Page 107 of Lucky Charm

Hunt sat back and rested in a job finally done.

He couldn’t wait to tell Cait.

∞∞∞∞∞

The jubilation tapered some by the time they stepped off the chopper at Bagram. Barely noon, they gathered equipment and loaded the vehicles.

Hunt was the first one out of the transport when it stopped in front of Operations. “Let’s go report and get that finished.”

Doogie followed behind him as they went through the door. Congratulations flied at them from all personnel, but it was subdued.

Dirty and tired, he wanted a shower, some food, and Cait. Through the hall, they came to the Operations Center and entered. Scott was on the phone in the corner. Pictures of the flattened house were across every monitor except one. That one showed a building partially destroyed, presumably in Kabul, but he couldn’t read Pashto from the scrolling ticker.

Sutter appeared behind them ready to assist in the cleanup.

Scott hung up and came charging to them.

Hunt read the concern in the commander’s face and couldn’t figure out the reason. “What’s wrong?”

“Suicide bomber.”

“On Bagram?”

“Yes, the new medical facility. Two cars. One American casualty.”

Hunt drew back, ugly fear sweeping over him.

Scott spit it out straight. “Lucky Charm is down, Hunt. She was there. She’s at Craig. Alive, but hurt. I don’t know how bad.”

His knees folded.

The memory of her alive and against him flashed, pushing a scream of denial to his brain. Doogie and Scott both reached for him while his mind floundered in a mass of confusion. “What?”

Scott gripped his arm. “She’s hurt, Hunt. You need to get to Craig. Now.”

Doogie took his other arm. “Sutter, get a vehicle. I’ll go with him, sir.”

Hernandez stepped forward. “Give me your weapons, sir. I’ll take care of them.”

He gazed at Hernandez for a long minute, not comprehending.

Carter stepped closer and snapped his fingers in his face. “Snap to, sir. You don’t want to take them to the hospital. Hand Mateo your weapons.”

He did so, divesting himself of everything he had on him – M4, explosives, his Glock, knives, his binoculars, and Kevlar. That he was never without a weapon reared up. Even by her bedside after the mountains, he’d been armed. He reached back to Hernandez for his Glock and retained that one.

Sutter came back into the room. “Vehicle here.”

“Come on, Hunt. Let’s get to the Doc.” Doogie pulled him out the door.

Hernandez stepped forward again. “I’ll handle the report. No worries, sir. Give her our best.”

He nodded, the only reaction he could muster. Losing her had never been in any matrix anywhere.

“Not fair,” he muttered, getting in the Jeep.

“Nothing here is.” Doogie slammed the vehicle into gear and accelerated.

“Maybe we’re hurrying for nothing. Maybe she’s gone. I wasn’t here.” Hunt leaned forward in his seat, grief crashing.