effort let it zing through the air. Bull’s eye. The razor sharp blade sunk into the guard’s back.
Justice saw him stumble and hoped it was his chance to catch him. It wasn’t. The terrorist knew his fate. He’d make sure snitching out the Americans would be his last act of defiance.
“Fuck. No.” Justice said as he watched the meatless fingers grasp the tall microphone stand and smash the transmit button. His head dropped in defeat but his body hurled closer to minimize the damage.
A single shot rang out. Justice felt the pressure of the bullet’s trajectory sail past his head. His shoulders jerked up toward his ears and he stuttered to a stop. He watched the last one of the six fall to the ground, the radio still in his grip.
“Son of a bitch that’s some good shooting.” He laughed as he looked back about fifty yards to where Batya knelt under the tent. She was soon on the move to commandeer an old Jeep and rattled over to pick up Justice.
“He radioed to them, we have to flee.”
Justice rocked back into the webbed passenger seat. “First off momma, that was one hell of a show back there. Second, I’m an American—we don’t flee.”
Her eyes slipped through the smallish space between her headscarf. He detected her smile by the raising of the cotton material wrapped around her cheeks and mouth.
“You’re welcome, American.” They sped away from the camp. She directed his attention with her thumb to the rear of the Jeep. It was full of rifles and ammunition—no water canteens though.
“They’re like camels I guess—no need for hydration. Just bullets.”
Batya tugged at the shemagh, “Where to?”
Justice began to answer but stopped. He’d not noticed how beautiful her lips were. Even through the desert’s best effort to grime anything that lived, she shone like a jewel.
“I asked, where to?”
He shook his head, “Khojak Pass. There’s a grove of shade trees. We need a break from this sun, and maybe we’ll get lucky enough to grab some water from travelling tribesmen. It’s a popular passage route.”
The ride was quick but the jolting took its toll on Justice’s battered body. He shielded his eyes to scan the area for possible Taliban scouts. It was just a matter of time until their rebel forces would converge. He needed to recover fast and prepare for the next battle.
“Pull over there out of sight,” Justice pointed to a mound circled by sparse shrubs.
“Is this an oasis or a debris center?” Batya pinched her nostrils together as she waved her other hand to swat away flies.
Justice melted into the curve of his seat, “Stop,” he said sharply. “It’s him.”
“Who?”
“Ben.” Justice whispered his name as if afraid spoken any louder would summon the devil himself.
She gripped a short-barrel submachine gun, “He’s here?”
His head moved side to side with a mournful purpose. His face felt tight enough to crack. He saw himself in the Jeep’s rearview mirror. Justice read the worry lines etched into his face through the years and the many tough situations. Often against impossible odds, he’d survived. He wasn’t sure if this would be one of them.
“Is Ben here, I asked you.” She gagged at the stench in the arid sky.
“He was here.”
Chapter 4
“M other, you know this is a business-only form of communications. I’ve asked you not to call me on the secure satellite phone. I have a job to do, and I don’t want to get into trouble again because of you.” Ben scolded his mother, Dr. Eleanor Worthington.
“Benjamin Franklin Ford, now don’t you dare talk to your mommy in that manner. You apologize right now.”
Ben dug his heels into the dust-covered hill that looked down over the Popi Tribe. “No, not this time. I’ve been busy and don’t want you juggling thoughts in my head.”
“Benjamin, have you been bad again?”
“I’ve been what your experiment trained me to be. I’m good at my job and I’ll get it accomplished.”
He
Justice saw him stumble and hoped it was his chance to catch him. It wasn’t. The terrorist knew his fate. He’d make sure snitching out the Americans would be his last act of defiance.
“Fuck. No.” Justice said as he watched the meatless fingers grasp the tall microphone stand and smash the transmit button. His head dropped in defeat but his body hurled closer to minimize the damage.
A single shot rang out. Justice felt the pressure of the bullet’s trajectory sail past his head. His shoulders jerked up toward his ears and he stuttered to a stop. He watched the last one of the six fall to the ground, the radio still in his grip.
“Son of a bitch that’s some good shooting.” He laughed as he looked back about fifty yards to where Batya knelt under the tent. She was soon on the move to commandeer an old Jeep and rattled over to pick up Justice.
“He radioed to them, we have to flee.”
Justice rocked back into the webbed passenger seat. “First off momma, that was one hell of a show back there. Second, I’m an American—we don’t flee.”
Her eyes slipped through the smallish space between her headscarf. He detected her smile by the raising of the cotton material wrapped around her cheeks and mouth.
“You’re welcome, American.” They sped away from the camp. She directed his attention with her thumb to the rear of the Jeep. It was full of rifles and ammunition—no water canteens though.
“They’re like camels I guess—no need for hydration. Just bullets.”
Batya tugged at the shemagh, “Where to?”
Justice began to answer but stopped. He’d not noticed how beautiful her lips were. Even through the desert’s best effort to grime anything that lived, she shone like a jewel.
“I asked, where to?”
He shook his head, “Khojak Pass. There’s a grove of shade trees. We need a break from this sun, and maybe we’ll get lucky enough to grab some water from travelling tribesmen. It’s a popular passage route.”
The ride was quick but the jolting took its toll on Justice’s battered body. He shielded his eyes to scan the area for possible Taliban scouts. It was just a matter of time until their rebel forces would converge. He needed to recover fast and prepare for the next battle.
“Pull over there out of sight,” Justice pointed to a mound circled by sparse shrubs.
“Is this an oasis or a debris center?” Batya pinched her nostrils together as she waved her other hand to swat away flies.
Justice melted into the curve of his seat, “Stop,” he said sharply. “It’s him.”
“Who?”
“Ben.” Justice whispered his name as if afraid spoken any louder would summon the devil himself.
She gripped a short-barrel submachine gun, “He’s here?”
His head moved side to side with a mournful purpose. His face felt tight enough to crack. He saw himself in the Jeep’s rearview mirror. Justice read the worry lines etched into his face through the years and the many tough situations. Often against impossible odds, he’d survived. He wasn’t sure if this would be one of them.
“Is Ben here, I asked you.” She gagged at the stench in the arid sky.
“He was here.”
Chapter 4
“M other, you know this is a business-only form of communications. I’ve asked you not to call me on the secure satellite phone. I have a job to do, and I don’t want to get into trouble again because of you.” Ben scolded his mother, Dr. Eleanor Worthington.
“Benjamin Franklin Ford, now don’t you dare talk to your mommy in that manner. You apologize right now.”
Ben dug his heels into the dust-covered hill that looked down over the Popi Tribe. “No, not this time. I’ve been busy and don’t want you juggling thoughts in my head.”
“Benjamin, have you been bad again?”
“I’ve been what your experiment trained me to be. I’m good at my job and I’ll get it accomplished.”
He
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