Close Pursuit. Cindy Dees
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Katie replied. “Lay down here, and Doctor Alex will take care of you.”
“Keep her dressed,” Alex ordered when Katie reached for the hem of the girl’s burka.
“Why?”
“We may need to move her.” He sat down at the foot of the cot to examine the patient with a flashlight he shielded with his hand.
“But she’s having a baby,” Katie replied blankly.
“Haven’t you ever watched Gone with the Wind?” he retorted. “Babies don’t care if the city is burning down around Mom. They come when they come.”
“This isn’t Atlanta, nor is it the nineteenth century,” Katie whispered back. She’d watched enough women struggle with all their might to push out babies over the past two weeks to understand that during the middle of childbirth was no time to move a patient.
“Tell that to the soldiers out there,” Alex retorted from between the girl’s knees. “She’s dilated eight centimeters. Time her contractions for me.”
Ten centimeters was the magic number when Alex allowed women to start pushing. Some women went from eight to ten in a half hour. A few had taken hours to get there. Katie waited in tense silence for the girl’s next contraction to start and end.
“Three minutes apart, one minute in duration,” she reported in the rumbling aftermath of some sort of incoming missile.
“We’ve probably got a little time then,” Alex remarked. “Stay with her. I’ll be back.”
Shocked, Katie watched him glide outside the tent and disappear into the night.
“Where—” the girl blurted in alarm.
Katie shushed her hastily. “He’ll be back. He’s just checking the battle. Stay as quiet as you can.”
“Cursed, greedy Tatars,” the girl muttered. “They think to destroy us. They are demons who rape our land. Steal the food from our mouths. Poison the wells, salt the fields. I curse them all unto the end of time—” She devolved into the local cough.
Katie frowned, not understanding the Tatar reference. Weren’t they nomadic raiders from southern Russia from the time of, oh, Genghis Khan? The girl’s language sounded old. Religious in nature. But clan rivalries and tribal feuding had been going on out here as long as humans had lived in these barren mountains. It was a revealing glimpse into mankind’s violent and harsh past. Frankly, she found it miraculous that humans had survived their own homicidal tendencies to populate the planet.
In the flashes of artillery explosions, the girl looked to be in her late teens. And pretty. Really pretty. Her eyes were big and dark and doe-shaped, her black hair lush around a heart-shaped face that high-fashion models would envy. It seemed strange, though, that a girl this young would have made her way to Alex by herself.
“Does anyone know you’re here?” Katie whispered to the girl.
Fear made the girl’s eyes even bigger as she shook her head vigorously. “My family does not know I am pregnant.”
Katie stared. “How is that possible?”
“I am not married. I wear big clothes. I pretend to eat a lot and tell them I am gaining weight. But I really don’t eat much and try to stay thin.”
In this culture, of all cultures, Katie supposed it might be possible to hide a pregnancy if a woman was really careful. Then the rest of this girl’s dilemma hit her. An unmarried girl, pregnant. In a society where sex outside marriage was punishable by death. No wonder the girl had hidden the pregnancy.
“What will you do with your baby when it comes?”
Anger flared in the girl’s eyes. “Kill it.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHAT? KATIE’S JAW dropped at the hatred in the girl’s voice. What the hell? She opened her mouth to ask what in the world was going on when a dark figure materialized in the doorway. She reached hastily for the pistol before she recognized Alex’s familiar silhouette.
“We’ve got a problem,” he murmured.
“No kidding,” Katie replied, jerking her head toward the cot. “She wants to kill her baby.”
Alex went still for a moment. Then he asked quietly, “Was she raped?”
Of course. Young. Beautiful. Unmarried. “I hadn’t thought of that,” Katie confessed. She turned to the girl and murmured a quick question.
The girl shook her head in the negative. Hmmm.
“Regardless,” Alex interjected, “we may have to get out of here sooner rather than later. A line of rebel troops is advancing up the valley. If Karshan’s local militia doesn’t hold the road until daylight, we’ll be overrun.”
Katie frowned. “If the fight’s on the road, how are we going to drive out of here?”
“As always, you grasp the crux of the situation unerringly,” he muttered.
We’re trapped? “Where will we go?”
He shrugged. “Up.”
“Up the mountain?” she demanded in disbelief. “With her?” She jerked her head toward the laboring girl again.
“I scouted around a bit. Karshani tribesmen are entrenched in the village up the valley. Rebels have the road and the lower pass covered. Over the mountain will be the only safe retreat for us.”
“But the girl—”
“She’ll have to make do. I can’t stop the war for her to have a baby. I’ll do what I can for her.” He moved toward the rear of the tent and his patient. “Keep an eye outside. Watch the road down where the river bends. If you see any movement, tell me immediately.”
Katie nodded her understanding. The scene outside was surreal. Tracers streaked across the black sky like comets. Explosions peppered the hillsides, lighting up gun emplacements and clusters of shooters behind rocks and outcroppings.
The girl’s bouts of heavy panting inside the tent came closer together and longer in duration. Katie heard Alex demonstrating breathing techniques, exhaling in short hard bursts. The girl mimicked him obediently. It wouldn’t be long before the girl delivered. Thank God her labor was progressing quickly.
But not quickly enough. Headlights came into sight at the bend in the dirt road beside the river. “Vehicle’s coming up the road,” Katie announced.
“What kind?”
“Can’t see yet. It’s loud. Probably not civilian.”
Alex swore quietly, and the girl let out a groan from behind the towel she was biting into.
The vehicle came into sight. Crap. “Armored personnel carrier,” Katie reported urgently over her shoulder. It stopped halfway in view, and the front hatch opened.
“You’re kidding,” Alex muttered.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that. And I know my military vehicles. It’s an APC. Late-model version with the wedge-shaped, anti-IED bottom.”
Alex swore quietly again.
“Special Forces troops exiting it now,” she mumbled. God knew, she recognized the gear and way of moving. Half her brothers were men just like that. She couldn’t count how many times she’d stood by her father during training exercises watching soldiers egress APCs into simulated combat.
“Special Forces?” Alex echoed in dismay from the back of the tent.
“Yes,” she answered with conviction. “They may be wearing civilian clothing and rebel colors, but no way are those regular soldiers.”
A