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“Sergeant Harold will take good care of her. Now get your ass in the ambulance,” General Masters replied.
Stone shot me a worried look. “Yes, sir.”
“With me Reynolds,” Sergeant Harold ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Two hours later, our search had turned up nothing. As I trudged over the sand, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes. It had to be 130 degrees today.
Sergeant Harold handed me a bottle of water. “Don’t pass out on me.”
“Yes, sir.” I drank the water down in thirty seconds flat.
“When were you injured?”
“Two days ago, sir.”
“What type of injuries?”
“Gunshot wound to my side. I was a little too close to an IED when it went off and needed stitches in my arm. I’m also suffering from dehydration and starvation.”
Sergent Harold’s eyes widened. “Starvation? Were you a prisoner of the militants?”
“No, sir. A rogue CIA agent was responsible.”
He handed me another bottle of water. “Drink up.”
“Thank you, sir.” My stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. Ignoring my empty belly, I drank more water and choked. All the Marines were staring at me.
Sergeant Harold grinned. “Let’s get you fed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The Marines piled in the Humvees.
I peered inside. There was nowhere for me to sit. Guess I was walking. I started down the hill.
“Where are you going, Reynolds?” Sergeant Harold hollered.
“There’s no room for me. I can walk. It’s not that far.”
“Like hell. The base was just attacked.” Sergeant Harold glanced inside the last Humvee. “Whitson move your ass over.”
“She’s Army sir and she smells all minty.”
I rolled my eyes. “It keeps the cooties away.”
“Reynolds is one of ours now. Am I clear?” Sergeant Harold demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
Sergeant Harold motioned to me. “Get in.”
“Yes, sir.” I climbed in and perched on the edge of the seat. Whitson was an enormous black man. I gave him my Debbie Sunshine smile when my stomach rumbled loudly. “I’m so hungry I bet I can out eat you.”
Whitson laughed. “Twenty says you can’t.”
“Deal.” I held out my hand.
Whitson shook it. “Easy money.”