AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sweat was running down her temples, her breath tearing in and out of her mouth as they pushed hard. Constantly afraid to hear gunfire. That would mean that Kushnir’s men had closed in within striking range. She longed for her M-4. It was back in her weapons bag, hidden up near the landing zone where the Night Stalkers had dropped them off. All she had was her .45 pistol and the sniper rifle that would be useless in this kind of environment. Mace not only had her back, but also an M-4 of his own that was perfect for just these kinds of close quarter combat situations.
Her legs were beginning to cramp. She grabbed her Camelbak hose, pulling water into her mouth, trying to run and drink at the same time. Now, with two sweaters on under her cammy jacket, she was getting hot, sweat pouring out of her skin beneath the three heavy layers of clothing. If she didn’t drink enough water to stave off dehydration, those cramps starting in her calves would knot and cause horrific pain, crippling her and slowing them to a crawl. They had to outrun Kushnir and his jackals!
Mace reached out, grabbing her shoulder, nearly throwing her off stride. Sierra slowed, breathing roughly, looking up at him. He was muddy like her. But his eyes were hard, flat, and narrowed. She was seeing the hunter in him now. The warrior.
“Follow me,” he urged in a rasp.
Grateful to stop running for a moment, she walked about fifty feet off the trail with him. And then, she saw a small stream running down a cut between two small hills. She understood what he was going to do. Mace jumped into the ankle-deep shallow water, turning, and gripping her hand, tugging her along with him. They were going to move down the stream and there would no longer be any footprints for Kushnir’s men to follow.
“As fast as you can,” he rasped into his mic, his breath coming in gulps.
“Right,” she whispered raggedly, also sobbing for breath, pushing herself into a slow trot. The bed of the stream consisted of granular black sand and small many colored gravel. She found her rhythm, following the stream, trying not to make too much noise. The stream twisted and turned, leading them deep into the thickest jungle she’d ever encountered. Soon, Sierra found the canopy far overhead cutting out all but a fraction of the sunlight she needed to see by.
“Get your NVGs on,” Mace ordered.
Situating the goggles over her eyes, their muddy, gritty rims cutting into her flesh where they pressed against her face, Sierra saw the whole landscape in front of her light up. The stream widened to six feet across. It got deeper in the center, knee deep, so she remained near the bank where it was shallower. Fear kept pushing her hard, even though her calves were continuing to knot up in unrelenting pain. Mace kept right on her heels, silently willing her to move faster. But she couldn’t, the dizziness assailing her more often and making her stumble at times. But Mace kept gripping her upper arm to keep her moving straight whenever she faltered, until she could get her balance back again.
Exhaustion was clawing at Sierra. She had no grasp on time. She was soaked, both with the water from the clear stream and from her own sweat. As the stream made another turn, it suddenly tumbled over a drop, becoming a small but impassable waterfall, and she jerked to a halt. She felt Mace move close and he slipped his hand beneath her elbow.
“Can you make it up and out of the stream?” he asked, breathing hard.
“Yes…”
Mace hauled her up to the muddy bank as if she weighed next to nothing. It felt as if the sixty-pound pack she wore was driving her heels deep into the ground. He stopped and turned her, taking off his NVGs, staring hard at her.
“Dizzy?”
“A little,” she admitted, trying to steady her breathing as she pulled her own NVGs off her eyes. All around her, there was now more gray light. Enough to see where they were at.
“You’ve still got blood running out both your nostrils. Headache?”
“No, I’m okay, Mace. Let’s just get going.” She saw him give her a slight grin, his teeth starkly white against his muddy face.
“Hold my hand. We’re going down beside this waterfall. We’ve got a secret hiding place nearby. The enemy won’t find us.”
Confused, Sierra gripped his hand. She was grateful for his strength as the dizziness suddenly hit her hard. She crashed into him. Mace halted, steadying her. For a moment, she closed her eyes, her hand pressed against his chest.
“Just a little further and I’ll take care of you,” he urged gruffly, holding her.
Sierra knew they had to move. She pulled away, stumbling, her dizziness worse with her eyes open. Pain was now throbbing through her head, and she compressed her lips, not wanting to groan or cry out. Mace guided her down the steep slope beside the noisy, white curtain of the waterfall. He halted by the frothing water at the base of it. She looked up, staring at the cascade.
“Behind the falls is a cave,” he told her. “That’s where we’re going. Come on…”
Sierra pushed herself. She forced her wet boots one in front of the other. Dizziness nearly made her fall sideways. If it hadn’t been for Mace’s strong hand around her upper arm, she’d have face planted. By the time he got her into the cave behind the falls, the spray had washed off the mud from her face and water dripped through her wet hair. She was soaked. All she wanted to do right now was lie down and be still. Biting back a groan, Mace led her into the darkness. He kept his stride short, walking much slower. She was being led blindly, no longer able to see anything in the growing darkness.
And then, suddenly, she saw light above her: a huge, jagged, oval hole in the rock ceiling. There were several spindly trees growing around the hole above out from among some bushes. Probably no one on the ground above would notice the fissure, but it allowed in enough light for Sierra to see that they were in a squarish cave, its floor a flat, smooth rock surface beneath their feet.
“What is this place?” she mumbled.
“This is where Alice went down the rabbit hole,” he rasped. Mace helped her sit down, not letting go of her until he was sure she was sitting and stable, not falling.
Sierra crossed her legs, fingers trembling as she started to undo the straps of her ruck. If she didn’t get it off her back, it was going to pull her over backward.
Mace was there, kneeling, his face inches from her own, his hands moving quickly, releasing other straps, gently removing the ruck from her shoulders.
She groaned softly, and slowly laid down on her side, head cradled in the crook of one arm, her free hand gripped tight over her closed eyes.
Mace hauled off his pack. He went to her side, kneeling over her, hand on her shoulder. “Talk to me. What are your symptoms?”
