Off Limits Part 1

Off Limits.

Lindsay McKenna.

Moments Of Glory.

Chapter One.

South Vietnam, April, 1965.

"We're hit! We're hit! Prepare for emergency landing!"

Alexandra Vance gasped as the pilot yelled the warning. The marine helicoptersuddenly shuddered, a hail of bullets slamming through the aircraft's thinskin and peppering the cabin. She gripped the nylon seat as the aircraftjerked upward. Its engine shrieked and groaned, the blades flailing awkwardly,like wings on a wounded bird. The crew chief gave a startled cry, gripped hischest, then crumpled to the deck. The smell of hot oil stung Alex's nostrilsas the door gunner began returning fire, and the pounding chut, chut, chut ofthe machine gun reverberated through Alex's body like pummeling fists. Black,oily smoke spewed up in front of the c.o.c.kpit's shattered Plexiglas windshield.Directly above where Alex sat, the pilot and copilot worked feverishly to keepthe helicopter airborne over the enemy jungle.

Like the crew, Alex wore a helmet, the wire jack plugged into theintercommunications system. Curses, screams and groans filled her ears as theworld seemed to shatter around her.

Oh, G.o.d! Alex cried out involuntarily as bullets smashed through the c.o.c.kpitagain, striking behind and around her. The gunner screamed and was catapultedbackward. Alex threw her hands up to protect her face from flying debris. Shewas being wrenched from side to side as the aircraft bucked and lurcheddrunkenly. One of the pilots slumped forward, struck by a bullet. Withoutwarning, fire and shrapnel exploded through the c.o.c.kpit.

A hot, stinging sensation seared Alex's shoulder, and she was slapped againstthe bulkhead by gravity as the helicopter wrenched downward. Heat scorchedher, and she gagged and choked on the nauseating smoke filling the c.o.c.kpit.Then the aircraft nosed over, its engine still shrieking like a wounded person.

Everything began to reel off in single frames, as if Alex were viewing amovie-only it was a movie in which she was the main partic.i.p.ant. The seat beltheld her captive as the Sikorsky helicopter brushed along the tops of thetriple-canopy jungle. The trees acted as a last-moment cushion to the crippledaircraft, so instead of nosing down and grinding with savage, killing impactinto the red earth of Vietnam, the helicopter caught in the trees as itsairspeed bled off.

The helicopter was on fire, with smoke funneling out of the c.o.c.kpit andescaping through the open rear door near Alex. There was a great screech as itlisted unexpectedly, its tail flipping into the air as it settled on itsstarboard side, finally halting.

Alex hung suspended upside down in the cabin, the nylon seat belt nearlystrangling her. Frantically, she looked around. No one else moved. Her heart denied that her companions might be dead. Alex clawed wildly at the metalclip. Her gaze locked on the machine gunner's window-her only escape route.Brush, leaves and limbs had collected in the usual exit area during thehelicopter's long, downward slide. The window was partially blocked by thevegetation.

Fire and smoke, too, continued to pour into the cabin as Alex struggled withshaking fingers to release the safety harness. Suddenly the belt gave way, andshe fell hard against the aircraft wall below her. Panicking, she flailedblindly around to check the crewmen who lay unmoving at her feet. Anxiously,Alex tried to find pulses on their necks, but her desperate fingers feltnothing. Coughing and choking violently, she tried to make her way forward tothe c.o.c.kpit to see if the pilots were still alive and needed help escaping,only to be driven back by the flames and intense heat.

Her eyes blinded with tears as she groped her way through the dense, thicksmoke, Alex fell onto wobbly knees. Which way was the window? She couldn't seea thing. Heat scorched her skin. Die! She was going to die!

On bloodied hands and knees Alex crawled toward the rear, trying to find theexit. There! Her hand met the leaf-and-branch barricade. She lunged throughthe window. A scream caught in her throat as she threw herself from theburning helicopter, thinking the ground must be nearby. But she fell a goodtwenty feet, before slamming onto the damp, leaf-strewn floor of the jungle.

Panting to regain her breath, Alex groaned and rolled onto her back. Tears randown her smudged cheeks as she struggled to move. Directly above her, thehelicopter burned furiously, a huge column of black smoke drifting lazily intothe clear blue sky. She had to get away from the inferno as soon as possible.Rolling onto her hands and knees, Alex crawled shakily away from the aircraft,moving through the thick foliage. Branches swatted at her, stinging her faceand bare arms. Her breath coming in huge, ragged gulps, she moved jerkily,without thought. A powerful numbness took over, and she felt oddly detached,as if she were having a bad nightmare.

Alex had crawled nearly two hundred yards from the initial crash site when sheheard voices. She pressed a bloodied hand against her parted lips and froze.Shaking badly now, in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, she sat back on herheels on the jungle floor. Vietnamese. They were Vietnamese voices. Reliefswept through her. Rescue! She was going to be rescued by the friendly forcesof the ARVN!

She tried to rise, but her knees collapsed under her and she fell to theground. Dirt and damp leaves stuck to her face and short brown hair.Struggling, she tried again to rise. Agony spread from her left shoulder likean out-of-control wave of fire into her neck, down her arm and into her chest.The savage pain caught at her breath, and Alex groaned softly, unable to move.She crumpled slowly into a fetal position. For the first time, she examinedher shoulder.

Thirty minutes earlier, when they'd left the marine base at Marble Mountain,Major Gib Ramsey had insisted that Alex climb into a dull green, single-pieceflight suit, pulling it on over her b.u.t.tercup yellow blouse and jeans. Now,staring uncomprehendingly at her shoulder for long moments, Alex finallyrealized the dark stain spreading across the olive green cotton on her leftshoulder was blood. Lifting her right hand, she touched the area lightly. Itwas not the blood of the brave marines who had just died, but her own.

Alex released a little breath of air. Sweat trickled off her face and soaked into the coa.r.s.e flight-suit fabric. Wounded. I'm wounded. G.o.d...

The Vietnamese voices grew louder, more excited. Alex lay, unable to move,frozen into immobility by the realization that she had been hit and wasbleeding heavily. Her mind refused to work, except in stops and starts. Thepain grew in volume while she focused disjointedly on her shoulder wound. As afourth-year nursing student, she should know what to do. Think! Think, Alex.What do you do for a bullet wound? Squeezing her eyes shut to prepare herselffor the pain, Alex pressed her hand against her shoulder. Direct pressure on aheavily bleeding injury would stop the flow. Blackness began to dim hervision, and she quickly released the wound, unable to staunch the bleedingunder the wave of unrelenting pain.

With a little cry, she struggled into a sitting position, well hidden by theprofusion of plants on the jungle floor around her. Dazed, going into shock,Alex stared at her left shoulder. Had she been hit by metal fragments from theexplosion, perhaps? Shrapnel? Feeling light-headed, she fell back and rolledonto her right side as numbness spread down her left arm, rendering ituseless.

The Vietnamese were all around her. Alex tried to gather her thoughts butcouldn't. At one point she saw a young Vietnamese man, armed with a rifle anddressed in black pajamas, pa.s.s within feet of her. She thought he was ARVN andtried to cry out, but nothing came out of her constricted throat and drymouth. He pa.s.sed by without realizing her presence. Helplessly Alex lay there,barely conscious. She knew she wasn't dead, and finally, after half an hour,her mind cleared momentarily and she realized she was in deep shock.

Nothing in her affluent Virginia background, growing up with Hiram Vance, herfamous congressman father, had prepared her for this. Alex had reluctantlyagreed to visit her father, who was touring bases and military positions allover Vietnam on a fact-finding mission. He'd said it was safe. Safe! Why hadshe allowed her father to browbeat her into coming? Their relationship wastenuous at best. Alex knew that deep in her heart she wanted her father tolike her- love her-as much as he did her brothers, so she had come, againsther better instincts. Hoping to heal the widening rift with her father, shehad rationalized that flying to Vietnam to tour the bases with him would workas a peace offering to help mend their differences.

Still lying on the jungle floor, Alex began to shake uncontrollably, her armsand legs taking on a life of their own. It was shock, Alex knew, thecontinuous surge of adrenaline through her bloodstream causing the reaction.Suddenly, a huge explosion rent the air, sending a thundering clap of soundbooming through the jungle like the pounding of a hundred ear-splittingkettledrums. The echo was a physical force, pummeling Alex as wave after waverolled past her. Wincing, she realized that the marine helicopter had justblown up.

Over the next hour, clarity returned slowly to Alex's mind. On its heels camea wall of chaotic and panicky emotions. Finally tears came, leaking down hermuddy cheeks. She cried for the marine crew. They were all dead. At MarbleMountain, they'd treated her like a star because of her popular father'sinfluence and power. The door gunner, a red-haired boy of eighteen, had shylyasked for her signature on a sweat-stained piece of paper pulled from one ofthe pockets of his flight suit. He'd told her excitedly that he collectedautographs.

At first, Alex had protested, saying she wasn't famous, just an unknown personin the shadow of her larger-than-life father. But the door gunner, PrivateFirst Cla.s.s Ken Ca.s.sle, had gently insisted. Squeezing her eyes shut at thememory, Alex sobbed. The cry jerked through her like a convulsion, and pain flared hotly in her left shoulder to remind her of the wound. Still, she knew,her heart bore an even larger, invisible, wound for those four marines.

As if her brain was stuck on that time frame, Alex couldn't shake the memoriesof the past hour's conversations and the images from before she'd left themarine air base. Captain Bob Cunningham, the helicopter pilot, was married-thefather of two young children. He'd proudly showed Alex their pictures whenshe'd asked about them. He'd patted the pocket near his heart where he keptthem, saying that the photos were his good-luck charm, that they were going toget him home safely to his family. And his copilot, Lieutenant JeffreyWhitmore, had just gotten married. His wife was expecting their first child.Now none of that crew would be going home alive. Alex sobbed quietly, unableto stop the deluge of loss she felt for them and their families.

By the second hour since the crash, the bleeding in her shoulder had stopped,and Alex drew in a shaky breath of relief. She focused her limited senses onher surroundings. The sunlight, what little there was, had slanted in a morewesterly direction. They'd started the flight to the firebase at noon. Alexlooked down at the watch on her dirty, bloodied wrist. It was now 2:30 p.m.She sat up and tried to a.s.similate and understand her own dilemma.Light-headed, she knew she'd lost more blood than she should have. As anursing student in Washington, D.C., she had seen blood from time to time, butnever like this. She tried to study her left shoulder with impartiality. Theflight suit was soaked with blood in a large, uneven circle that surroundedher upper arm, encompa.s.sed her left breast and reached halfway across herchest.

The wound didn't bleed when she moved, but Alex wasn't about to look under theloose-fitting flight suit to find out why. More important things had to beaddressed. Thirsty, her mouth dry, Alex began to look around for a watersource but saw none. The jungle teemed with singing birds. The fire that hadengulfed the helicopter earlier had completely died out. Only a few trails ofever-thinning black smoke stained the sky. Everything, it seemed to Alex, wasreturning to normal.

Her heart gave a giant thud at a noise to her left. A Vietnamese, his faceintent, held an ugly-looking weapon against his chest, as if prepared to fireit. Alex snapped her mouth shut and tensed. This man wasn't ARVN, or at leasthe wasn't in the uniform they wore at Marble Mountain. Instead, he wore ablack cotton shirt and baggy black pants. Somewhere in Alex's spinning senses,she recalled part of her egress briefing given by Major Ramsey. He had saidthat men who wore such an outfit were VC, the enemy. Alex remained frozen.Would he spot her? And if he did, would he kill her?

The soldier halted and slowly looked around, his dark brown eyes intelligent,his head c.o.c.ked, as if to listen for some out-of-place sound among the normaljungle noises. His hands tightened on the stock of the AK-47 he carried.Slowly, he looked down at the leaf-strewn floor.

Alex's eyes went wide. If she moved, she would disturb the top layer ofleaves, signaling the enemy. He was only ten feet away. Sweat popped out onher upper lip. All that protected her from his prying eyes were the huge,graceful green leaves and ferns that hung like an umbrella around her head andshoulders. A panicked cry started deep in her throat. She clamped her mouthshut, in that moment understanding what a helpless rabbit must feel like as afox stalked it. Would he hear the thudding of her heart? She could hear itbooming in her ears.

The VC quietly moved on. Alex was amazed at the way the man made no sound atall. Her heart pounding unrelentingly in her breast, she realized that she had to get away from the crash site. She licked her dry lips, which were cakedwith blood. If she left the vicinity of the helicopter, the marines who mightrescue her wouldn't be able to locate her. Yet, if she stayed, Alex knew withcertainty that the VC would find and capture her.

Which way was Firebase Lily, her original destination? Her father was waitingfor her there. She was no good with directions. Her two older brothers, Caseand Buck, always derided her inability to recognize north, south, east andwest. With a trembling hand, Alex shoved her hair from her eyes. Which way wasthe sun? The triple canopy of the jungle so diffused the light that she had noreal idea. Never had Alex felt so helpless, so angry at her ownincompetence-or so alone.

Her father had wanted her to join the military as an officer once she got hernursing degree. Her two brothers were already in the Marine Corps. But Alex'stalents, if she could even call them that, were aligned with being of servicein other ways. Her father had openly scoffed at her nursing aims, berating herwith the Vance family's hundred-year tradition in the military.

Well, Alex thought dully, I don't want any part of it. I'm not a killer. Idon't even like war. And yet, as she sat there, Alex knew she was in a war. IfCase or Buck had been shot down like this, what would they do? Her confidentolder brothers probably would have dressed their wounds, gotten up and headedfor Firebase Lily.

With grim determination, Alex struggled to her knees. Dizziness a.s.sailed her.She tried to ignore the thought of how much blood she'd lost. Focusing on anearby tree, a rubber tree, she saw sunlight high up on the gnarled, twistedtrunk. It took several minutes to figure out an easterly direction, for hermind kept shorting out. Firebase Lily lay directly east of Marble Mountain,some thirty miles inland and near the border with Laos, according to MajorRamsey. He'd shown her the flight route on a map pinned to the wall of theheadquarters tent.

Her father had always derided her lack of a.s.sertiveness. Why couldn't she bemore like Case and Buck: aggressive, extroverted and confident? Alexconsidered herself a plain brown mouse-just the opposite of her brothers. Shecompressed her full lips. In her twenty-two years of life, nothing hadprepared her for this sort of situation. Still, didn't plain brown micesurvive even the largest, most aggressive of cats? She could get out of thissituation if she used her common sense.

Alex slowly rose to her feet, swayed unsteadily, then anch.o.r.ed herself untilher head cleared. She tucked her left arm against her body, cradling the elbowwith the palm of her right hand. Only her mother would have any faith in herability to survive. Alex loved her quiet, introspective mother fiercely. Nomatter how overbearing her father became, Susan Vance always seemed able togently and quietly maneuver around him to get whatever she needed for thefamily. Alex felt another kind of pain that equaled that in her achingshoulder. What would her mother do when she found out Alex was missing andpresumed dead in the Vietnam jungle? Her mother's health was fragile. Somehow,Alex had to hurry and find the marine base so she wouldn't worry.

Standing against a tree, Alex took stock of many things, among them the art ofcamouflage and of walking silently. VC stalked the area on quiet, bare feet.Alex knew she'd have to walk just as quietly. She didn't dare crash throughthe brush like a bull elephant, broadcasting her whereabouts. For longminutes, Alex thought about her plan. When she finally took the first step inher white tennis shoes, she tried to imagine herself as a shadow, slippingbetween the damp, water-beaded leaves of the jungle foliage.

Near the end of the first hour, dizziness halted Alex. She stood hunched overbeneath some large banana leaves, pressing her hand tightly against her leftarm. Gasping for breath, she tried to soften the sound of the air escapingfrom her mouth. Once, she spotted a VC, and quietly eased to her knees. Shecrouched in a huddled position next to the thick, entwined root system of alarge rubber tree, and the VC pa.s.sed without discovering her.

Shakily, she wiped the sweat from her eyes. She looked down at her right hand.It was covered with blood and mud. Walking had caused her wound to bleed alittle more.

Just as Alex straightened to resume her journey, a man's large hand clampedagainst her mouth. A scream lurched in her throat, and she was jerked backwardoff her feet and slammed to the jungle floor. Blackness rimmed her vision andshe felt him straddle her.

Black dots danced in front of her eyes. He gripped her by the throat. Again,Alex tried to scream. Her eyes grew wide as she saw him raise his hand. Along, savage-looking knife blade hovered inches above her face-aimed directlyat her. She threw her hands up to protect herself, then fainted.

What the h.e.l.l? Corporal Jim McKenzie grunted as he quickly released and gotoff the woman. As he slid the Kabar knife into its leather sheath, hissurprise turned to instant concern. He'd heard the American helicopter crashhours earlier. He was a recon marine, accustomed to being behind enemy lines,and against his better judgment, he'd hobbled out of his hiding place on amakeshift crutch to look for survivors. Now he glanced around quickly, hishearing sharpened for any VC in the area. He knew all too well that they ownedthis piece of real estate, lock, stock and barrel. His left leg was encased ina primitive, makeshift splint, and he bit back a groan of pain as he grippedthe woman by the collar of her flight suit and pulled her deep into the nearbybanana grove. There it was dark and protected, and they would be sheltered bythe long leaves that hung nearly to the jungle floor. No VC eyes would findthem here.

McKenzie squinted against the gloom as he a.s.sessed the unconscious woman. Whowas she? The flight suit she wore had patches identifying a Marine Air Groupsquadron, but not her rank. She was small and fine-boned, reminding him of thesparrows that lived around his parents' Missouri cabin. Tansy McKenzie, hismother, fed the little birds hen scratch and just a bit of cracked corn duringthe winter, and she always had a slew of them waiting around for their nexthandout.

Jim's gaze moved to her bloodied shoulder. Wounded. She's wounded. Stymied asto why she would be in a marine helicopter in the first place, he pulled theflight suit away from her left shoulder. Her yellow blouse was rusty withblood. Was she a spook, maybe-someone from the CIA? Despite her nasty wound,his gaze moved back to her face. The short brown hair lay like a sleek capacross her skull. Her eyebrows were slightly arched, her lashes a thick sablecolor against her pale skin. Maybe it was her heart-shaped face that grippedhim, or maybe it was the memory of the tiny sparrows. She was young, perhapsin her early twenties, her nose small, like the rest of her. Briefly her slacklips captured his attention. The vulnerability of her full mouth sent a spasmof yearning through him, but Jim ignored its tug. Their lives were at stake,and if they were going to get out of this area alive, he had to give his fullconcentration to survival tactics.

He gave her right shoulder a small shake.

"Hey!" he rasped near her ear, not wanting his voice to carry. "Hey! Wake up,gal!" He shook a little harder.

Alex moaned softly. A voice, a man's ragged, low voice, thrummed urgentlythrough her dazed senses. She felt his grip tighten on her right shoulderwithout hurting her. Her lashes fluttered as she forced her eyes open to bareslits. Alex inhaled sharply. Instantly, he clamped his hand across her mouth.

"Don't scream," he warned her.

Seconds stopped, hung and froze as Alex's eyes widened. The man who crouchedover her was dressed in dark green utilities. His face was oval, with a strongchin and nose, but it was his piercing dark blue eyes that frightened her themost. His mouth was thinned, the rest of his face carved with sweaty, muddystreaks and lined with tension. He was tall and rawboned, and the utility caphe wore low on his dark brown hair made him seem to blend into the foliagethat surrounded them.

Then Alex saw his blue eyes thaw, grow wide with concern and lose theirintent, predatory look. She felt his hand loosen slightly from her mouth, andshe could smell his sweat.

"Don't go screamin' on me, gal," he murmured. "I'm an American recon marine.You hear?"

His voice had a Southern drawl to it. And as Alex moved in and out of semi-consciousness, relief flowed sharply through her.

"Okay?" Jim rasped, leaning very close to her, his hand still across hermouth. She had the most beautiful mourning-dove gray eyes he'd ever seen. Thepupils were huge and black, and he knew she was in deep shock. When she barelynodded, he eased his hand from her mouth. Her lower lip trembled and he sawtears gathering in her heart-stealing eyes.

Jim placed his finger against his lips in a silent request for her not to cryout or sob aloud. It was a tribute to her courage as she fought her initialreaction and lay quietly as he hunkered over her. Jim placed his hand on herleft upper arm, where the material was soaked with blood. He looked around,listening carefully. VC were thick in this neck of the woods, and the oddswere stacked against him getting safely back to his tunnel.

Struggling not to cry, Alex closed her eyes and tried to breathe through hermouth several times just to allow the relief to register. He was an Americanmarine, she realized thankfully. The man above her appeared confident, and sheknew instinctively that she was now safe. Safe. His fingers around her upperarm seemed rea.s.suring as he probed the jungle with his narrowed gaze. Amazedat the sudden change in him, Alex took in the grim line of his mouth, hisslitted eyes and the way his harsh features tightened with frighteningintensity. Alex understood the necessity of his concentration. For the lasttwo hours, she'd been doing the same thing.

And then, when the American shifted his attention back to her, his eyes becamewarmer once more and, this time, filled with curiosity. He leaned very closeto her ear, and again Alex felt a sense of security in his presence.

"My name's Jim McKenzie, gal. I'm a recon marine. What's your name?"

A croak came out. She swallowed. "...Alex...Alex Vance."

He nodded. "h.e.l.l of a way to meet, Alex Vance. Now, I don't want you to talk anymore. Not yet. We're in heavy VC country, you understand?"

She nodded once.

"Good," Jim rasped. As he prepared to go on, he inhaled the subtle fragranceof her perfume, and the scent dizzied him, reminding him of a gentler, sanertime in his life. He fought to ignore the sensations the fragrance evoked."I'm gonna truss up that shoulder of yours so we can get outta this place inone piece," he told her. "Whatever happens, don't yell, don't scream.Understand?"

Again, Alex nodded.

She saw him smile, but it didn't reach his eyes-it was just a faint twist ofhis lips. As he rose from his crouched position, Alex saw pain reflected inhis face and eyes. And then, as he straightened up, Alex realized in shockthat his left leg, from the ankle to his knee, was in a makeshift splint. Fourroughly carved sticks of wood encased his lower leg, wrapped tightly intoplace with vine. What was a recon? What was he doing out here alone? Alexstopped herself from asking. She saw him dig into an olive green pouch hecarried on a webbed cartridge belt around his waist. He drew out a dressing,and as quietly as possible, stripped the brown waxen paper from around it.

Jim returned his attention to Alex, who lay watching him with huge gray eyes.He had to give her credit-she had common sense. She was doing exactly as heasked. Her eyes grew cloudy with pain as he gently pulled the flight suitaside and moved the fabric of her b.l.o.o.d.y blouse to expose the wound. Leaningdown, he whispered against her ear, "Now, this is gonna hurt like h.e.l.l. Igotta place this compress against your wound and make a sling for your arm."He reached across her, sought and found a small twig. "Here," he said, "putthis between your teeth. Whatever you do, Alex, don't scream, or the VC willfind us."

A fine tremble worked through Alex as she clenched the stick between herteeth. She saw the apology in his lean, hard face. Shutting her eyes tightly,Alex tried to prepare herself for the dressing to be placed over her wound.

It was impossible. As gentle as Jim tried to be, pain reared up through her,and Alex grunted. She bit down hard on the wood, the taste of it almost spicyin her mouth. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth. Her back archedand her heels pushed into the soft soil, her nostrils flared wide. Agonysliced through her shoulder like scalpels. Fighting back a scream that beggedto be released, Alex dug the fingers of her right hand deeply into the dampleaves and soil. All her focus was on the wood between her teeth.

"Good, good," Jim praised raggedly. He saw sweat pop out across her furrowedbrow, and saw her nostrils dilate. "I'm done. Relax...." Gently removing thepiece of wood from between her teeth, he smiled as she barely opened her eyes."The worst's over, gal. Just hang loose and I'll get you trussed up like aChristmas goose to give that arm of yours some support."

The pain was nearly unbearable, but through the nightmare minutes thatfollowed, Alex was struck by how humane the marine was with her. He was talland rangy, and as her vision cleared, Alex got a better look at him. A coupleof weeks' growth of beard shadowed his craggy features. His fingers were longand large-knuckled, and despite their size he was incredibly gentle while hemade a sling of vines for her arm. But there was a coiled tension about him,as if he could explode in any direction. His alertness reminded her of ajungle cat's, and he seemed attuned to the most minor change of sound andactivity around them. Occasionally he would freeze, listen, then continue to work on her arm. They exchanged no more words-only looks-but he couldcommunicate powerfully with those cobalt eyes. Alex was amazed, as if someunexplained telepathy existed between them. She saw his eyes change to a lightblue color as he knotted off the last of the vine behind her neck.

He helped her sit up. Dizziness a.s.sailed her, and she started to fallsideways. If not for the quick intervention of his arm around her shoulders,Alex would have fallen. Everything was happening so quickly, so efficiently.She wanted to ask him so many questions. Why was his leg in that primitivecast? Nothing was making sense except that he seemed to know exactly how tohelp her. The sling had eased the pain in her shoulder a great deal. Alexslumped wearily against the marine, her face pressed into the folds of hisdamp green shirt.

Giving her a quick squeeze of rea.s.surance, Jim eased Alex upright. The look inher dazed gray eyes told him she wasn't doing well at all. Her face was waxenand perspiring, indicating she'd suffered heavy loss of blood from her wound.

"Gal, as much as I wish I could, I can't carry you," Jim whispered. Withoutthinking, he reached out and pushed several strands of hair from herdirt-smudged cheek. "You gotta walk. Understand? We gotta get out of here." Heglanced up at the triple canopy overhead. "Before it gets dark."

Alex nodded her understanding. Jim rose, his hands on her shoulders to steadyher. With all her strength, Alex pushed upright onto her feet. If not for hislean, powerful body as a support, she would have crumpled. His arm went aroundher waist, and she sighed raggedly in relief.

Without a sound, Jim felt Alex lean against him, and he slowly turned heraround. Pain shot up his leg. The bones had been set only recently, and heknew that if Alex couldn't walk on her own, he'd have to leave her. When sheweakly placed her right arm around his waist, her head against his shoulder,he smiled to himself. She wasn't a quitter, and that made him want to save herall the more.

The slow, torturous walk began. Alex was aware of the marine limping badly onhis left leg, the side she was on. As she struggled forward, black dots woulddance in front of her eyes. When they did, she would grab at his waist forfear of fainting. Each time, his arm tightened around her and he stopped,waiting patiently. When Alex nodded that the faintness had pa.s.sed, he slowlybegan their walk again. She lost track of time as darkness gradually fell overthe jungle. No matter how bad she felt physically, Alex felt safe. Whoeverthis marine was, he was confident, and that gave her the courage to go on.

The jungle had darkened to near blackness when finally Alex felt Jim draw to ahalt. His lips scant inches from her ear, he whispered, "We're home, gal."

Relief shattered through Alex, and she felt her knees buckling beneath her.The blackness that had been threatening to engulf her finally did, and Alexheard herself moan softly as she connected with the ground. It was the lastthing she remembered.

Chapter Two.

Alex awoke slowly, moving through a constant barrier of pain radiating fromher wound. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the gloom. At least her nosewas working. Wherever she was lying had the dank, stale odor of earth. Sliversof moonlight tremored from some unknown source above her. Slowly she began tosee outlines.

Jim McKenzie slept with his chin against his chest opposite her, proppedagainst an earthen wall. Alex heard frogs and crickets in the distance. Sheappeared to be in a cave of some sort, the bare outline of walls rising aroundthem. The ground under her was hard and unforgiving, but Alex realized that ablanket had been placed beneath her against the dampness. The flight suitshe'd worn had been removed, as had her blouse. In its place, a thin blanketcovered her. Carefully touching her dressed shoulder wound, Alex realized thather left bra strap had been cut away, but she still wore the remainder of thebra.

Her gaze returned to McKenzie. He was barefoot! Calluses covered the b.a.l.l.s andheels of his feet. Her gaze drifted upward, and she drank in the sight of himin his rumpled olive uniform. Even in sleep, his hand rested over the b.u.t.t ofa sheathed knife fastened around his waist.

To the left of him she saw a few meager supplies, but couldn't make outexactly what they were. When she moved slightly, the marine snapped awake. Inthe same motion, he jerked the long, lethal-looking knife from its sheath.Gasping, Alex froze.

Jim had gone instantly from a sitting position to a kneeling one, knife ready.Sleep was torn from him. When he realized it was Alex who had moved, hisshoulders slumped in relief. The terror in her huge gray eyes made him quicklyre-sheathe his Kabar knife. He moved over to her, crouching under thefive-foot roof of the tunnel-too low for him to stand upright.

"How you doing?" he asked, his voice shaky with adrenaline.

Alex closed her eyes and touched her pounding heart. "Okay. You scared me todeath when you jumped like that."

Jim sat down, his right leg tucked beneath his body, his splinted legstretched out before him. In the moonlight he could see the tension in Alex'sface. She was in obvious pain.

"Sorry," he muttered, "it's a habit."

Relaxing as he lightly touched her left arm, Alex nodded. "That's okay." Shelicked her dry lips. "You're Jim McKenzie."

He nodded. "I didn't think you'd remember. You were pretty out of it when Ifound you. We're in a caved-in tunnel the enemy used to own." He pointedupward. "There's a small, concealed hole up there for air ventilation andlight, but if we talk too loud, a pa.s.sing VC might overhear us. Understand?"

"Y-yes." Alex watched as he leaned over and retrieved a chipped wooden bowlthat contained water and a small piece of cloth.