Sacrifice

“Well, we’re a bit short on jerry cans, which is what we’d normally use—”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m absolutely serious. On a normal op, we’d patrol in with empties and on the way out, we’d haul our full cans with us.”

“Great life you got there, Vic,” Annja said with a chuckle.

Vic pointed out into the jungle. “As I was saying, if you have to go, walk out about ten yards—no more or you’ll get lost—and find a dead log. Pee under that and then cover it up with the same dead log. It’s not a great method, but it will minimize bug activity.”

Annja sighed. “All right.”

Vic frowned. “There’s one more thing.”

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“We don’t have any toilet paper.”

Annja looked at him. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“How—?”

“If you really need to—”

“If I really need to? What the hell kind of statement is that?”

Vic shook his head. “Like I said, this isn’t home, Annja. You’d be surprised what you can do without out here in the bush. If you really need to, use a leaf and make sure you put that in the bag, too.”

“A leaf.”

“Preferably one that doesn’t have bugs or fungus on it. You don’t want to deal with that.”

“A leaf,” Annja said. She was used to primitive life on archaeological digs, but this was pretty extreme.

Vic smiled. “Jungle living isn’t too bad, believe it or not. But you do have to make certain sacrifices. Once you do, you’ll find it’s much easier to get by. You might even grow to like it out here.”

“Fat chance of that,” Annja muttered.

“Well, it is an acquired taste.”

“I don’t think I want to acquire it at all. I just want to survive long enough to get the hell out of here and go home.”

Vic nodded. “Simple enough request. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”

Annja sighed. “All right.”

Vic waved the flashlight over his hole. “There, now, see the ants have moved on already.”

“Where did they go?”

Vic shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t really care, either. As long as they’re not in the hole with us, that’s all that matters.”

“We’re sleeping in there?”

“’Fraid so.”

“But I thought we had to get off the ground. Won’t the bugs gets us?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“A few bug bites are always preferable to the other alternative.”

“Which is what?”

Vic looked at her. “Being captured and beheaded by your Abu Sayyaf buddies.”

8

Annja slept fitfully.

Throughout the night, she had to contend with an airborne armada of mosquitoes that seemed all too willing to brave the gauntlet of mosquito repellent that Vic had caked them both in for a shot at some of Annja’s blood. She grew tired of swatting at the incessant buzzers and eventually figured out that if she tried to remain as motionless as possible under the cover of the hidey-hole, she was better off.

She glanced over at Vic as the hours passed. He seemed to be resting quite well in contrast to Annja’s situation. She chalked it up to his being more used to operating in this type of environment than she was. Plus, he had the advantage of layers of camo cream and mosquito repellent on his skin. Any of the bloodsuckers trying to pierce that might end up with a broken proboscis.

Annja watched his eyelids flutter, indicating he was deeply asleep. She’d asked earlier if maybe they should take turns sleeping while the other stood watch, but Vic had disagreed. According to him, there was little chance they’d be stalked at night. And in the morning, they had to move at first light if they hoped to stay ahead of their pursuers. Better, he said, to get as much rest as possible and then be ready to go.

Easier said than done, Annja thought. And just who is this guy I’m sleeping in such close proximity to, anyway? He’s obviously incredibly dangerous, at least with his rifle. And he’s no doubt killed more than his share of people.

Annja grinned. Not exactly new ground I’m traveling here, she thought. She’d been keeping company with the killer elite for more time than she cared to recall.

She knew little about the world of snipers, only that they were a select group of men trained to be able to see their targets up close, watch them through a microscope and then kill them without getting emotionally involved. They had to be able to place a bullet in a kill zone while anticipating movement, predicting windage, figuring out exact ranges and more. And they had to get into and out of position without being detected.

One shot, one kill.

Annja marveled at the picture of composure sleeping next to her. Vic made no noise while he slept. It was as if he’d trained himself not to snore or even draw heavy breaths while he rested. And despite the bugs that landed on him while he slept, Vic showed no signs their presence even registered in his conscious or subconscious mind.

Interesting.

Annja tried to take a cue from him, closing her eyes and placing herself someplace else. She imagined a beach far off in some tropical resort where the crashing waves lulled her to sleep against a backdrop of sugar-white sand as the warm sun’s rays toasted her skin.

Her dream was shattered by another wave of buzzing near her ear. Annja swatted at the intruder and felt the bug’s body come apart in her hands. She wiped it on her pants and then drifted back off, happy with her small victory.

Vic’s hand on her shoulder woke her a minute later.

Annja cracked her eyes and saw that she’d actually managed to sleep for longer than she thought. The canopy had begun to lighten and she could make out a few more details now than when they’d come here during the night.