Page 69 of Deadly Strain

He caught March’s eye and shouted, “Find her a weapon.”

March got up and opened the rear storage unit. He came back with a Beretta and two additional magazines of ammo for it.

She took them with a grim expression and steady hands. As tired as she had to be, she was holding herself together and he was so fuckingproudof her.

“What else is in there?” Sharp asked March.

“A couple more Berettas and one more clip.” He glanced at Grace, who was loading her weapon. “There’s also a couple of first-aid kits and some MREs.”

“Give that stuff to Grace.”

Clark nodded and went back to the unit. He returned with his arms full and placed it all on Grace’s lap. He made one more trip to the storage unit and handed her a backpack.

She looked at it for a second, then turned to Sharp and yelled, “Is this how you plan to keep me out of sight? Hide me behind a backpack?”

“Got a better idea?”

She hesitated for a moment and he could almost see the gears turning in her head. “Unfortunately, no.” She opened the pack and dumped everything inside.

Sharp glanced out and saw that they were losing altitude near a group of buildings nestled in some rough and tumble hills. He turned back to Grace. “Keep your head down and don’t say anything unless I tell you it’s safe. If this guy isn’t alone or I don’t like the looks of him, we may have to leave in a hurry and I don’t want anyone trying to grab you. Okay?”

She raised her chin and nodded. Goddamn, she was trying so hard to be brave, to hold herself together, but her sunken eyes and tense mouth told him she needed a whole lot more sleep, food, and safety before it was anything more than an act.

Sharp looked at his team and knew they’d do everything they could to help him provide all that and get her where she needed to go. He shouted, “Eyes open. Stay frosty.”

They all nodded.

As the helicopter descended, Sharp took in as much of the surroundings as possible. There were a couple dozen buildings, some were missing a roof or walls, others looked like they could be useable. A number of vehicles were strewn around, some nothing more than rusted hulks, while others looked like they were running, all of them decorated in various amounts of dirt and rust.

Three people stood in the shade created by an overhang of a large building set into a hill. One man and two teenage boys, it looked like from their heights and builds. All three had Soviet-made rifles in their hands.

The wind and dirt the helicopter kicked up didn’t seem to bother them as they set down to one side of the building.

Sharp got out first, alone, then approached the man. Behind him, Smoke kept the engine on just in case they had to take off in a hurry. Not that it would do them much good. They were nearly out of fuel.

Sharp stopped about ten feet away from the man and gave him a respectful nod. “I’m looking for someone,” he said in Dari.

The man didn’t say anything.

“A friend of a friend.”

Finally, the man said, “Who is this friend?”

“Cutter, Geoffry Cutter.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know any Cutter.”

Sharp held up the journal with its hand-drawn cover. “Are you sure?”

The man frowned at him, then glanced at the helicopter. He met Sharp’s gaze again. “Come inside. Bring your people.” He turned and yelled at the two teens in Dari, telling them to cover up the bird, then bring fresh water for coffee.

They ran off to one of the other buildings.

Sharp turned so he could see both the man waiting for him and the helicopter. He waved at them and Smoke cut the engine.

They got out of the machine, the Berets casually keeping Grace in the middle of their formation. Grace had the smarts to do as he ordered and carried the pack in front of her like a shield, hiding her figure and part of her face from sight.

The man waved at them. “Come in out of the sun.” He disappeared into the building.

---