Shadow Warriors: Breaking Point Part 5

"Pashtun code says you feed those who ask for food," Bay said. "Okay, good to know. I'll see what I can do." If they were feeding more strangers, Bay knew it meant potential Taliban were coming through the area.

Hampton smiled a little and said, "How you getting along wearing our gear?"

Bay felt heat come to her face. "To tell you the truth, Chief, I had a hissy fit about wearing a SIG. That's a special pistol that SEALs have earned the hard way. I haven't earned it."

Hampton pursed his lips. "I understand how you feel, Doc, but this order came directly from the LT. So, if anyone gives you any grief, you come to me. It's important you look like one of us. We can bring you up to speed on how to handle the weapons."

"I will, Chief."

"Gabe?" Hampton said, shifting his gaze to the SEAL. "I want you to take Doc out on the shooting range sometime this afternoon and get her acquainted with the SIG. She's got to know how to use it and clean it. Plus, do some rattle battle with her."

Gabe nodded. "Already figured that out. And the Win Mag?"

"Leave it here. This is a day op. We hopefully won't need it. But work in a rotation daily until she's good friends with that rifle. Have her shooting at twelve hundred to fourteen hundred yards with accuracy." Hampton looked at Bay. "You okay with filling in as a sniper trainee, Doc?"

Bay shrugged. "I'll give it a whirl, Chief. But I'm not a trained sniper."

"Gabe is one of the best in the sniping business. He'll teach you the basics." His gaze narrowed. "You okay with being a sniper?"

Bay nodded. "Chief, I was gunning and running with Special Forces over at the Syrian-Iraq border. I know I'm a medic and I'm charged with saving lives. But when my team is being shot at with the intent to kill them, I don't mind lifting my M-4 and taking out the bad guys."

"Okay, just checking," Hampton said. "You should know our LT talked to your commanding officer, Captain Morton, over in Iraq. The captain had good things to say about you. It looks like you're a solid player. You have our back and that's good to know."

Bay tried to hide her shock. Given the nature of her being an experiment, it made sense that the SEAL LT would check her out. "I'm glad the LT knows that. I'm not here to get anyone killed on my behalf."

"It's SOP to get the dope on the new guy coming into our platoon. Reputation is everything in the SEAL community," Hampton told her. "And he was calling mainly to find out your reputation among the spec op guys."

"And is the LT satisfied?" Bay wondered what Morton had said. Everyone saw her differently. Some saw her as a gun in the fight, one who could perform coolly under fire. Others saw her as a compa.s.sionate medic and trusted her with their lives.

Hampton smiled. "Yes. And so am I."

Relief trickled through Bay. "That's good to know, Chief. Thank you."

"Many guys who enter combat corpsman duty are pacifists by nature," Hampton said, a.s.sessing her.

"I don't enjoy killing anyone, Chief. But I will shoot in self-defense for myself and my team. The way I look at it, it's just another way to save a life. It's one more bad guy who isn't going to kill one of us."

Nodding, Hampton appeared satisfied with her answer. "If you haven't already got it in your notes for your medical ruck you're bringing along, put some vaccinations in there."

"Ahead of you, Chief." She saw Hampton's eyes gleam with approval.

"Can you give us a few minutes alone, Doc? I need to talk with Gabe."

Easing off the bench, Bay nodded, picked up her M-4, placed it in a harness over her chest and left.

Hampton sat down on the bench next to Gabe. "What I didn't say to her is that Captain Morton raved about her under-fire abilities. He said we don't have anything to worry about, that she's calm and thinking through the firefight. She takes orders and when she's placed in a position, she stays. She doesn't run."

Gabe placed his elbows on his thighs. "Good to know. How's it going with Hammer and his men?"

Hampton grimaced. "My threat is still working. We'll see if it lasts."

"Doc is really uncomfortable wearing that SIG."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"And the look on Hammer's face when we came in was one of fury."

"I saw that, too."

Gabe shrugged. "SEAL exclusivity can work against us at times." He gave Doug a twisted smile.

"What Hammer and those guys don't understand is that she's in combat, too, and needs that pistol to protect herself. Or them..."

"She tried to talk me into carrying a .45 instead of the SIG," Gabe told him. "I told her no. Reasoned with her that she's got to look like a SEAL whether she's one or not. A camouflage point."

"That persuaded her?"

"Enough for her to wear it, but she's unhappy about it."

Scratching his head, Hampton muttered, "Well, I hate to say it, but we're going to be in firefights sooner or later, and at that time, she's going to realize how important that SIG can be."

Gabe sat up and clipped the M-4 over his chest, muzzle down. "Bay is savvy," he rea.s.sured the chief. And then he realized he'd called her by her first name. d.a.m.n. He was working hard to keep distance between them. Grimacing, Gabe looked up to see Hampton grinning crookedly at him. "What?" he demanded testily.

"She's a very attractive woman."

"Not going to argue that point," Gabe growled. "But we're in combat and grab-a.s.s isn't what you want in a platoon going into firefights, either."

"No," Hampton agreed equitably. "But there is a special connection between you and her. I can feel it."

Snorting, Gabe stood up. This was not what he wanted to hear. "She's a decent, caring person, Doug. Her word is her bond. There's no bulls.h.i.t with her." The kind of woman he wished he'd met before marrying Lily. Gabe had discovered his idealism about women was just that: not based on rock-solid reality. And Baylee-Ann Thorn was as sincere and real as a woman could get. And dammit, that sincerity called to him. And he was struggling not to be get entangled in it. Relationships had no place out here. None.

"She's solid, no question," Hampton said, standing. "Half the guys have bought in to her being with us. We have one half to go."

"Over time," Gabe said, heading for the door, "the other half will be convinced once they see her in action."

Hampton agreed. "Help her get her kit together for the mission. I know she's used to that length of mission, but this is Afghanistan, not Iraq."

"Roger that."

BAY STOOD WITH the SIG in her hands, firing off at a target fifty yards in front of her. The sun was low on the horizon, the heat stifling, the wind erratic. Gabe had been giving her good dope on how to use and fire the .30-caliber pistol. It packed a h.e.l.l of a punch, jerking her hand hard every time she squeezed the trigger. Finally, she ran out of bullets in the mag, dropped it out of the SIG and quickly slapped another into its place and began firing again.

Gabe wanted her to be able to drop an empty mag on the run, grab another out of her H-gear harness, slap it into the pistol and keep on firing. When they got back off the op, he was going to make her run and shoot. That was rattle battle, he told her. She had to be totally at ease switching out mags and keep on firing accurately in the process while in constant motion.

Gabe seemed pleased with her progress. She hit the target every time. When she finished firing the last mag, he called, "That's enough. You're good to go."

Bay turned and smiled at him. Gabe's green eyes gleamed and he nodded in her direction. Turning, she picked up the dropped mags and placed each of them in a canvas pocket in the front of her H-gear she wore around her torso. "This is a nice pistol. Now I see why you guys like it so much," she said.

The breeze blew a number of strands of her hair across her face and she pulled them back with her fingers. For a moment, she saw something else in Gabe's face. What? As a medic, she had to be observant. Sometimes a person was in so much pain, or semiconscious, and she had to interpret his facial expressions. Did she really see what she thought she saw-longing? A man-wanting-his-woman kind of look?

Licking her lower lip, she cleared the chamber on the SIG and holstered it. There was such a powerful connection between them and it was growing stronger by the day. Bay knew it could never be spoken about. Much less acted upon.

"I'll let the chief know you're dialed in on the SIG," Gabe told her as they walked off the range. A group of Afghan boys raced forward, having waited patiently in the background. They quickly s.n.a.t.c.hed up the spent cartridge sh.e.l.ls. They would sell them and make a little money for their dest.i.tute families who lived nearby. The cartridge casings would be melted down and the metal sold to a dealer for a decent sum of money. A family could eat well for six months or more on it.

"Great," Bay said, feeling a lot more confident about carrying the special pistol. She enjoyed walking at Gabe's side. He had such an easy stride and she never heard his boots. .h.i.t the ground. "Hungry?" Gabe asked. He liked the happiness he saw mirrored in Bay's face. The corners of her mouth pulled upward. A soft mouth. A d.a.m.ned kissable mouth. When she'd smiled at him earlier, he'd had no defense against it. Heat had flashed through his lower body, scalding and reminding him of what he'd been missing. There was such undisguised warmth in her smile, her lips lush and curved. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to touch those lips and feel her response. Gabe berated himself for these wayward thoughts.

"Starved."

"Good, because we'll catch an early breakfast before going out on that op tomorrow, too. You'll learn fast to bulk up on high-calorie food the night before a day mission. In these mountains and high alt.i.tude, you burn calories faster than you realize. You'll be humping in with a heavy ruck, and that will take a toll on your energy, as well."

She appreciated his experience. "You take good care of me, Gabe." Reaching out, she briefly touched his arm. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he muttered, scowling. He wasn't expecting her fingers to brushed his arm. The huskiness in her voice, the light sparkling in her delft blue eyes, caught him off guard. Bay didn't try to hide her feelings with him at all. And yet, out on a battlefield, she'd have to sit on her emotions in order to think through the heat and haze of battle to save a man's life. So why was she sharing herself like that with him? Gabe didn't know. And he didn't like some of the possible answers.

"Sometimes," she told him, catching his gaze, "when I'm relaxed or happy, I show it." She held up her long, spare hand. "Like just now, I touched you. It was my way of saying thanks, that I appreciate you being in my life. I'm a hugger and a toucher. You'll see me out in the field tomorrow hugging all the kids, hugging the elderly. It's just a part of who I am."

Her sincerity got to him. Gabe slowed his stride and tried to think of a way to let her know he wasn't unhappy about her contact. Bay didn't realize how the gesture impacted him as a man. Looking down at her, he saw complete honesty in her expression. Bay didn't play games as Lily had. Lily was a master at manipulating his emotions, he'd found out way too late.

"That's why you're a corpsman," he managed in a gruff tone. "Touching is important when you've been shot."

Smiling a little, Bay said, "Yes, I know the healing power of touch. And when I'm in medic mode, I use it a lot."

He had so many fine, dangerous edges to walk with Bay. On one hand, Gabe wanted her to trust him, because once they got into a firefight, she had to trust him a hundred percent or it could cost one or both of their lives. On the other hand, he was having one h.e.l.luva time personally figuring out how to interact professionally with her. It wasn't her fault.

Bay wasn't flirting with him. It was just how she was built, who she was. No, she'd reached out as a way to thank him for his time and teaching her how to use the pistol. That was all.

Gabe frowned. "You have a natural gift for healing." And then he lied. "I was just thinking about something else, so don't take my reaction personally." Yeah. Right. No sense in d.a.m.ning her with the personal problems he'd had with Lily.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

BY THE TIME the squad arrived at the village, children were running around them, hands out, begging for candy. Bay walked up front with Chief Hampton. Behind her were Gabe and the other SEALs. The morning was chilly but not freezing. They were at six thousand feet and it was warmer in the valley than at the FOB. The sun was edging the mountains surrounding the long, narrow valley.

A man in his fifties, dressed in dark brown clothes, turban on his head, stood near the gate in the mud wall that surrounded the village of a hundred and fifty people. The chief glanced over at Bay. "Okay, give him the greeting and let's see what you can find out."

Bay wore a soft floppy hat like the rest of the SEALs. As she approached the elder, whose dark eyes were wary, she removed it. When his gaze settled on her, his eyes widened slightly, no doubt in his surprise that a woman would be part of this team.

Bay took the lead and halted about six feet from the elder.

"As-Salamu alaik.u.m," she said, touching her brow and heart. "I'm Bay and we've come to offer you medical services if you need it for your people." The Pashtun rolled easily off her lips. The man's gray-and-black eyebrows rose with even more surprise.

"Wa 'alayk.u.mu s-salmu wa rahmatu l-lhi wa baraktuh, Bay. I am Faisal, leader of our village. You are welcome to aid my people. We have many who need your help."

Bay turned and translated to the SEALs.

Hampton nodded. "Ask him permission to scout around as you set up a clinic. Let's see how he reacts to the Taliban choosing this valley to transport weapons and fertilizer."

Bay nodded, and put the questions to Faisal. She noticed the children of all ages were gathering around them, their faces upturned and mesmerized by her speaking their language. She knew, in part, it was because she was a woman, who appeared to be in charge, talking to a man, a stranger. In strict Muslim culture, a woman did not do that.

As she spoke to Faisal, she noticed a tall young woman walk up to stand beside him. She was dressed in cream-and-brown wool, a hajib over her dark brown hair. Bay gave her a greeting, also. She was Husna, wife to Faisal.

Some of Bay's worries dissolved when Faisal raised his hand and told her that the SEALs were welcome and they could go wherever they wanted. When she told Chief Hampton, he nodded and ordered the SEALs out in various directions to begin scouting the area. Gabe remained close behind her, relaxed but on guard.

Bay was surprised when Husna walked forward and gripped her left arm, speaking urgently.

"You must come, doctor. We have a very sick child. My sister-in-law, Saima, has a daughter who is dying. Will you help us? Please?"

Doug Hampton knew just enough Pashtun to get the drift of the urgent request. "Doc, go do your thing. Gabe, stay with her. I'll use my broken Pashtun and have tea with Faisal and see what else I can get. Just stay in communications."

"Roger that," Gabe murmured as he watched Bay turn and leave with Husna through the gate and into the walled village. Following about six feet behind, Gabe knew the drill. He'd been in too many villages like this. Some had mud walls four to six feet high. This one had stone-and-mud walls abut five feet high. The children tagged along, laughing and curious, like tumbling, happy puppies at their heels.

Automatically, Gabe memorized the mud homes, the streets and the egress points, if they had to get out of here in a hurry. Ahead, Husna was chatting quickly and Gabe could pick up bits of the conversation. His Pashtun was pretty much limited to orders to control a prisoner. His hands remained on his weapon, the barrel pointed downward. If he really felt threatened, he'd be carrying the weapon barrel up so he could bring it level and shoot fast. No village was safe. If there weren't IEDs planted, then they could hide Taliban inside the village from them.

Bay took off her medical ruck and set it down outside the mud house where Husna said the little girl was dying. She looked up at Gabe. "You coming in or staying out?"

"Outside, but leave the door open. You spot anything that looks out of place, tell me."

Bay had worn the radio headset just like all the other SEALs, the mike resting near her lips. "I will," she promised, nodding, then ducking low to go through the open door. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom within the hard-packed-earth room. Husna rushed forward, speaking with emotion, as she brought her to a young woman who had a girl of six in her arms.

Bay knelt in front of the distraught young mother, Saima. She quickly explained who she was. Relief in the form of tears rolled down Saima's face as she gestured to her unconscious daughter in her arms. Rahela, four days earlier, had stepped on a piece of rusted metal from a destroyed Russian sh.e.l.l out in one of the furrows of the field. She did not see it, and it had sliced open her right foot. The mother drew the rag that had been wrapped around her daughter's foot.

The rotting smell of infected flesh was hard to take, but Bay had seen it before. It was infection along with teta.n.u.s, more than likely. She quickly got up, excused herself and retrieved her medical pack. Bringing it in, she quickly donned latex gloves after opening the ruck and laying out the items she'd need to try and save the girl's life.

With quick efficiency, Bay examined the oozing slice across the bottom of the child's foot. She turned and asked Husna to boil hot water and bring it in, that she had to clean off the wound area. Husna quickly agreed and practically ran out of the house to do as she was asked.

"Can you help my daughter?" Saima asked, wiping the tears from her face.

Bay went to work with dressings, disinfectant and cleaned the area off. Already, pus was oozing out of the wound. "I'm going to try," she told her gently. First things first. She retrieved a syringe and gave the girl a teta.n.u.s shot in her small, thin left arm. It might be too late, but she had to try. And then a shot of lidocaine to numb the area around the wound. Quickly taking the girl's temperature and blood pressure and listening to her heart, Bay kept her face blank.

"Gabe, is it possible to call in a CASEVAC here to the village? I don't know what LT's rules are about helping out very sick Afghans that need E.R. help."

"Yeah, I'll ask. Part of nation building. If you feel the girl is critical, Hampton will make the call."

"Then do it," she whispered tightly. "What this kid needs, I can't provide." She quickly put an IV in the child's arm and asked the mother to hold the bag higher than Rahela's head so the drip would flow directly into the child's bloodstream. She also placed a syringe in the IV and filled it with as much antibiotic as the child's body could handle.

Bay was vaguely aware of the talk between Hampton and Gabe. The bottom line was a Black Hawk medevac helo from Camp Bravo was already taking off to come and pick up the little girl and take her directly to Bagram's hospital, where they had state-of-the-art help for the very sick child.

Rapidly, Bay told the mother she had to come along on the helo ride, that they were transporting her child to the American base. It was the only way to save her daughter's life. The mother's eyes went huge with fear. Saima had never left the village of her birth or flown in an aircraft. Gently, Bay persuaded her that it would be all right.

"Gabe?"

"I'm here."