He nodded, and we pushed forward.
Graham cut our way through the crowd as we climbed the steps, the scent of smoke thicker the higher we climbed. There were burns going in almost every building of the embassy’s compound. One blank passport in the wrong hands could lead to an enemy on US soil, and that was an unacceptable risk.
I tugged Izzy close, my heartbeat rising in an unusual way as I studied the crowd around us, looking for anyone who didn’t belong, even though I damn well knew everyone here had been allowed entrance to the embassy at some point. The guards still stood outside.
We climbed story after story until we reached the roof access, bypassing every single person waiting on the inbound Chinook. Maybe it made me a callous asshole, but I had exactly one priority, and the hundreds of people left waiting in the stairwell weren’t it.
Not now.
Izzy startled at the sound of gunfire as we stood in the doorway.
“It’s probably just celebratory,” I told her.
“Which is why you have your hand on your rifle,” she muttered, glancing at the team around us. “Why you all have your weapons out.”
“Well, that’s just in case it’s not celebratory,” Torres said, bringing up the rear next to Parker.
“It’s just a precaution,” Parker said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Right. Just your run-of-the-mill evacuation.” Izzy squeezed my hand, and I stroked my thumb over the racing pulse in her wrist.
The sound of rotors filled the air as the Chinook approached.
“Looks like our ride,” I told her.
The bird landed on the roof, wind blasting us as the back door lowered.
“I think I liked it better when we took off from the soccer field,” Izzy said.
“Me too.” I squeezed her hand once and let it go. “Stay right behind me. Twelve inches.”
She nodded, and I lifted my rifle with both hands.
We walked onto the exposed rooftop, and I swept the buildings around me. Getting to the bird meant walking closer to the edge of the building, and I knew if I could see the parade of Taliban vehicles with their white flags and mounted fifty-cals in the truck beds, that meant Izzy could too.
The Green Zone had been breached, and they were headed in the direction of the Arg, the presidential palace. The embassy might be US property, but we were firmly within enemy territory now.
I put my body between hers and the edge, and kept my rifle trained on the ground below, scanning for legitimate threats. Elston joined us as we boarded, climbing up the door and into the Chinook.
Keeping us near the edge of the exit while the others loaded, I sat us down once we hit max capacity, pulling Izzy close against the hard metal of the aircraft as the back door rose. I’d been in plenty of helicopters with plenty of bullets flying around, but I’d never had the kind of anxiety that crept up my throat at this moment.
Torres gave me a knowing look through the dim lighting as we launched, and I refrained from flipping him the bird.
We both knew exactly what my problem was.
I had Izzy to worry about.
The airport was a hellscape. Crying children, stunned men, and worried women filled the terminal, and they were the lucky ones.
The ones outside the fence, screaming to be let in? Not so lucky.
When we got to Izzy’s gate, my stomach twisted.
Her flight had been canceled.
There weren’t enough swear words in the world to narrate my thoughts, but Izzy simply took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Then I guess we should find the temporary embassy here.”
“Solid plan,” Elston agreed.
I nodded, and we set off through the ever-growing panic of a crowd policed by US and NATO soldiers. Gate after gate said the same thing, with precious few getting their flights out.
“Oh my God,” Izzy said, stopping dead in the middle of the walkway and turning toward the television.
The presidential palace was no longer in the Afghan government’s hands.
“Shit’s deteriorating fast,” Graham said.
“Fuck deteriorating, shit’s gone,” Parker corrected. “According to that news site, the airport and the embassy are the only places we hold.”
And who knew how long we’d have either.
“Let’s go.” I took Izzy’s hand, giving exactly zero cares about whoever saw, and led us through the airport, using Webb’s directions to get us to the temporary embassy site.
We went from a crowd that bordered on hysteria to administrative hell. Cutting through the lines of desperate civilians, we passed through the small barricade and were met with the embassy staff who’d already been evacuated.
“Guess I’ll see who I can help,” Izzy said, flashing me an uncertain smile and caressing the palm of my hand with her thumb before letting me go.
“Don’t leave this area,” I told her. “I’ll see what I can find out about flights.”
She nodded, making sure her clipped badge was visible before she headed off toward the first clerk.
“Find out about her sister,” I ordered Graham.
He nodded, and I got to work finding Izzy a ride out of this place.
Usually I loved sunrises and the possibilities they brought, but today’s seemed more like a new variant of lighting on the same damned day.
We’d been here thirty-six hours, while the city had fallen into bedlam around us. The reports coming in were harrowing. There were over a hundred thousand people in need of evacuation, and not a single airplane could get them out. While a couple of flights had managed to depart the night we’d arrived at the airport, every flight had been halted yesterday.
Izzy had worked herself to the bone and was currently racked out on the floor, using her backpack for a pillow in what I felt was the safest corner of the temporary embassy.
“Did you find our girl a flight?” Graham asked from my right, keeping his voice down as I watched her sleep from a dozen feet away.
“Kind of.” I wanted to replace that backpack with my chest, to hold her for the last few minutes I had. Our briefing with Webb an hour ago had gone exactly as I’d predicted . . . and dreaded.
“That’s a bullshit answer,” Graham fired back, his brow knitting.
“It’s a bullshit situation.” That was putting it lightly. “They’re hoping to get clearance today, but until they open the runways and clear them of people, there’s almost no chance of anyone getting out.”
“Almost?” He glanced sideways at me.
“We’re not exactly the only US company here.” I folded my arms across my chest and memorized her face all over again, taking note of the purple shadows beneath her eyes.
“Ahh.” Graham nodded, catching my meaning. “Gotcha. Does she know about her sister?”
I shook my head, my stomach sinking. “No. And she’s not going to.”
“You’re not going to tell her about the checkpoints? About the bullet holes in reporters?” Graham lifted his brows, his dark eyes flaring.