Susan Cliff - Navy Seal Rescue

Thinking about his team members gave Hud pause. Some of them might have died in that explosion—because of him. Because of his choices, his mistakes. He’d been so intent on catching the terrorist who’d killed their interpreter that he’d risked his own life, and the lives of his best friends. That didn’t sit well with him. He needed to stop lusting after Layah and concentrate on his main objective. He could still ditch her in the mountains. He felt strong, like he could hike forever.

As they started up the goat path, Layah fell into step beside him. “You are unhappy about our partnership.”

He arched a brow. “This isn’t a partnership.”

“I would like it to be.”

“I think what you’d like is for me to follow your orders with a smile.”

She gestured toward the summit. “Up there, you will be giving the orders.”

He glanced that direction, trying not to feel excited by the prospect. The lure of a dangerous challenge beckoned.

“The journey will be difficult, but it is the best way. Soon we will all be smiling in celebration of our success.” Her lips formed a tentative curve that was half peace offering, half propaganda.

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Doc. The threat of being shot by Yazidis already did the trick.”

“I wish for harmony between us, not strife.”

He squinted at her wording. “Did you learn English from a brochure?”

“No. I learned it in Baghdad.”

“Why do you cover your hair?”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You aren’t Muslim.”

“Many non-Muslim women wear a hijab.”

“Out of fear?”

“There are other reasons. Assyrian women have been wearing them since Biblical times. I do it to be respectful, to keep the dust out of my hair and so I can travel without attracting attention.”

He doubted she could travel anywhere unnoticed, with that face. He wanted to ask more questions, to interrogate her about every detail of her life. Instead he pulled ahead, ending the conversation. She was a fascinating woman, but he couldn’t afford to get sucked in.

The steady climb kept him busy for the next few hours. He set a punishing pace to see if they could match it. They couldn’t, but there were no complaints. No one requested a break. Soon he was sweating, his leg muscles burning.

He spotted a plateau where they could rest. A glance over his shoulder revealed Layah in front of the others, flushed with exertion and struggling to catch up with him. He accelerated, leaving them behind.

When he reached the plateau, he found a motley group of refugees awaiting him. Two sturdy-looking, dark-haired men stood in front of a half-dozen women. Packs were scattered around in a circle. The men looked wary, uncertain if he was friend or foe. They hadn’t expected him to arrive alone.

Hud said hello in Arabic, which was about the extent of his vocabulary. Then he took off his pack and sat down to drink water. He was light-headed from the last push. All the refugees approached to introduce themselves, saying names he couldn’t make sense of. It was an incomprehensible mix of sounds.

“Hudson,” he said, touching his chest.

“American,” someone said. “American, yes?”

He gulped more water. “American. Yes. Hoorah.”

There were several cheers, as if he was here to save them. A weight settled into the pit of his stomach, making him queasy. He shouldn’t have pulled ahead of the others. Taking a deep breath, he did a quick head count. There were two extra bodies here.

An old woman and a girl.

Goddamn it.

Layah appeared with Ashur and her two goons. They were sweaty and winded, like Hud, but they’d done well. Better than the current party would do. He gave Layah a dark look, because she’d promised him a team of healthy adults. They were going to have a very unharmonious discussion about this as soon as she caught her breath.

The extra woman was pushing sixty, with a sturdy shape and a careworn face. The girl was Ashur’s age or younger. She was too big to carry, too small to carry her own weight.

The grandma brought him a flatbread sandwich loaded with meat and goat cheese. It was delicious. He devoured every bite. Then he stood and gestured for Layah to come with him. They walked about ten yards away for a private chat. He didn’t think anyone else spoke English, but he wasn’t sure. Ashur accompanied them, eating his sandwich. Layah’s cousins watched from a distance, their rifles close at hand.

“I can explain,” Layah said.

Hud crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for it.

“The girl and her grandmother asked to join our party.”

“So you just said yes?”

“They are Yazidi. I could not refuse.”

He understood her dilemma. The Yazidi had sheltered Layah and her people. She owed them a favor. “I can’t guide a team of children and old people.”

“We have no choice. We cannot send them back.”

“Why not?”

“I gave my word.”

“You gave me your word,” he said in a low voice.

Ashur stepped in front of Layah protectively. “She does not answer to you, American.”

Layah nudged Ashur aside. “The girls in the village are being taken as brides by the Da’esh.”

Hud was no stranger to the horrors of war, but this news shocked him. “That young?”

“As young as thirteen. She is twelve.”

Hud swore under his breath. He’d heard about IF militants targeting women and girls. The highest-ranking members collected as many wives as they wanted, and murdered any male relatives who protested.

“One of their leaders has already claimed her,” Layah added. “He said he would come back for her in the spring.”

Ashur studied the girl as he finished his sandwich. “She is pretty, for a Yazidi.”

“I can’t carry her,” Hud said.

“You won’t have to,” Layah replied. “She is strong enough to make the journey.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, uneasy. Layah had no idea how many things could go wrong on a climbing expedition. This entire country was a jinx, as far as he was concerned. His last mission had been a disaster. He’d left two good men behind. He’d let down his team by getting captured.

He wasn’t ready to play the hero again, physically or mentally. Four days ago he’d been struggling to survive in an underground dungeon. Now he was carrying a heavy load of equipment and a staggering amount of responsibility. Innocent lives were at stake. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“Is your shoulder sore?” she asked.

“It’s fine.”

“Any dizziness?”

He shook his head and moved past her. If he pushed them hard, someone might get injured or quit before they reached the point of no return. He could push Ashur off the side of a cliff while he was at it. “Let’s go.”

She agreed with an easy nod. “I would like to reach the edge of the snow by nightfall. How does that sound?”

He squinted into the distance. “Optimistic.”

They set out again five minutes later. Hud led the pack, followed by Ashur and Layah. Everyone else marched behind them in a neat row, with the armed guards at the rear. Hud didn’t expect any gun battles out here in the middle of nowhere, but it was possible. If they did get shot at, he planned to grab a Kalashnikov and return fire. The rocky terrain offered very little cover. The best defense was excellent marksmanship.

As they reached higher elevations, the conditions worsened. Loose pebbles shifted beneath his feet and he struggled to catch his breath in the thin air. Tomorrow they would add snow to the mix. Then ice. At some point, he’d need to use his climbing gear on the rock face. Without his technical skills, they wouldn’t make it.

Hud might have enjoyed tackling this mountain range with Team Twelve. SEALs were all experienced climbers and expert outdoorsmen. He could lead his team across the Zagros with confidence. Refugees and children were another story. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting injuries.