Disclaimer:
Colby, Charlie, Don, David + Nikki=not mine.
Smitty, Osterman, Smith, Lerg, Jeeter + Rodriguez=mine
not mine + mine = fun for a writer like me!
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Granger unscrewed the red lens from the flashlight and affixed the yellow as he and Osterman made their way, crouching, back to the cave. He flashed the light twice. It was barely visible against the quickly lightening sky. Smith sighed in relief at the positive news before returning to her patients. Before long, the entire group was tucked inside the cave, gathered around the map.
"We're here." Osterman pointed to the spot indicated by the grateful Afghani.
Granger thought, and then pointed to a large village marked on the map near the base of the mountain. "And those guys were probably headed here. It has water from this river and what looks like a road on the map." There was a general chuckle after this statement. Outside of Kabul, 'roads' on maps in Afghanistan seldom turned out to be more than one-lane dirt tracks in reality. Still, humvees handle dirt tracks very well. "My bet is that in a town with water, a road and visitors, someone down there will have a cell phone."
Jeeter stared at him. "And they're just gonna let us use it? Who're we gonna call with an Afghani cell phone, anyway?"
"We'll get to who we're going to call after we have the phone."
Colby looked, sheepishly, at the FBI team and Smitty. "Truth be told, I hadn't thought any further than 'Get Cell Phone.' I was 24 years old and kind of winging this whole command thing."
"You were doing fine, so far as we could tell." Laughed Smitty. "Anyway, those guys were really impressed, or so they told me later."
"Yeah, Colby," inserted Don, "we may have found an un-tested part of your personality here. Maybe David and I can both take off one day. Leave you in charge."
Colby turned a little green "No. That's just fine. I'm happy to follow your lead. Really."
David laughed. "That was quick."
Charlie agreed. "It's just because he doesn't understand the math."
Smitty asked "Math?"
"Yeah. Didn't you know?" Asked Nikki, "Crime solving is all about math. I thought everyone knew that. And Colby's grip on the math is not so good."
"Yeah. OK. Enough beating on me. I want to get this story told so I can go pass out and get started on tomorrow's hangover."
"Wait." Interjected Charlie, "Villagers in Afghanistan have cell phones?"
"Actually, yeah." Replied Smitty. "Everyone on the planet seems to have cell phones these days. Even in some of the remotest places my Ranger team got to, some village leader had a phone to call other leaders or, if they had one, a clinic. Problem wasn't that there were no phones. Problem was, these were civilian, Afghani phones. They don't interface with the military phone system. No way to call our base from their phones. Other problem was finding the d___ed things. You see, before the war, every village elder had one—like a status symbol, you know? But once the war started, the Americans could track Talibs by the phones, so the Talibs got rid of theirs, and then if they found a guy with one they'd figure the guy was on our side—so they took it away and killed the guy. Us and the Brits give 'em to friendly village leaders, and doctors at the clinics we build, too, and the Talibs take those, too. So there were phones out there, but people who had 'em didn't exactly advertise it."
"You're getting ahead of the story, man." Grumped Colby.
"Oh, look who wants to tell the story now." Teased Smitty. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it?"
"Shut up."
"Shutting up." Smitty grinned, picked up a handful of chips, and sat back to watch the show. He looked smug.
The party began its slow decent toward the village marked on the map. Exhaustion and lack of food were beginning to take their toll, meaning slower progress and more trips and falls than had happened the day before. After Rodriguez had a particularly hard fall, caused by stepping on yet another small rock, Doc Smith called a halt to inspect the woman's leg. When she lifted Rodriguez's pant leg, there was a pause.
"Why didn't you tell me this was getting so bad?"
"There's nothing you can do for it anyway. It's just a cut. Not like it's broken or anything."
"This 'just a cut' is badly infected." She pulled some pills out of her med bag. "I've got antibiotic pills—meant to give them to villagers with TB—but I don't know if they'll work now. This is really bad." She looked angrily around the group. "Does anyone else have some little cut or scrape they aren't telling me about? ANYONE?" The men around her blinked and backed off a bit. There were mumbled "no ma'am's" from the group. Doc Smith returned to looking at Rodriguez's injured leg. "D___ed soldiers think they can just 'walk it off.' No respect for their own bodies." She carefully washed off the layer of grime and pus which had hardened around Rodriguez's wound with some of the group's precious clean water. "This will have to do for now. You TELL me if it starts getting red streaks or if you feel like you're getting a fever."
"Yes ma'am."
"I never saw her that mad before or since. She was PISSED." Laughed Colby. "Rodriguez was really strong, though. She toughed it out all the way to that village. Don't know how."
"She's tough alright…" mumbled Smitty.
They reached the 'road'—the expected rut-filled, one lane track—just before dark on the second day, and took cover about fifty feet uphill from it, where they could observe without being seen. A surprising number of Afghani men passed in one direction or the other, most bearing large packs or pulling hand carts laden with trade goods. A small minority led donkeys or mules, similarly laden, or herded sheep or goats toward the village.
Doc Smith called it first. "Market day?"
Osterman nodded. "That's where our friends must have been headed. Taking all those pots to sell." He looked to Granger. "OK, Hero, what's the move?"
"For now, we wait. I'm betting no one's on the road after dark, and by my figuring, that's not long from now." He looked down at Smitty and Lerg, lying on the ground. "Doc, you think you can look after these guys while the rest of us see if we can find a phone?"
Doc Smith nodded. "Yeah, but leave Rodriguez here. She shouldn't be walking very far anyway, and we might need her." Rodriguez started to protest, but Granger cut her off.
"This isn't a democracy, Rodriguez. The Captain gave you an order."
Osterman started to laugh. "Yeah. The CAPTAIN gave you an order. And so did the SPECIALIST. Oh, stop blushing Hero. You're doing fine."
David reached out and pinched Colby's cheek. "But you blush so pretty, man! Who ever could resist those baby-waby cheeks all pink?" Colby slapped his hand away, then ducked his head in a failed attempt to hide yet another blush. "See?" asked David, "Sooooo cute!"
"I gotta tell ya," responded Smitty, "Osterman would have followed Hero anywhere by this point. I think any of us would have. I barely remember any of those three days, but every time I woke up, Hero was there. And that night, we needed him thinking like a leader, not like some lowly Specialist, 'cause that night got BAD."
Smitty woke slowly to the sound of low talking. It was dark and cold again, and he wished he'd stayed asleep. He turned his head and found Cpt Lerg lying on a battered litter beside him. The man was babbling incoherently. Doc Smith knelt beside Lerg, talking in a low voice and trying to encourage the Captain to drink some water. "How's he doin', ma'am?" He croaked.
The PA looked at him. "Hello, Smitty, good to see you back with us." She moved over to him to share some of the water. "Drink some of this. We're taking a bit of a rest here." She glanced at Cpt Lerg, worriedly. "Lerg's as well as he can be, I guess. We really need medivac. For him and for you. And Rodriguez, too."
Smitty looked at his surroundings, taking in the dark, the cold, and the company. He, Rodriguez, Smith and Lerg were alone. "Where are the others?"
"They just left. They'll be right back." But she didn't look so sure of that.
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Military to Civilian Glossary:
OK, wow, I got all the way to the end without more jargon. Cool. No Glossary today!