The body wasn’t crawling. It seemed to be floundering on its back, like an upturned turtle.
‘Can you see him, Nick? Is he OK?’
‘Can’t see anything. Just wait here, don’t leave cover.’ I grabbed my AK and ran at warp speed across the valley, my tired legs fuelled by adrenalin.
Crucial was up ahead, sprinting along the left side of the valley wall towards the entrance.
I screamed at him.
He looked across and cupped a hand to his ear.
‘Covering fire! Man down! We’ve got a man down!’ I thrust my hand out towards the track as we linked up and took cover. ‘Man down!’
Crucial brought the two gunners running towards him, link jangling round their necks. Sweat poured off their faces.
I dived behind the mound. ‘I’ll get him,’ I shouted up at Crucial. ‘You make sure these two don’t kill me in the process, yeah?’
I waited while Crucial took the two guns forward on the high ground, and positioned them to cover the track and across into the treeline.
I took deep gulps of air to rev myself up for the run. In the movies, the hero never thinks twice about running into a hail of lead to save someone, but I was close to shitting myself.
If I’d been stupid enough to run back for Yin, I’d certainly do it for someone Silky cared about. If it was Tim, how could I ever face her again if I didn’t? Besides, it might be me lying in the shit one day, needing to be dragged away.
I shouted up at Crucial again. ‘Can you see him? He alive?’
There was silence.
Crucial’s eventual reply was as calm as if we were doing a spot of bird-watching. ‘It is the Mercy Flight guy. He’s moving, but not much. You know what? I think he’s screaming, but I can’t really hear above the sound of the river.’
What the fuck did I want to know that for? ‘Are you ready? You got the guns ready?’
His reply was simple. They opened fire.
I hesitated a second or so, to check that the rounds weren’t hitting the track, then started running.
Crucial had it under control. His boys were firing into the treeline. Chunks of ready-made firewood were being blasted off the front row opposite where Tim was lying.
I got my head down, then slipped and slid my way through the mud towards him.
10
I was in a world of my own. My head was empty, my eyes focusing on the man in front of me, lying on his back, arched like he was attempting some weird yoga position. His right leg looked a mess.
I slid the last few yards like a baseball player going for base. I hit him in the side and he cried out in agony. That was a good sign. He was still feeling pain, and could breathe.
But he didn’t move after the initial jerk, and that was bad. The boy was in shit state. It would have been much better if he was kicking and screaming. At least he’d be getting some oxygen down him.
I could see now why his back was arched. He had a large green sail bag strapped over his shoulders, with half a ton of contents.
I lay flat behind him and made sure his body was between me and the treeline. He’d already been zapped.
His right leg looked like freshly chopped burger. The sat phone in his map pocket didn’t look too healthy either, shattered by the same single round that had fucked him up. His eyes were shut tight, his face screwed up in a silent scream as he tried to take the pain. Then he mumbled, ‘I never thought . . . I never . . .’
We weren’t talking walking wounded here. I pulled at the bag strap to see if there was a clip. I found it, some fancy karabiner arrangement, and undid the fastener. I pulled at his body and he rolled off the bag. He groaned loudly as he sank into the mud. I knelt next to his chest, tried to lift and turn him so I could get him on to my shoulders in a fireman’s lift. I needed his help. ‘Grab me. For fuck’s sake, grab hold and hang on.’
I got down on my hands and knees with him slumped over my back and shoulders and tried to get up out of the mud so I could grab hold of his legs and start moving. But it wasn’t working. I didn’t have the strength to un- suck myself.
The guns kicked long bursts into the treeline as I tried to crawl with him draped over me instead. But the mud was halfway up my arms and I couldn’t lift my knees. I started to drag myself, my chin less than a foot from the ground. I gulped air, my throat so dry it hurt. I could feel white foam round my mouth again, but fuck it – it would all be over soon. I just had to keep going.
I heard mumbling on top of me. ‘Bag! The bag!’ He tried so hard to grab on to it that he almost fell off me.
I half turned, pivoting as far as I could so he could get hold of the fucking thing by the strap. He wrapped it round his hand and I turned back.
The sail bag was as heavy as a fully loaded bergen. I couldn’t budge their combined weight. I was getting disoriented. Dizzy. I tried again.
I inched along with him draped over my back, his hand dragging the bag, his good leg trailing in the mud, the injured one dangling against my arse. He screamed each time we moved and the bones bounced against each other.
I looked up to see a black figure bombing it alone down the track towards us. Moments later, Crucial’s boots planted themselves in front of me with a splash. He bent down, and I could hear his laboured breathing as he lifted the weight off my back.
He turned and headed back the way he’d come. I got up out of the mud, grabbed the bag, redid the karabiner, and hoisted it over my shoulder as I ran.
By the time I collapsed behind the mound, Crucial was already at work. He pulled his shirt down over his hands before he touched Tim. There was no panic from him, but there certainly was on the other side of the valley entrance. Silky was up on one leg, well out of cover. I couldn’t hear what she was screaming: the guns above us were too busy firing at fuck-all.
Crucial was bent over the casualty. I didn’t need to ask him what condition Tim was in. I could see the gore for myself. Crucial didn’t turn, but I knew he heard me cough and puke some bile and a little rice. There was fuck-all else in there.
I rolled on to my back to recover.
‘You OK, Nick? You hurt?’
I waved at Silky to stay where she was.
The guns above us gave another burst.
‘Stop! Stop! Save ammo!’ I kept doing the cut-throat sign at them, trying to get their attention. Sam was right – the LRA fucks were probably just probing patrols, assessing our defences, maybe drawing little sketch maps to make it easier for them to plan tonight’s big event. Maybe I was giving them too much cred, but I’d survived this far by assuming always that my enemy was better than me.
I pulled out my kangaroo: 120 minutes till last light.
I stayed on my back, still trying to get my breath, keeping one eye on Silky, holding up my hand to stop her moving.
‘Tim! Tim!’
‘Wait! Wait there!’
We were never going to hold a long and meaningful conversation across the chasm of the valley entrance.
Crucial straightened the rag-doll leg and brought it in line with the good one. Tim howled like a dog. They could probably hear him on the other side of the river. He gasped short, sharp breaths as he tried to fight the pain.
