Under Fire: The Admiral Read Online Free Page B

coconuts.
Four should be plenty. In a couple of hours,” she said and tipped
her head in the direction of the approaching clouds, “or less,
we’ll be able to collect rainwater.”
    Walsh’s gaze went to the ocean and the storm.
They both flinched at the lightning streaking across the sky. He
shrugged out of his pack. “Can I put this down anyplace?”
    Gemma smiled. Okay, he was learning. She
removed one of the small tarps from her pack, shook it out like it
was a sheet and she was making a bed, and let it drift to the
jungle floor. “Here.” She put her own pack down. He dropped his and
silently turned to go about his assigned task. “Wait.” She opened a
side pocket of his pack and removed a pair of tactical gloves. The gloves were designed for combat application.
To provide hand protection without compromising control and finger
dexterity. She tossed them to him. He examined them and
slipped into them like he was going into surgery. She went back to
the packs, removing what they would use for the night. Utility
knife, her gloves, rain tarps, hammock, water catcher, protein
bars, ibuprofen—they were both going to need more of them—gum,
wipes, and glow sticks. Pausing, she fingered the GPS emergency
beacon in its sealed inner pocket. She glanced at Walsh, who was
crouched inspecting a coconut, moving it with a stick. One push of
the button and the satellite beacon would declare they were in need
of assistance and relay their exact GPS location to rescuers and .
. . with a very high probability it would relay the exact same
information to that boat. Not pushing the button meant they would
have three, maybe four days of discomfort. Go home with scrapes and
cuts. They could go home in a body bag if she depressed the key and
the boat had satellite tracking. Gemma closed the packs. As long as
they were uninjured and healthy, she wasn’t pushing any
buttons.
    Walsh dropped two coconuts on the tarp,
returning in seconds with two more. He crouched and reached for the
knife. Gemma grabbed his wrist.
    “I was going to open them,” he said.
    “No.”
    “I know my way around a knife.” He held up
his hands and gave her a grin that showed most of his teeth. “I’ve
got gloves.”
    “Agreed. I’ve seen your work, Doc.” She shook
her head. “Even with gloves this is too iffy. A slip and you won’t
be able to help those kids. I’ll do it later. Here.” She slapped a
protein bar in his hand and sat back on her heels, peeling the foil
away from her own bar. They both could use an energy boost.
    “Aggh.” He coughed and made a face. “Not the
best I’ve ever tasted.”
    “Nope. But packed with protein like those
grilled coconut grubs you told the village elder I would just love
to taste.” She gave him a hard look. The village they’d delivered
medical supplies to yesterday had prepared a feast for them. The
grubs were appetizers on sticks. They live exclusively in coconut
palms and taste like coconut. It was the idea of biting into a worm
the size of her thumb that had given her trouble. She
shuddered.
    Walsh squinted and rubbed his cheek. “I
didn’t think you’d actually eat them.”
    “Like I was supposed to insult the man and
say no thanks, I don’t eat insects.” She looked at the bar. “I
think the grubs tasted better.” Walsh laughed.
    A wind gust swirled leaves and swayed
branches, ending Gemma’s break. She’d already selected a place for
Walsh’s hammock away from palms and their killer falling fronds. He
spread the coconuts around the tarp to hold it down and joined her.
Working together, it took little or no time to secure the hammock.
The air grew heavier, the thick clouds blotted out the afternoon
sun, and thunder rolled. Winds shifted and were sustained, a sure
sign the front was close. She wasn’t going to get any kind of
off-the-ground shelter made before the rain started.
    “Change of plans,” she yelled over the
increasing wind. “We’ll have to go with a basic shelter.