Page 25 of Deadly Strain

They waited for a long time. Shadows grew and lengthened like pulled taffy, turning the desert into a moonscape of craters and valleys an eternity from home. The pack on her back gained weight with every passing second, and the sample container dug invisible claws into her side.

Finally, long after the muscles in her thighs and calves began to burn, his fingers lifted in a come-closer sign.

She walked slowly, quietly until she was right behind him, then reached out with her left hand and placed it on his shoulder so he’d know she was there.

His reaction was a subtle relaxation in the muscles under her hand. “Stay on my ass,” he whispered, the sound more of a sigh than a vocalization.

She attempted to reply as quietly. “Understood.”

He moved forward, weapon ready, the butt of his rifle anchored in the hollow of his shoulder.

She followed, keeping as close as possible without tripping over him.

They traveled for what seemed like hours, following the ravines until Sharp paused for an extra moment longer, looking at a collection of prickly brush perched about ten feet up from the bottom of the ravine.

He signaled her to remain where she was, then rushed up to the vegetation. A second later, she couldn’t see him at all.

Grace waited, growing unease twisting in her chest until she could barely breathe. Finally, Sharp appeared out of the darkness as if he were made of the same shadows cast by the half-moon in the sky.

He waved at her to follow, and she found herself climbing the rocks, sliding behind some low brush and into the dark.

A cave.

The opening wasn’t large. She had to bend over almost in half, but it opened up a bit more a few feet inside.

A snap echoed softly, then an orange glow-in-the-dark stick lit up and illuminated the cave. It wasn’t high enough for Sharp to stand up in it, but she almost could. There were animal tracks on the dirt floor of the cave, but none were large or looked recent. The cave ended after about ten feet, making it just large enough for the two of them to be comfortable.

She snorted at the thought. Comfortable was not a word she’d be using to describe her situation for the foreseeable future. Her father had always told her a comfortable soldier was a lazy soldier, but he couldn’t have meant this.

“Is this place safe?” she asked, afraid to speak too loud in case the cave created an echo.

“As safe as we’re going to get,” Sharp said. “I’m going to go out, scout around, and see if I can erase any tracks we might have left on our way up here. Maybe lay some false trails to give anyone hunting us something to follow.”

She nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait here. No noise, no moving around.”

“Got it.” A second later he was gone, a silent ghost among the shadows.

She knelt down, unslung the container of samples, placing it in a small nook near the mouth of the cave, then took her pack off. Inside were three water bottles. She took one and sipped slowly from it, stopping before her thirst was quenched. They were going to have to ration it, and she might as well start now.

The sun was going down rapidly, so she mostly buried the glow stick. There was enough of a moon rising to light up the landscape.

The temperature outside the cave was dropping fast, but inside, it was still warm. She sat down, using her pack as a back brace, and watched the entrance for Sharp’s return.

At first, she kept a careful watch, every sound bringing her to attention and leaning forward to check for someone sneaking close. After a while, she began to recognize insect noise and birdcalls. All good things to hear. It was when they got quiet that she would have to worry about another human being in the area. After a while, her muscles began to relax, her mind drifted, and flashes of memory struck like snakes after prey.

The smiling face of the soldier next to her on the plane was shoved aside by his death mask.

Her anger at the senseless killing of her teammates by the Afghan men.

The freeze of seeing their bodies lying still and bloody on the ground after she shot them.

Hope at finding Rasker alive.

Anguish at giving him permission to die.

Conflicting emotions, images and utter confusion at having no escape, no outlet for the cacophony, threatened to suck her into a tornado of despair with the power to drown her in her own guilt and self-doubt.

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