Faithful Service, Silent Hearts Page 17

  "Dev! Over here, I have another one!"

  Devon scrambled after Mac to help the second victim. She was about ten feet away when shots rang out from the south. Instinctively, Devon crouched and again shouldered the assault rifle, scanning past the front sight in the direction of the shots. She saw no one. She ran to where Mac was leaning over the second victim, searching desperately for a pulse. As Devon reached her side, Mac was turning the body over.

  Devon's head swam and her knees threatened to buckle at the sight. Mac raised pained eyes to her, "Dev-"

  Devon fell to her knees next to the still form. The world moved in a slow motion, distorted way. She reached out a trembling hand, to brush the brown hair away from the beautiful face. An angry deep red gaping hole was in the center of her chest and her brown eyes stared lifelessly at the sky. Devon pulled Alex's limp body to her breast, clutching to her. She let out an agonizing wail reminding Mac of an animal caught in the sharp teeth of a metal trap. The world around Devon spun wildly as she sobbed, rocking Alex's body from side to side as her own heart seemed to bleed and shatter.

  Mac picked up the rifle when she heard shots again, scrambling back up to the road, she saw a group of fighters running toward their position. She couldn't tell how many due to the dust blowing clouds across the open space. She dove to the ground to assume a prone firing position and squeezed off four successive rounds. Her shots hit home on as two of the fighters slumped to the ground in mid stride. Their compatriots fanned out to find cover and quickly began returning fire. Mac scrambled back to the ditch, to take cover behind the Jeep.

  "Devon! They're coming! We have to get into a defensive position." When she got no response, only a low groaning sound from where she had left her, Mac low crawled to where Devon still clung to Alex's lifeless frame.

  Shaking her forcefully, she yelled again, "Devon, we have to go! Come on, we have to get cover!" The sharpness in Mac's tone reached her consciousness, jerking her back to the reality around her. Scrambling back up the side of the embankment, they saw the masked fighters advancing again.

  Mac kept the rifle on semi-automatic, wanting to conserve each bullet. They were out there alone and there was no telling how long they would have to make a stand. Again, she squeezed off her shots, successfully eliminating one more as the attackers continued to advance. They had closed to a distance of thirty yards. "Three or four left, that I could see," She told Devon.

  Devon closed her eyes, concentrating on the image of Alex's face. She turned her anguish into rage directed at the fighters, knowing that it was they who had killed her. She opened her eyes, sighted her pistol where she had seen the last one duck behind a large rock and waited. Her anger focused on the front sight, she saw movement and a blurred figure in the distance. When the shot exploded from her pistol she knew that it would hit home. The figure fell from her line of sight.

  She heard the sound of the M16 next to her as Mac dropped one more. A fighter retreated into the distant rocks. They had no way to tell if the remaining attackers had fled or were waiting them out. After waiting almost ten minutes, Mac realized that they needed to get the male agent medical attention.

  "We have to make a break for it, Dev. That guy needs a doctor."

  "What about Al-" her throat closed around her lover's name.

  "We're not leaving anyone behind today, Dev." The certainty in her friend's eyes was like a beacon in the raging storm battering Devon's soul.

  They walked back to where Alex's body lay. Mac started to bend down to help when Devon pushed her hand out to stop her. Stepping back, Mac watched solemnly as Devon bent and carefully worked her arms under the supine woman's knees and shoulders, lifting her as she stood. Mac followed silently as she carried Alex's body from the ravine to their Jeep and placed her gently in the rear. The male agent, who was now awake, sat on the edge of the bumper. Devon then pulled a tarp from the corner of the cargo area and smoothed it over Alex, tracing her hands the length of her body.

  Pop, pop, pop Devon irrationally leaned protectively over Alex's body at the sudden sounds of more gunfire. She was knocked against the side of the Jeep by some unseen force. Devon heard the sound of Mac yelling, and started to run in that direction, but her left leg buckled and she fell to the ground. A burning sensation traveled down her thigh toward her lower leg. She tried to push herself up to draw her firearm again, but her right arm would not move. Strange. She looked down at her body and saw a red color seeping into the fabric of tan camouflage. The burning sensation gave way to a searing pain in her leg and arm. Devon closed her eyes against a sudden wave of nausea.

  Mac's shouts grew louder, refocusing her mind as she swallowed the bile rising at the back of her throat. Devon heard the M16 firing again. The fight was not over. Struggling to shift her body weight and pull her pistol with her left hand she rolled to the left ignoring the stabbing pain that the pressure on the wound caused. Reaching across her body and struggling with the holster, she managed to extract the pistol. She vaguely registered movement to her right and raised the pistol to eye level just in time to see a figure in black, face covered, running toward her, his gun raised. Devon drew a deep breath and started to squeeze the trigger when suddenly she heard a loud pop and the assailant was thrown to the left. When he fell, she saw Mac step into her line of vision, the rifle pointed down at the fighter.

  "Jesus Christ," Mac seethed, "Dev, you alright?"

  Even as she asked, Mac could see the blood soaking through the left leg of Devon's pants and her right sleeve. "Holy fuck," she breathed.

  Quickly, she stripped off her outer shirt, tearing it to make a tourniquet and tying it off on Devon's upper thigh. Checking the arm, she was thankful that it appeared to be mostly a flesh wound. "C'mon, let's get you in the jeep and get the hell out of here."

  As Mac loaded her up next to Alex's body, Devon's mind reeled again with the loss. Forgetting her own injury, she pulled Alex's head onto her lap and laid her own head against the wheel well. The dizziness was starting to return and Devon focused on holding Alex with her right arm while the Jeep bounced along the road. She closed her eyes trying to steel herself against the pain in her heart and her body.

  As they arrived at the triage area, the sun was setting. Mac had radioed in that they had stopped for the rescue and taken enemy fire. The major and two CIA agents were waiting as the Jeep pulled to a stop. Devon sat motionless, oblivious to their presence, while the major spoke briefly to Mac. One of the agents assisted the injured man to the treatment area. The second agent approached the rear of the Jeep and leaned in to grasp Alex's body.

  Devon did not release her hold. Her body was eerily still as her eyes, cold as steel met the agent's.

  "Don't touch her." Her voice was low and menacing and edged with flint. Her face was a rigid mask devoid of any emotion.

  The agent, unaccustomed to being told what to do by military people, made the error of challenging the lieutenant, "Look, she's one of ours, so you can just-" With frightening swiftness, Devon had her good hand locked on the agents neck, squeezing his trachea like a vise.

  "Aaaggg," was the only sound he could choke out.

  Mac closed the distance grabbing Devon by the arm, "Dev, stop! This isn't the time." She pulled the agent away from the jeep, coughing and sputtering before he could land the punch he was about to launch at Devon's face.

  The pain of the sudden movement and exertion overtook Devon and she released her hold, sinking back against the metal as her stomach again threatened to empty its contents. Her leg and arm throbbed when she pushed herself back up and reached out to hold Alex's hand in hers.

  A few minutes later, Mac stood at the side of the Jeep, just over Devon's right shoulder. She tentatively touched her arm, "Hey," she said softly.

  Devon didn't look up. "I just need a minute Mac," she whispered.

  "Okay, my friend, but you really ne
ed to get looked at too."

  Devon struggled to sit up straighter and bent to look one last time at Alex. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she silently wept. She placed her good hand on the side of the beautiful face, stroking it reverently. "I love you Alexandra." She choked out and placed a soft kiss on the partially opened mouth.

  Abruptly, a sickening dizziness overcame her, and Devon tried desperately to grab for the side of the Jeep as her vision dimmed. Crying out for Alex, she felt herself freefalling, swallowed up by the darkness.

  Chapter 30

  December, Langley, VA

  Devon entered the expansive lobby of the old headquarters building of the Central Intelligence Agency. The click of the cane and her footsteps on the marble floor echoed as she crossed the sixteen foot granite agency seal in the middle of the atrium. Her healing leg was fatigued from the walk from the metro stop in the cold air. It was early and she was alone in the majestic dignity of the room.

  Making her way to the north side of the lobby, Devon approached the memorial, a plain light grey marble wall containing five rows of stars carved into the wall's surface. Each 2 ¼ inch star spaced exactly six inches apart represented the 87 CIA officers who served their country and made the ultimate sacrifice in silence. Stopping about five feet from the wall, Devon's eyes wandered over every inch, respectfully taking in the moving tribute.

  Above the rows of stars, she read the inscription carved into the wall, "In honor of those members of the Central Intelligence Agency who gave their lives in the service of their country." An American and CIA flag flanked either side of the stars, providing the only splashes of color against the soft grey marble.

  "There's a memorial book, if you're looking for a particular name." Devon jumped slightly when the voice broke the silence next to her. A man who appeared to be some sort of tour guide smiled at her.

  "Thank-you," she shook her head no and turned back toward the wall. The man lingered momentarily, considering the raw pain he glimpsed in Army officer's eyes. Sensing he had intruded on a private moment, he melted away.

  Devon slowly approached the wall, reaching out to place her fingertips on the last star on the bottom row. It was still black. In time it would age to a muted grey and Devon wondered if her painful memories would fade like the star. She closed her eyes and saw vividly the image of Alex's face staring lifelessly at her. Forcing the image from her mind, Devon replaced it with Alex's smiling face the night of their first kiss, so innocent and beautiful. She drew a deep breath, savoring the pleasant image before opening her eyes again to look quietly at the star for a few moments.

  Raising her eyes to the words inscribed above the entrance, Devon read, "And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." Devon whispered aloud, "Truth? Whose truth?"

  "Alex," she said softly, "I will never forget your truth."

  With that, she moved back to the wall, kissed the tips of her fingers, and pressed them to the dark star at the end of the last row. Then, placing her beret back on her head, she turned away from the wall and made her way out of the building into the cold December morning.

  Chapter 31

  January, 1984

  Devon struggled to push the final two reps on her bench press, the muscles in her arms straining, her right triceps screaming at her. Sweat pouring out of every pore in her skin she forced the bar upward with a loud grunt. Last one. You can do this. She was desperate to get her arm and leg fully functional at last. The bar swayed and dipped dangerously to the right as Devon groaned loudly fighting to keep from dropping the weight. Hands came from behind her grasping the bar firmly and placing the weights onto the cleats.

  "You shouldn't do that without a spotter." Devon's head snapped around at the sound of the familiar voice. Mac stood grinning down at her as Devon's face lit up She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Mac's neck, the two women embracing each other fully.

  "Oh, my God," Devon exclaimed, "what are you doing here?" She hadn't seen Mac since the day after the bombing three months before when they had transferred her to the military hospital in Germany before shipping her finally stateside at Walter Reed for her rehab. She was pleased to see that Mac looked well.

  "Well, I had my choice of station after Beirut, and I love D.C., so I figured, why not spend my last six months here?" Mac studied Devon's face, noting the sadness still dulling her usually crisp blue eyes and the dark hollows around them. She was thinner than Mac remembered and she looked down at the ace wrap on the other woman's left thigh. "How's the leg?"

  "Better, thanks. I just keep the wrap on it while I'm working out. Doc says the nerves are still healing and that gives me fits sometimes, but I'm just glad to be able to feel it," Devon shrugged, looking around her at the soldiers, sailors and marines who had lost limbs or worse, "I know how fortunate I am." She picked up a white towel and wiped sweat from her face and neck.

  "You still didn't answer the question," Devon regarded Mac with a raised eyebrow, "what are you doing here." She pointed to the floor for emphasis.

  Mac chuckled and put an arm around her friend's shoulder as they walked to the locker room. She winced at Devon's obvious limp. "As I said, I am stationed here again, with First Army at Meade. I arrived yesterday morning." They stopped and moved aside as a female soldier, left leg amputated below the knee made her way past them on crutches toward the physical therapy area.

  The woman nodded a greeting to them as she passed, "Captain." She addressed Mac, who was in uniform wearing her desert fatigues.

  Mac nodded in return, "Good morning soldier," she smiled.

  She continued her explanation as they stepped into the locker room, "I knew you were back at NSA, so I inquired with Petty Officer Baxter, who is very cute by the way, and she said you were here for your PT and working out. That's it. Here I am."

  Devon saw a twinkle in Mac's eye briefly at the mention of Ann's name and she smiled to herself. That's a discussion for later over a beer. She pulled on dark green sweat pants and a thick grey sweatshirt that said AIRBORNE across the front. Mac picked up the gym bag for Devon.

  "I can get that," Devon protested.

  Mac rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know, always the independent one. But just shut up and let's go."

  "Okay, but I buy dinner tonight." She was unable to conceal her delight at the prospect of having dinner with Mac. She had been so alone since coming back, unable to talk to anyone about her pain. It would be good to have the company of someone she didn't have to explain it to. She and Mac had survived that horrific experience and it would bond them for life.

  "You have yourself a deal," Mac returned as she threw Devon's bag behind the seat of her black pickup before climbing behind the wheel as Devon got into the passenger side.

  Chapter 32

  After dinner, Mac drove them to a small bar in Baltimore for a couple of beers. The Club Mitchell was known for its weekend crowds when the small space was packed with women moving to the pulsating dance music and enjoying a few drinks in the company of other women. On weeknights, the club was a quieter place encouraging conversation in a relaxing atmosphere.

  Devon nodded hello to several women she recognized from the base as they crossed the room and claimed a small table against the wall. Mac went to the bar as Devon sat surveying her surroundings. Devon noticed a dark haired woman at the bar watching Mac as she approached. The woman shifted on her stool to get a better view and seemed to be studying her with interest as Mac stepped around to the far corner to get the bartenders attention. The admirer followed with her eyes as Mac returned to the table with their beer and Devon laughed to herself.

  "Sorry, they were out of Maccabee," Mac said as she set down two bottles of Heineken when she returned, taking a seat opposite Devon at the table.

  "Unbelievable," Devon feigned outrage.

  Mac raised her bottle in Devon's direction, "To your co
ntinued recovery."

  Devon tapped her bottle to Mac's, "To friendship." Both women drank and sat back in their chairs. Mac scrutinized her for a few moments, watching the way Devon scanned the room with apparently little interest in what she saw. Not that Mac expected her to be cruising the club; it was more like her eyes were mirroring the emptiness in her soul. She remembered when they'd first met, how Devon had so fiercely guarded her privacy. Slowly they had become friends and Mac believed that they had earned each other's trust. Although she knew instinctively that the bond that they shared was strong, Mac recognized the distant expression had returned to her friend's eyes. The shields had once again been reinstalled around her heart.

  "So, the award ceremony is tomorrow. You want to meet me for breakfast beforehand?"

  "I'm not going." Devon said flatly.

  "You have to go."

  "I can't Mac." Her eyes were tortured as she looked back.

  "You don't really have a choice in the matter. The President will be there. This is a big deal. You're a real American hero and -"