Читать книгу The Soldier's Homecoming - Patricia Potter - Страница 12

PROLOGUE

Aleppo, Syria

JENNY TALBOT KNEW she was in trouble the moment she heard the sound of approaching aircraft.

The sound grew thunderous as four planes appeared in the sky over Aleppo, leaving a trail of explosions in their wake. They were heading straight at her.

A cease-fire was supposed to have been declared while volunteer medical personnel tended the wounded in one of the few remaining makeshift hospitals in the doomed Syrian city.

The volunteer doctors and nurses, who had just arrived in a marked medical convoy, scattered, seeking cover. She and Rick Cowan, also a freelance journalist, were accompanying them. Although they worked for different news services, they had been together when they heard about the medical mission to Aleppo. It hadn’t been easy to get permission from the supporting agency, but the promise of alerting the world to conditions in a city caught in the cross fire of three ruthless armies finally won them approval. It was emphasized that it was at their own risk.

So much for cease-fires.

As explosions grew louder, Jenny and Rick ran for cover with Ali, their driver and translator. All three ducked behind a pile of rubble that had once been a house.

Jenny instinctively grabbed the camera that hung around her neck and under the hijab she wore to cover her flaming red hair. Out of habit, she took several rapid shots of people fleeing among burning buildings and vehicles. She wanted proof of the violation of the cease fire.

Ali turned to them. “I go get jeep,” he shouted over the noise, then sprinted around the rubble. Jenny regretted now that he’d hid the jeep several blocks down to avoid thieves.

A little girl suddenly ran into the road, screaming as another explosion threw rocks and flaming shrapnel in every direction. The girl fell, her arms reaching out as if for help. Jenny saw bright red blood flow from the child’s leg.

A doctor turned back toward her but he was too far away. Jenny instinctively rose from her position and started to climb over the rubble to go after the child. Rick pulled her down. “Stay here, dammit,” he said. “I’ll go.”

As he started to scramble over the rubble, she followed. Another group of planes roared over them, raining more fire on the street. Explosions deafened her. Chunks of flaming metal flew through the air. Two cars and an ambulance used by the doctors burst into flames. She struggled to the top of the debris. Dust and smoke was everywhere. She couldn’t see the child.

“We’ve got to find her,” she said to Rick. A trailing plane came in low and dropped its munitions. The building across the street sustained a direct hit and started to crumple.

“I have to find the girl,” she shouted to Rick.

“You’ll be killed out there,” Rick shouted and pushed her down. “Nothing can survive out there right now. They’re pounding that street.”

She huddled against the rubble as heat seared her, gluing her tan T-shirt to her body. She wore a flak vest over the T-shirt and BDU pants, which she had selected for the additional pockets. The pockets were filled with everything she needed to do her job, from cell phone, notebooks and pens to a small recorder.

“The hospital?” she asked Rick, just as another explosion tore up the wreckage, only a few yards from them. The heat burned her arm, and the impact threw her back against a pile of debris. Her shoulder felt on fire, the skin burning. She looked down at her shoulder to see metal protruding from a jagged wound. She stared at it for a moment, and then the pain hit.

Rick uttered a curse as he scooted over to her to study the wound. “I’m afraid if I remove it, you’ll bleed out,” he said. “I’ll try to get one of the doctors. Ali should be back here with the jeep.”

He bolted over what was now a wall of broken cement, and she clenched her teeth to stop from moving, from crying out. The pain grew worse. She could smell her own burned skin.

She couldn’t tell how large the piece of shrapnel was inside, but she knew that the medical people, if they were still alive, were going to be busy with wounds worse than this.

She also knew they couldn’t stay here. Syrian troops or ISIS fighters often followed the planes, killing those the planes missed.

She didn’t know how long Rick was gone. It seemed like hours before he appeared over the wall. “They can’t come,” he said. “Three of them are wounded, and the others are busy trying to keep all the civilians alive. They’re afraid soldiers will follow the bombs.”

“The little girl?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see her on the street and it was too crowded in the hospital. Right now, we have to get you out of here.”

He didn’t have to explain more. She knew what might await her as an American woman.

“They gave me some pills, burn salve and pressure bandages,” he said. “I was told to get you to a refugee camp as fast as possible. I found Ali. He and the jeep are pretty close.” He hesitated, and then he added, “I have to pull that piece of metal out. The jolting in the jeep could do even more damage.”

Jenny understood. She’d been under fire before. She knew the risks.

“Do you think you can walk if I help? I can take out that shrapnel when we get to the jeep.”

She nodded. She had to. There was no way Rick could carry her any distance. He didn’t weigh much more than she did.

He handed her a canteen and several pills. Painkillers and antibiotics, she assumed. After she swallowed them, he helped her to her feet. She barely made it. The rocks and ruined buildings were going in and out of focus. One step, and then another. You have to do this.

No one paid attention to them as they stumbled through debris toward the jeep. It took every ounce of Jenny’s strength to put one foot ahead of the other as pain coursed through her, growing stronger by the minute. Only Rick’s steady arm kept her upright.

She was beyond grateful when she saw Ali and the jeep. But she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. It was all she could do to stay upright. A few more steps. Gunshots. Behind them.

Everything dimmed...