Page 73 of Deadly Betrayal
“Come on! Come on!” Flooring the gas, hecoaxed every bit of horsepower out of the old Corolla’s engine andleaned forward as though that would help the car move faster. Acurve was coming up. If he took the inside, he could pull ahead ofthe pickup. Then at the end of the series of curves, he’d block theroad, halting the bandits in their pursuit of the SUV.
Sweat pissed down his forehead, making hiseyes sting. Blinking to clear his vision, he forced the Corolla tohug the interior of the curve. The wheel shook under his palms asthe car’s tires fought for purchase against the loose dirt androcks.
A bullet pinged against the side of thecar.
Damn! The bandits had spotted him. The driverof the truck swung to the left, the front fender hitting the backof the Corolla. His heart racing, Kaden careened onto the roughshoulder. Remembering yesterday’s explosion outside the SalangTunnel, he prayed no IEDs had been buried along this stretch ofroad.
The car fishtailed as he struggled to regaincontrol. No way could he throw the grenade into the bed of thetruck now. Plan B would have to work, and he only had a shortwindow to cut them off. He slammed the gas pedal flat on the car’sfloor. “Come on, baby,” he crooned to the Corolla. “Give me allyou’ve got.” The car shuddered and groaned, then pulled ahead.
Kaden whooped. “That’s it, baby. Just alittle more.”
The road inclined downward, increasing theCorolla’s speed. Adrenaline poured into Kaden’s system as hegrabbed the AK and swung it over his shoulder. The clouds overheadparted, and the moon lit up the area. A beautiful expanse ofstraight road lay ahead. Unfortunately, the SUV was only a hundredyards in front of him. It should be enough. Ithadto beenough.
Inhaling deeply, Kaden swung the wheel andslammed on the brakes. The Corolla veered and spun in a circle.Kaden held on, trying to control the vehicle. He had to stay on theroad. His foot shot out, and he stomped on the emergency brake. Thecar skidded. The engine rumbled. And finally, it shuddered to astop.
Grabbing the duffel and Azita’s medical bag,Kaden scrambled out of the Corolla and ducked behind the car,facing the oncoming pickup. He whipped the AK off his shoulder andbegan emptying the magazine. Bullets tore through the night,shattering the truck’s windshield.
He aimed for the front tires. “Yes!” heshouted when the pickup lurched to the side.
A bullet zinged by his ear. “Shit.” Hecrouched down, but popped right back up when the truck keptadvancing. He was holding his own, but it wasn’t enough to stop thebandits. That was what they had to be. Insurgents would have RPG’dhim to kingdom come by now.
The thought reminded him of what he’d stowedin his pocket.
The grenade. It was the only option left.
Still shooting with his right hand, he fishedthe grenade out of his pocket and pulled the pin with his teeth. Hequickly switched hands and reached back with his dominant rightarm, like a professional quarterback, and let it fly. The grenadearced through the air. Kaden watched with breathless anticipation.Had he overshot? Undershot?
The truck continued to bear down on him.Leaving the shelter of the Corolla, he grabbed his and Azita’s bagsbefore running to the edge of the road, where he threw himself downon the slanting shoulder. With his hands over his head, he lay flaton the ground.
Only the truck’s engine roaring and thehollering of the men on board the Hilux broke the silence of thenight. Had the grenade been a dud? Fucking Afghan weapons.
Metal screeched as the truck slammed into theCorolla, pushing it several yards down the road. Then even that wasdrowned out by the loud bang of the grenade finally going off.Screams filled the darkness as the truck tore apart. Kaden peekedover the edge of the road in time to see the gas tank go up inflames. Unfortunately, it took the old Corolla with it.
Fuck. There went all his survival gear. Hewas still hundreds of miles from Fayzabad, and now he didn’t evenhave transportation. As he looked down the road toward Kabul, hecaught a glimpse of the SUV’s taillights disappearing around abend. Groaning, he dropped his head to the ground. At least Azitawas safe.
For a few minutes, he kept his eyes on theburning metal skeletons, trying to decide what to do if there weresurvivors. Even if he stayed hidden, they’d know he was around. Andif they found him, they’d kill him. These men didn’t play games,and the Geneva Convention was as foreign to them as atwenty-four-hour drive-through.
When he felt certain no one had lived throughthe blast, he crept out of the ditch to inspect the scene moreclosely. The smoldering remains of the vehicles lit the area. Hecounted the bodies of five men, two in the cabin, two in thetruck’s bed, one splattered on the asphalt. His chest tightened,and he had to look away. Such a fucking waste.
He froze when he spotted a pair of headlightsapproaching from the south. He could jump back into the ditch. Sussout the situation. See if the new players were friendlies orenemies.
He was tired and alone, but he’d rather dieon his feet than get shot in the back of the head, facedown in themud.
No. He was going to take this like a man,like a soldier from the God blessed U. S. of A.
His back to the burning Corolla, he hiked upthe AK-47 and pointed it dead center on the driver’s side of theapproaching vehicle. One wrong move, and the man would die.
Awakened by the roar of an explosion, Azitabolted upright in the seat. She peered over Shahram’s shoulder,looking for the source. The front was clear. Twisting around, shelooked out the rear window and her breath stuck in her throat. Thesky glowed from the red and yellow flames that engulfed twovehicles.
She gripped Khalid’s seat. “We need to goback!”
“Absolutely not,” he ground out.
“There will be victims. Imusthelp.”
“Azitajan,” he said, his voicesofter. “That truck was trying to run us off the road. The men arebandits, not worth your time.”
“They would have killed us, my sister,”Shahram added.
