other end of the phone was the one who had been gunning for him and Ana, and his suspicions were confirmed when Omar brought up “the girl.” It appeared Nate would meet the person behind this after all.
Unless his old teammates got to them first.
Normally he wasn’t sure they would stand a fighting chance.
However, after Omar hung up he talked to several of his men.
It appeared he didn’t trust whomever he was turning them over to, and feared a double cross.
In preparation for a possible betrayal, Omar had sent the majority of his men out into the surrounding hills to lie in wait in case his business partner showed up early.
If a large force was approaching, they would call him and then they would all meet at the village of Al Kharkhir to make a stand.
It was also the reason Omar kept his prisoners alive.
He would need them as bargaining chips. Nate had relayed the information to Shane, who had only been partially tracking.
“Well, I guess there’s some good news in there somewhere,” Shane said in a whisper.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe,” Shane said, then exhaled loudly as if in pain.
“How’s the head?”
“I’ve had worse. The second professional fight I lost was a knee to the head. I was so concussed I threw up for an entire day. How about you?”
“Can’t say I’ve taken a lot of rifle butts to the head, but I think I’ll make it.” Nate’s temple hurt like hell, but otherwise he didn’t feel too bad.
“Any idea what time it is?” Shane asked.
“No,” Nate answered. “They took my watch.”
“The Omega?”
“Yeah. Omar’s been wearing it around.”
“Fucker,” Shane muttered. “So, what do you put our chances of escape at?”
“In the middle of a terrorist camp in the Yemeni desert? Surrounded by American-hating jihadists?” Nate pretended to weigh it in his mind. “I’d give it fifty-fifty.”
Shane half chuckled, half moaned.
“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, “it hurts my head.”
“Sorry.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. There was very little movement in the camp.
Men walked sporadically through the area, picking up weapons, grabbing sacks from inside tents, and piling into vehicles before racing off into the darkness of the desert.
No one paid the captives any attention; they were simply lambs awaiting slaughter.
There was the occasional hard stare, but most just seemed curious as they eyeballed the Americans while passing by, with only one individual spitting on Nate as he transited the camp.
After a while, the activity died down and they were mostly alone.
“We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Shane asked finally.
Nate sighed. “Look, Shane, I’m sorry for getting you into this.”
“Bullshit,” Shane quipped back. “You didn’t pressure me into anything, you just gave me an opportunity.”
“An opportunity to what? Die out in the desert?”
“You know what? If the way I go out is to spill my blood in the same sands that our brothers died in two years ago, then I’m just fine with that.” He spit and Nate saw a glob of blood fly into the dirt. “I’m getting tired of living with the guilt anyway.”
“You know there’s nothing else we could have done,” Nate said.
“I know that,” Shane answered. “Do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hell, brother, we all feel bad about what happened to our boys out here. But you haven’t let it go.
You’ve just buried yourself in your studies and hidden yourself away from life.
But it’s real. They’re gone. And you’re right, there’s nothing more any of us could have done.
And you did more than most that night. It’s not right or wrong. It just is.”
Nate knew he was right. He had walked away and for years tried not to think about the fact that he had lost so many close to him.
He was aware of PTSD and survivor’s guilt, though he didn’t think those labels necessarily applied to him.
It was more of a personal responsibility than anything else. He felt as though he had let them down.
“I was the Fox, Shane. Intel was my job. And I never saw the attack coming.”
“And intel is imperfect. Sometimes there is no indication. Sometimes things just happen. You think that people who can keep something like 9/11 obscure enough to see it through can’t do the same on some small shitty outpost in backwater Yemen?
You have to let that shit go, brother. It’s not your fault. ”
“Yeah,” Nate said noncommittally.
“We all missed it, not just you. The only thing you did was risk your life to spearhead the counterattack. You’re not responsible for any of the brothers we lost, but you are responsible for the ones still here.”
Shane’s words were true, and Nate knew it. Maybe he just needed to hear it. And somehow, back in this place, it was like a weight lifted from him. At least momentarily. Then he remembered that they were tied to a pole in the middle of a terrorist camp waiting to be executed at dawn.
“I suppose I lose points for bringing the survivors back to the same place to die,” he said in a melancholy tone.
“Yeah, well there’s a penalty for that,” Shane joked. “I don’t think we’ll be breaking out of here by ourselves.”
“Maybe not,” Nate replied. “But I wasn’t the only one on that counterattack two years ago. And you know what he’s like when he’s pissed.”