An old woman and a girl.
Goddamn it.
Layah appeared with Ashur and her two goons. They were sweaty and winded, like Hud, but they’d done well. Better than the current party would do. He gave Layah a dark look, because she’d promised him a team of healthy adults. They were going to have a very unharmonious discussion about this as soon as she caught her breath.
The extra woman was pushing sixty, with a sturdy shape and a careworn face. The girl was Ashur’s age or younger. She was too big to carry, too small to carry her own weight.
The grandma brought him a flatbread sandwich loaded with meat and goat cheese. It was delicious. He devoured every bite. Then he stood and gestured for Layah to come with him. They walked about ten yards away for a private chat. He didn’t think anyone else spoke English, but he wasn’t sure. Ashur accompanied them, eating his sandwich. Layah’s cousins watched from a distance, their rifles close at hand.
“I can explain,” Layah said.
Hud crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for it.
“The girl and her grandmother asked to join our party.”
“So you just said yes?”
“They are Yazidi. I could not refuse.”
He understood her dilemma. The Yazidi had sheltered Layah and her people. She owed them a favor. “I can’t guide a team of children and old people.”
“We have no choice. We cannot send them back.”
“Why not?”
“I gave my word.”
“You gave me your word,” he said in a low voice.
Ashur stepped in front of Layah protectively. “She does not answer to you, American.”
Layah nudged Ashur aside. “The girls in the village are being taken as brides by the Da’esh.”
Hud was no stranger to the horrors of war, but this news shocked him. “That young?”
“As young as thirteen. She is twelve.”
Hud swore under his breath. He’d heard about IF militants targeting women and girls. The highest-ranking members collected as many wives as they wanted, and murdered any male relatives who protested.
“One of their leaders has already claimed her,” Layah added. “He said he would come back for her in the spring.”
Ashur studied the girl as he finished his sandwich. “She is pretty, for a Yazidi.”
“I can’t carry her,” Hud said.
“You won’t have to,” Layah replied. “She is strong enough to make the journey.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, uneasy. Layah had no idea how many things could go wrong on a climbing expedition. This entire country was a jinx, as far as he was concerned. His last mission had been a disaster. He’d left two good men behind. He’d let down his team by getting captured.
He wasn’t ready to play the hero again, physically or mentally. Four days ago he’d been struggling to survive in an underground dungeon. Now he was carrying a heavy load of equipment and a staggering amount of responsibility. Innocent lives were at stake. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
“Is your shoulder sore?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
“Any dizziness?”
He shook his head and moved past her. If he pushed them hard, someone might get injured or quit before they reached the point of no return. He could push Ashur off the side of a cliff while he was at it. “Let’s go.”
She agreed with an easy nod. “I would like to reach the edge of the snow by nightfall. How does that sound?”
He squinted into the distance. “Optimistic.”
They set out again five minutes later. Hud led the pack, followed by Ashur and Layah. Everyone else marched behind them in a neat row, with the armed guards at the rear. Hud didn’t expect any gun battles out here in the middle of nowhere, but it was possible. If they did get shot at, he planned to grab a Kalashnikov and return fire. The rocky terrain offered very little cover. The best defense was excellent marksmanship.
As they reached higher elevations, the conditions worsened. Loose pebbles shifted beneath his feet and he struggled to catch his breath in the thin air. Tomorrow they would add snow to the mix. Then ice. At some point, he’d need to use his climbing gear on the rock face. Without his technical skills, they wouldn’t make it.
Hud might have enjoyed tackling this mountain range with Team Twelve. SEALs were all experienced climbers and expert outdoorsmen. He could lead his team across the Zagros with confidence. Refugees and children were another story. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting injuries.
They settled into a steady rhythm. He pushed as hard as he dared, and they pushed themselves harder. No one fell down the hill or collapsed in exhaustion. Layah, in particular, impressed him with her stamina. She had a body like a centerfold, not an athlete, so he hadn’t expected her to keep up.
About an hour before sunset, he spotted a possible campsite. It was a little early, and they hadn’t yet reached the edge of the snowcap, but they were close. He knew they were tired, because he was tired. The excited chatter he’d heard all afternoon had died down.
He paused on a flat stretch of land and studied the area. There was a trickle of water running down the side of the cliff nearby. It was a good place to stay, sheltered from the wind on three sides.
“We can stop here for the night,” he said to Layah.
She smiled her relief. “Bless you.”
He took off his pack and sat with his back against the rock, muscles aching. He was beat. She pressed a handful of dates into his palm. Although he was ravenous, he chewed slowly, savoring each bite. The others rested with them, drinking and eating their own snacks. The setting sun glowed on the horizon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Layah murmured.
Before today, he’d have said Iraq was the ugliest place on earth. But this stretch of land was a rich tapestry of colors, dancing
