“That’s how,” Rapp said.
Rapp pointed to a bubbling stream that disappeared under a rock face to their right. The instant he saw the underground tributary, Rapp understood what had subconsciously prompted him to take the intersection to the right.
The smell of water.
Rapp remembered the waterfall at the front of the cave complex’s entrance. The rock tunnels must serve as a natural aqueduct for the spring water the farmers in the surrounding village used to irrigate their crops. The underground river moved at a quick but navigable pace. Rapp took this to mean that the tunnels were wide enough not to constrict the river’s flow. In other words, the rock channels were probably large enough to contain air pockets.
Probably.
“Not gonna happen,” Saxton said.
“Look,” Rapp said, not trying to hide his exasperation. “I get that it isn’t an ideal solution, but I saw the pool this stream empties into. The current is manageable, and the tunnel is taller than the water by at least a foot or so. We’ll be able to breathe. Besides, the alternative isn’t exactly promising.”
As if to underscore Rapp’s point, another volley of shots echoed from the passageway they’d just vacated. With the air saturated with dust, their pursuers might not have seen which corridor Rapp and Saxton had chosen in the confusion surrounding their escape, but with only two branches to choose from, the jihadis had a fifty-fifty chance. Based on the way Rapp’s luck had been breaking lately, he didn’t love those odds.
“I can’t swim,” Saxton said.
Rapp stared at the Ranger, his mind refusing to make sense of the man’s words.
“What?”
“I. Can’t. Swim.”
“How the hell does a Ranger not know how to swim?” Rapp said.
“I joined the Army, not the Navy,” Saxton said. “Swimming wasn’t in the job description.”
This time splintering rocks and the buzzing of bullets snapping through the sound barrier accompanied the bark of AK-47s firing. The assaulters had either chosen correctly or split their numbers to cover both branches.
Rapp was out of time.
“No problem,” Rapp said, taking a step closer to Saxton. “I know exactly what you need to do.”
“What?” Saxton said, looking over his shoulder at the corridor.
“Learn.”
Rapp smashed both hands into the Ranger’s back, torquing his hips into the thrust. With a cry, Saxton tumbled into the river still clutching CYCLONE. Rapp gave the men a body-length lead and then dove after them.
A moment later, the gaping tunnel swallowed them.
CHAPTER 40
THE foaming water closed around Rapp with an icy embrace.
He knew the river was sourced from both ice melt and a natural spring and he’d expected the water to be cold.
But it wasn’t cold.
It was frigid.
After finding his footing on the rocky floor, Rapp pushed up with both feet, gasping for air the moment his head broke the surface. The cold was significant, and if he spent too long bobbing in the Taliban’s version of the Lazy River, he would have to start watching for the telltale mental sluggishness and deadened limbs that announced the onset of hypothermia.
But that was a problem for later.
First, he needed to locate his nonswimming companion.
Fortunately, the sputtering and cursing gave Rapp a pretty good idea where to look. The tunnel wasn’t lit, and the illumination provided by the lightbulb strands behind them was fading fast. Rapp stroked toward the commotion with distance-eating kicks, desperate to link up with Saxton before the encroaching darkness made the task exponentially more difficult.
On the fifth stroke, his questing fingers touched fabric.
“I’ve got you,” Rapp said, looping an arm around Saxton’s neck. “Just relax.”
The Ranger instinctively fought, but Rapp was ready for the man’s drowning response. Sliding beneath the soldier’s flailing arms, Rapp transferred his hold to something like a rear naked choke and flipped Saxton onto his back.
“Relax,” Rapp hissed. “If you keep fighting, you’ll drown us both. Just breathe and let me do the rest.”
Rapp’s words must have penetrated Saxton’s fear-saturated brain because the Ranger stopped struggling and began hacking.
“Lesson number one,” Rapp said, “hold your breath underwater.”
“Fuck you,” Saxton said between coughs. “I told you I couldn’t swim.”
“And I told you I didn’t care,” Rapp said, beginning a sidestroke. “It was the river or die. Easy choice.”
“Funny,” Saxton said, “ ’cause that sounds like the same choice to me.”
“They don’t teach water survival training in Ranger School?” Rapp said.
