Page 33 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Grim determination to protect Elise and her charges flowed through him. “Then I guess they’d better not spot me.”

“You going in wired for sound?”

“Hell, yes.” He was no idiot. He wasn’t too proud to use the full resources of H.O.T. Watch Ops to stay alive. To that end, he moved around to the back of the Jeep and was relieved to see that Raoul’s boys hadn’t removed his large duffel bag of military gear from the vehicle’s cargo area. He spotted Elise’s medical bag, too. If only he got a chance to return it to her.

He donned a Kevlar vest, throat microphone and utility belt with a full compliment of ammunition, grenades and miscellaneous gear. He smeared camo paint on his face fast and jammed a floppy hat on his head to break up his profile. He plucked some weeds and stuck them in his belt and the brim of his hat. Lastly, he slung an MP-7 over his shoulder. The small, semi-automatic weapon was ideal for short-range combat in heavy cover like a jungle or urban setting.

“Moving out,” he announced grimly.

* * *

Elise duckedas a loud explosion sounded nearby. Mia screamed and ran for Grandma, who hugged the little girl close and began reciting a Hail Mary. “What was that?” Elise cried.

Grandma interrupted her Hail Mary long enough to grunt, “Army.”

What were they doing here? Did they know about Garza’s children? Were they here to snatch the kids or kill them? Was this what it had been like for her parents the day Garza and his men had come for them? Panic threatened to overwhelm her. “We have to leave,” she told Grandma tersely.

“We must pray to Heavenly Father and the Blessed Virgin,” Grandma groaned as another explosion rocked the house.

Somehow, Elise didn’t think prayer was going to save them from this attack. She replied urgently, “God expects people of faith to take action to save themselves. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.” If she’d been there, she’d have told her parents the exact same thing. Would they have listened to her? Could she have saved them if she’d only been there? She had to save the children in her care, now.

Emanuel ran in just then and headed straight for Elise. He wrapped his arms around her legs so tightly she couldn’t even walk properly. She bent down and peeled him off her thigh, lifting him into her arms. “Come on, Grandma. This way.”

The older woman stopped long enough to grab a black shawl and a small, lumpy bag while Elise moved into the doorway to assess the situation outside. Sounds of gunfire erupted somewhere behind them. It sounded as though the fighting was on the east side of town. They would head west, then. There was a fair bit of open farmland in that direction, but if they stuck to the hedgerows separating the fields and went slow, they should have enough cover…she hoped.

Grandma led Mia by the hand while Elise shifted Emanuel to piggybacking on her back. He cried against her neck, squealing every time a loud explosion blasted behind them. She didn’t shush him. Over the noise of the fighting, she doubted anyone would hear one little boy’s terror.

They cleared the village quickly and began the careful trek across the fields. She just prayed none of them stepped on any deadly snakes as they waded through the tall grass and brush at the edge of the nearest field. Grandma and Mia went first, setting a pace the elderly woman could maintain.

Shouting erupted behind them, and Elise dropped to the ground. Emanuel slid off her back, cowering against her side. She turned to look back at the village and was appalled to see soldiers breaking down doors and barging inside each house. Automatic weapon fire erupted inside one. Had her parents listened to their friends and neighbors being gunned down like this? She closed her eyes briefly and said a quick prayer for the souls of the unfortunate inhabitants who’d disastrously decided to hide rather than flee. Had her parents prayed together for salvation? Knowing them they had.

The older woman crossed herself, and Elise belatedly—angrily—mimicked the motion. God didn’t save anyone. People saved themselves. “We’ve got to keep moving,” she snapped at Grandma.

This time, she held Emanuel’s hand as the four of them crept forward. The boy’s eyes were huge with fright. Her unreasoning anger at her parents drained away, leaving behind only grief.

“Emanuel,” she whispered. “Pretend we’re spies with important information that will defeat the bad guys and win the war for the good guys. We’re sneaking back to our own camp to share our news and will be great heroes.”

The child nodded. It took a minute or two, but the terror on his face eased slightly as he escaped into the game. If only she could do the same. But she was all too aware of the danger they faced. She’d seen the results of civilians caught in the cross fire. She’d heard the screams, seen the wounds and mutilation, the vacant stares and tearing grief. Heck, she recalled all too well being that person, herself.

She would never forget the day her family had been the targets. She’d left her parents in a village while she went on a day hike with some local youths to picnic and see a waterfall.

The government officially supported missionaries and their work. But unofficially, elements within the regime—namely Valdiron Garza—had been convinced that missionaries stirred up the peasants against the government. He’d blamed the missionaries for the violence sweeping across the country. It wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter. A scapegoat had to be found, and who better than a bunch of foreigners who wouldn’t take violent action to defend themselves.

When she and the others had returned from the outing, she’d smelled it first. A metallic scent of blood had floated out of the village on a gentle breeze. And then the unnatural silence had registered. Garza’s men had slaughtered every living creature in the town, down to the last chicken. She and the others had run for the village. Screams and moans from the others had started before she got to the farmhouse at which she and her parents had been staying.

The house had been empty. She’d been hopeful at first that they’d escaped. Silly her. There had been blood, though. She’d followed the trail of it out the back door and into the low shed that served as a barn. And that had been when she’d spotted them. They’d been strung up from the rafters by their wrists like animals for the slaughter and were barely recognizable as human.

Elise stumbled as the agony of that memory rolled over her. Even now, nearly six years later, it had the power to destroy her. A small hand tightened in hers, startling her. She glanced down and caught Emanuel’s huge, frightened gaze. They were the same, the two of them. Orphans both. Victims of violence beyond their control. Traumatized and terrified.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Remember, we’re superspies,” he whispered.

Her heart broke a little, but she managed to smile back, “You’re right.” She glanced ahead at Mia. Did the little girl carry memories as horrifying as hers? Did she have the same bloody nightmares? The same pervasive terror that she was next? The same sense of helplessness and hopelessness? She wouldn’t wish her experience on her worst enemy, let alone a six-year-old child.

It took maybe twenty minutes to creep and crawl into the first underbrush west of town, but it felt like hours. Days. Finally, though, a canopy of green closed in overhead. The sporadic sounds of the battle behind them dulled, muffled by the jungle’s humid embrace.

She’d fled into the jungle that day, too. Thankfully, some of the others had kept their heads better than her. They’d guided her to another village a few kilometers away. Put her on a bus and told her to go home.

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