OASES

Chapter 14

"The boundaries which divide Life and Death are, at best, shadowy and vague. Who shall say where one ends and the other begins?"

E.A. Poe

"Who in hell could that be?" Flynn said as he and Julie strained their eyes to see in the dim, pre-dawn light.

They were on their bellies, sighting across the scrub-land in the direction of the arroyo.

A man on foot, in traditional Afghan robes, had exited the gully near where the Soviet tank sat and was headed in their direction at an easy lope. In fifteen minutes he'd be upon them. In fewer than ten he'd be within range.

"Maybe it's one of those rats from Bamma that sold out to Kurtz," Flynn answered his own question. He snugged the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and leveled the weapon at the slowly expanding figure, got comfortable.

Julie and Flynn had caught a couple hours' sleep in their alcove in the early part of the night and then had moved out with the remaining Mujahedeen who were clearing out the caves and making their way up the rear pass –after stuffing Flynn's Humvee with extra provisions, arms and ammunition as ordered by The Djinn.

Flynn had told Julie that The Djinn expected them to be on their way to Veerona well before BlackSky arrived. So the idea had been to pack up and drive a short way south along the base of the mountains, out of sight of The Djinn.

Julie had retrieved Cleo and Caesar from the company of their new friends in the corral and led them down the pass and into the shelter of a hockey-rink-sized box canyon cut into the mountains a hundred yards south of the pass entrance.

She had hoped to speak with The Djinn before he departed. She hadn't the foggiest what it was she wanted to say to him, but she had an overwhelming compulsion to make personal contact with this mysterious individual. The opportunity never presented itself, everything had happened too quickly.

Flynn had intended to hide the Humvee in the same canyon with Cleo and Caesar. But it wouldn't start –no matter how creative he'd gotten with the expletives. So he had coasted, in reverse, back down the pass. At the bottom he had spun the wheel hard left and, fortunately, the Humvee had gathered enough momentum to at least carry it out of sight from above. He and Julie had concealed it as best they could with dry brush.

They now lay under it, watching the approaching Afghan stranger.

"Yeah, I don't like the look of this loser. I'm gonna take him out," Flynn said as he released the safety on the rifle, tucked his cheek onto the stock.

"Flynn, wait!" Julie clutched his arm.

"Don't go squeamish on me now, Pollyanna. There will be blood today."

"Samhal's blood?" she asked pointedly.

"What?"

"Look closely. I'm pretty certain that's the outfit Jiddah put together for Samhal."

"Huh? Oh yeah, copy that. Good call, Cherie. Sammy owes you one."

Flynn had addressed Julie using that particular term of endearment more than a couple of times. With the situation as it was, she hoped desperately he would have occasion to use it many more times in the future. She prayed she hadn't got them all into a mess that would prove deadly. Flynn's flippant reaction to almost 'taking out' Samhal did not help reassure her.

They got to their feet and waved Samhal into camp.

After perfunctory greetings between the men, and a warm hug from Julie, Samhal summarized the items of Intel he had gathered in Kandahar and Bamma: