The only answer came as leaves rained down on her head. With a look of complete bemusement on his grandly colored face, the giant bird took flight from the limb above. She watched for a moment before deciding on a plan. “Gotta get my shit together. No time for brooding. Gotta get going.” Searching the trees, she noted the heavy canopy of vines and underlying vegetation. “After all, this place is a jungle.”

  The snap of wood breaking behind her had Katie jumping. Within seconds, a large branch fell at her toes. The needles of the cypress had settled before Katie discovered the limb held terpene, perfect for starting a fire. If she could locate a strong enough vine and create a bow drill, she could produce fire. A commodity she would most certainly need in the hours to come. Bolstered by the discovery, she set out to find the materials she needed. “It’ll be dark soon.” Creepy things came out in the dark, she mused, giving the trees overhead a dubious glare.

  With a search for the necessary components she would need, Katie intended to keep busy. The chore would shove at the anxiety constricting her chest. “Now is not the time for panic, chere. Not if I’m going to survive in this dismal place,” she told herself. A couple of sticks along with a good, sturdy vine brought a measure of comfort. “Now to make the drill work. It’s been a long time since I did this. Oh well, like riding a bike, right?”

  Glad no one answered she worked fast. First, she managed to create smoke, and finally, a small ember glowed in the base of her drill. Drawing the tender, she had carefully gathered, over the ember, Katie watched as the dried grasses caught. Slow, steady breaths brought success. The fire seized the fledgling tender and set the parched offering ablaze. “That’s better.” Success never looked so sweet. She busied herself with adding branches and twigs. To ease the crick in her back, she stood, hands on hips, surveying her progress. Fire and high ground, she decided. Two elements of a plan to survive the wilderness. The clock hands ticked away the last of the precious daylight when the cold would seep in.

  Bedding, the next order of business proved more daunting. “Okay, so I strip the cypress bough and scatter the needles for more coverage.” With the mundane task of cleaning the limb of needles underway, Katie’s mind wandered. Had the limb fell by accident or was magic involved, she wondered. “Marie, again, I suppose.” The huff of breath echoed in the still air around her. “Spell or not - it doesn’t matter. I’m grateful.” Stating the affirmation out loud seemed to help.

  A log rolled close provided support and the needles would make an acceptable bed for the long night ahead. Glancing around the area, she wondered what lurked in the dark. “Keeping the fire going is going to be paramount.” She checked her pockets for her phone. “Don’t tell me I’ve lost the damn thing?” Frustrated, she shoved her hands deeper. There was no sign of the stupid phone. “Now this bites,” she murmured. Scrambling up, she grabbed the torch she had fashioned out of cypress limbs and lit the limb to the fire. Long, lean shadows danced in the trees as she went back over the ground she had already covered. A lengthy search brought no results. “No phone.”

  There was nothing more to do except hunker down for the night and look forward to scouting out the area when the sun came up. With a sigh of resignation, she settled in to wait out the noises of the night. “Be safe, Duke, wherever you are.”

  Morning brought needed relief from the biting insects as well as the cries from the jungle floor. One did not get much sleep jumping at every noise. Resigned to the fact, if she had not been awake, the fire would have died, Katie stretched and stood. Muscles sang out. Her mind flashed back to the tornado and the fall into the Netherworld. “Wait till I see Marie Laveau again,” she growled to the nearby trees.

  Breaking the fast proved easier than she’d expected with bushes providing wild berries.

  Despite tracking a wide circle around last night’s camp, Katie found little encouragement. “No signs of life.” Grim realization, she may be in trouble surfaced. She tamped the anxiety down. “Got to find food.” Touching the amulet around her neck, she closed her eyes. “I could use a little help here.”

  The Amber grew warm in her fingers. Such a fascinating stone, she mused. For centuries, the power of Amber held documented energy and power. The wearer benefited from the ancient medicinal purposes as well as mental stimulation. “No time like the present,” she whispered.

  A small rabbit tracks a few feet off the path caught her eye. “What do we have here?” Katie hunkered down to examine the small prints in the soft earth. “Setting a trap for my dinner,” she grinned. The task took some patience as Katie placed a snare for the creature.

  “Now, nothing to do except wait.” Resigned to the fact she had time on her hands, Katie struck out to discover more of her new surroundings. “I know now why the first settlers didn’t live long. Things can kill you in a heartbeat out here.”

  Chapter 18

  Duke cut a glance in Gus’ direction. The warlock nodded. Each man had his directive. Gus went first.

  The door imploded. Dust flew everywhere. A great cloud mushroomed out of the hole made by the bomb. Dirt fell. Shots rang out as yelling and commands came from inside the castle of Nybbas. No one appeared in the opening where the door had once been.

  Gus motioned for Duke to follow. Tiny shards of debris and fragments of wood dropped out of the sky like water.

  Wondering for a split second what Katie was doing, he scanned the perimeter for any sign of trouble. “Clear.”

  Gus wasted no time in securing the front and the foyer. “Logan? Are you here?” Advancing a few steps before stopping again. Turning, he shrugged. They aren’t here.” Hurry up and get over here, Duke.”

  The order came from a man intent on a mission. His brother found himself in danger, so Gus took no chances. “Here, you’ll need this.” He handed Duke a Walkie Talkie. “Check out the upstairs. Signal me when you find them. Got that?”

  “Roger,” Duke said.

  Closely watching his step, Duke ascended the stairs. Rather than take them two at a time as he had wanted, he moved stealthy like a cat on the prowl. Lives depended on his skills as a SEAL. The hallway held a half a dozen rooms. Mentally marking them off as he went, Duke opened and searched each room. Coming to the last door, he leaned close, listening for any sound. None came to him. Waiting only a moment, he eased the unlocked door open and slipped inside. The room, done in an overly elaborate pattern of circles, looked like a playroom. A coverlet lay across the bed. Hues of purples and black adorned the king-sized mattress. The trash can lay empty as well as the hall can. No sign of occupancy. Rounding the corner, he entered the bath. The Spartan room gleamed of white porcelain and tiles. Two toothbrushes hung above the counter. The only sign someone resided within the walls. He turned, retracing his steps back to the bedroom. Examining the empty drawers of the dresser, he sighed. Nothing to discover who called this room theirs.

  “Anyone here?”

  Silence answered.

  “Logan? Aubrie?”

  Duke headed for the door. The sound of running water caught his ear. “Wait a minute.” Turning back, he moved toward the sound. Standing in front of the closet, he paused. The water sound had stopped. “Old pipes?” Drawing the door back slowly, Duke eyed the empty closet. Nothing out of place here, he mused. A flash of light caught his attention. Something moved on the opposite side of the light. He eased in closer to get a better look. The blinding light that erupted had him throwing up a hand for protection. Swiftly, a sack covered his head. Grappling to gain his freedom, he stumbled. A push from behind sent him headlong into space. The free fall came so unexpectedly, he did little more than flail in a helpless attempt at saving himself. Unable to grab anything of use, Duke dropped like a stone into the muck of pure goo. The smell proved ripe and wrong. Yanking the sack from his head, he whirled about, searching for an attacker. He stood alone. Blinking in the light of day, Duke saw nothing except trees and vines. Before him lay a wilderness. “You’re all alone, buddy,” he growled at the tangle. “Great. Somebody’s playing games. This isn’t funny anymore.” A sucking mire had him by one boot. Dragging his boot free, he settled on a solid piece of terrain. “About noon, I wager. No sounds of wildlife. Creepy. This place is like a giant tomb.” Shouldering his weapon again, he glanced around once more. “Time to get the hell out of Dodge.”

  Making his way through the vine-infested location, Duke worked on what to do next. Since his two-way bit it in the brink after the header he took back there, the ex-SEAL became a one-man search party. “Been here before,” he muttered. He hoped Gus had better luck.

  Dogged determination found Duke, a half a mile from where he had fallen over an hour before. “Shit.” He wiped sweat from his forehead before re-tieing the bandana. “It’s like a F’n sauna out here.” His water reserves were evaporating. No sign of potable water anywhere. “No time to purify any either. Maybe tonight when I make camp.” Something caught his eye up ahead. A dark figure crept through the trees. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed by his ear. “What the…” Hitting the ground, he lay completely still. No sounds came to him, no noises of any kind. “Not good,” he growled. Raising his head, Duke wondered what enemy was target practicing with him as the target. Retaliating only worked when you had a continuous visual of the enemy, so taking cover became paramount. On his belly, he slid under a clump of overgrown palms and waited. Time ticked by. No enemy advanced. More time passed. Wondering whether he should attempt an escape or stay put, Duke settled on escape. After all, he was burning daylight.

  No one followed as he cleared the thickest part of the overgrown World of Oz. Feeling the first moments of relief, he slowed to catch his breath. Bending at the waist, he closed his eyes for a second. It proved long enough. The pain caught him off guard. Something struck Duke in the thigh. The force tore through him like a knife. Looking down, he swore he was dreaming. Where his thigh had been, a large gaping wound appeared. A surge of adrenaline had him diving into the brush and vines. Blood ran from the wound and soon coated the leg of his fatigues. The inside of his boot grew wet and sticky. Duke knew he had little time before things would be too far gone for him. Yanking his belt off, he secured the strap around his upper thigh. Slowing the blood flow was paramount. “No time to think about the pain.” Swallowing the groan as he pulled the tension tighter on his leg, Duke leaned against a tree. “Now what did he do?” Glancing right and left, he scowled at the problem. “F’n hell, this blows.” Examining the leg, he found a bullet did not cause the wound as he had thought. Examining the damage, he found flesh torn at a ragged angle. “Could be tendon damage, probably muscle tissue loss. Christ, now what?” Sweat dripped from his head. Dropping back against the tree, he closed his eyes. Wishing for a miracle, he reached for his water and drank the last of the precious hydrant. “Gotta stay low and get to water somehow,” he murmured.

  Suddenly a flash of light exploded near him. Dirt flew as another explosion erupted on his opposite side. Rolling to the cover of the tree’s trunk, he grabbed his Glock. “Jeez H Christ. I’m under attack.” With no radio, he was riding this one out solo. Checking for additional ammo, he craned his neck to see if he could make out a target doing the shooting and their approximate distance. His breath came shallow and shaky. “If only I had Gus here.” The trees held an enemy with no name. He’d have to wait them out. Another flash had the dirt stirring. “No radioing an Evac for this one, buddy.” Duke spotted the location of the shot. Too late, he saw the incoming strike. His world went dim as the explosion launched him into the air. Floating on a fireball of heat and searing pain, Duke cried out. Clutching his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his attacker as he hit the ground.

  A shadow walker covered in black, headed straight for him. Within seconds, the demon was upon him. The Sultan’s boot pinned Duke’s injured shoulder as he raised his semi-automatic high above his head.

  The last thing Duke remembered was the butt of the rifle against his temple. In the darkness, he saw Katie’s face.

  ***

  Your country depends on you. You are a Navy SEAL, the best of the best.

  The words coming out of his mouth sounded familiar. A mantra of some sort. Duke opened one eye and then the other. The pain came and went as he struggled to sit up. Nausea threatened, so Duke leaned to the side of the cot. The sickness passed. Wiping the perspiration from his brow, he glanced around the dimly lit cell. Small and dark, the stone walls reminded him of another such place. The last wall he’d seen like this was in Nybbas’ fortress before his demise.

  Something slithered across his boot. Wiggling his toes, he realized his boot laces were missing. “Son of a Bitch!” He reached for his belt and found the familiar leather missing as well. Was he in prison? The bastards had left him no means of hanging himself. Unable to tell whether it was day or night, he wondered aloud, “Where in the hell am I?”

  Without an answer, Duke attempted to stand. His right leg sang out with the effort. A tattered rip in his fatigues showed a wound. He touched it and found heat and swelling around the open injury. “Damn. I must have fallen or somebody pushed me.” He snarled. Taking note of the grass stains, as well as the dirt liberally caked on his clothes, Duke decided he had found trouble. Remembering where and with who was the problem. His eyes wanted to cross so rather than fall, he dropped back down to the cot. More pain stabbed him in the shoulder. Perspiration soaked his shirt. He felt clammy and weak. Rolling away from the throbbing, he prayed the pain would stop.

  The effort to lift his leg back onto the bed brought more pain, zapping the last of his strength. Dropping back on the bed, Duke waited until the room stopped spinning. “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute. Then I’ll leave.”

  Chapter 19

  The smell of eggs frying roused him. Vague flashes of memory raced past him in the world of dreams. He heard Katie’s laughter. Next came the rapid fire of a machine gun and ‘copters overhead. Was he back in the sand pit? More gunfire erupted and Duke heard screams. The need to check out the danger had him struggling out of bed to stand. The room swam. More stars danced in front of his eyes before his vision blurred. “Got to check for trouble.” His words sounded far away as if he awoke in a tunnel. His view of the room ebbed as he took a step. Pain, searing hot cut his legs out from under him. Duke fell hard.

  ***

  Something cool lay across his temple. The texture of the cloth was soft and the scent reminded him of lemons and lavender. “Katie?”

  “Duke? Can you hear me?”

  More voices were close by. Duke tried to remain awake. Deciphering the voices proved too daunting.

  “He’s coming around.” The gentle tone of her voice was a welcome reminder he had to get back. There were footsteps coming toward him. His name - the one word sounded so sweet to his ears. “Katie. God almighty, is that you?”

  “Lie still. You’ll rip your stitches. Easy. Rest.”

  “Aubrie?”

  “Yes, Duke, Aubrie’s here.” Katie’s hand stroked his brow. “He’s burning up.”

  Her voice reminded him of silk and satin. The sultry suppleness of Creole laced her words and brought back so many memories. “Katie, girl, I want you to know…” His words slowed and slurred. The smell of rubbing alcohol stung his nose. “Katie, you need to understand…” The needle pricked his arm. The sting didn’t last long, though. “Sweet Katie.”

  “There, there. Time for talking later. You need to rest now.” Aubrie put the pack back on his forehead. “The fever is still high. He’s not making much sense.”

  The pressure across his forehead returned. The coolness was a welcome relief. He was so hot. He must be in the desert again which didn’t matter because Katie was with him. Relaxing, he decided to do as she asked. Duke closed his eyes.

  ***

  The darkness didn’t frighten him. He was a Navy SEAL after all. Nothing stood a chance against a SEAL. The rapid fire of weapons erupted once more. His communications unit blipped.

  “Copy that.” Turning, he sought the lieutenant. “Base one says to hunker down. No rondeaux until daybreak.”

  Lieutenant Luke Calder nodded. “I figured as much. Captain Latimar, prepare the men for an all - nighter. We’re going to need spotters.”

  “Roger,”

  His commander was a seasoned SEAL. Luke Calder had seen four deployments. Captain Latimar too. They were in competent hands. Duke turned back to his communicator. The message was plain enough. “Incoming short-range missiles, two clicks north, Lieutenant. Base One says to expect heavy fire.”

  “Dropped us in the middle of a fucking shit storm is what they did. Logan, help me set up for trouble.”

  Logan glanced at Duke. “Turn that damn thing off. Nothing except bad news on that bastard.”

  Duke shot him the bone before pulling his mike back in place.

  The siege lasted for hours, yet the whole thing felt like minutes, Duke mused. Air support had been spotty at best since the wet-behind the ears, pilots couldn’t tell their asses from their GPS code. “They’ve blown up a civilian settlement due north of SEAL team six’s local, sir.”

  Lieutenant Calder said, “Heads will roll over this one.”

  Duke wished for a hot bath and a brew. He was a month from mustering out. Thanks in no small part to his buds, the team six members. If he ever got in trouble, he wanted them by his side. They had his back. “More incoming, sir.”

  He woke with a jerk. The pain in his leg made him wonder if all he was capable of doing was lying around and having nightmares. The dream felt real. He glanced down at his injured leg. Made my way back from the sandbox. Got back in one piece and wouldn’t you know it? Found trouble stateside. Reaching down, he rubbed the aching member. “Still got my leg,” he whispered. The dream filled his mind’s eye. “Ripped up a few of the enemy. Leveled a town. Damn it,” he growled. His fist pounded the bed covers. Women and children had died. Collateral damage – that’s what the brass called innocents killed during a firefight. Fuck that!

 

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