Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2) (24 page)

Mark grimaced when Castor told them the exact location, only twenty miles south of the mile marker where they had intercepted the Russians.

He’d been so close to Libby and hadn’t known it.

Cold ....

Can’t feel ... feet. Everything ... aches. Aspirin ... sure be nice.

Wish I could ... sleep.

Mom. You seen my red sweater? Wait. Oh, yeah. You’re not here ... either.

So very ... tired. Can’t wait ... anymore.

Leave me alone. It’s time.

I quit.

Mark screeched into the construction site amidst a cloud of flying gravel and dust with Zack at his side and Alex and Kelsey on his bumper. The police weren’t far behind. The life flight helicopter already searched for a nearby place to land.

Mark ran to the rows of planters.

Zack ran for the frontend loader. “There’s no damn keys!” he roared.

Just like Castor said, the planters were stacked three high in ten neat rows—thirty planters that created twenty ready-made tombs. But which one? Libby was right here, but still out of reach. They needed the frontend loader.

“Libby!” Mark bellowed. “Libby!”

If she would just make a sound or scream for help. Anything. He grabbed the first planter on the end of the stack. It didn’t move. The damn things were nested into each other, the base of each fitted into the lip of the one below. Applying his shoulder, he went at it again. They had to be moved carefully, or risk crushing her, but damn. It wouldn’t budge.

“Why couldn’t he tell us which one she’s in?” Zack added his muscle to Mark’s.

“Yuri didn’t trust Castor. He blindfolded him once they got here.” Alex joined in. “I called Mother. She contacted the governor. Someone’s on their way with the key.”

The knowledge that Yuri had blindfolded Castor sent a cold chill washing down Mark’s back. Yuri could’ve killed Libby, could have shot her and left Castor thinking she was alive. The planters might be another lie. She might not be here. Panic seized his gut, adding strength even as his eyes combed the landscape for any sign of a body.

It took all three men to work the top planter off the stack, inch-by-inch and grunt-by-grunt. At last it fell.

No Libby.

Mark groaned. Suffocation swelled up inside of him. Hypothermia shivered into his soul.
She’s here. I know she is.
He brushed the sweat out of his eyes and attacked the next planter in the same stack.
Hold on. I’m coming, babe.

Zack took the other end. Alex braced himself against the toppled planter and took the middle. No words. The three men pushed and pulled. This one was lower to the ground; it offered more resistance. Mark’s legs trembled. Sheer brute force might not be enough.
I’m not letting her die.
A roar blasted out of him. The planter toppled over. Alex dodged it just in time.

No Libby.

“Where is she?” Mark growled as he ran to the other end of the stack. The end planters seemed the most logical. They were easy to reach with a frontend loader. But if Castor only knew the lies that Yuri had told him ….

Mark pushed the evil thought away.
No. She’s here. I know it.

Alex and Zack were quick to his side. Each planter became heavier and harder to wrangle. They were fighting time as well as their own strength. Mark’s hand slipped. The concrete sanded a patch of skin off his palm. He glanced at Zack and Alex. Sweat glistened on their faces. Both men shook from their efforts, panting like draft horses, their faces contorted in sheer determination and resolve. He’d seen these exact same looks on other brothers before—in Afghanistan, and here they were again, in it to the end with him. For her.

If they believed, then so did he.

“Almost got it.” Zack’s huge biceps bulged beneath his shirt. The cords in his neck tightened. Alex gripped the opposing side and leveraged his weight against it, groaning as it tipped toward him. He danced out of its way when it finally fell to earth.

“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, blowing out a huge breath.

Libby was not there.

“If that sonofabitch lied, I’ll kill him.” Mark fumed out of control. Three down. Seventeen planters to go. Doubt niggled.

“Come on, guys. We can do this.” Alex stood panting with his hands on his knees at the end of the next planter, sucking in great draughts of air and shaking. They were all beat, working past their exhaustion. “One more time. This is the one.”

“We’re running out of steam.” Zack wiped the sweat off his face, still blowing out huge breaths to restore his oxygen level. He scanned the work site. “There’s got to be something we can use for a lever around here.”

Even Mark felt it, that human frailty called weakness creeping into his body. The muscles in his thighs and buttocks twitched. Everything else burned. Who was he kidding? They were just three men thinking they could do the impossible, and she might not even be here. They were fools to have believed Castor.

He shrugged his doubts away yet one more time. If nothing else, he would die trying. Bracing himself against the next planter down, he launched another attack, his shoulder to the hard cold concrete and his fingers grasping for purchase on its smooth outer wall.
Where there’s a will, there’s a freaking way!

Arghhh!
He squeezed his eyes and summoned every last sinew to give its all. Nothing happened. The heavy planter didn’t budge. He clenched all the way to his soul. His all wasn’t good enough. It was gone.

No! Libby’s not dying like this. No way.

Suddenly, another pair of hands clamped over his. The planter shifted. He blinked. Three had become six. The paramedics stood with them now, adding their will to the fight. More grunts and groans. At last, it toppled to the side.

Libby!

“Got her,” Zack sighed.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here. Please be okay.” Mark dropped to his knees.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes dazed and clouded. Unseeing. He lifted her out of the concrete box, cradling her against him. Her hand reached up, making contact with his cheek, but not reaching for him; just reaching, the way a blind woman might accidentally bump whatever stood in her way. Or whoever. Bloody fingers smeared his cheek.

“Mark.” She blinked twice, dropped her hand, and closed her eyes.

“Libby, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands smoothing over her cold arms to get a reaction from her. Anything. He pinched, pressed, and squeezed. Nothing.

The paramedics moved in to do their work. Very gently, they eased her out of his arms and moved her onto their portable gurney. He clung to her ragged hand.

“Come on, babe. We’re swimming, remember? We’re going together. You and me. You say when. You say—” He choked. This was that awful moment. She was leaving him. Dying. This was—when.

While one medic wrapped her in heated blankets, another inserted an IV line into her arm. The third medic took her vitals and relayed those statistics into the two-way radio at his collar. Everything they said sounded so grim. Mark stood in the way. His heart in his throat.

“You have to let us do our job,” one of the medics said gently, but then he met Mark’s eye. He handed him a large squeeze tube. “Put this on her fingers. Use it all. It’ll stop the pain.”

Tears dripped down Mark’s face as he lifted her hand again. This tiny little hand was all that had saved him that summer night on the raft. But now ….

A solid hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced into the sad eyes of Alex. Kelsey stood at his side. Mark had no words. They’d done all they could.

“She’s alive, Mark.” Kelsey snaked her arm around his waist. He heard the gentle admonition in her voice to keep believing. “She knew you would come.”

“Sometimes cold is a good thing,” the medic offered.

Mark glanced up at that hopeful comment. “I’m going with her.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”

He stood as the medics transferred her into the helicopter. Alex, Kelsey, and Zack were with him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Libby. Alex clapped one last hand to his shoulder. Mark tossed Zack his car keys and scrambled onboard.

The chopper headed north.

“Oh my,” Rosemary’s voice was tight on the other end of the telephone line. “I can’t get away, Mark. I’m already running back and forth to the rehabilitation center and the hospital. Marie hasn’t come home yet, you know.”

“How is she?” Mark could feel the weight of the world on Rosemary’s shoulders.

“She gets a little better everyday. I’m told she’ll be released maybe tomorrow.”

“Where will you take her?”

Rosemary’s voice cracked. “I haven’t had time to think about the house yet.”

“I can cover your motel room if that’s where you decide to move Jerry and Marie,” he offered. “At least let me do that.”

“Oh, no. You’re doing plenty right there with my daughter. You’ll stay with Libby, won’t you?”

“Yes.” His voice caught.
Sure glad this isn’t a video call.
“I’m not going anywhere.”

“And you’ll call every day so I know what’s going on?”

“There’s no way I’m leaving her, Mrs. Clifton.”

Her next question caught him by surprise. “You love my little Libby, don’t you?”

He choked.
Wow. What an understatement.
“Yes, ma’am. I do.” he admitted.

Rosemary was quiet for a minute. She was crying, too. “I’m ashamed to say this because she needs me. I should be there with her, but I’m only one person. I’m planning Faith’s funeral, too.”

Mark hurt for Libby’s mother. “It’s okay, ma’am. I won’t leave Libby.”

“Jerry and I always wanted a son,” she said softly.

He couldn’t respond. Libby’s mother and father had treated him like family the moment he had stepped through their front door.

“You give my little girl a hug for me, okay? You tell her I love her.”

Mark nodded.

“And Mark.”

His voice cracked with his one syllable reply. “Yes?”

“I love you, too, young man.” Mrs. Clifton cried openly now. “Thank you for loving my Libby. One way or the other, I’ll be seeing you kids soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hung up the phone and wiped his face before he turned to Libby. She lay pale and lifeless on the stark white of the hospital bed. He lifted her bandaged hand.

“You probably heard me tell your mother,” he whispered against her cheek, “but I love you with all my heart. I’m not going anywhere. Please come back to me.”

“How is she?” Kelsey asked quietly.

She and Alex were the first visitors of the day and a welcome sight. One of the orderlies had pushed a recliner into Libby’s room so Mark could actually get some rest during the night. It didn’t help. She was a critical case, so doctors and nurses came and went all night, checking, monitoring, and just generally caring for her. Recliner or not, he couldn’t sleep. He had to know what they were doing, thinking, and what meds they were giving her.

“She’s better.” He stretched his aching back as he stood. Movement didn’t help either. His only relief came from the steady readout of Libby’s bedside monitor. “Her body temp’s normal, but the pneumonia’s kicking her butt. Her oxygen saturation could be a lot better.”

“They’ve got wonder drugs for pneumonia these days,” Kelsey offered.

“That’s what they tell me.” He took Libby’s bandaged hand in his and rubbed a gentle thumb over the layers of gauze where her knuckles might be. “For now she’s in a hold pattern. The meds are supposed to reduce her congestion. If not, the doctor plans to aspirate.”

“Has she come around yet?” Alex asked.

“No.” Mark bit his lip. The pale lady at his fingertips didn’t even know he was there. “I thought once we got her warmed up, she would snap out of it. I guess she needs more time.”

“It’s hard waiting, isn’t it?” Kelsey looped her hand over his arm, patting his bicep with her other hand. “She’s very lucky you’re here to watch out for her.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He caught himself. “I mean, Kelsey. I mean ....” He scrubbed a hand over his head. It had been a helluva week. He didn’t know what he meant anymore.

“She’ll come out of it,” Kelsey reassured him. “You’ll see. Have you had time to call her mother yet?”

“I did. Jerry and Marie are both going to be released next week.”

“How’s that going to work?” Alex asked. “Their home’s demolished. What’s she thinking?”

“I honestly don’t know, Boss. She’s going to need help, that’s for sure.”