Private Rogue

Chapter 42

Losing the horse had cost Floyd dearly. He was trying to reach the Pakistan border on foot, crossing some of the harshest terrain and most dangerous mountain passes in the world.

Floyd was nearing the summit of a mountain that, according to the map John and Chris had given him, would take him to a pass leading into the neighboring valley. There was supposed to be a trail, but it had been covered by deep snow and Floyd was having to use a stick to feel for the edge of the mountain. He was on its shoulder and a wrong step would send him to his death, eight or nine thousand feet below. There were no trees up here, and nothing to protect him from the brutal wind, which seemed to find its way through the layers of clothing, scarves and gloves he was wearing. The jagged shards of cold bit through his skin and flesh and gnawed at his very bones. This was a brutal environment, and the darkness robbed the world of any color. The only things he had to give him warmth were the images of Beth, Maria and Danny he held in his mind and the burning love for them that filled his heart. After everything he’d been through, he would not allow himself to die in this strange and inhospitable place.

Other than the relentless cold, he felt fine physically. John and Chris had given him clothes and food, and he estimated he had rations for two days, which wasn’t going to be enough. He was burning a lot more energy than he would have been if he were completing the journey on horseback as planned, and it was going to take him four times as long. Floyd had a knife and a gun, and when he made it into the next valley he would try to find a wild goat or deer to replenish his supplies.

The men hunting Floyd weren’t as careful as him. Every so often, he would see the tell-tale green glow of night-vision goggles in the valley below, and he heard the distant thrum of choppers. He had been lucky so far. They hadn’t searched the route up to the pass. Maybe they lacked the local knowledge. Or perhaps they didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to attempt the journey at the height of winter. Floyd wasn’t foolish, just desperate. He would get home no matter what.

He looked to the east and saw the sky turning gray. It would soon be dawn and he would need to find shelter from his relentless pursuers. Breathless, cold and exhausted, he conjured images of Beth, Maria and Danny and held them in his mind.

Guide my steps, he asked of them, and his family gave him renewed strength to press on.