Page 36 of Saving Noor

“One down,” Link whispered into his comms, already scanning the small chamber. “Untrained. Sedatives are in here somewhere. Jax, move up. Get the girls; they should be just ahead.”

Jax, who had been right behind Tank, slipped past the subdued guard without a glance. He moved toward a low, dark opening, a drainage culvert that seemed to vanish into the deeper gloom. His headlamp cut through the darkness, illuminating a makeshift cot, fashioned from burlap sacks.

And on it, curled together, were two tiny forms, unnaturally still and pale. Yasmin and Amina.

Jax dropped to one knee beside the cot, his movements quick and professional. He gently lifted a tiny wrist, checking for a pulse, then carefully placed a finger beneath a nostril to confirm breathing. His headlamp swept over their faces, searching for any signs of distress or injury beyond the obvious sedation. “Stable,” he reported, his voice low and calm. “Breathing shallow but steady. Deeply sedated, just as Noor said. No immediate physical trauma visible, Link. They’re fine, just very, very asleep.”

Link let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Thank God,” he murmured, the words raw with relief. He moved to the cot, helping Jax carefully separate the girls. Their bodies were feather-light, almost unnerving in their stillness. Link cradled Yasmin gently against his chest, her small head resting on his shoulder. Jax took Amina, securing her close.

“Blast, Tank, cover us,” Link instructed, his voice regaining its usual steel. “Let’s move.”

They retraced their steps with Blast leading the way, scanning ahead and shielding the team, while Link carried Yasmin carefully in his arms. Jax stayed close behind with Amina, and Tank brought up the rear, rifle at the ready.

As Link felt the light weight of Yasmin against him, barely two and a half years old, he was struck by how small and fragile she seemed, so vulnerable amidst the harshness surrounding them.

They navigated the claustrophobic culvert, then carefully ascended the slick well shaft. The cool desert air, though still thick with dust, was a welcome relief.

As Link stepped out of the wellhead, a wave of desert wind swept over him, carrying the sharp bursts of gunfire. He quickly scanned the perimeter, a fierce protectiveness overriding his exhaustion. He clutched Yasmin tighter, her fragile warmth a counterpoint to the cold, harsh reality of the mission.

Another burst of automatic fire rattled the night, a sharp reminder of Warden’s ongoing diversion. Link keyed his comms. “Warden, this is Link. We have the packages. Repeat, we have the packages. Get everyone on those birds. Shadow, Sammy and the pilots help with packing up the command post.”

He heard the triumphant crackle from Warden’s team, then a clearer voice cut in. It was Sammy, from the command post at the landing strip. “Dad! Are they…are they okay?” The hope, raw and desperate, trembled in his young voice, even over the static.

Link closed his eyes for a brief second, picturing his son, hunched over monitors, waiting. “They’re okay, son,” he said, his voice softer than he’d intended, but firm with conviction. “Just sleeping. We’re bringing them home.”

The silence from Sammy’s end was profound, but then, over the comms, Link heard a soft, shuddering gasp, unmistakably Noor. A whispered, heartfelt sob followed, barely audible beneath the static, but it spoke volumes. The agonizing worry finally released.

“Copy that, Dad. Shadow’s got a visual on your approach. Clear path to the birds.”

He began the sprint across the desert landscape towards the rendezvous point, Jax and the others close behind. The thud of distant rotor blades was growing louder, promising both escape and the frantic energy of an imminent departure.

Then, over the comms, Sammy’s voice, slightly out of breath from packing up the command post, but with an almost childlike eagerness, “Can I ride in the Black Hawk with Nova?”

A bit of a smile touched his lips. He thought back to the boy who found them in Basra, how he had once idolized the confident sniper, Nova, with an almost religious awe, convinced she held the secrets to the universe in her hands. Link trusted Nova implicitly, not just with a rifle, but with the lives of his team, and if she could keep Sammy focused and grounded on the broader mission during the flight, all the better.

23 - NOOR

The world spun around Noor, not with relief, but with the dizzying sway of an unwanted calm. She sat strapped into a field-issue wheelchair, the cold metal biting into her hip, a sharp contrast to the burning ache in her broken ribs and the raw, immobilized weight of casts encasing both arms. Her skin was pale, the flush of pain visible beneath the sweat that clung to her brow.

Around her, the command post buzzed with activity: faint radio chatter, the low hum of generators, the occasional sharp command cutting through the tense atmosphere. Tactical lamps cast harsh pools of light, but none touched the storm raging within her.

Noor refused the meds, choosing sharp awareness over dull relief. Every breath was a battle, each movement pinging pain like static electricity across her fractured body. But she needed to be present. Needed to focus. Her girls—were they safe?

Shadow and Sammy hovered nearby, steadfast and watchful. Sammy’s youthful face was drawn tight, a fragile mask of hope barely holding back the terror she knew he fought to conceal. Shadow’s eyes scanned the screens relentlessly, searching for any sign of Link and the team.

Time stretched, thick and unforgiving. Every second that passed without word from Link tightened the coil of dread around Noor’s chest. She clenched her jaws against the pain, willing herself to quiet the rising panic.

A sharp, metallic shriek from a shifting crate nearby made her teeth clench. It tore a jagged seam through her fragile composure, yanking her focus back.

No, not now. Stay here. Hold steady.

But the command post buzzed with restless energy, alive with noise and movement yet heavy with waiting. Sammy, his face tight with concentration, moved alongside Shadow as they coiled cables and folded portable screens.

The helicopters loomed dark and silent beyond the perimeter, engines either off or idling low in readiness. Despite the flurry of preparation, no news had come yet from Link. He was still somewhere in the claustrophobic tunnels, chasing the shadows in search of the girls.

Every clang, every thud of loading gear echoed sharper in the anxious quiet.

Memories pulsed behind her eyes.