Page 10 of S.O.S. Mizzay

“Nope,” Andy denied. “I just gave him the pertinent facts, citing what I’d been told and confirming where the hospital is located, then he abruptly said he was coming and hung up without asking for additional details.”

Cobble snickered again. “Classic Chuck.”

“Yeah. He basically told me he’d be grabbing a helo to get himself here from the airport in Juba. Which leads to the question, what, exactly, does your cousin do?”

Cobble had no problem telling Andy. Her military clearance was high, and she’d keep the information to herself.

“He actually works for the FBI as a legal attaché, which means he coordinates with not only local police and authoritiesin the US, but is also a liaison to his counterparts overseas in the CIA.”

Andy nodded. “Hence, why he wasn’t worried about how he’d get around once his plane touched down. He probably tapped some of his embassy contacts here to get a fast ride in.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cobble told her, but by this time, he was having trouble focusing. His energy was really flagging. His eyes drooped to nearly closed.

“Listen,” Andy said astutely. “I can see you’re tired. Rest now. We’ll talk more, later.”

Cobble couldn’t have fought her on that if he’d wanted to.

He slipped easily back into sleep, hoping he’d remember more when he woke again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cobble had slept the afternoon away, and continued snoozing into the early evening. Missy knew that was good. Sleep would help Cobble heal. Physically, at least. Mentally, she wondered how he would eventually fare; if some kind of internal, protective instincts would keep him from remembering exactly what had gone down in the UN offices, even after his body had fully recovered.

Missy hoped not. She needed intel. Something sketchy was going on, and…

Well, yeah. Alotof dubious shit was happening in South Sudan. But this incident? This was personal. Missy had lost five good men, and…Cobble was hurt. Cobble, whom Andy admitted she’d been crushing on pretty hard. Not that she could do anything about it. Fraternization was frowned upon between officers and the enlisted, but still, it hardened her resolve to avenge him and the rest of Squad C. She wasn’t about to let the massacre get swept under the carpet because her higher ups had bigger issues and “supposedly” more important houses to clean.

The evening nurse left after taking a snoozing Cobble’s vitals, assuring Missy that everything looked perfect, which—every time—was a huge relief.

Missy got up and stretched. Why not take this opportunity to grab some food?

What she’d really love to do, would be to head back to her dorm for a shower and a change of clothes. She’d been stinking it up in the same uniform for nearly thirty-seven hours now, and could do with some freshening. But some part of her brain was insisting she not leave Cobble alone. Not just because she got to look at his handsome face for hours on end, but because shehad a bad feeling in her gut. For what that was worth, Missy was going with it.

Right now, however, her stomach was growling, andthatneeded to be taken care of. Hunger was not something Missy could ignore. She tended toward hypoglycemia, and her blood sugar levels—she could tell by her jitters and the way her mind tended to paint everything with a negative brush—had been all over the place since she’d arrived at the hospital.

Some lovely volunteer aides, taking pity earlier, had given her snack bars and chips to tide her over, but those empty calories hadn’t fueled the protein-needs her system demanded.

She stopped the first orderly she saw after leaving Cobble’s room.

“Is there anyplace I can get some real food around here?” she asked.

She hoped maybe food trucks might be parked outside during meal-hours. Even a local tent-pop-up would suffice.

“The cafeteria isn’t up and running for guests yet, as you know,” the familiar young man said.

Indeed.This place was damned new, and other than the kitchen staff making rudimentary food for the patients, they weren’t operational enough to take care of anyone else.

The guy continued. “But there’s a pretty good vending machine down this hall and to the right that dispenses hot soup,” he told her with a smile. “And the one next to that has all kinds of crackers you can choose from.”

“Thanks,” she told him. “I guess that will have to do.”

Atleastuntil Cobble’s cousin arrived, and she felt comfortable leaving to find something that might stick to her ribs.

Glancing at her watch, she realized Smalley’s appearance could be any time now.That was good. Then Missy would feel comfortable enough to go back to her dorm for that long-awaitedshower. Once she was clean, she’d scout out some really good local cuisine. Maybe some of those yummy sorghum pancakes she loved to eat in the morning, accompanied by a large bowl of kajaik stew, to which she’d become addicted.

Her stomach yowled thinking of the delectable dishes.

Yeah. Tough luck stomach. You’ll have to wait for something that good.

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