The Soldier and the Princess

Chapter thirty-two

Silas

“Corporal,Idon’tcare how you do it, but get us the fuck outta here. Now.”

Adams stared at me, understanding dawning in his eyes, and then he put the Humvee back into drive and hit the gas. The men in front of us dove out of the way, one man even climbing on to the hood of the truck. But, to his credit, Adams didn’t waver. He kept the Humvee moving forward at a steady pace, right up to the moment it slammed into the back of the truck in front of us.

“What the fuck?” came the shout over the radio. “Get off our ass, man.”

“Negative,” I replied, my eyes trying to look everywhere at once. “They’re after our charge. Miss Beecher is the target. This is not just an ambush. It’s a kidnapping attempt. Now, drive. Drive!”

I got no response, but I didn’t need one. The truck in front suddenly darted forward, crashing into the overturned cart in front of it and pushing the entire wreckage farther down the narrow street. The sound of the crowd rose around us as they hollered, continuing to assault the truck as we moved.

“Come on. Come on!” Adams shouted, slamming his palm down on the steering wheel.

“Sergeant Harrison?” came Liz’s frightened voice from the back seat.

“I’m working on it, Liz.” I spun in my seat to find her wide eyes staring back at me. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The truck in front of us was still pushing forward and the end of the road was in sight, the wide-open desert only two short blocks away. The man on the hood of the Humvee was on his knees, slamming the butt of his rifle into the windshield, trying unsuccessfully to shatter the glass.

“Sarge? What do I do?” Adams asked, flinching with every strike.

I was about to tell him to gun it forward, then brake hard, hopeful that would dislodge the asshole who was trying to wreck our shit, but I didn’t even have the time to open my mouth before another explosion rocked us, this one much closer.

“Holy fuck!” Adams spun in his seat, and we both stared in shock at the Humvee behind us, the roof turret now belching a thick column of black smoke. “What the hell did they do to it?”

I didn’t know, but I suspected whatever it was involved something bigger than a grenade. The smoke kept spilling out of the vehicle, preventing me from seeing if anyone was alive inside, but seeing as no one had attempted to exit, I had my doubts. The radio was going crazy, shouts and commands issuing from the lead vehicle and from back at Shinand Base, but I couldn’t do anything but stare.

There were four men in that truck, men that I knew and respected, and now they were gone.

I swallowed heavily, trying to think. How the fuck were we gonna get out of this mess?

“There we go!” Adams suddenly shouted, and I turned to see the truck in front of us had finally pushed the cart far enough to give us access to the next cross street, and we surged forward, following them into a sharp left-hand turn. My last glimpse of the street we had just left was of a silent Humvee, and the crowd of men who were cheering the deaths of my friends.

Dragging my attention back to getting us the fuck outta Dodge, I saw we were now speeding as fast as we could down this new road, our hood now clear of the clinger that was previously blocking our view. No longer heading toward open territory, our escape was driving us deeper into the heart of Delaram proper, where the streets were narrower, the buildings taller, and the danger that much higher.

“Where are we going?” Liz asked, back in her seat now that the ravenous crowd was behind us. Ted, the consummate professional that he was, was still rolling, trying to capture everything he could.

“Right now, the goal is to just be ‘not here’,” I answered, watching as the lead truck kept trying to find a way out of the rabbit warren of streets.

There was a dead end ahead, a looming wall covered in flags and banners, and our convoy of two hung another right.

This time, it was to another dead end. Unfortunately, the driver realized it too late and didn’t have the time to stop before he smashed into the wall.

“Son of a bitch!” Adams cussed, already reversing out of the alley.

“We got QRF headed your way,” came the disembodied voice on the radio. “Give us your location.”

“Fuckin’ lost. That’s our location.” Adams grumbled, still reversing back the way we had come. I could see the other truck limping along, the front end damaged, but still functional.

Logging our coordinates, I relayed them to base, then looked around again. “There,” I said, pointing at an opening in the street. “About a hundred yards back and to your right.”

“Too many rights makes a circle, Sarge.”

“You got a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then just drive.” We backed up, our tires crunching over wooden crates and debris all along the edges of the narrow road. “It’s gonna be tight.”

And it was; as soon as we turned down the new road, I felt a sense of claustrophobia, the walls of the buildings on either side of us crowding close.

But, there at the end, finally, was the open desert.

“We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make it,” Adams chanted, mostly to himself.

He was fuckin’ wrong, though.

About a hundred yards from the end of the lane, the buildings narrowed considerably, and suddenly we were trapped, our forward momentum coming to a grinding halt as the solid stone walls gripped the front end of the truck like a vice.

We all went flying forward, Adams smashing his face on the steering wheel, Liz and Ted slamming into the back of our chairs.

“Bloody hell!” Liz moaned, pushing back into her seat. “Everyone alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Adams answered, though when I looked at him, his nose was clearly broken, the blood running down his chin at a good pace. I nodded at him, then turned to look at Liz and Ted.

“You both okay?”

“Got a good knock to the head, but I reckon I’m alright. Ted?”

“I could use a cuppa, but other than that, I’ll keep.”

“Good,” I started scanning our area. “Can you get us out of here, Adams?”

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, seemingly startled to find blood there, then cranked the engine.

Nothing.

He tried again, this time getting only the tick-tick-ticking as the starter went, but nothing caught.

“Doesn’t look like it, Sarge.”

Shit. “Alright, then,” I muttered. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The buildings around us were tall, likely newer construction than most in town, and that left us with very little visibility. I couldn’t see the second Humvee anywhere, and they weren’t answering when I tried the radio. Not sure if the failure was with our radio or theirs—and not wanting to think about the other reasons they might not be answering—I tried raising Shindand Air Base and got no response there, either.

“Looks like we’re on our own for the time being.”

“Right,” Liz said, her no nonsense attitude so refreshing. “What’s the plan, then?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?

I hated to stay where we were, sitting ducks in a truck that couldn’t move, but what were our other choices? Leave the Humvee and try one of the buildings, which may or may not be filled with enemy combatants? Or did we strike out for the end of the road, head out into the open desert and leave ourselves open like targets on a firing range?

Before I could weigh out the options, the decision was made for me.

“Uh...is that gonna be a problem?” Ted asked, jerking his chin toward the front of the truck. Following his gaze, I could see smoke coming out of the hood, getting thicker by the second.

“We gotta move, folks.” Spinning in my seat, I reached overhead to unlock the turret, sliding the hatch up and stepping back. “Alright, Corporal, you’re first.”

Moving faster than I would have thought, Adams leapt over the seat and scrambled out of the hole, landing in a heap in front of the Humvee and bouncing up again. He had his rifle up and his back to us, scanning the area as best as he could. Once he was as confident as he could be that the coast was clear, he gave me the signal and I turned to Liz.

“Alright, ma’am. It’s your turn.” I held out my hand, offering her support as she clamored over the seats awkwardly.

“I told you,” she grunted, her knee on the driver’s seat, “not to call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”