Page 61 of Lethal Pursuit

The boy’s eyes opened and fixed on him, the fear and despair in them driving a different kind of blade into Khalid’s heart. Holding his young friend’s gaze, he began citing one of his favorite verses from the Quran. Mohammed’s lips trembled a moment, and then he joined in, saying the words of the martyr’s prayer. Together their voices filled the rock crevice, sending the prayer heavenward to Allah through the opening above them where the sky was a pure, endless blue.

Allah,forgive me.

Near the end of the last line of the prayer, Khalid gathered his will and brought the knife up, then plunged it down with all the remaining strength in his wounded arm, driving it deep into Mohammed’s heart.

The boy lurched up with a horrific gasp when the blade buried deep, his hands flying up to grasp at the hilt, his expression stricken, accusing.

Khalid kept his gaze locked with Mohammed’s, letting him see that he wasn’t alone. “Peace be upon you, Mohammed,” he whispered, holding the hands grasping the knife’s hilt until they went slack. The boy’s head lolled back, the horror and betrayal in those wide eyes fading, softening to nothingness.

When it was over, Khalid yanked the blade out, roaring at the pain in his shoulder and in his heart. His cheeks were wet above his beard and he didn’t bother wiping them dry. Rising on unsteady legs, he stumbled out of the crevice with the bloody knife in his hands to order the survivors to assemble, intent on killing every last one of the enemy.

There was no one there.

The only men left were the dead scattered before him in the distance, their lifeless hands lying empty on the ground. Everyone else had deserted him, taking the fallen men’s weapons with them.

A strange ripping sensation in his chest made him gasp and double over. All his life he’d fought for the chance to matter, for the chance to lead. Now, in his hour of greatest need, no one was willing to follow him.

The blood rushed loudly in his ears, panic setting in. Rahim was coming. He knew about the traitor Jihad and wanted to exact revenge, as well as recapture the Secretary of Defense. If Khalid didn’t get the prisoner himself before Rahim arrived, he was a dead man walking.

Denial and bitterness filled him, hardened his resolve. He was alone, weak from pain and blood loss and without a weapon, and he had only one more chance to save himself. He took it, striding over the sunbaked ground and across the field of dead to where the enemy had retreated. But instead of following their tracks, he skirted down the hill to a thin trail that snaked its way up and over it. Dizziness and exhaustion slowed him. The chance at redeeming his reputation gave him the endurance to push forward.

With every step, he battled the doubt nipping at him. Voices from his past filled his head, words spoken by the elders bringing fear and resentment so thick they nearly choked him.

You should never have lived.

We should have killed you while you slept in your mother’s whoring belly.

Your existence is a sin against Allah and your life will be cursed because of it.

Khalid shook his head to clear those hateful voices, forcing the ugly words aside. They didn’t matter because they weren’t true. Hewas still the master of his fate. It wasn’t too late. Allah wanted him to carry on, or the bullets would have killed him, rather than only wound him.

He followed the trail to its summit and down the other side, trusting Allah to guide him. And when he reached the bottom and heard the distant sound of coughing, his heart filled with hope.

Peering through a gap in the rocks, he took in the scene before him. The prisoners were on the intersecting trail, headed toward him, unaware of his presence. The PJ was out front this time, scouting out their position, because he’d left the female resting at a spot back along the trail. The traitor Jihad carried the Secretary a fair distance behind them. They were separated and exposed, as vulnerable as he could ever hope for.

He fought to slow his breathing. Aware that he had only this final chance, Khalid hunkered down to wait for the perfect moment. Exhaustion pulled at him, weighing his limbs down. He struggled through it and held fast to his purpose. His nerveless fingers tightened around the hilt of the bloodstained knife.

He still had strength enough for this.

* * *

MAYA SIGHED INrelief when Jackson set her down to rest, and the sigh immediately turned into a coughing attack. She doubled over and clamped her good arm around her ribs to shield them from the force of the coughs, though he doubted it did any good. Sweaty and shaking, she wiped her forearm across her face and opened her eyes to look up at him.

“I’m fine,” she wheezed in a whisper. He didn’t know why she’d bothered trying to be quiet when every living thing within a two-mile radius must have heard the coughing.

He didn’t believe her for a second, but faced forward and continued creeping ahead to do some recon. It would take a while for Sandberg to make it up here, and when he did he was going to need a rest. He’d insisted they were still going in the right direction, despite the detour, and Jackson agreed. Along with the physical exertion, the constant drain of having to be on his guard was taking atoll on him. They were closer to freedom now than they’d ever been since the capture, just under a mile from the designated LZ. Right now that mile seemed more like a hundred. He wanted nothing more than to get everyone on board that helo and get the hell out of here. The minutes were dragging by.

It was too damn quiet out here. Made him uneasy.

On one knee, he paused to check his perimeter again. He could see trails leading up into the hills surrounding him. Lots of places for the enemy to hide.

Satisfied they were still okay, he crept forward another ten yards or so when something tripped his internal radar. Off to the right lay the foot of another path, this one leading up and over the hill they’d just come around. Since he couldn’t see any movement, he kept going, wanting to make sure the trail was clear before the others caught up.

A flash of movement was the only warning he got.

A man burst out from behind the rocks. Jackson tracked the knife in his fist and raised his weapon. Khalid’s enraged face registered just as he pulled the trigger.

His weapon jammed.

---