Her cheek felt as if it were on fire. Sharab finally had to lower her left arm to protect it. There was no mountainside to lean against so her sore feet were taking all of her weight. She shambled from side to side to keep from putting all of her weight straight down. At least the terrain was level. That made it easier on her leg muscles.
Her eyes tearing from wind and pain, Sharab staggered the last few yards to the boulder. She fell against it and her knees just shivered and unlocked. She began to slide down the side.
Strong, gloved hands reached around and helped to hold her up. She was still holding the gun. But even if Sharab had wanted to defend herself, her finger was too cold to pull the trigger.
A man in white winter gear pulled her behind the boulder.
He sat her down and used his body to protect her from the wind. He bent close to her ear.
'Are you the leader?' he asked.
'First tell me who you are,' Sharab said. She was barely able to say the words. Her lips were trembling.
'I am Colonel August of the U. S. Striker team,' he said.
'I am the leader of these FKM fighters,' Sharab replied weakly. She squinted across the dark plateau. She saw another man crouched there.
'That's Mr. Musicant, my medic,' August said.
'If any of your people need attention, I'll send him over.'
'I think we're all right, except for the cold,' the woman said.
'Fingers, feet, mouth.'
The man leaned nearer. He exhaled hotly on her lips. It felt good. He did it again.
'How many men have you?' Sharab asked.
'Three,' he replied.
She fired him a look.
'Just three?'
He nodded.
'The sounds we heard--?' she asked.
'Indian ground fire,' he said.
'It took out most of my team. Where is Mr. Friday?'
'We split the group,' Sharab told him.
'He is with the other half. They went in another direction.' 'Over the glacier?' the colonel asked.
Sharab nodded.
'Is that how they're getting back to Pakistan?' August pressed.
The woman did not answer immediately. She looked up into his face. He was wearing goggles and she could not see his eyes. His mouth was straight, unemotional. His skin was pale but rough. He was definitely an American and he had seen some hardship.
'What will you do with the information?' she asked him.
'The third survivor of our drop landed in the valley,' August replied.
'He'll try and link up with your teammates.' 'I see,' she said.
'Yes. The others are going to try and stay on the glacier until they are home.'
'Do you have any way of contacting them?' August asked.
She shook her head.
'And what were you trying to do?' he asked.
'Draw the Indian soldiers away from the other group, toward the northwest?' 'Yes,' Sharab said.
'We're carrying explosives. We thought we could attract their attention, maybe cause some rock slides.'
'That won't be necessary,' August informed her.
'The Indian force is heading toward us. It'll be pretty tough for them to get up here so we'll be able to keep them busy while they bring in choppers from the LOC.' August reached for his radio.
'Do you and your men need food or water?'
'Food would be nice,' she admitted.
August left the radio in his belt. He opened a vest pocket and removed several sticks of jerky.
'Give some to your teammates and ask them to join us,' he said as he handed her the flat, wrapped servings.
'We should set up a defensive perimeter on this plateau. The Indians saw us come down here. I'm pretty sure that if we wait they'll come to us. That will give us a chance to rest, especially if they wait until morning to come after us.' 'All right,' Sharab said.
