Trinity: Military War Dog (46 page)

As they did, noise from behind drew them around, weapons up. Prepared to fight.

The spook emerged, a body draped over his shoulders. He swung toward Heath and the others, gave a thumbs-up, and headed back toward the rocky incline but stumbled. Clear indication they were in the right place if the spook found his guy. Thumbs-up meant the guy was alive still, right?

Candyman signaled Scrip to aid the guy, then shrugged at Heath and nodded for him to keep moving.

Right.

Trinity.

Jia.

Heath eased through the narrow space between two huts, where the snow wasn’t as deep as the shadows. Grateful for the cover, he took a corner, and through a sliver of huts, he saw—No, that couldn’t be right. Haur wasn’t here. He was with Watterboy on the south side, wasn’t he?

Heath cleared the right, Candyman the left, then they both stepped into the open, sweeping the path that led down then vanished around another hut. How many huts were there? This place didn’t seem this dense from the mountain.

“Ghost,” a voice skated through the coms. “Line of sight on Trinity. North and east of you. Moving pretty quick.”

Heath keyed his mic. “Copy.” He rushed forward, in between more huts, cringing as his boots crunched on the snow-and-ice-laden path.

“East,” the voice instructed.

Heath went right.

“Ahead—wait, she ducked between the last two huts. She’s heading into the heart of the village. Eyes out.”

Warmth spilled down Heath’s neck and shoulders as he plowed onward. Why did she have to be so mission focused? Get the job done. She was a better soldier than many men he knew. Including him. His vision jiggled, slowing him.

Oh no
.

Okay. Faith. Focus on faith
.

Lord—my faith in action is believing that I won’t pass out doing this
.

Things were going in their favor—snow had stopped, wind had gone down a notch, they hadn’t encountered but one Chinese soldier—so he didn’t need to mess it up by passing out. Or put the men in danger. But even the thought of doing that stressed him. Made things worse.

He stumbled over his own feet.

A hand on his shoulder told Heath they had his back.

He drew himself up straight and pushed on.

Barking clapped through the morning.

Followed by gunfire.

“Crap!” sailed through the coms. “Ghost—they got her.”

The words threw Heath forward.

“No, back, back!”

Heath pushed on. Wasn’t going to leave his girl to die. Wasn’t going to abandon her in the midst of chaos.

“Heath, stop. Listen.”

“Not leaving her.” He hustled, M4 cradled in his arms. Keyed his mic. “Where is she? Tell me!”

“A yard north, beside a truck.”

Already in motion, he barreled forward before he heard the rest of the dialogue.

“But there’s a mess-load of Russians there.” The voice sounded strained. “Heath, she’s down. She’s not moving. Get out of there. It’s not worth it.”

“Bull! She’s my partner,” he growled as he jogged in the right direction. Each footfall sounded as a cannon blast.
Thud! Thud!
Surely, they’d find him. He didn’t care as he launched over a pile of wood, his focus locked on Trinity, finding the girl who’d done everything to protect him. Now it was his job to protect her.

As the narrow passage opened up, ahead he could see trucks. Men. Heard laughter. On a knee, he lifted his rifle to his shoulder and peered down the barrel.

C’mon, c’mon. Where is she?

A soft thud to his six alerted him to Candyman’s presence. “Anything?” he whispered into the wind.

Heath ignored the question, ignored the thunder in his chest and the whooshing in his vision. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the dizziness. Vision ghosting … gray …
No!
Not with Trinity down. Gray … dark gray …

“Help,” Heath muttered as the world winked out.

Haze and fuzziness coated his synapses. Weighted, he pulled himself up.

“Ghost, it’s okay. We got you.” Candyman patted his arm. “And guess what?”

Heath shook his head and straightened.

Candyman handed him a pair of binoculars. “Take a look. At the truck.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Heath brought the binoculars up. He peered through the lens…
Trinity
.

The snow around her a blood bath, Trinity lay on the ground.

“Oh—” Wait! He scanned the body. Wrong size. Wrong color.

“It’s not her,” Candyman said, his words thick with relief.

“Yeah.” The fist-hold on his lungs lessened. “It’s a black shepherd.” He slumped back and handed off the binoculars, shaking from the adrenaline dump. Then a hefty dose of determination surged through his veins, dispelling the chill the adrenaline left. “Let’s find my girl.”

Candyman grinned. “Which one?”

Heat swarmed Heath. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

A feeling of falling snapped Darci’s eyes opened. The room writhed. Ghoulish shapes danced before her. She squinted trying to …
Oh, afire
. That’s why the room shimmied and swooned.

She pushed back and tried to lie down again, but her head thumped against something. Only as the haze of sleep faded did Darci realize she was now propped against the center support, hands and ankles tied. Her head drooped as the room spun once more.

Pain seemed to ooze from every pore. Legs, arms, side—broken ribs. Every breath felt like inhaling fire.

“… awaiting your activation codes.”

The words brought Darci up short. Had she imagined them? She had no idea how long she’d been here or in this—she looked around assessing her surroundings—wherever it was. The village. That’s right. They’d brought her to the village. Jianyu tried torturing her. Though he’d ordered the session and oversaw it, he found no pleasure in it. She’d been at the hands of sadistic men, those who enjoyed watching others suffer, and she’d expected to see those feelings roiling through Jianyu after all she’d done to him.

Instead, she saw her own pain mirrored in his expression.

But not enough to move him to stop the electroshock session. Her fingers throbbed, and she strained to see them. Confusion wove through her as she saw the blooded tips. Her stomach churned. Bloodied fingernails … wait, no. The nails were gone. They’d pulled out her fingernails? When had
that
happened? She had no recollection …

Nausea swirled and spun with the dizziness.

Stay awake
. She’d missed too much already. What if they drugged her and pried the truth from her? Truth serums were more James Bond make-believe. They didn’t actually make someone spill her guts, but they did make one very prone to suggestion.

Is that why her head was spinning? Why she couldn’t see straight to save her life? Is that why the room darkened … even now?

Heat bathed her, cocooned her, tempted her to rest in its arms. But … something … the heat … not right.

Crack!

Darci snapped awake.

What … what woke her? How long had she been out this time? Was it hours? Minutes? Seconds? Heart chugging, she shivered beneath the tease of a draft that slithered in through the wood slats twined together.

She couldn’t stay awake long enough to break out of her bindings—if she even had the strength to free herself. Rescues didn’t happen, not in the middle of the mountains, fifteen klicks or so from the Chinese border.

Horror swooped in and clutched the last of her courage, taking it away on a gust of icy wind. What if Jianyu was planning to take her back to Taipei City?

A round of cheers shot through the atmosphere, chilling and haunting. Darci wondered who’d been killed. It sounded like
that
kind of exultant cheer.

She pulled at the restraints. Her shoulders sagged in exhaustion.
Oh, God, I am in trouble
. Worse than ever before. The realization proved heady, suffocating. She struggled for a normal breath, not one strangled with panic.
I won’t make it without Your help
.

But God didn’t help her mom. She’d died clinging to her convictions. Her faith.

The missionary who delivered the message had said her mom had been unrepentant about her faith to the authorities. She preached to them.
Like Nora Lam
.

A shudder rippled through Darci. At a youth camp, she’d seen the movie of Nora’s firing squad testimony. And Darci had bolted out of the building, sobbing, remembering her mother. It’d been way too close to home. She struggled with anger—why hadn’t God given her mother that sort of miracle? And if He wouldn’t give her mother, who’d died for Him, why would He work a miracle for her?

A whimper squirmed past her hold. “Please … God … she believed in You …”

Defeat shoved her courage back from where it’d come. She couldn’t survive on her mother’s faith. Isn’t that what she’d been doing all these years? Being a good girl, attending church, reading her Bible—when missions afforded her that luxury—but … faith. What was it?
The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen
.

Well, she sure couldn’t see her way out of this mess.

But did she believe God would get her out?

Exhaustion tugged at her, encouraging her to fall back into its sleepy embrace. So tired. So much pain … so sleeeeeppy …

No!

No more sleep. She had to stay awake. Stay alert. Darci pushed herself up against the wood. Propped her head back. The fire drew her attention. A story … there was a story … three men … Shad’,’ Shach, and ‘Nego. They’d told the king that even if God didn’t rescue them, they wouldn’t bend their knees.

Resolve festooned itself around Darci’s wounds, inside and out. That’s right.
God, You can. Even if You don’t, I believe in You
.

The door flapped open. A cold wind snapped into the hut.

Darci hauled in a breath as a dark shape swam toward her. She moaned a single prayer—
God help me
—knowing she was powerless to stop the darkness drenching her mind and body.

Cold pressed in around her, nudging her from the iron-clad grip of sleep. Oh, everything hurt. Hurt so very bad. Each minute, each breath dragging her closer to death’s permanent hold.

Again, cold pressed against her.

Moaning reached her drifting consciousness.
That’s me
. Though she tried to sit up, a nagging at the back of her mind lured her to the surface of reality. She groaned.

Cold, wet lapped at her hands.

Darci yelped. What was that?

Beside her, the shadow that had chased her into oblivion the last time shifted side to side. She sucked in a breath and pulled away. Wait—what was…?

Tall, triangular-shaped ears lifted into her view and slowly revealed the glow of two yellow eyes. Holding that breath, Darci felt a swirl of warmth coil around her. What … what was it? Uncertainty held her fast.

The shape shifted up onto its haunches.

A tongue swiped over her face.

Trinity.

No. Not Trinity. No way she could be here. Just a stray dog. How did a dog get in here?

Darci blinked as the fire flickered and shadows danced over the fur, which in some places sat in wet clusters. “Trinity?”

A slight whimper as the dog scooted forward. Another kiss on her cheek.

“Trinity.” Repeating the dog’s name firmed in her addled brain that she was really here. Darci’s gaze shot to the wood door. A rescue? Could it be? If Trinity had come, then… “Heath.”

A louder whimper preceded Trinity in lowering herself and ducking out of sight behind Darci. Wet tongue, cold nose. Against Darci’s hands.

She tried to glance over her shoulder to see. Gentle but firm pressure, almost a nuzzling type of motion against the sensitive part of her wrist. The ropes binding her wrists slackened. Hauling in a breath, Darci wriggled her arms. Even as she fought free, she wondered how she’d get out of here. Weakness weighted her like a boulder to the earth. Walking drugged … that would be interesting. But she’d do it, because with Trinity here, Heath must be, too. And that meant Darci was getting out of here. Even if it killed her.

A thought stilled her.
“She never does that.”
Heath had said Trinity never broke from him. And if he wasn’t here … was he in trouble, too? Had Jianyu or the Russians found him?

Was he alone? Were there other American soldiers here to help?

Trinity leapt up. Her ears rotated like satellite dishes as she threw a glance over her shoulder, to the right. To the door. A broad chest and long legs hinted at the speed and power of this dog.

Darci couldn’t help but lean into the godsend. “You found me,” she said, her thoughts jumbled and chaotic, tossed around with relief and fear and a thrill. Tears slipped down her cheeks, renewing her hope that she might survive and encouraging her to tug against the ropes. Her wrists burned, but there was enough give that kept her fighting.
You gave up too fast
.

No, you believed just in time
.

Trinity’s bark shot into the lightening day like the report of a rifle.

“No,” she bit out.

Great. Trinity had no doubt alerted every guard and person within a fifty-foot radius. Darci yanked hard—her right arm pulled free. Shoulders aching from the awkward restraint, Darci dragged her arms around to the front. Ugh. She might as well have telephone poles for arms they were so heavy. So sore. Trekking her fingers along the ground, she slumped to the side against Trinity and dug her fingers into the ropes around her feet.