Page 11 of Secrets in a Sandstorm

1942

CYRIL

It’s us or them. There is no in-between where we all live, only to kill each other on a different day when the weather is better.

“We need to draw them out.” My heart thumps against my ribs as I turn over options.

“You want me to fire a couple of shots their way?”

I glance over at Willoby. A tall, skinny man who looks as though he’s one missed night of sleep from going feral. Or one too many drinks. Most guys only go drinking with Willoby once because they end up in a fight or locked up for the night.

“Take a new position first.” My gaze is back on the sights, watching for movement. My finger lies against the trigger, ready to twitch and kill.

I listen as Willoby scuttles around, then goes quiet.

“You with me, Teddy?” I don’t look at him, resisting the urge to check on him. He’s the youngest of the team. The newest too. Though this isn’t his first mission.

“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Grab the weapons and ammo off the bodies and tell what we have left. Check their canteens. Take their tags.”

Teddy shimmies back out of harm's way. Or at least I want to believe he’s safer.

Willoby pings the Italian vehicle twice.

There’s a glint of metal or glass near a tire, then a head pokes around. I take a couple of rapid shots, and then my rifle clicks uselessly. “Bollocks. I’m out.”

Teddy passes me a rifle. “Half.”

I nod as I take the weapon.

Willoby shoots again, this time at the tire I shot at.

The Italians are either all dead or not falling for it a second time.

I lower my head, not sure what to do, while praying for inspiration. The longer we wait, the less time we have to make it to the cave, but if we get up and run, we’re easy to pick off. There are things in the vehicle that we can’t let fall into enemy hands. But if the Italians kill us, they will have to run for the caves to survive the storm too.

Will they waste time searching the vehicle or leave it?

The odds of us surviving are whittling down with each passing minute.

There are extra water canisters on the vehicle, assuming they haven’t been shot, but lugging an extra twenty kilos to the cave will make us slow. Without the extra water rations, it will be tight but doable if the storm moves on. Once it passes, we can grab the extra water then.

There’s no point in trying the radio until the storm has passed.

I need two things before hiding in the caves.

“We’re going to grab the satchel and med kit.” I check out the vehicle through the scope, looking for anything else that might be useful. We’ll be out here all night. It’s goingto grow cold. “And the camouflage netting. We’ll need to make a fire to keep warm. Then run like the devil wants to fuck you and hope the caves are deep enough to hide in.”

I curse the war, the sand, and the Italians for spotting us while we fixed a blown-out tire.

“And there’s half a bottle of vodka in the glove box.” The special forces guys we dropped off in Libya gave it to us for dropping them off at a well in the middle of fucking nowhere. We know where the wells are and how to cross into enemy territory without being caught. Everyone’s luck runs out at some point.

I curse myself. Why did I volunteer for this?

To escape my past.

And it was all going fine until Teddy showed up, all smiles and lanky limbs. The way he looks at me…it’s like he doesn’t care what people will think.

---