Page 36 of Shadow Target
“Hang on,” he gasped, taking her deeper into the darker reaches of the grove. “We’ll rest in a minute. I need to check out your leg then.”
His mind whirled with options. Willow had lost their knapsack. It had contained both pistols, their boots, and their cell phones. Shep knew she probably felt terrible about it, and there was no way he was going to harangue her about it any time soon. Right now, they were running for their lives. The shade from the trees that grew thickly together here closed in on them. Even though they had lost their leaves for the winter, the tight-knit tree community did provide thick cover. Shep saw a slight knoll ahead, further trees and saplings cresting it. Maybe they could hide there for a moment and catch their breath. He felt Willow leaning more and more on him. Shep was worried. He knew her injury was serious. This was Willow: she would never lean on him like this otherwise.
“Okay, we’re going to get you sitting,” he told her as he guided her round the knoll to hide them, helping her turn toward him, keeping his hands around her waist. Willow looked bedraggled, her hair curly, wet and framing her pale face. He saw pain in her eyes, her lips compressed. She was brave and he loved her fiercely for her courage under the circumstances. The leaves crunched as he nestled her down, placing her back against the smooth bark of a large tree. There were a lot of saplings of different ages all around them, providing even more cover than he had hoped for. Rapidly, he took in her condition. The palm of her right hand was bleeding. Her right trouser was ripped, blood staining into the fabric above the unseen injury.
“Dammit,” Willow said, her voice off key, “a limb snagged me beneath the surface, Shep. I couldn’t get loose. The current dragged me under,” and she pulled back the trouser leg, revealing a six-inch slice up her calf.
“You couldn’t see anything in that river,” he muttered, kneeling over her leg, gently pulling her hands aside. “Looks like about a half-inch-deep slice into the meat of your calf. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
Tipping her head back, closing her eyes, she whispered, “Not in as much as I am for losing our knapsack.” She sat up, touching his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Shep. I lost everything we needed.”
His throat closed as he saw the tears glimmering in her darkened green eyes and felt her anguish. “Don’t worry about it.” He reached over, caressing her damp cheek. “It’s all right, Angel. We’ll manage without it.”
“What? We’re both barefoot, Shep. That’s going to slow us down a lot.”
He moved his hands around on her leg, studying the cut. It wasn’t bleeding much, and that was good. Another inch? That branch would have torn into deep muscle. Not good. Right now, it was a surface injury. A nasty one for sure, but not life-threatening and for that, he was grateful. “Well, for a lot of Ethiopians being barefoot is a common, daily experience. If they can do it, so can we.” He gestured to the soft mattress of leaves. “This will help protect the soles of our feet, so stop worrying. Plus… I have an idea.”
She sat there and watched as he straightened and took a Buck knife from a leather sheath on his belt. It was a short, sharp blade. Pulling out his t-shirt, he sat up and used the knife to slice around the wet fabric, quickly cutting and tearing off a two-inch-wide strip from around his waist. In no time, he’d fashioned a tight field bandage around her calf, knotting it at the lower end near her ankle.
Willow’s winced eyes unclenched and she said, “Feels better. Thank you.”
Shep replied, “I wanted to make it tight enough to give you some support on it. How’s the pain level?”
“It’s okay.” Willow said back, hiding a grimace. “On a scale of one to ten, it’s a three. No big deal.”
He smiled a little, giving her a warm look. “Let me see your hand?” and he held his own out toward her. He saw her nails were broken, some torn down to the bed, leaking blood. Shep wished it had been him who had been injured, not Willow. It hurt him to see her this way. He wanted to absorb her pain. But he couldn’t, and so he just tenderly held her hand in his, slanting it gently a bit one way and then another to assess the damage.
“Just a scratch,” she murmured, resting her head against the trunk, her eyes closed.
“It is”, he said. Laying her hand in her lap, he cut another piece off his t-shirt, exposing his hard abs. Working out enough to earn them had paid off for him today. It had given him the extra strength to bring Willow to safety. He wrapped her hand, the stretchy fabric protecting the cut in her palm. Tying the bandage off neatly at the back of her hand, he said, “There.” Studying her, he saw some pink coming back to her cheeks, her lips a little less tight. That meant she wasn’t in as much pain. He fussed over her, because he’d seen the raw guilt in her eyes over losing their supplies and firearms. He saw her begin to relax beneath his care and attention. Shep knew that Willow would never forgive herself for such a transgression and that was why Shep was determined to get them out of this hot mess. Right now, Willow looked so damned fragile. He’d never seen her like this before. Again, he quietly reminded himself that she was a sky warrior. Not a ground warrior like himself. She had frozen for a split second when their unknown enemy had fired broadside at them. He hadn’t. It had been muscle memory that had spun him around and into action. To give Willow her due credit, she’d snapped out of the shock and had gone into warrior mode right along with him.
“How’s the hand feel now?”
She lifted it, giving him a look of thanks. “Much better. Thank you. Where did you pick up first aid?”
He smiled a little. Pulling off the knapsack he carried, he said, “My Dad was a hunter and tracker. He taught me a lot.” Opening the knapsack, he said, “Bingo. We’ve got water and protein bars. That’s good.” He dug into it, pulling out a bottle and opening it. “Drink as much as you can. Everyone hydrates in a desert region.”
Willow nodded, feeling like she was dying of thirst. This water tasted clean and sweet, unlike the dirty river water she’d swallowed and vomited out. She only took a few sips, aware that Shep was watching her intently. “I’m done.”
“No, you’re not. Drink, Willow.”
“But you need some, too.”
“I’ve got four more bottles in here. I need you to hydrate. We’ve got miles to walk. And it’s bound to get a lot hotter today,” and he glanced up through the tree limbs at the climbing sun.
Seeing the worry in her expression, he reached out, moving his hand slowly up and down her uninjured lower leg to soothe her. Instantly, he saw Willow begin to relax as she drank nearly all the pint of water before handing the bottle back to him.
Somehow, he had to get them out of this life-and-death situation. Somehow…
CHAPTER 11
“You stupid cows!” Tefere David screamed at his ten soldiers. “I told you to shoot HIM, not at her!” and he glared at his men. They had talked earlier to one of the fishermen on a dock and, although the Ethiopian did not know her name but had seen and remembered her frizzy red hair, had found out that Willow Chamberlin, along with another white person, a man, had rented a boat from him some hours before. It was easy enough to ask another fisherman on the dock, cutting his catch for the morning: which way had they gone. What color was the boat painted? Tefere always dressed like the locals, who had no reason to suspect the deadly cache of weapons stowed away in dark-green canvas bags, hidden from view in the gang’s pickup trucks parked nearby.
Breathing hard, he shook his finger at all his teen and older soldiers where they crouched on the hillside from which the enemy had slipped away. “Cows! Every one of you! You can’t shoot to kill!” He touched the long knife he carried sheathed in a badly scarred leather scabbard hanging from his left hip. “I ought to slice all your throats!” Satisfaction thrummed through Tefere as he saw his men’s eyes widen. He’d sliced open more than one soldier’s throat for screwing things up before. They all looked mortified as well as terrified, kneeling, the butts of their AK-47s resting on their thighs.
“Get up!” he barked. “Track them! We need to catch her! And do NOT harm her! Any of you get grabby and bruise her anywhere on her body? I’ll kill you where you stand! Now get up!”
Instantly, the soldiers leaped to their feet. They were dressed as civilians, in ragged-looking clothes, only their sturdy combat boots hinting at their true nature. Most wore turbans wrapped around their heads. Tefere stabbed his finger toward the biggest and most experienced soldier.