Page 51 of Heat Force

Grimacing, she got to her feet. Patrick picked up Moyo, who wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. He looked absurdly young and vulnerable. Lexi wanted nothing more than to get him to a hospital, but out here, there was no chance of that. Maybe a medicine woman in the nearby village could help. That was the best they could hope for.

It was late afternoon when they finally stumbled into Bibokoboko.

Lexi nearly wept with relief as they crested the last ridge, and the small mountain town came into view. Rolling green hills stretched out around them, dotted with cattle and fringed with patches of dense forest. The sky above had turned a deep shade of purple, twilight creeping over the mountains like a velvet curtain.

The village itself was a scattering of mud-brick houses painted in faded hues of pink and yellow. Smoke curled lazily from a few chimneys, and a sparkling stream cut through the valley below, where women bathed their children and washed clothes. It was a serene, picturesque scene, but Lexi couldn’t fully appreciate its beauty. Her body ached, she was tense with worry, and all she could think about was Moyo.

She collapsed onto a wooden bench outside a pink-painted house unable to go one step further. Patrick set a barelyconscious Moyo down beside her. He slumped against her shoulder, his body unnervingly limp.

“I’ll find the elder,” Patrick said, taking off toward the center of the village. “Wait here.”

Lexi watched him go, praying they’d be welcome here. As Patrick disappeared from sight, a small group of villagers gathered nearby, gawking at her and Moyo. She managed a faint smile, though it felt like more of a grimace. There was no point in talking to them, she couldn’t speak their language.

Patrick returned minutes later, accompanied by a diminutive man with sharp features and wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose. The elder greeted her warmly, though his expression turned somber as his gaze settled on Moyo.

Thank god. They weren’t going to be butchered, murdered, or run out of town.

The elder directed them to the Health Center—the largest building in the village and, according to Patrick, the only source of medical care for miles.

The Health Center was a sturdy concrete structure with a corrugated iron roof and a smattering of cracked glass windows. Inside, it was spartan but clean, with rows of wooden benches and a single examination table. A middle-aged French doctor introduced himself as Claude. His soft voice carried an air of quiet authority, though he looked tired, and the strain of years spent working in such an unforgiving place was evident by the lines across his forehead.

“He has a head wound.” She gestured to Moyo who sagged limply in her arms. “He’s concussed, but I’m worried it might be worse.”

“Set him down here.”

She laid him on a wooden assessment table and stood back, her heart hammering.

Please let him be okay.

Claude examined the boy with practiced efficiency, his brow furrowing as he checked Moyo’s pupils and probed the edges of his wound. When he finally straightened, his expression was grim.

“He’s severely concussed. I’d recommend getting him to a hospital as soon as possible. There’s a risk of internal bleeding—a hematoma.”

Lexi’s stomach twisted. “How urgent is it?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.

Claude’s gaze didn’t waver. “Very.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she felt like the ground had dropped out from under her. There was no hospital nearby. No medevac. No way to save Moyo.

She blinked back tears, gripping the boy’s hand tightly. “We can’t lose him,” she murmured.

CHAPTER 24

The incline was punishing. Hawk’s thighs burned with each step as they trudged upward, their pace relentless despite the altitude sapping their strength. The path narrowed into a single-track trail, hemmed in by dense foliage on one side and a sheer drop on the other. His lungs expanded, dragging in thin, cool air. He scanned the surroundings, his eyes darting to every shadow, every movement in the undergrowth.

Phoenix, leading their formation, suddenly raised a clenched fist. Hawk immediately halted, his rifle snapping up to shoulder height. Behind him, Viper and Edmond froze. No one spoke. The air crackled with tension, every sense on high alert.

Voices.

Hawk strained to pick up the direction. A low murmur drifted through the trees ahead—deep, male tones punctuated by bursts of laughter. He dropped into a crouch, signaling the others to do the same, and motioned for Phoenix to confirm their source.

Phoenix disappeared in the direction of the plateau. Through the clump of trees, they could see a fertile patch of grass dottedwith grazing cattle and nestled in a tranquil valley below, a village.

That mut be where Lexi was.

Phoenix returned, moving soundlessly through the bushes flanking the trail. When he reached them, he hissed, “Four tangos. Spread out but within range. Looks like they’re gearing up to move.”

“Attacking the village?” Hawk asked.

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