Page 62 of The Woman Left Behind

“I do. You cooking?”

The get-real expression came out again. “I’ll treat you—as long as your taste runs to a pizza joint, or maybe Italian.”

He hooked his arm around her shoulder. “Now you’re talking.”

Taz had six hours to kill before he had to report for duty and seemed determined to spend every minute with her. Normally she’d have loved his company, but not when she needed to get her gear ready and get some sleep. She watched the clock the whole time they were at the pizza joint, mentally counting down how much sleep she could get. When he finally left at eightp.m., she figured she was good for a solid four, then more on the flight.

She wanted those four hours, though, so she intended to zip through repacking her go-bag. Then her phone rang: her mom, who had just talked to Taz. Jina chatted while she packed, grabbing her boots because they were going to the desert, extra socks, a change of clothes, some wet wipes and sunscreen, lip balm, extra water, some protein bars and hard candy. By the time she got off the phone and got showered, she was a little short on those solid four, but—family. What could she do? She loved them anyway.

About eight hours into the flight the next day, Jina wasn’t so certain about loving them. She’d slept, she’d read some in the book she’d brought along, and time was still dragging. There was nothing about a long flight that was enjoyable, even on a chartered jet. She changed out of her sneakers into her boots—and as soon as she shoved her foot into the first boot she knew.

“Ah, crap!” Completely disgusted with herself, she leaned her head back against the seat. Yes, Taz and her mom had distracted her, but bringing the right gear washerresponsibility.

“What’s wrong?” Boom asked beside her.

“I grabbed the wrong boots.”

He opened both eyes, looked at them. “They look okay to me.”

“They don’t fit as well as the others.” She scowled, dug an extra pair of socks out of the bag and put them on, too. When they got home, she’d drop these boots in a donation box, get them out of her closet so she didn’t make the same mistake again. She’d already thought about doing so, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Now she was stuck wearing boots that were too big. Well, she’d made it through weeks of training with them, so she supposed she’d live through a single mission wearing them. Lesson learned.

Besides, if she could focus on fretting about the boots, maybe she wouldn’t fret so much about jumping out of a plane. In the dark. Into Syria.

Nope, needed something worse than the boots.

Jumping from a high altitude required oxygen. Jumping at night required night-vision goggles. Jumping at all required either nerves of steel or the brain of a hamster. Her nerves definitely weren’t steel, so Jina figured her brain was rodentlike.

The equipment bag went first, rigged for an automatic HALO, so it would be on the ground waiting for them. Then one by one the guys went out of the lowered ramp, disappearing into the night. Jina was next to the last; she would have been last, but they never let her take that position because they weren’t certain she’d actually jump if there wasn’t someone behind her. Tonight, the last one was Snake.

Tweety and the laptop were strapped to her back, along with her regular bag. She had her oxygen mask in place. She had her NVD, night-vision device, on. She took a steadying breath, closed her eyes, and took a small leap into the night.

The experience was still terrifying; the cold and the wind tore at her, almost pulled her oxygen mask off. With one hand she secured it, resettled the goggles, looked for the rest of the team. She couldn’t see them—wait, there was movement. She maintained her body position, monitored her altitude, kept an eye on the team member she could see. The only available ambient light was starlight, and the NVD turned everything green, but if she could see one, then she figured Snake, above her, could see her. That made her feel more secure, which was asinine when she was plummeting through nothing, in the dark, toward Earth.

At the proper altitude she deployed her chute, so prepared now for the violent jerk upward and the straps cutting into her legs that she barely noticed them, other than as a signal that everything was working as it should. Immediately she looked around for the others so she could steer away from them. They were more visible now, the billowing parachutes like giant green mushrooms. She checked above her, located Snake. His chute had opened without problem, too.

The arid air made for a slower descent, which extended the time they were sitting ducks for anyone with a firearm, and there was nothing they could do about it. Jina’s nerves were in shreds by the time she saw the ground coming at her. She flared the chute, tried for the one-point landing, and as usual failed miserably. She got off her butt and reeled her chute in, wadding it up and securing it.

“Babe.”

She turned toward the whisper and located Levi, joined up with him and Crutch. They went down on one knee to provide a smaller target; there was virtuallynocover that she could see. There were some rocks, a few bushes, some dark slits in the ground that she assumed were wadis, but that was it. The others shortly joined them, all of them accounted for. Boom, the first on the ground, had located the equipment bag and their weapons were distributed.

They moved as silently as possible toward the contact point, communicating by hand signals and whispering into their comm units. Even though it was night and a wind was blowing, the heat was oppressive. She was sweating within seconds; thank God they’d be gone by daybreak. The crumbled ruin where she’d be stationed came into view. It had been... she couldn’t tell what it had been. The ruin was too large to have been a hut, but what else could it have been, out here literally in the middle of nowhere? Why would a hut be here anyway? Behind the ruins was the dark gash of another wadi, so maybe at one time the place had been more habitable.

Levi signaled everyone to take a knee, then Trapper and Voodoo silently circled the crumbled pile. A truck was tucked into the shadows on the other side of the ruin, a beat-up Toyota pickup truck that was so covered in dust it blended in with the surroundings. Maybe it wouldn’t collapse under the weight of nine people.

Trapper reappeared and gave a thumbs-up. Levi rose to his feet and the team fanned out behind him, approaching the ruin from the front while Trapper and Voodoo covered the back. When he was closer, he crouched, picked up a rock, and tossed it into the ruin.

Ten seconds later, a small figure appeared in the shattered doorway. He wore the traditional loose trousers and a shirt, his thick, untidy black hair blowing around his face. He looked about twelve, though he was likely older. He gave a low, warbling whistle.

Levi whistled in return, but none of them advanced any closer.

The boy stepped out of the doorway and waved his arm. He wasn’t carrying any weapons—at least none that they could see.

Cautiously the team approached. Per Levi’s instructions, Jina stayed at the back of the group and kept her jump helmet on, though her hair was plastered with sweat under it. With all the gear she was wearing, no one would make her as female as long as her head was covered and she wore the NVD.

“I am Mamoon,” the boy said when they got close enough to hear him, his English understandable. He had a quick, shy grin, though it faded somewhat when he looked up at Levi, towering over him. “You are here to pick up a package, yes?”

“Yes,” Levi affirmed. “A large package.”

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