“Very stealthy, Marine,” she laughed as I sat up to search for my clothes.
“Yeah,” I grinned at her, “trained in stealth, camouflage and concealment, baby.”
“You were certainly concealed in me last night,” she murmured. “Several times, I seem to remember.”
“Did ya lose count, baby?” I smirked.
She shook her head, her eyes bright and teasing.
“By the way,” she asked, “how come you’re managing to get in here without anyone noticing you’re not where you’re supposed to be?”
I frowned. “It’s not that hard—I’m kind of separate from everyone. I’m on attachment so none of them know me; I’m in charge of the other interpreters, but they’re all Afghan, so I’m not part of that either. It was different when I was still with my Unit, but this way no one knows when or where I’m on duty. Except Grant, and he’s got more to worry about than where I sleep. Works out pretty well, huh, Caro?”
I couldn’t figure out why she looked so sad. Was she worried about me? But then she smiled and leaned forward, resting her lips against mine.
“Time to move your ass, Sebastian”, she said, running her fingers over my short hair. “I’ll see you later?”
I dressed, kissed her again quickly, then darted out through the door, keeping low until I was out in the courtyard, casually greeting some of the other guys who were either waking up or coming off watch.
I was trying to keep the huge ass smile off of my face, but I guess I failed because Chiv came up to me, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re lookin’ as happy as a pig in shit. What’s with that, Seb?” He looked over my shoulder in the direction of Caro’s room. “Y’all been visitin’ with the very lovely Ms. Journalist?”
“What are you yakking about, Chiv?” I tried really hard to look puzzled; it didn’t work.
He grinned at me and winked. “You dog. Wouldn’t mind some of that action myself, if the lovely lady is puttin’ out.”
I couldn’t stop myself grabbing the front of his uniform and getting in his face.
“Don’t talk about her like that!” I snarled.
The idiot just grinned at me. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Seb; I’m just messin’ wit ya! You two been givin’ each other the glad-eye ever since y’all got here. Gotta say it’s pretty damn obvious.” He pulled my hands off of his jacket. “But maybe that’s just ‘cause I know ya. Don’t stress it—your secret is safe with me.” He patted me on the shoulder. “But y’all might wanna quit accostin’ your fellow Marines in the quad.”
He strolled away laughing to himself as I took a deep breath. Shit, he was right.
I lined up for chow and chewed my way through something that may or may not have been chicken, then it was time for the morning briefing.
Caro was being sent out with Lieutenant Sanders today. I didn’t know him that well, but he seemed like a good guy. I was with Jankowski again, leading a team into the foothills to see if we could get some more intel on what the Taliban knew about our movements—in particular about Gal Agha. Hopefully, nothing.
The other news was that there would be a fresh food drop in the early evening. We all looked forward to that. Apart from anything else, there would be fresh water as well, so we could use up the old rations and everyone got a one minute shower—barely long enough to do more than turn the dusty dirt that coated our bodies into mud.
But small things like that made a big difference to morale. There was going to be a letter drop, as well, but I never got any mail; well, a card from Ches’s mom and dad—usually about a month after my birthday, depending where I was on tour. No biggie.
Grant confirmed that yesterday was uneventful, and other than our RPG contact and every guy losing about five pounds in sweat, not much else happened. Although one of the other patrols fired off a few rounds, but that was just to drive away a bunch of locals who were throwing rocks at them. Nice.
I strapped on my body armor and daypack, then slapped on my helmet and scooped up my M16. Jankowski ordered the compound gates to be opened and we filed out cautiously, keeping our eyes on the rooftops for snipers, the dirt under our feet for IEDs, and the foothills in the distance for ambush or RPG attack.
I tried talking to two locals who were standing in the bullet-ripped market, but they ignored me with stony faces, then turned their backs. I heard Jankowski mutter under his breath, “Is that what you call a charm offensive, Hunter?” He was a funny fucker.
Once we got past the last ramshackle building, we were in open countryside. There was no talking, and we were all hyper-aware of our surroundings: that’s how you stayed alive out here.
Two guys were sent ahead to check out a mud-built hovel. There was nowhere big enough to hide a body—I mean a person—so they didn’t go any further than the periphery. Doorways and windows were favorite places to booby-trap.
Some scrawny goats clattered past, nearly giving the guys searching a heart attack at the sudden sound. I could see a kid of about 11 in the distance watching us—probably the goatherd. He ran off when he saw that I’d seen him, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Who was he going to tell?
We walked another couple of miles before we saw any further signs of life. A man with a lined and cracked face of a village elder shouted at us from his tiny house. I could see a collection of barefoot children hiding behind his robes. His teeth were yellow with half of them missing.
He shouted at us, then slammed his door. His words nearly stopped my heart.
“Hunter?”
Jankowski was waiting impatiently for a translation. I swallowed several times, feeling like my throat was just about dry enough to shit sand.
“He asked what kind of cowards brought a woman to do their fighting for them,” I said, trying to hide the concern in my voice.
“You think he means Ms. Venzi?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Ah shit,” he sighed. “The boss was afraid that would happen.”
So was I.
We were the last patrol to return to the compound that evening. I could see Caro sitting across the quad from the entrance and I felt a surge of relief that she was safe. For now.
I went to Grant’s office with Jankowski to report on what I’d heard. The boss was worried and pissed.
“She’ll have to go back to Bastion. I’d get her on the water drop helo but they’re dropping not stopping.” He looked across at Mark. “She’ll need to stay in the compound until HQ authorize a ride, but maybe we can get her on the new personnel flight next week.” Then he turned to me. “Tell Ms. Venzi that I’d like to speak with her.”
I saluted and walked over to where Caro was sitting with a bunch of the younger guys who seemed drawn to her like she was sunshine in winter. I knew how that felt.
“Captain Grant would like to see you, ma’am,” I said, keeping it formal while we had eyes on us.
She stood up immediately, reading the stiffness in my body, and she didn’t ask any questions.
Grant’s office seemed appropriately gloomy. I stood to one side as he waved her into the only other unoccupied chair in the room.
“Ms. Venzi, your presence is causing some interest among the local population,” he announced, cutting right to the chase. “Hunter heard some talk while on patrol that concerned him.”
She glanced at me quickly.
“And what does this talk say?” she prompted.
“At the moment it’s vague, but the news of having a woman with us will spread quickly now. We have a new medic arriving in six days, so the helo will be putting down briefly. If you become a person of interest, as I think you will, you’ll be at risk and you’ll be putting my men at risk, too. I want you on that flight, Ms. Venzi. And until then, for your safety, you’ll remain in the compound.”
I saw her shoulders tighten and she took a deep breath.
“I see. Well, thank you for being so candid and explaining the situation to me, Captain Grant. I’ll ensure that I get as much work done as I can, and I’ll be ready to leave when you advise.”
The boss looked relieved; perhaps he’d expected her to argue, but there was no way Caro would be selfish while chasing down a story if it meant putting guys in danger. Hopefully she’d still be able to write her articles even if she wasn’t in Now Zad.