CALI QUIETLY BUT INTENTLY worked her wrists against the cotton bonds that had been placed around them after the meal. Sunlight was just leaving the cave now, and she estimated that it was midafternoon. The sky was a cobalt blue and cloudless. The dry heat that rose from the desert plain below made the cave stifling, even though she was sure they were over ten thousand feet in altitude.
Fifteen of the twenty Taliban had left an hour ago. She’d overheard them saying that Sheik Hesam was following some miles below. They’d ridden off to create a false trail in another direction, so their cave would remain undiscovered and secure.
Zalmai, the teenager who’d been left to watch her, was busy unsaddling the other horses. He’d been given orders by Arsallah to rub them down, brush them and dress any scrapes or nicks they’d gotten on the journey. Only two horses were near Cali. And two sentries guarded the entrance to the cave, rifles across their laps as they watched the trail.
Her ears picked up an odd noise. Cali looked out of the cave and heard a helicopter. Her heart began to thud as she wondered if Pete was responsible. Could it be a U.S. Army Apache? Cali knew that with the heat and infrared sensing equipment on board, it would have the ability to ferret out humans and animals. The noise grew in volume, indicating there was more than one helicopter. The guards rose and quickly moved back inside the cave. They pressed themselves against the rough stone walls to remain hidden from prying eyes, rifles ready to fire.
The whapping sounds intensified. The helos were very close to the cave! Licking her dry, cracked lips, Cali frantically tugged at her bonds, but Zalmai had tied them tightly. The guards at the entrance exchanged worried glances. She heard the teen speak softly to the horses, which moved restlessly.
The whole cave began to shake and shudder as the helicopters slowly flew past the entrance. Sure enough, two desert-camouflaged U.S. Army Apache helicopters appeared. Jerking frantically at her bonds, Cali finally felt them give. Within seconds, her hands were free! No one was watching her; they were watching the Apaches fly by. Could the pilots see anyone inside the cave? Cali didn’t know.
Suddenly, a horse reared at the end of the line. By accident, it kicked over the metal pail holding the brushes and comb that Zalmai had used earlier. The accompanying sound was like an explosion echoing through the cave. The horses lunged forward in terror, their eyes rolling wildly. The picket line snapped.
Cali saw her chance. A small bay gelding, the one nearest her, realized he was free. The whites of his eyes showed the depth of his fear as he lunged forward. Cali shot to her feet. The Arabian careened drunkenly by her, his halter lead rope flying in the wind. She made a grab for the saddle horn.
In seconds, she had swung aboard the horse. Leaning low, she kicked him repeatedly in the flanks with the heels of her boots. Alarmed, the guards tore their attention from the Apaches, back to her. Cali kept low, hand outstretched to retrieve the loose, flapping halter lead. She caught it! Swinging the bay to the right, she lashed out with her boot as one guard stepped out from the cave wall and tried to stop her. Her heel slammed into his chest. He let out a groan, knocked off his feet.
Shots were fired behind her. As she yelled at the Arabian, Cali yanked on its lead so that the careening animal turned down the rocky trail they’d come up earlier. Wind screamed past her while she hunkered over his neck. The black mane whipped her face repeatedly, stinging her skin. More shots whined around her. Cali heard them echoing off the barren mountains.
Eyes watering, barely able to see from the horse hair slapping in her face, Cali coaxed the Arabian to full speed. They crossed the ridge and dived down a narrow gravel trail. Cali knew the guards would follow her. She gasped for breath and slowed the horse a little. At least they couldn’t fire at her here. The trail constricted suddenly, to less than one foot in width. On one side, harsh black-and-white rocks rose steeply upward, on the other was that thousand-foot drop. One slip by the frightened Arabian, and Cali knew she could die. She didn’t want to. She’d come too far. No way!
By urging the Arabian to a ground-eating trot, Cali was taking a terrible chance, she knew. There were so many stones on the path that if the sure-footed horse mistepped, it would be the end for both of them. Cali held her breath as terror zigzagged through her.
In the background, she heard the Apache helicopters. They seemed to be flying away from where the cave was located. How could that be that they hadn’t seen her? Her frustration mounted.
She sensed that Pete was around here somewhere. Who else in this province had the authority to call in Apaches? No one but Pete. Her hopes rose. He’d come after her and was trying to save her. Could he sense her need of him?
The steep trail suddenly widened as they reached a flat gravel stretch. Relief, sharp and clean, raced through her, and she hauled the horse to a skidding stop. The trail split in two just in front of her. Which branch to take, Cali wasn’t sure. Her head pounded with fiery pain and her vision blurred, then sharpened. She had to fight the effects of her injury because if she didn’t get the hell out of here, she would have no life at all to worry about.
Clamping her legs around the horse’s heaving, sweaty sides, Cali jerked the halter lead and coaxed the Arabian onto the upper trail. The other path led downward, and there were too many places where the Taliban could halt their horses, get her in the bead of a rifle sight and kill her. No, she was going to take the trail that climbed upward. At the very least, she’d be safer from gunfire.
The sun was hot and Cali perspired heavily as the Arabian scrambled up a slope of loose stones and damp soil. At the top, she twisted around in the saddle. Her pursuers would try to find her, but she couldn’t see them. Perhaps the riders who had left earlier were in the cut down below her, on the other trail. Cali just didn’t know, and was afraid of running into them, especially since she had no way of defending herself.
Standing up in the stirrups on her restive and uncooperative horse, Cali anxiously searched the rocky, unforgiving terrain. She must be over ten thousand feet in altitude, for nothing was growing on the bluish granite that surrounded them. Snow covered the mountains, no matter which direction she looked.
The Arabian snorted in fear, his ears nervously flicking back and forth. For safety reasons, Cali wished she had a bridle on the animal and a bit in its mouth. Still, the horse seemed to do pretty well on just a halter and lead.
Her gut told her to follow the path across the granite escarpment in front of them. Knowing that the power plant site was to the east, Cali hoped she could find another trail leading in that direction. She clapped her heels to the horse and the Arabian lurched forward once more, its hoofbeats sounding hollowly on the gray stone.
“DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Hesam skidded his foam-flecked stallion to a halt.
Pete cocked his head, and everyone on the trail stopped. “That was rifle fire!”
“Yes, gunshots,” the sheik muttered, pointing upward. “Your pilots have seen nothing?”
Pete held his radio and kept contact with the two Apache helicopter crews. They had been looking nonstop since arriving on the scene. “No, nothing….”
“Can they pick up on noise?”
“No. Just body heat.”
Hesam studied the trail in front of them. It forked, one going up and the other continuing down the sloping incline. Pulling his black stallion around, he called sharply to his twenty men, “Follow me!” His horse leaped forward, gravel and stones spraying from beneath his hooves as he clambered up the steep trail.
Pete followed, leaning forward and racing up the narrow path. Gunshots. A horrible vision flashed before him, of Cali pushed to her knees, blindfolded, hands behind her back and a rifle held to her temple by the Taliban. No matter how many times he gulped, he couldn’t stop the burning sensation in his heart or his wild, untrammeled grief. The wind tore around him, the tears drying on his cheeks as his horse topped the ridge.
Ahead, the sheik galloped at high speed, the mane and tail of his black Arabian flying like flags in the wind. As he urged his own mount forward, Pete tucked the radio away in his belt. He saw Hesam pull out his AK-47 and get it ready. Ready for what? Without another thought, Pete yanked the M16 strapped across his back and got it ready for use. He was trained for this, but God help him, the stakes had never been so high. He had to save Cali, if she was still alive.
Soon, Pete was surrounded by Hesam’s fleet horsemen. They were on a smooth, granite escarpment that sloped gently upward.
More gunshots! Closer! Pete urged his gelding up alongside the sheik’s black stallion. “This direction!” he yelled, pointing to the east.
“Yes!” Hesam responded, and dug his heels into his Arabian.
As they crested the slope, Pete’s eyes bulged with disbelief. There, on the lower escarpment, Cali was riding a bay horse for all it was worth. Right behind her were three men on horseback, firing at her.
“Taliban!” Hesam roared. Twisting, he gestured sharply to his men. “Try and take prisoners! Save Ms. Roland!” He whirled his stallion around and careened recklessly down the trail to intersect the oncoming Taliban soldiers.
Pete veered his Arabian to the left. As he made a beeline for Cali, he began to see her weakened state. And yet she was riding hell-bent-for-leather. The horse didn’t even have a bridle, just a halter and lead rope. Shots filled the air once more. She leaned low, hugging the neck of her horse and guided it ever upward toward him.
Pete’s horse slipped and skidded awkwardly on the slick granite. After a moment of panic, Pete steadied the gelding. Cali was less than a mile away. For one second he glanced at the approaching Taliban soldiers, who weren’t prepared as Hesam and his men who swept like eagles down upon them. Startled, the Taliban pulled their mounts to a halt and lifted their weapons toward the attacking group. A hail of bullets peppered the air in return. Pete was glad to be wearing a flak vest but his chief concern was putting himself between Cali and the Taliban.
He aimed his thundering horse straight toward her and saw her surprise when she finally noticed him. His heart lurched into this throat. She was so close, yet so far away. A bullet could find her any second now…Her relief was evident, and Cali guided her fleeing Arabian directly toward him. Pete wove through thick brush, the gelding leaping a fallen timber, and then he was right where he wanted to be: a protective barrier between Cali and her pursuers. If any bullets were fired, they would hit him or his horse now. Not her.
In a matter of seconds, one horseman on a bay Arabian turned away from the sheik’s men and aimed directly for Cali. Pete didn’t even think, but yanked his horse to a halt, shouldered his M16 and fired. The butt thumped repeatedly into his shoulder, ramming against it as he squeezed off several rounds.
The Taliban soldier was lifted off his horse, flipped over backward and slammed facedown onto the rock. He didn’t move.
Satisfaction thrummed through Pete. The sheik’s men grabbed the other two Taliban soldiers, who had thrown down their weapons, their hands held high in surrender.
With the danger over, Pete turned his attention back to Cali, who had halted a half mile above them and was watching the fray. As he galloped toward her, his gaze clung to hers. She slid weakly off the horse, fell to her knees and pressed her hands to her head. Oh God, how badly was she hurt?
As soon as he reached her, Pete flew out of the saddle, dismounting even before the animal had stopped. He bolted across the granite, fell to his knees and threw his arms around her hunched shoulders.
“Cali, tell me where you’re hurt.” His words came out in gasps. Breathing raggedly, he ached for any kind of response. Finally, Cali lifted her head. The left side of her temple was bloody and the flesh torn open. Her red hair was matted around a swollen, ugly wound. Flinching in horror, Pete gripped her sagging shoulders more securely. He noticed tears tracking down her dusty features. She had to be in horrible pain, and he felt helpless.
“Cali?”
“I—I’m going to be okay, Pete…” Cali’s words sounded hollow to her, as if she were a thousand miles away. Maybe it was the concussion, and her hearing was off. She wasn’t sure. But Pete’s strong arms gave her stability and solace. He had come for her, saved her in the final stretch. Dizzy, she reached out, her bloody hand touching the flak vest on his chest.
“I…have a concussion, Pete. A bad one. I’m dizzy but I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute…”
Pete gently cupped one side of her face. “You’re safe now, Cali. It’s all over.” When she lifted her head, her eyes were glassy with pain. “It’s okay now,” Pete said roughly as he held her in his arms. “You’re safe, Cali. God, I almost lost you and I can’t, I just can’t…” He gulped and blinked at tears stinging his own eyes and blurring his vision. Looking down at her wan, bloody face, he choked out, “I’ll call in a medevac from a forward base. One will land here and take us to a hospital. Just hold on, okay? I need you.”
Those were the last words Cali heard before she fainted in his arms. She was safe. She’d seen the terror banked in his stormy gray eyes, the way his mouth tensed with the pain he felt for her. The world had been spinning, and now, as she was sucked into an invisible tornado, his last words were a balm to her frightened soul.
“CALI’S SLEEPING JUST fine now,” Dr. Jason Wright assured Pete. The doctor quietly closed the door to Cali’s private room at the Kabul hospital. He took Pete by the arm and led him down the long, quiet hall. At the end was a large window and a set of stairs.
Pete was bone weary. After Cali had fainted in his arms, he’d called on the radio for a medevac helicopter. It had arrived an hour later, and they had finally been airlifted to Kabul. All the while, Cali was in and out of consciousness, and that scared the hell out of him. The nurse on board had told him that a doctor could determine the amount of damage Cali had sustained from the concussion. All Pete could do was sit next to her as she was blanketed and strapped to a cot. She was given an IV, and the nurse checked her vital signs every fifteen minutes.
The darkness of night stared back at Pete as he looked through the window. Dr. Wright, a U.S. Army physician, had taken Cali from the ER, through the X-ray process and then made her comfortable in the private room. Pete had told him he was Cali’s boss, so that he could know what was going on.
As soon as she was admitted to the hospital, he had called Cali’s father. Needless to say, Mr. Roland was upset, and Pete tried to allay some of his fears. The elder Roland had said he’d fly to Kabul right away, along with his oldest son, another engineer.
Wiping his gritty, dirty face, Pete asked the doctor now, “Aren’t you worried that Cali might die if she sleeps?”
Dr. Wright smiled briefly and clapped Pete on the shoulder. “No, Major, I’m not. Cali has a concussion, for sure, but her vitals are stable and improving. We have her on a medication mix that is going to reduce the swelling in the area where she was struck. From what she told us, she’s very sleep deprived. We’ll wake her up from time to time just to be on the safe side, so don’t worry. The nurses are packing dry ice around that head wound every thirty minutes, and monitoring her vitals. Cali’s in the best of hands. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? We have a men’s shower and locker area down in the basement. I could loan you a pair of scrubs if you don’t have anything else to wear.”
Touched by the doctor’s concern, Pete nodded and dropped his hand from his face. He desperately needed a shower. “Thanks, Doctor. I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Good, come with me,” Dr. Wright said, gesturing toward the stairs. “Then you can go to the cafeteria, get something to eat and catch some shut-eye in the interns’ room. Cali isn’t going to wake up for probably eight hours. She has to sleep off her trauma, Major. An ordeal like this would exhaust the strongest person. We’ll come get you when she awakens. So you can rest easy, get some sleep.”
Nodding, Pete could feel hope flooding back into his heart. Relief made him light-headed. “Sounds good, Dr. Wright. Thank you.”
A minute later, that joy was followed by exhaustion. Cali is safe. She’s going to live.