Uncovered by Truth
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Rachael Duncan
Uncovered by Truth
Copyright © 2015 by Rachael Duncan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Edited by:
Nichole Strauss with Perfectly Publishable
Interior Design and Formatting by:
Christine Borgford with Perfectly Publishable
Cover Designed by:
Marisa Shor with Cover Me, Darling
TO MY HUSBAND, STEVEN.
FROM THE PIER TO HERE.
NO MATTER HOW many times I end up in this shithole, I will never get used to the heat. I wipe the sweat off of my brow as I look out the window of the humvee at the hell that is Afghanistan.
“Keep your eyes open, guys,” I hear our captain say over the radio.
“Roger, that,” I reply. We’re in our trucks getting ready to roll through Waziristan, a dangerous area known for hiding insurgents. But the only way to get rid of the bad guys is to go where they are. So that’s what we’re doing. We’re drawing them out of their hiding places so we can take them out.
Fuckers.
“How’s that baby girl of yours, Schwartz?” I ask the other sergeant on the team who’s sitting beside me. He and his wife had a little girl right before we got sent out.
His whole face lights up at the mention of his daughter. “She’s perfect, bro. She just rolled over yesterday.”
I smack him on the back a few times. “That’s great, man. Real gr—” I’m cut off by a deafening explosion that jostles the vehicle, bringing it to a screeching stop. The ringing in my ears is so severe I can’t even hear myself think. Fuck! What’s going on? I look around, trying desperately to get my bearings from the shock of the blast, but all I see is the dust and sand the humvee kicked up, coming to a sudden halt. My hand goes to my head as I try to shake myself out of the fog the blast has created.
I know we didn’t take a direct hit, but a lot of times you don’t have to. “Everyone alright?” I yell over the chaos. I hear the faint sounds of popping in the background and know we need to get out and check on the other guys.
“Yeah,” the other three guys call out one by one.
“Okay, let’s see what the damage is to the other two trucks ahead of us.” We pile out of the truck, making sure to check our surroundings and stay covered from any hajis hiding up in the mountains. The dust has settled some, which allows me to get a view of the other trucks. “Cover me!” I yell. After getting a thumbs-up from my team, I take a deep breath and sprint to the next vehicle. Shots rain out all around me, hitting the dirt inches from me each time.
“Son of a bitch!” I yell out at no one in particular. I make it to the truck in front of us and quickly assess the damage. The truck is a little beat up from the spray of the blast, but nothing major. The vehicle ahead of this one, the one leading the convoy, isn’t so lucky. I sprint toward it as I see fire engulfing the front of it. I need to get everyone out of there before they’re toast. Again, shots fire down on me, but I keep going.
The driver is slumped forward, his head resting on the steering wheel. “Carter! Carter!” I shout at him. The smoke coming from the fire blows in my face, causing me to cough. Flames flicker in the corner of my eye and I know we don’t have long before this blows to shit. He moves just enough to let me know he’s alive. “Let’s go, buddy. You gotta get out of here. Can you walk?” I duck down when a loud ping sounds out next to me, startling me.
“I think my leg is busted up a little.” He winces in pain, his breaths labored as he speaks. I look down at it, and busted doesn’t quite explain it. It’s mangled beyond recognition from the shrapnel that tore through it. He’s probably going to lose his leg. I look in the truck to assess the other guys. Smith is in the passenger seat and is all fucked up. Half of his body is missing, having been blown off from the hit. His eyes are open, but they’re completely vacant. Knowing he can’t be saved, I’ll come back for him last. The two guys in the back start moving around, but are still disoriented.
“Okay, let me get Hernandez and Walker out. Give me a second.” I go to the back door and see that there’s blood all over the seats and I know they’ve sustained injuries too.
“How are they?” My captain asks as he runs toward me.
“Not looking good. Carter has a fucked up leg, sir.”
“You help them out, I’ll grab Carter,” he says to me.
“Roger, sir.” Turning back to Hernandez and Walker, I see they’re already moving to get out, the initial shock wearing off. “You guys good to walk?”
They nod, “Yeah!” Hernandez shouts.
“We need to run to the other truck, okay?” Again they nod before stumbling out. “Alright, let’s go!” The three of us take off toward the other vehicle leaving the captain and Carter. The adrenaline coursing through me has my senses on high alert. I hear the crackling of the flames at my back, and the popping of the bullets being fired; I feel the stifling heat that suffocates my body, and the beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and blurring my vision when it gets in my eye; I smell the stench of burnt tires and gunpowder as it fills the air. Through all of that, I have one goal: get these guys to cover. It becomes clear Hernandez is hurt more than he’s leading on. He’s limping pretty bad and hardly moving. “You go on, Walker!” I turn and drape Hernandez’s arm over my shoulders and help him get the hell out of here.