Page 12 of Point of Contact

Get up, man. Get up.

Watkins finally staggered to his feet, bruised, his face streaked with tears. He was prodded back into line, and the group started off again, hiking in single file along the edge of a narrow spur, about twenty feet in between each man.

As they walked, Jesse noticed Riley drop back behind Watkins, leaning forward to talk earnestly to him. Jesse stepped to the side to let them go by, not wanting Riley to be left exposed by his apparent distraction and lack of situational awareness. As they passed him, Jesse heard Riley muttering, “Left, right. Left, right. Now deep breath in through your nose, blow it out your mouth. Keep your breathing steady, and it won’t be so hard. You can do it. Left, right...”

Jesse shook his head. Riley would be the first one to call an asshole an asshole, and accompany that with a punch to the face, but put an underdog in his path—well, the dude just couldn’t help himself. By the time they reached the base of the terraced Afghan village, Watkins was looking at Riley with something akin to hero worship.

“You’re stuck with him now, Estes,” Enriquez muttered under his breath to Riley as he walked over to lean against a tree next to him and Jesse. They sucked down some tepid water from their CamelBaks and caught their breaths, and Enriquez lit up a smoke. “He’s in love.”

Riley shrugged. “He’s just a scared kid. He’ll toughen up.”

Jesse snorted. Kid. He was probably older than Riley, who at nineteen was one of the youngest guys in the platoon.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed doing shit like that.” The gravelly voice came from off to the side, and they all swiveled their heads to look at the speaker, a private first class from the outgoing unit. He was lean, rangy, his dark eyes holding a faint emptiness around the edges, like he’d seen too much. “That dude’s a weak link, and bein’ around him out here ain’t nothin’ but bad news.”

“He’s my teammate,” Riley said evenly. “And all he needed was a little help.”

“Havin’ to carry someone ain’t just ‘a little help,’ man,” the guy retorted. “Havin’ to prod a weak and whiny ass up a hill. You weren’t payin’ attention to your surroundings, and lemme tell you something about these fuckin’ mountains—you never hear it comin’.”

Jesse scanned the jagged ridges and cliffs above them and suppressed a shudder. He wondered how many Taliban had them in their sights right at that moment, concealed behind sheltering rock or towering cedar trees, weapons trained on them. He suddenly felt as vulnerable as an eggshell.

“One minute we were walkin’,” the soldier continued, and Jesse saw by the tape on his uniform that his name was Parker, “and the next minute, my buddy’s brains were sprayin’ out the back of his head. Heard the gunshot a split second later.” He paused to let that sink in. “Every moment could be your last, and you won’t even know it.”

Jesse and his teammates were silent, and Enriquez had frozen with his cigarette halfway to his mouth.

When Riley spoke, his voice was soft. “So you’re saying it’s every man for himself up here? That goes against everything we were trained for, everything the Army stands for.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that,” Parker replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m sayin’ weakness has no place up here. Weakness will not survive this Valley. A guy willin’ to let a little physical pain take over, he’s the one only thinkin’ of himself. He’s the selfish asshole, puttin’ himself above everybody else.”

Riley looked at the ground, subdued.

“If he ain’t gonna walk for you, he sure as shit ain’t gonna die for you. Think about that.” Parker stared hard at each of them, then turned around and strode away.

Nobody said anything, and Enriquez finished his smoke and stubbed it out against a nearby tree trunk before the platoon assembled once again to make the climb up into the village proper.

The wheat terraces were steep, with “stairs” cut out of rock leading up the mountainside at what had to be at least a seventy-degree angle. Jesse pushed himself to keep up, Parker’s words ringing in his ears, determined not to be the one slowing everyone down and putting them in danger. He was breathing hard, dripping sweat, his body armor and ammo dragging at him, the gun he carried a reassuring weight as they got closer to the heart of the village.

Jesse glanced around and saw in his peripheral vision that Watkins was literally taking the last few yards on his hands and knees, his face bright red, a mix of saliva and puke coming out as he coughed. But he’d made it, and he’d kept up. Riley tapped his fist on Watkins’ helmet in a “way to go” gesture. The outgoing guys weren’t even breathing hard, and they grinned at each other.

“Nice day for a little stroll, eh?”

“Walk in the park, man. Walk in the park.”

Jesse tried not to glare at them as he drank some more water, and his sudden suspicion was confirmed when the first guy said, “We usually don’t make this whole climb all in one day. This was just for you.”

“Trying to smoke our asses, motherfuckers?” Riley grated, his voice guttural with exertion, his face glistening with sweat and streaked with dirt.

“And fuck if y’all cherries ain’t weaker than shit.”

Jesse tensed, waiting for the Riley explosion, but Riley just snorted, recognizing the banter for what it was...letting off steam. The other men had been up here for a year without women, without Internet—hell, without fucking running water.

Failing to get a rise out of Riley, they shrugged and turned to business.

“The elder in this village is a cagey bastard. Don’t trust him.”

“Is he Taliban?” Jesse asked.

Parker barked out a laugh. “Depends on what day you ask. If it’s HA day, fuck no, he’s not. Any other time, yep. Don’t ever assume it’s completely safe to come in here, even if he promises it is.”