Once again, I don't own any of the Numb3rs characters or situations. I do, with probably more pride than they're worth, claim Smitty, Rodriguez, Osterman, Jeeter, Doc Smith and (now) McQuaid. Major DG and Commander Roberts are patterned after real people, though I can rightfully lay claim to one of them...sort of...'cause I'm married to him!

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Chapter 10

Shouts chased the soldiers down the hallway, where they ran over "Literally ran over; knocked her right down" supplied Colby the woman that Osterman had seen earlier as she emerged from the middle door they'd passed over on their way in. Shouts responded from the direction of the room they'd used to come in from the courtyard. The men they'd tied up must be loose. Osterman made a split second decision not to continue down the hallway. Grabbing the doorknob, he pushed open the door to the birthing room. The three soldiers barreled through the room as the women within shrieked in fear and anger. Osterman flung his body against the window screen, tearing it open and tumbling head over heels out after it. The others jumped out behind him.

The first sounds of gunfire rang out as the three men reached Rodriguez, still sitting behind the generator. She returned fire, then shouted as they joined her. "Doc and McQuaid are gone already! Let's go!" As she tried to put her own words into action, though, her leg simply wouldn't let her keep up. Granger and Osterman resorted to scooping her up, one on each side and her feet dangling nine inches off the ground. Her M16 clattered to the ground. It would make a good trade for the AK Granger had taken and still carried.

The Afghani's shouts told the soldiers that they had found the pile of weapons Doc had left behind the clinic, and then that the men had begun a search on the side of the river. The three soldiers' helter-skelter run slowed, Granger, Osterman and Rodriguez now more concerned with moving quietly than with outrunning their pursuers. The locals knew the ground. Better not to be found. The sound of weapons fire became sporadic when the local men realized they couldn't find anything to shoot at. Granger and the others continued moving as quickly as silence would allow, away from the river in the shadows of huts and houses until they reached where the road entered the village and then once more dropped into what they were beginning to think of as 'their' ditch. Then they crawled. And crawled. Even shouts soon faded behind as the villagers regrouped to figure out what had happened. And still the soldiers crawled.

"In basic training," stated Colby, "you learn two kinds of crawl; low crawl and high crawl. High crawl is basically what you do when you're a baby. Hands and knees. It's pretty fast, but you make a good target with your head and butt in the air like that. Low crawl is what we were doing all over that stupid mountain. It's not really crawling. It's pushing yourself like a worm on your belly. Your head and belly and arms and legs are all flat on the ground and you just push yourself and pull yourself forward. It takes forEVER to get anywhere, and you tear yourself to pieces on the rocks and sticks and stuff on the ground, but you do it right, at night in camouflage, and no-one can see you to shoot you. So we low-crawled the whole way back to Smitty and Doc and Lerg. We were out there for like two hours. It sucked."

More than three hours after they'd left, the soldiers gathered once again on their bluff overlooking the road. They could hear the voices and see flashlights as villagers searched along the river and the immediate area surrounding their village. Granger's suggestion that the group move further away from the road met with no objections. Once again, the wounded were carried as the group moved on—this time back up the mountain.

Granger remained behind long enough to use the village's cell tower and place a call.

"So who did you call, man?" David asked.

"Information."

"What?" Don smiled, "Information where?"

"Charlie? You tell 'em. 703-555-1212. Country code 001."

The reply was immediate. "Northern Virginia. I'm betting Arlington, Virginia."

"Why Arlington, Virginia?" asked Nikki.

Charlie smirked. "Because the Pentagon is in Arlington Virginia."

Colby grinned back. "Yup. And you say I don't get the numbers. Ha! I called information and asked for the number to the Pentagon switchboard. They transferred me and I spoke to a very nice, but very confused, switchboard officer, who I asked to transfer me to, and I quote 'any one who knows what the h___'s going on in Afghanistan.' The Major I spoke to there figured out who I was REAL fast."

"Major DG, this line is unsecure. How can I help you sir or ma'am?"

"Sir, my name is Specialist Colby Granger, and I'm calling from Afghanistan. I was in the…"

"I know who you are. You're one of those guys who's all over the D___ news." There was a pause. Granger heard mumbling and was just able to hear the words "Way over my pay grade." The voice came back on the line. "Hold on. Can you hold on?"

"Yes sir."

There were muffled shouts from the other end of the phone, some of which were even mentionable in mixed company. After two very long minutes, during which Granger watched as pairs of men began to carefully start to move out of the village and down the road, a new voice came on the line. "Specialist Granger? This is Commander Roberts of SOCOM. I need you to hold on the line. We've got some questions we need you to answer. In the meantime, where are you and who is with you?" Granger quickly ran down the names and gave their approximate location grid on the map Lerg had carried. He pulled his uniform jacket up to mask the cell phone's glow. "How did you call here? This isn't a DSN connection, not where you are."

"We stole a phone, sir."

"Uh huh." The Commander thought about that. "Why are you calling, not Captain Lerg or Sgt Osterman?"

"Long story, sir. Um, sir, I need to go. The people whose phone this is…"

"I know son. I just need you to answer three questions so I can be sure who you are. Ready? What was your first pet's name?"

"Snowflake. She was a little white cat."

"What color was your first car?"

"Silver."

"What street did you grow up on?"

"Irving Street."

"Find someplace safe son. We're coming to get you."

"Snowflake? Really?" David laughed. "You had a wittle kitty named Snowflake? Awwwww." Colby punched him.

"I was four! I wasn't the cultured gentleman you see before you now." Everyone laughed at that.

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Military to Civilian Glossary du jour:

SOCOM: Special Operations Command. The only group who make Rangers jealous (nt that they'd admit it). Before any of my more military-minded readers yell at me, yes, I know SOCOM is not actually based out of the Pentagon. But I'm willing to bet they've got representation there.

Commander: A rank we haven't mentioned yet? Yup. This is a Navy rank, equivalent to Lieutenant Colonel in the Army scales I gave you in chapter 1. SOCOM includes representatives of all services.

DSN: the military phone network. No, I don't know why the military has its own phone network, but it's been a minor annoyance to me in the past. Why? Because as far as I know, it's not possible for a civilian phone in a foreign country to call a DSN phone in that same country, even when you really, really want it to. Pain in the neck.

One more chapter to go! Thanks for hanging in with me!

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