Chapter 48
On the trail... 3 hours later
The going had been easy, and rapid, thanks to the remains of a service road that ran parallel to the pipeline. Still, there was no time to waste. The bombs would soon fall on the complex below and the weather had already turned.
Though midday, a false dusk had settled. The sky had turned an eerie greenish-grey as a bitter wind had veered round. Nick recalled that his father used to call such clouds "tornado sows" for the high-altitude winds they bore. Straight from the Russian steppes and the Arctic beyond, it drove a light, stinging snow down the mountainsides into their faces. A thin, white carpet had begun to cloak the landscape. Soon, drifts would begin to form. Off to his right, Nick could hear the rush of water through the great, quadrupled pipes. Despite the wind, steam rose to form a ghostly shroud around the steel conduits. He looked down to see Yusuf, shielding himself in the leeward of his horse, leading Ginge's mount and another pack animal tied to Ginge's saddle. Like himself, the Brit was perched in front of a large pack that sat squarely on the animal's back.
The SEAL shivered and clutched at the sheepskin pushtin
that Derek had thrust upon him. "It's more trouble than it's worth," the precept had said. "It's made for sitting on a horse... not walking." Now Nick was thankful for his friend's insistence. Straddling his horse's shoulders, he wound his fingers in its mane and tried to shift his weight by leaning against the mound of supplies behind, but there was little he could do to ease the pain of his inner thigh. The others had taken great care.... They had insisted that he take the last of the pain killer.... His burn had been heavily bandaged.... His saddle was padded with a wool-filled cushion... and he had been mounted on a gentle, bay mare, whom everyone deemed the smoothest ride of the four horses.... Still, the animal's every motion brought the agony of burned flesh rubbed raw.Sensing his discomfort, Derek looked up and shouted over the whistling wind, "You OK?"
"Hunky-dory!" Nick replied. "Just freezing my ass off." He studied his precept's slow, deliberate, uphill stride... his shoulders hunched against the gale... the tilt of his head.... He knew the man too well.... He was exhausted and in pain himself.... He was brooding over his decisions... the guilt over Hasmit's death... the fact that Ali, a mere boy, had been sent off to face this storm, these mountains, alone. Nick wondered.... Had Ali's plight brought haunted memories of a fifteen-year-old Derek Rayne's fight against the mountains and jungles of Peru, after his father's death?
"Ali's OK!" he yelled down at the precept, hoping to offer comfort. "This is his home." Nick smiled to himself.... Derek had often accused him of being a "nanny", but he had yet to meet anyone who fussed about other people as much as Derek did. However, it was a clever, hidden sort of fussing. Rarely, was a worry or a fear openly expressed. Instead, one sensed an underlying anxiety and gentle, watchful concern.
Derek slowed and dropped back to Nick's side. "If it gets any worse," he shouted, "we'll cross under the pipeline next chance we get. The terrain's rougher on the other side, but the pipes are a windbreak. They'll keep the ground clear for a while." He shielded his eyes and looked ahead. Masruq and his heavily laden horse were making fast progress.
Nick leaned forward over the mare's wooly neck. "What if we get on the other side and run into a dead end? The road's on this side.... On that side we could hit a gully or something we can't get by.... We'd have to backtrack to cross back under and we don't have time."
"I know," Derek replied, "but it's a risk we might have to take.... It can't be much more than a mile.... Ginge!" he shouted at the pair, trudging behind. "Ask Yusuf to tell Masruq not to get too far ahead."
The young man called out to his fellow tribesman. Nick watched the sturdy Afghan. Plodding steadily onwards, he showed no sign of having heard the boy. The SEAL heard the young man's angry curse, whose tone needed no translation.
"Dammit!... We'll lose sight of him." Nick noted Derek's sigh, the exasperation evident in his voice. He puzzled over the relationships in this strange, little group. Yusuf was young... and Ali even younger... both inexperienced.... He hadn't known Hasmit long enough to make a judgement, but, since he had been a tracker, he suspected a calm, meticulous nature. Masruq was bull-headed, unwilling to defer to anyone. He wondered how Derek had managed to get this far without a major mutiny.... Or had there been a mutiny?... He remembered how his precept had dealt with his own rebelliousness a time or two. He smiled again.... Derek Rayne was never what one expected... and that was his advantage.
Again Derek looked up at Nick, then forward towards Masruq. Once more he asked, "Are you OK up there?"
"No problemo," Nick lied. "Just get me off this nag... soon.... Horses and me ain't exactly best friends."
"Mmmm...." The precept said absently, reading the lie without a second thought. He then squinted back at Ginge.
Nick followed his gaze.... The corporal looked even more uncomfortable on a horse than he was.
"Not far now!" Derek called out. "How are you doing?"
"Not far... assuming the maps are right," Nick muttered under his breath.
"Luvely jubley," Ginge replied with a forced grin. Nick and Derek exchanged blank looks. "I'm fine," the Brit added, realizing that a common language didn't necessarily extend to a common culture, but too tired and cold to utter the comment aloud.
"Glad we've the pipes to follow," Nick said. "Your Afghan friend's a lousy point man.... I'm OK.... Go catch him if you want."
"Yes...," Derek replied slowly, as he came to a complete stop.
Nick sensed that something was amiss. "Derek?... What's wrong... Derek?"
For a long moment, the precept remained rooted in place, then he swayed slightly, as if he'd lost his balance. Nick knew the symptoms well.... Once more he was seeing Derek gripped by his "Sight". During the moments after the vision, he knew how vulnerable the other man could be... disoriented and seized by vertigo as he made his transition from the inner world to the outer.
"Derek," he called softly, not wanting to shock the other man's system.
"No.... Mines," he whispered.
Nick barely caught the precept's muttered words. "Derek...."
"Masruq!... Wait!" the precept screamed. He dropped the reins of Nick's horse, and plunged after the tribesman, calling his name.
The mare shied at the sudden move and evident horror. Nick clutched at her mane and tried to grip with his legs. Without balance, he struggled to reach the loose reins, even as Yusuf moved in to calm the beast.
"What the hell?" Nick swore.
Ginge shielded his eyes with both hands and stared as Derek raced up the trail after the apparently deaf Afghan. "What the fuck's happenin'?" he asked.
"What is wrong?" Yusuf was just as puzzled as the others. "Masruq has angered Da'reek Raheen?"
They all stared forward, half-blinded by the snow swirling between them and the two men ahead. Derek was running headlong up the slope, shouting at Masruq, only to have the wind cast his voice back into his teeth.
At last, the Afghan turned.
"Don't move!... Stay still!" Derek stopped and gestured with his hands for the man to remain where he was.
"He won't understand him." Ginge muttered.
As Masruq stepped forward, his horse skittered sideways and the world around the Afghan exploded. Nick watched in horror as Masruq was thrown backwards. In a second that seemed to expand to an hour, his body arced and twisted like a gymnast's in a graceful, spiraling leap. A barrage of metal fragments whistled through the air to provide an ungodly accompaniment. His horse shrieked in agony as shrapnel pierced its body.
As Nick's mount and the others began to spin away in fear, ready to bolt from the threat, Masruq's horse fell heavily, triggering another blast that shattered its shoulder. Its wildly thrashing hind legs set off a third blast.
Before losing control of the mare, Nick had caught a glimpse of Derek. The precept had instinctively ducked and turned his back to the first blast, which had knocked him to his knees. The SEAL had seen his friend struggle to rise, but at the second and the third blasts, the horses had gone wild with terror. Shrapnel, metal fragments, large and small, whirled through the air. He felt white heat burn across his cheek.
Nick sensed, more than saw, Yusuf being dragged from his feet, in his struggle to drive his heels into the ground and to lean backwards to contain Ginge's horse and its companion. In doing so, the boy, who was being torn in two directions, had to let go of Nick's reins. In a chaotic moment, he thought he saw Ginge clinging to his horse's neck as he hung from its side.
Screaming, Nick's mare reared and fought to escape. Only the high pack behind him kept Nick in the saddle. He cried out at the pain that seared up from his thigh and grasped the thick mane as the terrified animal threatened to go over backwards. In panic, the SEAL tried to recall what Derek had told him about riding. "If there's trouble, drive your weight downward into your heels, deep into the stirrups, onto the animal's back," he heard the Dutch accented voice say. "The more weight you can press down, the less he can go up.... Pull his nose down to your toe.... Spin the horse in a circle. He can't buck or rear if you get him going in a tight circle... ultimately, he'll get tired and calm down."
At that moment, just as she plunged and slammed into the pack animal, nearly knocking Yusuf from his feet, the left rein came within Nick's reach. He grabbed at it, caught it, and with all his might yanked the mare's nose downward, but his strength and balance weren't enough. Again he remembered a trick that Derek had once shown him. He looped the rein under his foot for leverage and pulled up and back as hard as he could. The mare's muzzle met his boot and for several moments they spun in a tight, insane circle.
At last, all grew still save the heavy breathing and stamping of the skittish horses. Masruq's gelding lay dead, its hind legs blasted away. Of Masruq, they could see nothing through the swirling snow. He was either under his horse or behind it, but he still lived... and screamed. A few yards away lay his booted foot. His left leg had been blown off at the knee. A few yards the other way, lay the right leg... blasted off even higher.
"My God!" Ginge cried out. "Mines! It's a fuckin' minefield!"
As Yusuf still fought to settle the wild-eyed horses, who scented the blood of their companion, the youngster cried in panic. "I must go to Masruq!... To Da'reek Raheen!"
Ginge reached down to grasp him by his coat and spoke rapidly to him in a mixture of languages. The boy calmed and shook his head in understanding.
"Derek!" Nick screamed, as he frantically struggled to free his foot from the stirrup and get his right leg over the jittery horse's neck. "Derek!" He saw his friend, lying face down like a discarded doll, very still in the snow.
"Bloody 'ell!" The SAS man glanced around, panic on his face. "Are we in it already... or did Masruq find the perimeter?... Get me down, Yusuf." With the high pack behind, in the same predicament as Nick had faced, he allowed the young Afghan to pull him from the saddle. He winced in pain as his feet met the hard earth. Shaky legs gave way and he fell to the ground.
Weak-kneed and hobbled by pain, Nick dropped beside the Brit. The three men stared towards the scene of devastation.
"Yusuf... Derek's binoculars," said the corporal. "Masruq won't last.... If he doesn't get a tourniquet around his legs, he'll bleed out before we can get to him." Even as he spoke, the Afghan's screams faded to moans, then to silence.
Ashen faced, the boy handed Nick the binoculars. Holding them up, the SEAL pried open his swollen eye.
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilyahi raji'un...." Yusuf murmured, knowing that his comrade was dead.
"Derek?" Ginge asked quietly.
"Jesus... I don't know," said Nick, wiping his sleeve across his brow. "Goddammit!" he cried. "I can't make him out good enough." He stared intently at the precept's prone body, praying to see some sign of life.
Ginge crawled forward to examine the ground in front of them, around them. "If we're in the bloody minefield too... surely we'd have blown ourselves to kingdom come.... So the perimeter must be somewhere ahead," he reasoned aloud. "If we stay in Derek's tracks...." He glanced over at Nick's stricken face. "Indy... most fatalities from anti-personnel weapons... mines like this... are from blood loss... like Masruq.... Nick!" he fought to gain the American's attention. "Derek wasn't on the mine.... If he took a hit... he took shrapnel.... It just depends on how big the pieces were and where he was hit.... He's not that far.... We'll get to him."
Barely hearing the British voice, Nick nodded as Yusuf pried the binoculars from his hand. He stared at the scene before him... after everything he had been through, Derek couldn't die... here... like this... in this God forsaken place. He was so close.... Nick's arm stretched out, unbidden, towards the still form.
"Indy!" Ginge spoke again, urgently. "We gotta hurry... the snow... the wind.... It'll cover his trail."
"He moves!" Yusuf cried.
The youngster's voice broke the spell that fear had cast over the SEAL. "Stay still!" he screamed. "For God's sake, Derek!... Don't move!"
Ginge tried to reason out their predicament. "We can't carry him.... Hell... we can't walk that far." He glanced at the horses. "Maybe the boy... leading the horse... but there's too much risk it would step outside his tracks.... Yusuf... tie one end of a rope onto the saddle, the other end to Derek's sheepskin thing.... Nick... you and me... we crawl in there... feeling for more mines.... Then we drag him out... keeping him in the tracks... the horse pulling."
"No," the Yusuf retorted in English, then continued in Pashtun. "The horses are too nervous... too dangerous. I can go in and carry him out."
"He says he'll go in," Ginge translated.
"No way," said Nick. "It's you and me... but we gotta go through it anyway... to get where we're goin'.... We gotta clear a path wide enough for the horses.... It won't be long till we won't have anything to go back to... so we've got to get to the caves, if they're there."
At that moment, the thunder of bomb blasts echoed up the valley. At the sound, the horses once more flicked their ears wildly and tucked their tails, but Yusuf soothed them until they stood quietly.
"Jesus," said Nick, already easing his way forward, reaching around in a broad circle to skim the earth with his hands. "Hope they hit what they're aiming at."
"Yeah," Ginge seconded, " and the bloody vibrations don't set more of these babies off."
Apparently understanding the fears, if not the words, Yusuf added, "Or an avalanche from way up there." He gestured at the eighteen-thousand-foot peaks that surrounded them, concealed by the storm.
"What the hell," said Ginge. "It's the devil or the deep blue sea... blown up or smothered.... Come on... Indy."
After a few minutes, Nick pushed himself to his feet. "This won't cut it," he announced. "It'll take too long.... Ginge... I need the medical pack.... I'll just follow their tracks... step where they stepped." He looked back toward his friend, lying some thirty yards up the trail, and rejected the possibility that Derek was already dead... or too badly injured to be helped. "I can check him out... deal with any injuries... then start working my way back towards you.... You start from here and work your way towards me.... Do you think a path three yards wide will do it?"
Ginge turned and spoke to Yusuf about the horses, then replied. "He says if he rides them through one at a time, he can keep them to a path half that wide.... But...." The Brit paused to think. "You work your way forward... not back to me.... I'll just keep coming," he said.
Yusuf handed Nick the medical gear, along with his homemade crutch.
The SEAL slipped the sheepskin padded stick beneath his arm. "I'm coming.... Don't move!" he called to his friend. "Please, God," he murmured, then took the first hesitant steps.
With each careful stride, Nick scanned the ground directly before him. Even with the crutch, the pack and his injuries made his balance unsteady. Then he heard Derek groan. "Fuck this," he muttered to himself. "He's alive.... Haul ass... Boyle." He raised his eyes and hurried forward, keeping to Derek's footsteps.
A few feet from his goal, the SEAL noticed a mound of earth... then another a yard or so to its right. The erosion of wind and water over the past fifteen years had torn away the mines' concealment. Small bulges of earth, decorated by blowing snow on their upwind sides, dotted the ground around him.
"Ginge!" he turned to shout. "They start here." He waved his arm and pointed. "Two at nine o'clock.... They're easy to spot.... Little humps with snow on one side... about a yard apart.... Hurry... the snow's covering them."
The SAS man scanned the ground with Derek's binoculars. "I see 'em, Indy...." he shouted in reply. "Be careful.... You've got one 'bout five feet... dead ahead."
"Tell me 'bout it." Nick called back, then walked ahead and carefully stepped over
the small, deadly mound. "Derek... don't move... for God's sake.... Don't move!"
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