Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

She glanced at him. “You’re just a font of Grand Canyon trivia.”

“I go to a place, I find out about it. Just how I’m wired.”

“Can we try to hike some more before it gets too hot?” she asked.

“Not much shade on this trail. And the day looks like it’s going to get warm really fast. You and I can do it, but I doubt he can. And we go up much farther, there’s really no cover. And it gets steep with a lot of switchbacks.”

“And if the chopper comes back, we’d be easy targets.”

“So, night then? From here, with Roth in tow, we can make it to the top in about six hours. Before the next dawn.”

They both looked out into the dark once more.

“Sort of feels like we’re sitting in my Jeep,” said Kettler.

“Except no beers.”

He opened his go pack and pulled out a can.

“You’re shitting me,” she said in amazement.

He popped the top and handed it to her.

She gripped the can. “It’s cold. How’d you manage that?”

“Like I told you before, I have my go pack at the ranger station at all times when I’m on duty, just in case of emergencies, or if I want to hike or climb when I’m off duty. One beer is always in there with a battery-powered ‘freeze sleeve.’ Kind of my one indulgence. When I was in the Middle East, the platoon always looked forward to beer night.” He paused, and his smile faded. “It was really the only thing we looked forward to. Except getting shipped home.”

“I’m sure, Sam.” She took a long sip and then handed it back to him. “Damn, now I need a cigarette.”

He grinned, took a swig, and looked down at the can, his features turning first contemplative, and then grim.

She studied him. “Something on your mind?”

He shrugged. “What the hell. Might as well tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He handed her the beer. “I was leading a foot patrol in this little village, about a hundred clicks outside of Fallujah. Kid, couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, came out of his house, his mud shack, really. I could’ve knocked it over with a kick. We had some candy. We gave it to him. Had a translator with us. Asked the kid about some Al-Qaeda reported to be in the area. He didn’t know anything, so he said. Then this old woman shows up and she’s angry as hell. Turns out she’s the kid’s granny. She grabbed him, told us to get out. She kept screaming and getting angrier and angrier. Some of the young men in the village started to gather. So we headed out. I took the rear flank.”

He stopped. Beads of sweat had sprouted on his forehead. Pine didn’t think it was from the heat.

She handed him the beer back. “Here, drink this.”

He took a swallow of beer and continued. “When I looked back, the kid had an AK-47. I think Granny had it hidden under her clothing. Damndest thing. And Granny, well, she had a grenade.” He stopped again, the look on his face one of disbelief. “The damn gun was bigger than he was. But he knew how to handle it. I could tell that right away.” He licked his lips. “My guys hadn’t even noticed any of this yet.”

Sensing where this was going, Pine put a hand on his arm. She could feel the heat there.

“I looked at him and then his granny. I’ve never...” He licked his lips again and swallowed with some difficulty. “I’ve never seen hatred like that in my life. Didn’t even know me and hated my guts. Both of them.”

“They hated what you represented and why you were there, Sam.”

“I shot the kid in the leg. I didn’t want to kill him. Just stop him from shooting me and my guys. But the round must have clanged off a bone and caught his femoral. It was a geyser. He was dead just like that. Just fell to the dirt and then...”

“You don’t have to do this,” said Pine, squeezing his arm. “You don’t have to say any more.”

Kettler shook his head, kept going. “Granny looked down at him and then screamed. She looked back up at me, tears streaming down her face. She was getting ready to pull the pin and throw the grenade at us.” He paused but only for a second. “I shot her, too. In the head.” He stopped and looked at her. “You want to know why?”

Pine didn’t say anything, which he apparently took as assent.

“I figured she wouldn’t want to live. So I killed her. I was acting like God, but I wasn’t. I’m not. I didn’t know shit about shit at that moment.”

“You did what you were trained to do. You saved your guys.”

“Yeah, trained to kill kids and grannies. Not what I signed up for, Atlee. Really wasn’t. No way in hell. It’s been over ten years and I still have nightmares about it. I’m pulling the trigger over and over. And they just keep dying.”

“You had no other options, Sam. You were caught in an impossible situation.”

He glanced over at her. “The night I came by with the beers?”

“Yeah?”

“I had that nightmare. Came out of it soaked in sweat. And then... I thought about calling you and just... seeing you. It... helped.”

“I’m glad, Sam.”

They sat in silence for about a minute. The only sounds were the wind and the pounding of water from the river below.

She slipped off her jacket and held up one bare arm, showing her tats. “Mercy was my twin.”

“ Was? What happened to her?”

“Somebody came into our bedroom one night and took her when we were six. I never found out what happened to her.”

“God, Atlee. I’m so sorry.”

“I guess that was the reason I joined the Bureau.” She glanced at Kettler. “To make sure other people get justice because... because Mercy never did.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Can’t think of a better way to spend your life.”

“I don’t really talk about it. Sort of like you.” She looked around. “But now I figured, what the hell, right? Tomorrow seems a long way off, if it ever comes.”

Kettler nodded and said slowly, “I thought I could beat this on my own. But.” He shook his head. “I’m... I’m going to get some counseling. The VA has a place not that far off. I’ve got to get this figured out. I came out to this place thinking maybe working here would do the trick, but it hasn’t.”

“Counseling is good, Sam. Really good.”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that.” He sighed and looked away. “You ever think about getting some counseling too? With your sister and all?”

Pine didn’t answer him.

The heat of the day passed with no choppers coming for them. And no teams of uniformed soldiers with M4s scaling the trails after them, either. The reason might have been obvious: The daylight revealed everything.

The rains kicked in while Kettler and Pine had taken turns sleeping. When they rose at ten p.m., the weather system had passed, and the skies had cleared a bit. They woke Roth, and the three of them ate and drank enough to fuel themselves for the final assault to the North Rim.

As they roped up, Kettler put his hand on Roth’s shoulder. “Okay, Dave, here’s the deal. We got some switchbacks coming up and they’re steep. But we’ll get through them. Then it’s long and rough, but doable. Then we get a few miles of fairly flat terrain. After that, we’re going to head east where the trail forks. There are more switchbacks, and it’s a lot more rugged than the trail to the west, but it’s miles shorter. You just watch me and take it slow and easy, and before the light comes, we’re going to be on paved surface roads. Sound good?”

“But what about the pack? It’s my turn to carry it.”

“Atlee and I have decided to divvy up that duty.”

“But it’s not fair to the two of you.”

“You’ve been down in this Canyon a long time. We haven’t. It drains you. Every person has to look at themselves and see what’s best for the team and mission. Same thing you and your team probably do when inspecting WMDs.”