Chapter Twenty-Five
THE EXPLOSIVE CHARGE detonated beneath the speeding SUV. Its blast created an inverted cone of gasses and pressure that ripped upward, carrying with it dirt, rocks, IED components, and pieces of the vehicle. The Mitsubishi was thrown onto its side, sliding into a ditch on the far side of the road.
For Walker, it was darkness, followed by pain, and a subsequent intense ringing that sounded like it was coming from the deepest recesses of a cavern.
Is this death?
Walker came to on his back, ears ringing, vision blurred and spotty. He rolled to his side. The world seemed tilted. He noticed the hard dirt of the road seemed to have loosened into sand. He wondered why. The answer came a moment later. Bomb.
When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.
He blinked his eyes, bringing Staub into focus. He was dragging himself through the sunroof and onto the road.
How the fuck did I get here in the middle of the road? Must have been blown through the rear passenger door.
Walker pushed himself to his knees. Where was his rifle?
Staub was shouting something he couldn’t hear. Blood ran down Walker’s temple. His head throbbed. He tasted dirt and blood in his mouth.
The ringing in his ears shifted to an angry hissing. He touched one. His hand came away with blood and mucus.
Gunfire cracked from the ridgeline. A few fighters were shooting at them from behind rocks, but they were still too far out to be effective.
The Montero was on its side, smoke curling from the engine block. One of the girls was screaming.
Walker scrambled to his feet and ran to Staub, taking a knee next to his battered friend.
Staub’s baseball cap had been blown from his head, as had his sunglasses. Blood ran from his nose and ears, mixing with that from the glass shards in his face and neck.
The ringing in Walker’s head became the screaming of one of the children.
“You’re okay, buddy,” he said. “Let’s get the girls.”
Staub’s eyes looked glossy.
“Can you move?”
The big man shook his head.
“Get the girls, Chris. Rina’s dead.” He drew his pistol. “My legs aren’t working.”
Walker stared at his friend.
“You get the girls and get to the Turi contact,” Staub said, his breathing labored. “We’ve got to be close.”
“Fuck that, you’re fine. Let me help you up.”
“Hey! Chris, I’m not. You get the girls and get the fuck out of here. We didn’t get very far. Those shitheads will be on us soon. Now fuckin’ go!”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Hey, you owe me a favor, right?”
“What?”
“You owe me. Now get the girls. And hey,” he managed a smile through labored breathing, “if you make it out of here, look in on Leigh Ann and Connor.”
He slipped the Tudor Submariner from his wrist. “You know what to do with this,” he said, handing it to Chris.
Walker reluctantly slid it into his pocket.
Staub set the Glock across his chest.
“I’ll blast anyone that comes down the road,” he said, now coughing up blood.
“I’ll get the girls, but then I’m taking you with me.”
They heard the unmistakable sound of an incoming mortar.
“I said go!” Staub shouted.
Walker ran to the back of the overturned SUV and grabbed the screwdriver from his plate carrier as a mortar landed and exploded fifty yards long.
They are bracketing us in.
He tried to pull up on the liftgate, but it was jammed from the crash. The rear window had been blown out but splinters of glass were held in place by the weather stripping, which Walker scraped away with his screwdriver. He then crouched low and crawled into the toppled SUV.
The interior was still filled with smoke and dust. Walker could feel it burning his lungs. His left shoulder bumped the back of the rear passenger seats. He reached toward the screaming.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said, trying to calm the hysterical child as he dragged her past the rear seat. It was the youngest daughter, Zahra.
He looked back and could see Fatima through the smoke. She appeared to be breathing.
“Can you crawl?” he yelled at her. “Crawl. Come to me.”
Nothing.
“Shit! I’ll come back for you!”
He grabbed Zahra under his arm and hauled her through the SUV.
A second mortar landed twenty yards short of the vehicle.
“Hurry, Chris!” Staub yelled.
Once outside the SUV, Walker threw the small girl over his shoulder and sprinted for a mound of rocks down in the wadi.
The girl had stopped screaming. She was breathing but her face was pale. He set her down on the far side of the rocks and turned back to the SUV. He was halfway there when he heard the whistling of a third mortar.
Please, dear God, no.
The prayer failed.
The earth rose up as if a volcano had erupted beneath the Montero. When it cleared, the SUV lay on its back. It was burning. Fatima’s body had been ripped in half. It had been blown through a side window. The vehicle had rolled over onto Staub’s upper torso, and one of his legs was missing.
They’re gone. All gone.
He had started to run to his dead friend when a fourth mortar hit the SUV, covering Walker with debris, smoke, and dirt.
You owe me. If you make it out of here, look in on Leigh Ann and Connor.
He gazed at the burning heap, then back at the rocks where he had left Zahra.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Go, Chris!
He turned and sprinted to Zahra, lifted her into his arms, and set off into the wadi.
An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.