damage. It would take strong men to do that until they reached waiting trucks.
So far, eight thousand of these survivors had reached Idaho Springs. Belatedly, the Chinese attacked the rear guard, halting another eight thousand hastily digging trenches to face their tormentors.
Paul used his forearm to wipe his forehead. He was dog-tired from lifting stretchers and he was tired in his soul. SOCOM had been using him and the other LRSUs back and forth in the hottest spots for weeks on end now. He’d been fighting too long, and it had taken its toll to his spirit.
“Poor bastards,” Paul said.
“What did one of your great generals of the past say?” Romo asked. “War is Hell.”
“That it is,” Paul agreed.
A truck’s brakes squealed as it lurched toward the Chinook. MPs raced over to block it. The trucks were supposed to wait behind the barricade for inspection.
A tough-looking man with a Mexico Home Army uniform jumped out of the driver’s seat.
“You!” he said to Paul. “I have men that need loading.”
The MPs moved up.
Paul recognized the mean-looking driver: the man was an assassin for Valdez. Paul wasn’t sure what motivated him. “Just a minute,” he told the MP captain. “I think I might know some of these men.”
“Doesn’t make any difference,” the MP said.
“Is Colonel Valdez here?” Paul asked the driver.
The Mexico Home Army driver’s head swayed back. He squinted at Paul, and recognition flared in his eyes. Slowly, suspiciously, the driver nodded.
Paul faced the MP. “Sir, Colonel Valdez is a VIP to the President of the United States.”
“What?” the captain said.
“He’s an important figure to our allied soldiers,” Paul explained.
“What’s going on here?” the captain asked.
A hand clutched one of Paul’s elbows. Romo whispered in his ear, “What are you doing?”
Paul wasn’t sure. Maybe he was paying back a blood debt to Maria Valdez. The Colonel wanted him dead, could hate like few others, but he had fathered Maria and Paul hadn’t been able to rescue her from the Chinese. It still bothered him. He couldn’t give the Colonel his life, as Paul wanted to live, not die. But maybe he could give the Colonel back his own life as payment for a grim burden of the soul.
“Sir,” Paul told the captain, “I belong to SOCOM. The President tasks us from time to time with secret missions. I happen to know how important Colonel Valdez is to America’s war effort. Let us carry him and as many of his men as it can hold aboard the Chinook.”
The MP scowled and finally threw up his hands. “Hurry it up then. The helo is slated to take off in ten minutes.”
The captain and his MPs stalked off.
The driver studied Paul. The man’s features had become stony and then thoughtful. “You have a lion’s heart,” he said. “Follow me.” The driver took Paul and Romo to the back of the truck and opened the gate.
A dozen Mexico Home Army soldiers sat in the gloom on benches. On a stretcher lay Colonel Valdez. One of the men held up Valdez’s head. Another whipped back a blanket covering the Colonel, showing that Valdez held a pistol aimed at Paul’s chest.
Paul saw eyes of burning hate. Those eyes flickered to take in Romo.
“Both of you are here,” Valdez whispered. His skin was gray and he seemed feverish.
Paul wondered how much of an idiot he was, but he decided to play it through. “Do you want to live?” he asked the Colonel.
“I want to put a bullet in your chest,” Valdez whispered. “You are a pig and a traitor.”
“Colonel,” the driver said, surprising Paul by speaking up. “This man just interfered for your sake. The MP would have forced you to wait. Now you can leave on a helicopter and get the medical help you need.”
“I heard what this traitor said,” hissed Valdez. He glared at Paul. “Do you think you can buy my forgiveness?”
“Apparently not,” Paul said.
The Colonel began to cough and his gun-hand lost strength so he set the weapon on the floorboard, although he kept his hand around the butt and his finger curled around the trigger.
The Mexico Home Army soldiers in the truck stared at Paul and stared at Romo.
“He needs medical help,” Romo said. “I doubt he’ll get it if he shoots the American.”
“Traitor,” Valdez hissed so spit flew from his mouth. A particle landed on his chin as he raised the gun.
Before he could fire, the driver lunged into the truck. The man had a leopard’s swiftness. He grabbed the gun and