The woman looks up from her sweeping. Her gaze travels over my khaki uniform, and she offers a sad smile.
Too little, too lateis what I imagine she is thinking right now.
The Canadian flag stitched to my shoulder gives away my country of origin, and I take a step forward pointing to the camera strapped around my neck.
Usually, I would have a translator.
On every other assignment, I’ve been allocated one. But we had to travel light. The danger level of going into a volatile place like this wasn’t exactly having volunteers sign up left, right, and center.
“No. No.” She holds her hand up.
No photos.
“Okay.” I nod, holding my hand up as I let the camera drop on its strap.
Her husband stands and walks to where I am situated inside their door.
He turns back, telling his wife something.
A moment later, the three of them walk out with one small suitcase. As he walks by me, the emotion and devastation in his eyes is one of the hardest things I’ve borne witness to. Without stopping, he utters, “Now, you take.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
Drawing in a breath, I raise the camera and capture the home, or what’s left of it. On the floor where the boy was playing, a small rag doll lies on the floor. Covered in dust, the small doll stares at the ravaged ceiling, streams of daylight spearing their way through the blast-torn outer shell of their home.
“Incoming!” Cap shouts from outside. “Gallagher, NOW!”
I swipe up the doll and run from the home.
Captain Fielder tucks me under his side as shots are fired.
He radios the pickup crew as we scramble through the rubble, the five soldiers who accompanied us on our flank returning fire.
My heart races, one hand gripping the doll and the other firmly around my camera as Cap shoves me from side to side, literally dodging bullets.
Metal reverberates off metal, and soft thuds tell me some are finding their mark in the vests we wear. We keep running.
When the gunfire dies down, we round the outskirts of the village and head for the drop zone. A Humvee waits, idling, for us. The back doors fly open as we approach. Cap all but throws me into the maw of the thing, then turns back.
“Faster, ladies!” he hollers.
The Humvee shudders with each soldier as they jump up into the back. One, two, three, four . . . Cap . . . five . . .
No.
“We’re missing Sommers!” Frantically pulling at my harness over my chest from behind the bench seat, I strain to see if he’s lagging behind.
Cap’s eyes find mine.
He shakes his head subtly.
Oh god.
Burn rises rapidly in my throat, and I lurch forward. Someone hands me a helmet and I lose my stomach to it. Wiping my mouth, I lift my gaze to Cap’s, searching.
“You just learned the value of a minute, Gallagher.”
A sob leaves my throat.
