Will was roused from his reverie by a shout. It was Latifa. A change seemed to have come over her. There was a blankness in her face that he had not noticed the last time he looked and a low groan was escaping her lips. She started talking in Pashto, her voice guttural and anguished. She raised her bound fists as though trying to brush something away, then cried out again. Jesus, she looked half-dead. More than half. He had to stop himself from telling Drew to drive faster, but he knew that the woman didn't have a lot of time left. If they didn't get to a medic soon, she'd be a goner.
'Delirious,' Kennedy observed from his seat in the front.
Will touched his hand to her forehead. 'She's burning up. It's hardly surprising — they fucked her up pretty badly back there. Her feet are a mess.'
'Well it's still a good couple of hours back to the base. I hope she makes it — if septicaemia sets in out here, she's a goner.'
Will's eyes narrowed. For some reason caring for this woman went against every urge in his body, but he knew what he had to do. He lay the Minimi down beside him, then leaned over Latifa, hoping to persuade her to lie down on the floor of the truck. But as soon as he touched her, she started writhing and screaming — a long, desperate scream that ended with a single word.
'Faisal!'
And then, as if woken from a dream, she seemed to see Will. She looked around her, as though seeing her surroundings for the first time.
'Where are we?' she asked.
The utterance of Faisal Ahmed's name on this woman's lips had shocked Will and it was a moment before he answered.
'We're on our way to Kandahar Airport,' he told her gruffly. Then, moved by the fear that was still etched on her face, he added,' You're safe. We're going to get you some medical treatment. Do you think you can make it?'
Latifa took a deep breath and nodded her head, resolutely. Then she closed her eyes and allowed her body to shake in rhythm with the jerky movements of the truck.
The sky grew imperceptibly lighter as the sun began to rise over southern Afghanistan. A new sun for a new day. Better than the last, Will hoped.
Gradually the road became busier. As the risk of roadside attacks declined, Will found himself becoming more worried about Latifa. That blank look in her face had returned. Occasionally she would gaze around her as if she had no idea where she was; now and then she would shout out, though more weakly than before, but Will felt useless to do anything. They needed to get to the airbase, and fast. He felt a huge sense of relief when they started to approach it.
It was strangely comforting to see the bleak, sprawling mass of concrete ahead of them, to sense the bustle of activity as they drove in. And Will found himself somehow soothed by the mechanical drone of a plane overhead.
'Nothing like coming in under the radar,' Kennedy said, sarcastically. Will looked around him: the sight of their battered truck was attracting curious attention from many of the troops of different nationalities they passed.
'Half these guys probably never even leave the base,' Drew grunted from behind the wheel. Tiredness showed in his voice and Will wasn't surprised. On top of everything else, it had been a long, difficult drive.
They pulled up outside the hangar where they had prepared themselves the previous day and started to unload what remained of their weaponry, so that they would be able to get Latifa out of the back. As they were doing so, the Junior Technician who had helped them yesterday — Evans, did he say his name was? — approached. He had a slightly awed expression on his face as he looked at the state of the men and their vehicle. 'Do you need anything, sir?' he asked quietly.
Will looked at the kid with a sense of irritation that he quickly checked. He was only doing his job. 'Tell Rankin I need to see him now,' he replied, gruffly.
Evans nodded, then disappeared to deliver the message.
Once the weaponry was unloaded, Will turned his attention to Latifa. Her face was sweating and for a dark-skinned woman she was alarmingly pale. Her eyes seemed to roll in her head.
'Latifa,' he called.
She didn't seem to hear him.
'Latifa!' More forcefully this time.
She turned her head and gazed at him. It was impossible to tell whether she was taking in anything he was saying.
'You need to get down,' he told her. 'Can you do that? Can you walk?'
For a moment there was no response, but then, excruciatingly slowly, Latifa started to push herself towards the back of the truck. Painfully, she manoeuvred herself into position, then climbed down on to the slush-covered tarmac. She winced as her wounded feet touched the floor and an expression of agony flashed across her face; but then she took a couple of difficult steps towards the hangar.
'Here,' Will said gruffly, unable to watch this woman's discomfort, no matter who she was. 'I'll carry you.'
Latifa's face winced again, as if she were unwilling to accept such a humiliating offer of help. But she was too weak to turn it down, so Will lifted her light, bony body and carried her inside. Even through the thick snowsuit, he could tell that she was burning hot and he could feel her limbs trembling.
The area of the hangar that they had been allocated was sparse, but there was one chair that was a little larger and more comfortable than the others scattered around. Will placed Latifa in it. 'Take the snowsuit off,' he instructed.
'Easy, tiger,' Kennedy murmured.
'Shut up, Kennedy,' Will told him, before turning back to Latifa. 'Get it off, now,' he repeated. 'I'm not messing about.'
Latifa's eyes rolled again as, weakly, she held up her thin wrists, still bound together by the Plasticuffs. Will nodded, then searched around the room until he found something suitable to release them — a pair of sharp scissors made short work of the plastic bands. 'Just don't do anything stupid.'
Latifa's head lolled, but she managed to curl her upper lip into an expression of contempt. 'I am in the middle of a military base and I cannot walk,' she croaked. 'I hardly think that I am a match for you brave men with your guns.'
She started to undress.
It should have been easy for her to wriggle her thin body out of the snowsuit intended for Will's larger frame, but she was weak and it took her a long time. It was only once she had removed it that Will was reminded of how badly she stank and now that she was in the light, he could see how ragged and dirty her robes were.
But it was her feet he was most concerned about. Out in the field, there had been nothing they could do, but now they were back at the airbase it was essential that she received some kind of medical attention. The wounds were bad and it looked to Will as if they were infected. If they turned septic, she could die and the whole mission would have been for nothing.
He got to his knees and gently took her right foot in his hand.
'Jesus,' he heard Kennedy whisper from behind him.
Latifa's feet were disgusting. They were swollen and puffy — perhaps twice their usual size — but it was not this that made them such an alarming sight. They were covered in enormous welts and scars which oozed a mixture of viscous white liquid and barely coagulating blood — as though her feet were weeping some vile, putrid poison.
'She needs a medic,' Will murmured. 'An antibiotic jab at the very least and something to get her fever down. Otherwise she'll be away with the fairies when we get back, if she even makes it.' As he spoke, Junior Technician Evans reappeared. 'Well?' he asked him curtly. 'Is Rankin ready for me?'
The young soldier seemed nervous. 'No, sir,' he said, meekly. 'He asked me to tell you that he may have time later in the day.'