Wolf Haven. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ which was sticking out of his pants. This was bad. Really bad. He had an open fracture, the bone broken and splintered, tearing through thick thigh muscles and breaking out of his skin and the material of his camos. Sky felt the warmth of blood pumping strongly out from beneath her fingertips as she tried to get a mental picture of how bad the injury was. Breathing in gasps, Sky realized Aaron would never survive if she couldn’t get him medical help right away. Without light, she couldn’t find the artery that had been torn and was pouring blood out of his body.

      “Hold on,” she whispered. Quickly, she took off her heavy jacket. Sky always kept a small Buck knife in the pocket, just in case. Her fingers were shaking so badly, she could hardly pick up the knife. Finally, she did. Blindly, Sky cut her jacket front open so that she was able to create a canvas strip of cloth three inches wide.

      “I’m creating a tourniquet, Aaron. Hold on...” She found his upper thigh, shoving the strip of cloth beneath it.

      Aaron groaned.

      “I’m sorry,” Sky whispered brokenly. If only she had some morphine to stop his pain, but she had nothing. Their medical bags had been in the helicopter and there was no telling where they were now.

      Quickly, Sky pulled the strap of cloth as tight as she could around his thigh. Aaron groaned. But it was weaker-sounding. He was bleeding out. She had to save his life! He would die in less than three minutes if she didn’t get the tourniquet in place. With all her strength Sky pulled the strap hard, knowing it would cause Aaron more pain.

      He made no sound.

      Her breath hitched. No. Oh, God, no! Tightening the tourniquet even more, trying to stop the flow of blood from his torn artery, Sky fought back a sob. Her hands shook as she held it as tightly as she could. She was gasping so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. Her heart jumped in her chest. She held the tourniquet tight, praying it would work. The muscles in her arms were shaking now, not used to such brute physical demands on them for so long. If she let the tourniquet go, Aaron would bleed out and die.

      Sky blinked. Someone with a small lantern appeared out of the utter darkness. The shadow of the Taliban soldier, his bearded face, the turban he wore and his narrowed eyes upon her, sent a sheet of terror through Sky.

      “Help us!” she called, her voice breaking. “He’s bleeding out! I need medical help. Please?” Her shaking voice echoed and reechoed in the cave. She watched as he set the lantern down. Soon two other men joined him. Their deeply shadowed faces were filled with hatred. She felt fear as never before. Hunched over Aaron’s leg, Sky sensed they were both going to die.

      The one soldier, the tall, thin one, opened the wooden door. Their prison was makeshift at best, nothing but thin tree saplings bound together with rope every foot or so to create the cage. If she’d realized that, Sky could have thrown herself against the structure and maybe escaped to get help. But it was too late now.

      The soldier leaned over her, curving his fingers like a painful claw into the shoulder of her uniform. He snarled something and yanked her upward. Sky was slammed into the rocky wall behind her, breath whooshing out of her. Dazed, she tried to get up as the other two soldiers entered. To her horror, one of them put a gun to Aaron’s head.

      The pistol barked.

      Sky screamed. She lurched to her feet, attacking the soldier who had murdered Aaron.

      In one swift motion, the soldier backhanded her. Sky saw stars behind her closed lids, felt herself flying through the air. And then she lost consciousness.

      * * *

      IT WAS DARK. Sky whimpered. She was somewhere else, not in the cave. She could feel a mud wall as her fingers moved through the darkness across the rough material. Her body ached. Her head felt as if it would split in two. Where was she? What time was it? And then, remembering Aaron’s murder, she began to cry out softly in grief. Aaron had saved hundreds of men’s lives with his dedication as a surgeon at Bagram. Sky crouched on her knees, her face buried in her hands, sobbing.

      Light suddenly flicked on overhead.

      Jerking her head up, Sky held up her hand to shade her eyes from the sudden light. It was a lone, naked electric lightbulb hanging far above her. Wildly, she looked around now that she could see her prison. It was a mud room. She saw what looked like a narrow wood table, water buckets nearby, and chains piled at the four corners of the table. There was a heavy wooden door to her left. The only escape. There were no windows. Her mouth was dry. She was so thirsty that she crawled over to the one wooden bucket, quickly sluicing water into her cupped hands, drinking noisily.

      The door pushed open.

      Sky gasped, crouched over the bucket, her eyes widening as two men entered. These were different men than her original captors. One of them, a short, pudgy man with a well-trimmed black beard, entered first. He wore typical Afghan clothing, a rolled wool cap over his long, matted hair. The second man, taller and with hatred in his eyes, shut the door behind them.

      Sky didn’t know what to expect. Adrenaline began pouring into her bloodstream as she watched the tall Taliban soldier swiftly come around the table. He reached down, grabbing her by the shoulder, forcing her to stand.

      Sky’s legs were wobbly. She gave a cry as his fingers sank deep into her shoulder, forcing her against him so she wouldn’t fall.

      “Be gentle,” the pudgy man said softly in accented English, giving her an oily smile. “We don’t want her skin broken.” He held her wide, frightened eyes. “Take her to the table,” he ordered.

      Blinking, Sky froze. The man spoke English very well. Her mind became paralyzed as she was dragged toward the table. Sky tried to fight. The soldier’s hands were like iron, and her struggles were useless.

      “I am called Kambiz. What is your name, please?” he inquired solicitously, smiling at her.

      Sky breathed raggedly, staring at the man across from the table. She knew she had to give her name, rank and serial number. And she did. He looked pleased and pulled out a small notebook and pen. Patiently, he wrote everything down.

      “Continue to be cooperative, Lieutenant Pascal, and you won’t have to suffer,” he told her. Giving her an apologetic look, he said, “Now, I must ask you to not struggle. Jahid will have no choice but to hurt you.” He smiled a little more. “Your choice.”

      Sky moaned and tried to free herself from the man’s grasp. She could feel her terror amp up as she stared at the fat man with the oily smile. She could feel his hatred of her behind that thick-lipped smile. “You can’t do this! There are Geneva Conventions you must follow. I won’t let you throw me on that table!”

      In an instant, Jahid picked her up bodily and threw her on the table with stunning force. Sky gave a cry. Oh, God, were they going to rape her? She fought back. Every time she did, the soldier slapped her, stunning her. She felt the icy coldness as he jerked the cuffs of her shirt up to expose her wrists.

      Kambiz scuttled around, holding her down on the table as Jahid jerked off her boots and then her socks. In moments, she lay gasping. The wood was smooth beneath her back. She fought to get up. Kambiz cursed and held her down. Chains rattled. Jahid quickly slipped them around her wrists and ankles. In moments, Sky was chained to the table, on her back, breath exploding out of her. The chains bit into her sensitive flesh, rough and icy cold. She shook with terror. What were they going to do to her?

      “Now,” Kambiz muttered, angry at her resistance, СКАЧАТЬ