Page 35 of Promises in the Dark

“I know the basics,” she said as if I was the one losing my mind, “and also, ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is overrated.”

My blood pressure was skyrocketing.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I mumbled, as we were about to do something incredibly reckless and foolish.

Great. We were two strangers, trying to save the world one uterus at a time.

We should’ve been on a fucking reality show.

As Red and I stepped into the abandoned building, the stench of fear and desperation slammed into us. The shitty light inside revealed the pregnant woman, her face twisted in pain, gripping her belly like it was about to explode. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she tried to stay quiet, terrified the Taliban cocksuckers would sniff them out.

Then the refugee chick screamed her head off, trying to push the baby out, but it was clear she wasn’t gonna make it without help.

As we approached, the crowd of refugees gathered around us. And before I could even process what the fuck was happening, they closed in on us, their hands gripping whatever garbage they could use as weapons.

They began speaking in Pashto, a language that to my uncultured ass sounded like a bunch of gibberish. I couldn’t make heads or tails of what the fuck they were saying, but their faces didn’t exactly scream ‘welcome party’.

Red raised her hands, showing them that we were not armed, trying to communicate that we meant no harm.

“I’m a doctor,” she said in English, hoping someone would get the gist. "I can help her," she added, pointing to the trembling woman.

I gotta hand it to her, she had balls of steel.

One of the refugees spat some incomprehensible crap, and it might as well have been Martian for all I fucking understood. But slowly, Red whipped out her medical badge, a small plastic square with the letters “MD” written on it and shoved it in their faces, proving that she was the real deal.

Well, shit. Looks like we were really doing this.

I watched, dumbfounded, as Red whipped out her medical badge like it was no big deal. She’d been carrying that shit the whole time, and I had no damn clue. Guess I’d underestimated her. Red wasn’t just some pretty chick with a mouth that could go toe-to-toe with mine—she actually had the skills to back it up.

Quite impressive.

“What the fuck?” I said, looking at her with a bemused expression. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this shit on you?”

“You never asked,” she shot back, holding up the badge like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fucking hell, she had a way of keeping me on edge, always reminding me that I didn’t know jack about what she had up her sleeve.

And, truth be told, I kinda liked it.

But those refugees didn’t seem to give a damn, their eyes darting between her and me, still all skittish and wary, like they didn’t know what the hell to make of us.

I wasn’t about to let that shit slide. “See? She’s the bloody real thing,” I said, nodding toward the badge. Like it needed any more fucking confirmation.

Red tried again, waving that badge like it was a golden ticket or something, hoping it would calm their paranoid asses down. They squinted at it, like they were trying to figure out if it held the meaning of life or some crap.

But no, these stubborn assholes needed more.

I stepped forward, making damn sure my presence was felt.

“We represent the US Army,” I declared, my words ringing with authority. “We’re here to help, and we need your cooperation in order to do that.”

That got their attention. I watched them back off, faces shifting from hostile to reluctantly accepting. Funny how dropping the Army card could make people rethink their stance really quick.

Then one bold motherfucker stepped out from the crowd, addressing us in choppy English.

“What do you want in return for your service?”

I smirked. This was the opportunity we needed. “We want to know the shortest way out of this city,” I replied, my eyes locked with his.

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