Operation Summer Storm (10 page)

She wasn’t sure how far they’d gone—it felt like they’d been climbing for days but eventually they came to a stop. Left with strict instructions not to so much as breathe while the men scouted out to check and secure the area, Summer collapsed gratefully to the ground and for once put up no fight to be stopping. She was too tired to care they were leaving her alone in the jungle. As quietly as they had disappeared into the jungle, they returned—scaring the living daylights out of her in the process.

Taking a drink from her water bottle, she wiped the sleeve of her arm across her forehead and wrinkled her nose in distaste at her filthy clothing.

“Undo your shirt.”

Summer looked up at Tate as he moved toward her and gave him the darkest look she could summon, “In your dreams cowboy.”

“Your shoulders are sore aren’t they?” he asked with a weary sigh.

“They’re all right,” she told him, surprised he’d noticed.

“Show me,” he didn’t wait for her to cooperate. He moved the collar of her shirt to one side and took a look for himself. Craning her neck around, she just managed to glimpse the red abrasions—which had been stinging most of the morning.

“Undo the top few buttons so I can put something on it before it gets infected,” he ordered gruffly.

Too tired to put up a fight, Summer fumbled with the buttons and eased the shirt off her shoulders. The antiseptic stung as it touched the sensitive, grazed skin.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” she hissed in protest against the sharp sting as he dabbed at the graze.

“Get some rest,” he ordered as he stood up and walked away without a backward glance. She buttoned up her shirt then rearranged her pack so she could use it as a pillow. Maybe she’d just rest here for a little bit until it was time to move again…

Summer wasn’t sure what had alerted her, but in an instant she was wide awake. Her eyes sprang open to find a blurred shape looming above her. As she opened her mouth to scream, a large hand clamped over it firmly. Her frantic struggles stilled as her frightened, sleep-clouded mind cleared enough to realize it was Tate. Alarm transformed into outrage within a matter of seconds.

He whispered an urgent demand to follow his lead as he snagged the pack she’d been laying against with one hand and pushed her into the thick undergrowth nearby with the other. Lying on the ground—his big body half across her own smaller one, his hand came back to cover her mouth as she opened it to protest. Summer looked up at him with sparks flying from her eyes, certain he’d gone completely out of his mind.

Then she heard them.

Voices.

They spoke in a blunt, unfamiliar dialect that sent a quiver of fear throughout her. Tate dropped his gaze back to her and gave a silent warning to trust him before he returned his gaze to the danger now lurking around them. Footsteps passed by—so close that Summer heard every leaf squashed and footfall thud. Her breath froze in her lungs and she screwed her eyes tightly shut. Panic engulfed her and the urge to run pounded through her brain, but the weight of Tate’s warm, solid body kept her—quite literally pinned to the ground.

Summer felt the beads of sweat as they traveled a path from her forehead down her neck and across her chest. The warm scent of Tate’s body heat meshing with her own filled her senses. In some other place and time she’d probably find this a complete turn-on. Here and now—it was the only thing that made her feel safe.

For what seemed like hours they remained where they were, motionless as they waited. A slight movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and her heart rate kicked up a notch as she realized what it was. A few mere inches from her face sat the biggest pray mantis she’d ever seen. It continued its mesmerizing motion of rocking back and forth on a leaf—completely oblivious to the danger which surrounded the humans laying beside it.
Christ, she hated insects
—
any insects, but especially large, creepy pray mantis-type insects! Get a grip Sheldon! You’ve got rebels capable of killing you without a second thought
a few feet away, and you’re freaking out over a stupid insect?

Finally, Tate uncurled her fingers from his shirtfront, where she hadn’t realized she’d put them, and eased himself away.

She watched him make a few hand signals and Maloney appeared beside her as Tate disappeared into the jungle. Maloney positioned his gun before him, jamming his eye against the scope as he lay next to her. “Tate’s gone for a look. We’ll just wait here till he gets back,” he breathed quietly next to her ear.

Exactly how he had gathered all that information from the few brief signals she saw Tate give was beyond her but she didn’t dwell on it. She was too busy concentrating on getting her terrified heartbeat back under control. More than once Summer glanced over at Maloney with a question burning in her eyes. Why was it taking so long?

He simply looked back at her, giving a slight shake of his head. The message clear…
just wait.

So, they did.

Through the silence, her ears adjusted to the bushland about them. Every creak, groan and rustle became louder in the absolute silence which surrounded them. Tate returned and the others materialized from various positions like apparitions in the night. Taking their lead, Summer stood and joined the group.

“Who were they?” she asked, still shaken from the encounter.

“Members of the party holding your sister would be my best guess,” Tate told her. He switched his comments back to the men, “They’re well armed, typical militia. They didn’t seem to be looking for anything, just routine patrol. However, things are busy down at the camp. I think something’s about to go down,” he gave the men a measured look but Summer’s attention had been snagged at the word ‘camp’.

“The camp? You mean it’s just over that way somewhere?” she asked and threw her arm out in the general direction from which Tate had just returned, “Did you see anyone?”

“I didn’t get that close. We’ll go back now and do a full reconnaissance, then we’ll be able to tell you more,” Tate told her.

“Let’s go,” she said turning to find her pack.

“You’re not coming any further,” Tate told her in a tone that left a normal person with no doubt his word was final. However, it was lost on Summer.

“My sister is just over there and you think I’m going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs?” she asked rhetorically.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” he snapped.

Summer’s eyes narrowed and the other members of the group took a collective step back. “I am not staying here by myself.”

“You wanna’ bet, lady?” he growled. “If I have to, I’ll hog tie and gag you. It’s your choice.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” she threw at him.

“And it won’t be the last,” he promised. Then shaking his head as if to rid himself of some wayward image, Tate took a menacing step forward, “We need to get over there and assess the situation. Do you want your sister out in one piece, or not?”

She held his stare for a few minutes before shaking her head in frustration. “Fine, I’ll stay. But what happens if those guys come back?” Her anger couldn’t cover the fear her words had summoned.

“Stay here, stay quiet, and don’t move from that spot,” Tate said, his tone clipped. “Don’t light any fires, don’t sing, don’t talk out loud to yourself, and don’t scream if something crawls on you.”

“Can I breathe?” she mumbled, her irritation returning full force as she dropped back down into the under bush where she’d hidden earlier.

“As long as it’s quiet,” he graciously allowed. They left once more and this time Summer felt very alone.

She tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, which wasn’t easy hiding under leaves and plants that made you itch and scratch. Mosquitoes buzzed around her and she was grateful she’d guarded against malaria, amongst other nasty tropical diseases before venturing out to find Tate. Shuffles nearby made her stiffen in anticipation. She scoured her memory and tried to recall geography lessons. What animals were native to Cambodia? She was pretty sure tigers were somewhere on the list but decided to veer away from that particular train of thought—she had enough to handle putting up with Tate.

The noises stopped and Summer breathed a sigh of relief. Hunger pains once more nagged at her so she opened her pack and withdrew a chocolate bar she’d noticed in there earlier. She didn’t know why the men grumbled over their ration packs—they had chocolate in them for heaven’s sake—what more could you ask for? The wrapper slipped from her fingers as she was about to put it back into her bag and she bit back a cry of pain as she inadvertently reached through a tangle of sharp vines to retrieve it. She jerked her hand back and the wrapper, propelled by the vines, fluttered across the barrier between her and the clearing on the other side. With an annoyed huff, she got to her knees and prepared to crawl out and retrieve it.

She didn’t notice the footsteps until they were almost upon her. With her heart in her throat, she watched as two figures came into sight. Frozen to the spot, she watched in horror as they came closer.

The men were dressed in mismatched clothes—not in a uniform, as she’d expected. They were thin, dark, and wore bandanas around their dark midnight colored hair—they also carried very large rifles. She whispered a long forgotten prayer, urging the two men to keep walking and hoped they would miss the piece of litter that would surely alert them to a foreign presence.

The scene before her unfolded as if in slow motion—the wrapper—although colored in the dull lifeless green of the military—still stood out like a neon sign in this natural vegetation. She saw a look pass between the two men as they noticed it.

Summer—frozen halfway to her feet, discovered her survival instinct had kicked in her body’s natural reaction to fear. Fight, or flight.

She ran.

Too terrified to remain exposed and vulnerable to the two men who were mere seconds away from discovering her in her hiding spot, she ran as fast as she could. Over the noise of her lungs sucking in copious gulps of air she heard her pursuers crashing through the foliage behind her. Vines whipped at her face and the ground shifted unevenly beneath her feet, causing her to lose her footing. As if in slow motion, the ground rushed toward her—she was going to die—and she was now petrified.

She tried to get up but a foot on her back pinned her to the ground. The two men spoke in their harsh guttural dialect and Summer’s body trembled in fear as she lay helpless and at the mercy of these two men. From somewhere in the back of her mind she realized they must be wondering where a blond haired woman had came from this deep in the jungle and seemed to be arguing over what to do with her. A hard flip of the foot turned her over and Summer found herself lying on her back, staring up at the two soldiers.

One of the men had a large scar that ran from the corner of his right eye to the corner of his mouth. He also wore a look that made her blood turn to ice in her veins. She tried to squirm backwards in an attempt to get away but the man with the scar bent down and slapped her–hard across the face. Trembling with fright and seeing stars, she tried to pull away but his cruel hands held her tight.

Her frantic sobs and pleas seemed to have little effect. The other man, shorter and with a thinner face, snapped at his partner and reluctantly he released her. They tied her hands in front of her and pulled her to her feet. With a jerk of the long rope lead, she had little choice but to stumble along behind them.

When she dropped behind after losing her footing, she received a rough push which almost sent her sprawling on to the ground. She bit back a sob as she remembered how horrible she’d thought Tate had been thinking she’d give anything for one of his damn sarcastic looks right now.

She had no idea which direction they traveled. The thick jungle all looked the same to her but as she plodded along her head began to clear. Instead of giving into the blind panic she’d succumbed to, she tried to calm down and think rationally. These men had to be connected to the hostage camp. She didn’t know it for sure but it made sense. Tate and the others were out there, watching and waiting. All she had to do was make it to the camp alive and she’d be all right. With that thought in her mind, everything seemed somehow more manageable.

Summer saw with a mixture of both dread and relief, the high wire gates at the entrance of the camp come into view. A bamboo tower stood just inside the main entrance—a large gun attached to the viewing platform. She resisted the urge to search for a sign of Tate and the others among the cover of the jungle, and hoped to goodness they still lurked out there somewhere nearby.

Then a second thought flashed through her mind making her miss a step. Willow. She’d be seeing her sister. She could handle this, she repeated firmly in order to convince her doubtful mind. The thought wavered as her stumble prompted a swift jerk of the rope around her sore, red wrists in warning. Willow was getting closer with each step she took. It was just a matter of how you looked at things. Motivational speakers all over the world used the glass-half-empty, or glass-half-full theory. In that regard things were looking better. Letting out a slow breath she looked up and realized she just became the main attraction for the entire camp. Then again…what the hell did she know about motivational speaking?