explosion was deafening. Even though Jamie was over a hundred yards from the compound and the ammunition depot was on the far side of that, she experienced a few seconds of not being able to hear anything. Dust and bits of debris pelted her like hail. The air was smoky, the smell acrid. Even as her mind registered all these impressions, her thoughts were overwhelmed by one piece of good news. At least there hadn’t been any surprises. Just a good, old-fashioned explosion.
She reached for her binoculars and quickly scanned the area. Dozens of men ran toward the inferno. No one headed her way. She shrugged into her backpack, then rose to a crouch and moved toward the compound.
The clock in her head told her about five seconds had passed since the ground had started shaking. Time was not her friend. In less than ten or fifteen minutes, the terrorists would stop chasing each other around and organize. Her window to find Zach and get out was seven minutes, tops. She would waste two of those just getting to the building where he was being held. She shook her head to clear any last cobwebs from the explosion. Her ears stopped ringing, and she could hear the sound of her own breathing.
Then her mind kicked into high gear. She needed all her mental energy to stay alert. Bits of metal and wood continued to fall from the sky. In the distance, a cloud of black smoke reached toward the heavens. Burning fuel. She inhaled, then coughed. The chemical smell grew as she got closer to the main compound.
The south and a bit of the east wall had been destroyed three weeks ago when Zach had been captured. The depot explosion had taken out most of the west wall. A large fire truck rolled out of a garage and headed toward the smoking fire. Jamie paused at the last shallow indentation before the compound itself and looked around.
Only a handful of men remained. Their uniforms weren’t much different from her own. In the confusion, she might just pass for another soldier. She tucked her long braid down the back of her shirt and pulled her cap low. After scanning the area one more time, she pulled out her nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson automatic and ran.
When she reached what was left of the east wall, she flattened against it. A minute forty-five seconds had elapsed. Her eyes burned from the drifting smoke. Sharp bits of wood dug into her back. She ignored it all and pictured the compound diagram. Prisoners were kept in the third building over. If it was still standing. If he was still there.
Adrenaline coursed through her, and her heart pounded, but her head was clear. Zach had made her the best. This situation wasn’t unfamiliar. She’d performed this particular exercise many times before. The only difference was, now it was personal. Pray that one change in circumstance didn’t get them both killed.
She pushed off the fence and ran into the compound. A few soldiers milled around. One she passed looked dazed. When he glanced up, his eyes widened. The edge of her left hand connected with the back of his neck, and he went down.
A jeep raced past her. The officer in the front passenger seat screamed orders. She ignored him and jogged toward the only low, one-story building. The structure next to it had collapsed in on itself, but this one was fine. She pulled open the wooden doors.
Empty interrogation rooms lined both walls. Beyond them were small offices, also empty. The floor was concrete, stained with blood and cracked. The air smelled of fear and suffering, and of the dead. Jamie held her pistol ready and jogged toward the back, where the prisoners would be kept.
The compound was an outpost, its purpose to guard the depot and distribute munitions. There should only be a half-dozen prisoners. The first two cells were empty. The barred opening in the third door showed three starved men huddled together in the far corner. She ignored them and kept moving.
Three minutes twenty-five seconds.
The last door on the right was the one. She felt it in her gut as she approached. She glanced through the barred opening. One man lay on the dirty straw. He was turned away from her, but she would have known him anywhere.
“Zach,” she said softly. He didn’t stir.
She glanced at the thick, ancient lock, then the sturdy wooden door. Despite how easy they made it look in the movies, in real life it was time consuming to shoot open a door. But she didn’t have a key and there wasn’t time to find one. She kicked the door once in frustration, then prepared to fire on the lock.
She didn’t have to. As her foot connected with the wood, the door swung open. She immediately crouched down and moved away from the opening, prepared to shoot whoever was hiding inside.
No one appeared. She held her gun in front of her as she entered the cell. When she cleared the door, she jumped back and aimed her gun. But there was no enemy.
Zach stirred slightly. She heard the unmistakable clink of metal on metal. The unlocked door suddenly made sense. They didn’t need to lock him inside. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had him chained.
She was at his side in less than a heartbeat. His clothing hung in tatters, and there were bruises everywhere. She didn’t want to think about that. She had to concentrate on getting him out of there. She touched his shoulder, and he moaned.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine.”
She lowered her backpack onto the dirty straw and flipped open the flap. Her supplies were packed in the order she would need them. Her clippers were on top. As she reached for them, Zach rolled onto his back. Her body stiffened.
She knew about torture. She’d been beaten herself, threatened with death, shot, stabbed. She’d seen prisoners with broken legs and missing limbs. In her head, she’d known what he would look like when she found him. She’d promised herself she would ignore his condition long enough to make their escape. Seeing him now, that emotional distance wasn’t possible. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the truth.
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