Desert Fallout

“We’re staying out of sight,” Bolan said. “It doesn’t look as if we’ve got to worry about too much trouble sticking around.”

“The gunfight?” Metit asked.

“It was touch-and-go for a while. I did enough to convince them to evacuate as soon as possible,” Bolan explained.

Outside, the unmistakable thunder of a heavy machine-gun salvo slashed down from the sky. A storm of lead tore at the ground, eventually a line of bullets clawing up the ground in front of their cave. Bolan and Kamau shielded Metit from the flying debris kicked up by the bursts of heavy slugs striking the earth. Bolan gritted his teeth as rocks and pebbles bounced off his back, pelting him relentlessly. Kamau grimaced as the leaden rain ceased. “Fifties.”

“Something in that range,” Bolan agreed. He looked at the roof of the cave, and gave a silent thank-you to the cliff that had shielded them. “If they swing around and go on a second strafing run, we don’t have enough cave to get out of its way.”

Metit’s lips had drawn tight into a bloodless line. She was getting close to the breaking point. This was going to be too much for the young woman, so close on the heels of her torturous captivity and the murders of so many of her friends. Bolan reached out and squeezed her hand, giving her an emotional anchor. Her smoldering, beautiful eyes glinted in the shadows of the cave, and he nodded to her. He’d shield her against the nightmares swarming outside on the plateau.

He allowed the young woman to bury her face in the crook of his neck, his strong, muscular arm wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, providing warmth and comfort against the maelstrom of horror that plucked at her nerves. The rumbling thud of helicopter rotors made the shadows vibrate, and he could feel Metit whimper.

Though it was just an arm, muscle stretched tautly over bone, sheathed in tough, rip-proof nylon, Bolan’s embrace was a spiritual fortress for Metit. The shudder of her sobs had disappeared, and even the clawlike grasp she had dug into Bolan’s sides had loosened.

It was several long, nerve-racking minutes that finally faded with the retreat of the helicopters’ rotors.

Kamau looked toward Bolan. “Stay with her. I’ll take a look outside.”

Bolan made a face at the suggestion, but the big Ethiopian held up his hand. “She’s practically glued to you, Cooper. I’ll be careful.”

“All right,” Bolan replied. His jaw set as he waited. Metit finally pried her face from where she’d buried it against his chest.

“You can go if you want to,” she whispered.

Bolan shook his head. “Too many scouts can betray our presence here. I’ll let Kamau do his recon.”

“I’m sorry,” Metit offered.

“For what?” Bolan asked. “You did fine.”

“I’m a wreck,” she explained.

“You’re human,” Bolan told her, cupping her chin gently. “It’s normal to be scared, especially with all of that racket going on.”

Metit’s teary eyes glistened as she looked at Bolan.

Kamau returned, kneeling at the mouth of the cave. “The helicopters are gone, but they shot up our wheels.”

Bolan sighed. “How badly?”

“They saw through the little bit of concealment we tossed over the vehicle,” Kamau explained. “We’ll have to hike it, because I’m sure they didn’t leave any of the archaeological crew’s vehicles in any condition to use.”

“I’ll double-check,” Bolan said. “Look for supplies just in case we do have to go. We leave as soon as the sun sets, regardless of how we have to leave.”

“One more thing, Cooper. While the one helicopter was hosing down the area around our cave, the other one fired rockets into the opening of the tomb that Metit’s people had discovered,” Kamau added.

“Totally caved in?” Bolan asked.

“There’s no way the two of us could dig into there to see what’s left,” Kamau replied.

Bolan frowned. “Meanwhile, if they did need more of their ricin, they could bring in digging equipment by helicopter.”

“And enough men to make the job worthwhile,” Kamau said. “That is if they’d left anything behind.”

“It’s unlikely they could have taken all that’d been stored in there,” Bolan replied.

“Very,” Metit spoke up, her voice brittle. “We found an entire cavern lined with pots like the ones they removed, loaded with an unusual-looking form of castor bean. We had only just begun to catalog the contents when the terrorists attacked. Ricin?”

“Yes,” Bolan answered.

“That’s a deadly poison, isn’t it?” Metit asked numbly.

“It can be, but it takes a lot of processing,” Bolan explained. “Even the best military minds of the twentieth century couldn’t weaponize it.”

Metit’s brow wrinkled. “The ancient Egyptians had over a thousand years to think of something. And there are indications that they did use poisons as defenses of their tombs.”

“That kind of chemistry would have been lost to antiquity,” Kamau interjected.

“Maybe,” Bolan said, cutting off the conversation. “Kamau, we don’t have time to talk now. We’ll discuss this later.”

Kamau noted that the American’s attention was focused on the sky where the helicopters had originally approached from. The implication of his urgency was unmistakable. As soon as the transport helicopter had returned to base with its precious payload, the escort craft would race back to the camp and scour the desert in order to hunt down the lone stranger who had somehow stumbled onto their operation.

Three humans, hiking in the desert at night, would be like beacons to eyes in the sky equipped with night-vision goggles. That, plus the firepower mounted on the small, swift gunships, would outmatch even a warrior of Bolan’s skill.

Kamau realized that he’d have to work quickly in gathering gear while Cooper sought to salvage whatever transportation that they could find. Flight across the desert would have to be taken as fast as conceivably possible.

“Rashida, what kind of transportation did you have?” Bolan asked her.

“We had two large military surplus trucks to haul gear out here and whatever we found back to the university,” she answered. “The rest of us traveled by SUV.”

“All one style?” Bolan asked as Kamau busied himself searching through the camp for leftover water. Hydration was just as important as speed of escape. In the desert, especially with the kind of stress Metit had endured, the human body couldn’t maintain its performance without a fresh drink every few hours. Food wouldn’t be an issue for over a week, and Bolan and Kamau didn’t intend to take that long to get back to Alexandria.

While Kamau filled canteens for the upcoming journey, Bolan had Metit lead him toward the SUVs and the truck. The vehicles had been stored at the bottom of a cliff, but the stench of burning fuel and metal assaulted Bolan’s nostrils. The commandos had crippled the vehicles at the back of the canyon, saving their ammunition. A two-and-a-half-ton truck blocked most of the passage, nearly impossible to squeeze past. The other vehicles were in running condition, but nearly three tons of slag formed an impassable dam for them to pass. Bolan sighed and looked through the pouches in his gear.

He had several grenades, but they wouldn’t be enough to move the deuce and a half. It would take at least twenty-five pounds of C-4 to shove the truck, or at least break it down into small enough pieces to drive around. Just to be certain, Bolan examined the other two-and-a-half-ton, grimacing as his flashlight revealed damage to the truck’s electrical system. It wouldn’t start, and it was the only thing strong enough to plow past the wrecked hulk blocking their swift exit.

Kamau came down to join them, laden with three rucksacks. “We’ve got five gallons of potable water.”

Bolan nodded. “We don’t have a way out of this canyon with this junk blocking the way.”

“How about we drive over it?” Metit asked. “We’ve got wood and planks back at the camp. Just make an improvised ramp.”

Bolan and Kamau shared a grin at the simplicity of the woman’s suggestion. “We don’t have time to tell you that you’re brilliant, Rashida. Just know that you are.”

The two big men ran back to the camp after they made certain that there was at least one well-fueled vehicle that could start. Secure in the knowledge that they had a working set of replacement wheels, Bolan and his partner checked the two trucks. They managed to find four sturdy planks of wood used as loading and unloading ramps for the transports. Kamau tested one of them with his weight, knowing that if it flexed under only three hundred pounds of human, it’d be useless for the Peugeot jeep they’d chosen as their escape vehicle.

“Did it bend?” Kamau asked.