Page 26 of What Remains (John Worthy #3)

They both listened. For a few seconds, John heard nothing over a mosquito whine in his ears and then he caught a snippet of someone talking.

The tone, high-pitched and shaky, sounded young.

On its heels a moment later, he heard a basso rumble that he thought might be Driver followed a moment later by the unmistakable lilt of Roni’s voice.

Oh. His heart swelled with emotion. “Let’s go, come on, move, move!”

A few moments later, the tunnel widened, the ceiling soared away, and they trotted the rest of the way and into a space that reminded John much more of a true cave rather than the ones which had been carved by fighters who’d need a base of operations and a place to hide.

The floor was studded with thick thumb-shaped stalagmites formed over the centuries by the steady drip of calcite-rich water onto the cavern’s floor.

Above these spears of thinner, white stalactites hung from the ceiling.

Some were khaki-colored, but others were white as snow and reminded John of the icicles which frilled the gutters and roof of Ken’s Wisconsin home after a hard freeze.

The air was cold enough here for their breath to fog and from somewhere close, though, he caught the chuckle of water over stone.

The whole place smelled wet. John also had the sense that the chamber was much larger, its true extent hidden by dense, inky darkness.

Driver was closest to the entrance. He turned, flipped his flashlight beam up to their faces and said, “Flowers, I thought I told you to get the kids and get out?—”

“Get that thing out of our faces,” John snarled, holding a hand up to shield his eyes.

When Driver complied, he blinked against stars and said, “Flowers volunteered. Besides, Driver, you’re forgetting.

You need a shooter in each vehicle. So, what’s the story here?

” Across the cavern, he spotted Roni, Musa, and Shahida clustered together. “What’s going on?”

“I see the problem.” Flowers pointed his flashlight at the wall above the women. “There, on that ledge.”

Oh, no. Tucked into a fissure an easy twenty feet long cut into the wall and maybe as many feet off the floor was a young boy. As Flowers’s light hit him, the boy’s dark eyes sparkled. The kid looked terrified. “How he’d get there? What is he, stuck?”

“No.” As Shahida spoke, she knuckled away a tear trickling from a cheek. “Buri run. Scared of noise. Family killed by bomb.”

“PTSD.” Roni’s face was streaky with dust. “We were headed for the Humvees when he heard your flare…no, don’t,” she said when John opened his mouth to reply.

“It’s no one’s fault. I was going to give him a little sedative to get him through the flight.

I should’ve done it sooner because as soon as the flare came down, he grabbed a flashlight and bolted. ”

“Slipped right past me. I almost had him.” Driver sighed, and for the first time, John saw how drawn and haggard the man was. “I was too slow,” Driver said. “We were lucky we heard him, but we can’t get him to come down and I’m too big to fit into the crack there.”

“But I’m not. I got this.” Pocketing his flashlight, Flowers jammed a toe into the rock face and stretched a hand. “Soon as I’m down, let’s beat feet before help gets here.”

There was that word, again. “You know, that’s what Mac said,” John began at the same time Driver blurted, “Are you serious ?”

“As a heart attack, man,” Flowers said, without looking away from the rock face.

“Damn that Mac.” Cursing, Driver snatched a Harris from his belt, keyed the radio, got a burp of static.

“What?” John asked.

Driver didn’t answer. Instead, he shouted into the Harris’s mouthpiece, “Mac, what the hell are you doing? You gotta wait, man, you gotta?—”

“You doing all right?” Turning, he looked down at Roni, who’d eased to his side. “No trouble?” she asked.

Her proximity made his chest tight. There was a smudge on her right cheek he ached to thumb away and her lips which he longed to taste. “None. Although it was interesting.”

“How?” But then she shook her head. “Tell me when we get back.”

He liked how that sounded. Together, they watched as Flowers made his way along the cavern’s sloping wall. For a small man, he was very strong and quick, spidering up the wall in smooth, efficient movements. “That’s amazing,” he said.

“Even more amazing if he can get that boy down.”

Behind them, Driver was still shouting into the radio. “No, Mac, you can’t ?—”

Roni darted a look at Driver. “Do you know what he’s upset about?”

He shook his head. “Not a?—”

“Oh.” Shahida put a trembling hand to her mouth. “Look, look!”

Flowers had reached the fissure. In response, the boy tried making himself even smaller. Although thin enough to worm his way in, Flowers stayed where he was and instead kept up a steady patter. They were too far away to hear what Flowers said, but John could tell the boy was listening.

But he’s got to hurry. How long had it been since he and Flowers ducked into the caves?

Five minutes? Ten? He flicked a look at his watch.

They still had plenty of time to make it back to Kabul Airport, but only if they left in the next twenty or thirty minutes.

There was no point in shaving this too close.

“Oh!” Shahida’s eyes brimmed. “They coming, Buri coming!”

The boy slithered toward Flowers, who’d climbed a bit higher until his shoulders were a little above the opening. Murmuring encouragement, Flowers waited as the boy clambered onto Flowers’ back where he clung like a baby monkey.

“Thank God,” Roni breathed.

John grinned. “You can say that a?—”

Something, somewhere, thumped.

Radio still at his mouth, Driver froze. Everyone did.

What was that? John looked right and then left. The sound had been dull but percussive, like a balloon popped underwater. Or like thunder.

And then the earth beneath John’s feet…trembled.

“No, no !” Cursing, Driver spun on his heel. “Everyone out, get out now!”

“What?” Roni asked. “Why?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just clear out!” Then his radio burped, and Driver was bawling, “Mac, damn you, stop ! Can you hear me? Mac, we felt that! We felt ?—”

Another dull percussive thump , and this time, John staggered as the ground twitched.

Vibrations shimmied up his legs and he caught a sound like the pattering of rice on tin as a thin shower of debris rained down from the ceiling.

On its heels came a thin, high cry and John looked back.

Still twenty feet from the floor, Flowers clung by a single hand and one foot.

“Shahida!” Flowers’ voice was thin and strained. “Musa, grab him, I’m going to lose him!”

What sparked the kid off? As Shahida and Musa rushed to help, John remembered what Roni had said about the boy having PTSD because his entire village had been leveled by bombs.

And then he remembered something.

Mac both arranged the transfer with Drummond and said help was not far away. He used his Harris. Even though everyone stayed off the air, so no one could pinpoint their location.

“Oh, holy God,” he said.

“What?” Roni touched his chest. “John?”

“Mac.” This was why Driver had gone ballistic. “Mac called for help, and the only help that could’ve gotten here this far and this fast are?—”

“Oh.” Roni’s eyes went wide with horror. “Missiles.”