Page 78 of Dead Fall

“No,” Harvath replied. “To be honest, we have no idea why they were there. According to the list, no art was being stored in that town. The orphanage was maybe just in the wrong place at the wrong time and everyone inside paid a horrible price.”

Hookah looked at him. “How horrible?”

“Picture the barbarity you saw upstairs but with children as the victims.”

“Jesus.”

Harvath nodded. “Now you know why I took this assignment. And why I’m going to see it through; even if I have to do it alone.”

“You’re not going to have to do it alone,” said Hookah. “We’re going to help you kill these Orcs. Every last one of them.”

“Amen,” Jacks replied.

“Ooh-rah,” said Krueger.

They found Biscuit standing alone outside smoking a cigarette. “You all right?” Hookah asked.

The young Canadian responded slowly. “Thisfuckingwar,” he said.

They all felt the same way. There was nothing more to say. It was time to shed their equipment, stand down, and rest for a little while.

The small building that had been prepared for them turned out to be an empty garage with a small, rustic guest accommodation above.

After Harvath had moved the Novator inside, they unloaded their gear and carried what they needed upstairs.

A fire had been lit in the fireplace and a pile of split wood stacked next to it. On the stove, a large pot of stew, probably rabbit, sat simmering.

“Holy shit,” Biscuit said from the bathroom. “A shower. And the water’s hot.”

“Don’t use it all,” Hookah warned, removing his battle belt and setting it in the corner next to his rifle. “Or else.”

A large glass bottle filled with cloudy liquid and stopped with a nicked-up cork sat in the middle of the dining table. In front of it were several glasses, as well as plates with pickles, cured pork, cheese, and pieces of dark rye bread.

Jacks uncorked the bottle and took a whiff. “Samohon,” he declared. “Ukrainian moonshine. Anyone interested?”

All the men, including Harvath, raised their hands. After what they’d seen inside the convent, they could each use a good, stiff drink.

Jacks lined the glasses up and poured.

While he did, the men peeled off their plate carriers, kicked off their boots, and made themselves comfortable.

Leaning back on the couch, drink in hand, Krueger said, “I forgot how good this feels.”

Removing some pain pills from his IFAK, Harvath sat down at the table, popped them in his mouth, and washed them down with a big swig of moonshine.

“Can you spare a couple of those?” asked Hookah.

Harvath tossed him the bottle of pills. The man shook some into the palm of his hand and then tossed the bottle back. “Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.”

The team was wiped out and they soon fell into a fatigued silence with nothing but the fireplace crackling in the background.

When Biscuit emerged from his shower, Krueger went next, followed by Hookah and then Jacks. Harvath volunteered to go last. With the burn he had suffered to his back, he’d be taking the world’s shortest shower and really didn’t care how much hot water was left at that point. He just wanted to get clean and apply some of the salve they’d given him at the hospital.

Finally showered, shaved, and with a couple of shots of moonshine in them, the men’s appetites began to return, and they helped themselves to food.

After they had eaten, Jacks said, “So what’s the plan?”