Tom Clancy's HAWX

Chapter 15

"Maybe we can steal a boat." Troy laughed.

"And sail off into the sunset," Jenna said with a growl of mock sarcasm, her voice raspy from too little water and too much dust.

"Technically, from this coast it would be the sun rising."

The two downed American pilots had been walking for three days in the tortuous heat of the Eritrean desert. Had it been summer, not spring, they could very well have died of heatstroke by now. Had they not pulled some only slightly brackish water from an abandoned well that they had found, they could well have died from dehydration.

No American rescue helicopter had come, despite Troy's transponder broadcasting their position. They had given up trying to figure out why.

Fortunately, they had seen no further Eritrean choppers. They didn't care why. They were just glad.

Troy and Jenna had decided that it would be suicide to try hiking straight back to their base in Sudan. There was too much inhospitable distance, and too many AlQinamah bad guys. Therefore, they had decided to try to reach the Red Sea coastline. They hadn't yet decided what they'd do when they got there — except find a place to get a long, cold drink of water.

"I'm surprised that Hal hasn't tried to find us," Troy said, making conversation. Aside from walking eastward and worrying about water, that was all they had to do. "Like, y'know… you and him… "

"Me and Hal what?"

"Oh come on… I saw your hand on his ass… ""

"So?"

"So I figured there was something going on… figure that on account of that… he'd come flying over this damned place trying to spot us."

"Maybe he did… Maybe he did back where we were… we're a long way from there now."

"Maybe."

"What?" Jenna asked in that "I-know-what-you'rethinking" tone that people have when they think they know what you're thinking.

"Whaddya mean, 'what'?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Well, I guess, y'know," Troy said, groping for words. "I've been listening to you snore every night and it's hard not to think about… when you're sleeping with somebody and all that's happening is that you're trying to sleep…"

"You saying I snore?" Jenna laughed.

"Yeah, but…"

"Okay… since we may never get out of this thing alive…"

"Don't say that," Troy interrupted.

"Okay… since we may never get out of this thing alive," Jenna repeated, "I should admit that I've…. y'know… I've had those kinda thoughts about y'all."

"Really?"

"You're a hunk, Loensch," Jenna said in a matter-of-fact way. "Sometimes you're obnoxious, but you're a hunk and I have had… kind of a thing for y'all."

"What kinda thing?"

"Yesterday… all day when we were walking through that ravine, y'know," Jenna replied. "I had this fantasy about taking a shower with y'all."

"I've been thinking about showers a lot too," Troy admitted.

"I was thinking about what came after the shower," Jenna said with a hoarse chuckle.

At that moment, the two of them reached the crest of a ridge and looked down into a landscape totally unlike anything they had seen for days. They could see the Red Sea in the distance, probably no more than five miles distant. In the foreground were patches of vegetation, even a date palm orchard and clusters of buildings. They could even see the coastal highway.

"Green sure looks weird when you ain't seen leaves for a week or two," Jenna exaggerated.

"Green sure looks like there's water to me," Troy said.

"We better be careful," Jenna cautioned. "We get caught down there, we'll get ourselves turned in."

As painful as it was, they waited until dusk to approach the date palms. As they sat in the shade of the boulder, talk did not return to the after-shower fantasy, but to earlier fantasies of drinking water.

Unfortunately, when they reached the first irrigation ditch, the water failed to match the water of even the least-demanding fantasy.

"Nasty shit," Jenna exclaimed as they studied the greenish liquid in the half light of the evening.

"Probably really is a sewer," Troy said disgustedly. "There's got to be a well somewhere. Let's move out while we got some light."

As they snaked their way through orchard, field, and vacant patch of ground, they were careful not to get too close to any buildings, and they took cover whenever a vehicle passed nearby.

At last they found it.

It was a simple hand pump on a rickety wooden platform. The water was not the best they'd ever tasted — but to them, it was the best water in the world.

Jenna cupped her hands to drink as Troy pumped the handle, then thrust her head beneath the flow, moaning gently as the tepid fluid poured through her hair and trickled down the back of her flight suit.

Next, it was Troy's turn, and Jenna pumped water onto him. He had never in his life been so happy to wash his face.

"All I need now is some aromatherapy gel and some cucumber slices for my eyes." Jenna giggled, her voice already sounding less gravelly.

"All I want is that shower you were talking about this afternoon," Troy said, looking at Jenna in the half light. She had peeled back her flight suit to the sports bra beneath. Seeing Munrough's breasts, nice ones at that, was like seeing foliage for the first time after an eternity in the desert. He knew that such phenomena existed, but actually seeing it made it so much more real, and so very appealing.

"Look, there's a dude under all that dirt," Jenna said as she leaned closer, reached out and put her hand on his cheek.

nadil!"

The two startled Americans turned at the sound of the voice. It was a short man in his early twenties who was missing several teeth. They had been so preoccupied with the sensual joy of the water, and so used to being alone in the desert with no one else around, that they had dropped their guard.

"Ma-smuk?"

Another man emerged out of the shadows. Both were short of stature, making the AK-47 that each carried seem enormous. By the way they had the muzzles pointed downward, it was apparent that neither had noticed that the two Americans were carrying sidearms.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to steal your water," Jenna said in an apologetic tone as her fingers crawled slowly toward her holster, which she had set aside when she pulled back her flight suit. She had no idea what they were saying, but hoped her tone would set the men somewhat at ease.

"La 'afham," one of the men said with a shrug, as though he had no better idea of what she had said than she had of his earlier assertions.

"Mundhu 'an kuntu murahiqan 'ahbabtu 'as-sayyidata s-suwidiyyat," the first man said to the other, nodding toward Jenna and obviously remarking about her blond hair. It was something these men didn't see every day. Perhaps never.

Having the attention focused on her allowed Troy the opportunity to get his hand around the grip of his Beretta.

"Al-'an wajadtu imra'a li-z-zawaj." The man chortled.

`Ana 'aydan 'uhibb 'as-sayyidata l-misriyyat, khassatan hawajibahunna s-sawda," the other said, shrugging as if to say that he didn't care for blondes.

Troy wrapped his finger around the trigger and gently slid his Beretta from its holster.