They hadn’t slept much the night before, as the day had been filled with last-minute planning and the night had been monopolized by preparations and their insertion. It would be wise to get some rest now, since they were sure to have long days ahead of them. Nate pulled out a tan boonie hat from his bag and placed it over his face as he leaned back against the rock.
“Sounds good to me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ana opened her eyes to activity occurring around her. She must have dozed off without realizing it, and all the guys were moving about, clearly getting ready for something. The sun looked high in the sky and she figured it must be nearly time for the meeting. Digging in her bag she pulled out a water bottle and took a sip to wet her dry mouth as Nate walked past her. She put her hand out and lightly touched his arm, which caused him to stop and look at her. His eyes seemed soft again and she wondered if he was no longer angry with her.
“Hey,” she said. “Is it noon?” It was a dumb question, and she knew it, considering that she was wearing a watch. If she was being honest with herself, she just wanted to talk to him. Ana was beginning to feel bad for being so harsh on the boat, particularly as the reality of their situation set in, on their own in the middle of Yemen.
“Almost,” Nate replied. “Our smugglers should be arriving momentarily.” His eyes studied her face. “Are you alright?” he asked her again, genuine concern in his voice.
She smiled. “Yeah, I just…”
“Hold that thought.” He held up a finger and peered off into the distance. She followed his gaze and saw a dust trail kicking up on the horizon, coming from the desert to the north and not from the road. “I think our friends are here.”
“Alright,” Shane said. “Let’s do this.”
“Okay,” Nate began to address the group. “I’ll go down with Shane and we’ll do the handover. Wally, you cover us from here, and Tim, stay with Ana. If it all goes to shit, head east to the border and turn yourselves over to the Omani border guards.”
“Why do I get babysitting duty?” Tim asked, slightly annoyed.
“Because you pulled watch all morning. Wally is fresh. Besides,” Nate added, “if anyone will be able to get Ana to safety if things go wrong, it’s you.”
Tim shrugged. “Guess that’s what I get for being dependable,” he said, reluctantly handing the rifle over to Wally.
“Here,” Shane said, handing Nate the pistol. “You’ll need this.” Nate took the weapon, pulled out the eight-round single-stack magazine and reinserted it, and then pulled the slide back, checking for a round in the chamber. When he was satisfied, he ensured the safety was on and placed it in the front of his waistband. He looked up at Ana and winked.
“Be right back.”
With that, he and Shane made their way down the rock face to the meeting below. Wally crawled forward on his stomach and placed the butt of the rifle against his shoulder. Ana wondered if he would be able to accurately hit anything from here and decided that he probably would. She had watched them shoot several moving targets on the pirate boat without issue and this looked even closer.
Thinking about the pirates brought back several feelings she hadn’tquite worked through yet. She was shocked at how cold and detached Nate could be after taking the lives of others, mostly because he had been so gentle and caring with her. She never would have imagined he could be so callous when it came to killing. It reminded her of the men she had seen all her life, the Islamic fundamentalists who killed without mercy. It barely seemed to faze them as they beat and killed men and women alike. It scared her as a child, and it scared her now.
“You doing alright, sister?” Tim asked as he slowly lowered himself down next to her.
“I’m okay,” she lied, brushing her hair behind her ears.
“You know, Nate’s not a bad guy.” She said nothing, only nodded, so Tim continued. “What you saw back on the boat is a defense mechanism.”
“What do you mean?” She looked up at the red-bearded man, unsure of what he was referring to.
“Men have been killing each other for thousands of years. Only those sick in the head enjoy it or feel nothing at all. The rest of us simply find ways to deal with it. So, we wrap it up in bonding, camaraderie, shows of bravado. It’s nothing new.” Tim pulled out a Marlboro and lit it before continuing.
“Hell, armies all over the world have done it throughout time. American soldiers shaved their hair into Mohawks before the D-Day invasion of Europe. The Vikings would whip themselves into a frenzy before battle. Even the Romans, disciplined as they were, had war cries to rally the men and strengthen resolve.”
“You know a lot about history,” Ana noted, realizing for the first time that while Tim often played a simpleton, he was anything but.
“Militaryhistory,” Tim corrected, motioning at her with his cigarette. “It’s kind of a hobby.”
“The point is,” he continued, “what you’ve got to understand is thatwe’re not celebrating taking lives, we’re celebrating winning. The game is violence. When you win the game, you celebrate. Otherwise, you dwell on the death and the violence and… let’s just say it’s not healthy. It can lead to some very dark places.”
“Then why do it at all?” she asked, confused.
“Who knows?” Tim said. “Why do anything? Why do you study rocks and shit? Why did Nate drag us out here to this boiling hellhole in search of a lost city? It’s a calling. Some of us are bred to be warriors. My dad served in the army, and my grandfather was a Marine during the Korean War. Hell, the McBrides have been doing war since war began.”
Ana said nothing, she simply stared ahead, pondering his words.
“It’s in my blood,” Tim went on. “But for guys like Nate, it’s a calling. Something compels them. For him, it’s always been about helping people. Standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Do you know what the motto of the Special Forces is?”
