Page 47 of Deadly Strain

She’d been wrong about how late it was. The sun was just setting, but it was overcast and the clouds were low and dark.

A few feet away from the cave, there was a wet patch on the sandy soil, with a trail of blood leading a few feet toward the surrounding rocks.

More blood. Lots and lots of blood.

As long as it wasn’t Sharp’s blood.

Grace forced herself to follow Sharp, who moved quickly and silently. How he could do it in his current condition, she had no idea.

He’d probably smirk and say,That’s what put the special in Special Forces.

Twice, they had to hide from Afghan men. Sharp whispered that it was better if they didn’t kill anyone else, since that person could be missed or the body discovered, alerting all the searchers.

That was just fine with her.

They were approaching a plateau when a helicopter seemed to emerge out of the cooling air. The markings on the bird proclaimed its allegiance and function. It was American. A Combat Rescue team.

Relief spurred her feet and she ran with Sharp toward the craft.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones.

From three o’clock came movement on the ground, along with gunfire.

Sharp put his stolen rifle to his shoulder and returned fire. So did soldiers on the bird. As they came closer to the helicopter, now hovering a few feet above the ground, the Afghans rushed the aircraft.

Grace pulled her Beretta and fired until her clip was empty.

Sharp stumbled and fell to one knee, but was up, firing and running at the same time almost immediately, with one difference.

He was limping worse than before.

“Are you injured?” she yelled at him.

He didn’t answer.

She scanned his body, trying to see what had happened and narrowed her gaze on his right leg. It looked wet. Again. Bloody. Again. “Have you been shot?”

“Not now, Grace. You can screech at me later. If we survive.”

“Screech?” Ha. She was going to take a strip off of him, she really was. She was also very tired of being shot at.

More shots were fired behind them. Sharp shoved her down behind a pile of rocks, spun and returned fire. They were only ten or fifteen feet from the helicopter.

“Get over here, you moron,” she yelled. “You don’t have any body armor on!” Okay, maybe she was screeching a little.

But the gunfire directed at the helicopter stopped. Sharp grabbed her by the scruff of her uniform and dragged her with him as he continued on.

“Sharp, how bad is your leg?”

“It’s still attached,” he barked. “Get in the bird.”

A soldier manning the doorway, returned fire over her Grace’s head as Sharp threw her inside and covered her body on the floor of the helicopter.

She tried to get up, but he yelled in her ear, “Stay down.” With his entire weight on her, she didn’t have any choice.

More bullets pinged overhead as they lifted off. This time two soldiers fired back before slamming the door shut. She couldn’t see much, but she could tell the men on board were yelling at each other, trading hand signals and preparing for God knows what.

Sharp finally got off her and helped her up. She immediately looked at his leg. Damn it, he had blood all over himself. She got in his face and yelled, “Sit down. I want to see your leg.”

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