Four Blind Mice

Chapter Ninety-Seven

Patience. This was a waiting game, right? I understood that much about tonight. I even knew the military jargon for what I had to do next.

EE. Evade and escape.

I studied the rough terrain behind me and saw that I could slide down into a hollow that would give me some cover but would also allow me to move laterally, east or west. I could change my position without their knowing it.

That would give me a small advantage.

But I'd take anything I could get right now. I felt that I was a dead man. I didn't see any way out of this. So the hollow or gully looked awfully good to me.

I thought about Starkey, Griffin and Harris. How good they were; how badly I wanted to bring them down, Starkey in particular. He was the smart one, the leader, the cruelest of the three. Then I thought of what Sampson had said: No prisoners. Only they had to be thinking the same thing.

I started to slide backward. I call it a slide, but I was almost burrowing into the wet leaves and soft ground.

At least I made it down into the hollow without being shot. Catbrier was stuck all over my legs and chest. I wasn't sure, but I didn't think I could be seen from the woods. No one shot me in the head anyway. That was a good sign, right? A victory in itself.

I crawled sideways in the hollow slowly with my face pressed deep into the cold dirt and leaves. I couldn't breathe very well. I kept moving until I was a good fifteen or twenty yards from my original position. I didn't risk looking up, but I knew my angle to the woods and the house had changed significantly.

Could they be watching me from somewhere close by? I didn't think so. But was I right?

I listened.

I didn't hear a twig break or brush being pushed aside. Just the steady whistle of the wind.

I pressed my ear to the ground, willing to try anything for an advantage. It didn't help.

Then I waited some more.

Patience.

Things Sampson had told me about the Army Rangers surfaced in my head. Odd facts. They had supposedly killed fifty-five VC for every Ranger in the war. That was the story anyway. And they took care of their own. In the Vietnam War only one Ranger was listed MIA. All the others were accounted for, every single one.

Maybe they had gone, fled from the woods, but I doubted it. Why would they leave me here alive? They wouldn't... Starkey wouldn't allow it.

I felt guilty that I'd left Sampson, but I wouldn't let myself dwell on it. I couldn't think about him. Not now. Later. If there was a later.

When we see them, we open up.

No warnings, Alex.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

I moved again, circling to the northeast, I figured. Were they moving on me, too?

I stopped.

New position.

I waited there some more. Every minute seemed like ten. Then I saw something move. Jesus! What the hell? It was a bobcat, eating its own droppings. Maybe twenty, twenty-five yards away. Unconcerned with me. In its own world.

I heard someone coming, and he was very fucking close.

How had he gotten so close without my hearing him before?

Shit, he was right on top of me!