Their pursuers lift their heads into the air in unison and shriek. The team has been found. Strobes flash off the surrounding bushes, tree trunks, and the vines hanging from overhead limbs as the team opens up. The faces quickly disappear in the maelstrom of fire the team puts out; many catapulted into the surrounding jungle. The team quickly disengages and the race is on again. They hear sounds in the jungle to their sides and behind as pursuit is continued. The ever-present screams continue to fill the jungle.
Their breath is coming quicker as they break through the dense underbrush. Vines grapple with their gear and bodies, attempting to hold them back, as they force their way through. The jungle itself has turned hostile. A small group enters their line of flight directly ahead. Vance, running just behind his point man, raises his carbine and fires. He places bursts on each one in sight and, along with his point man, clears their path.
The weariness is coming on quickly. Vance knows they can’t keep this pace up in this dense brush for long. He hears pursuit close but knows they have to stop for a quick breather. If they get completely winded, the game will be up and they will be on the losing side. He calls for the point to hold up. They all stand in a group with their hands on their knees trying to catch their breath. They all know they won’t have long to do it and must be on the run in a minute so all activity is focused on catching their wind.
“Get a claymore out of my pack and one other,” Vance tells one of his team. The whisper comes out in between pants.
He feels a tug on his pack and fumbles in his pocket for a fuse pencil. He keeps the short-timed ones in his upper vest pocket just for events such as this. The longer timed ones he keeps in a special place in his pack. He figures if he needs the longer timed ones, then he’ll have time to dig them out. Conversely, if he needs the thirty second or one minute pencils, well, those had just better be handy.
The shrieks and breaking of brush is close. He grabs the pliers out of his pocket, sets the claymores his team member hands him into the ground at angles but pointing mostly behind them, crushes the fuse pencils and quickly places them into the fuse wells.
“We have less than a minute. Go, now!” Vance whispers to the point.
The point man gets the idea and they move off in a hurry. They are still winded but feeling better than they did just a moment ago. They won’t be able to keep this up for much longer but they are alive and moving. The shrieks and sounds of pursuit follow.
Two back to back thunderous explosions fill the night. The team momentarily sees their shadows cast on the ground from the flash of light. Screams still sound off to their sides but they don’t hear much of anything behind them anymore. Not that they can really hear much above the sound of their own flight through the brush.
Feeling like they have a little room, they stop to rest. “One minute, no longer,” Vance says between breaths. Although they bought some breathing room, they still hear a mass of people to either side. “If we become separated, rally at the beach where we stashed our gear.” No one answers verbally as their panting breath won’t allow it, but all nod.
Fifty meters further and they break into the open. A small village appears ahead. They have come out of the jungle on the edge of it. The jungle road lies off to their right and runs through the middle with thatch huts lining both sides. Shrieks rise on the night air. Vance turns to look behind and sees a horde of people running up the road. There’s no choice but to make their way directly through the middle of the village. It’s that or through the jungle again and Vance doesn’t feel like they’ll make it far given how far they still have to travel and their weariness. They were not to be observed on this mission but that is now secondary to their very survival.
“To the road,” he tells the others and they make their way over the muddy ground and begin running down the road. Screams follow them.
Several doors open as the team passes; people rousted by the shrieks and coming out to see what is disturbing their quiet village. Vance glances over his shoulder and sees the horde that was following them fall upon those that ventured outside. Others change direction in mid-stride and pummel their way into other huts. Vance and Blue Team reach the far side of the village and notice they are no longer being pursued. Whoever, or whatever Vance thinks, was chasing them is now consumed with the village and villagers.
“Keep going but keep the pace to a jog,” he says. They continue down the road as the screams, echoing through the jungle, slowly fade behind them.
Vance and his team make their way down the side of the muddy road, darting quickly into the brush as the occasional vehicle passes by. Headlights are their early warning system and they watch from behind bushes as the lights shine on the slick surface of the road and head toward the village they left some hours ago. They rest up and take their ‘energy’ pills. Vance has no intention of stopping and replays the night’s events over and over without any of it making any sense. He can tell by the quietness of the others that they are lost in their own thoughts and confusion as well. Nothing is said about it during their rest and trek. It’s as if mentioning it will bring it back down on their heads.
They continue to make their way out of the mountainous jungle toward the coast line. They avoid any further contact with civilization staying well back in the jungle. The light of morning slowly filters its way through the trees rising tall above them. The jungle keeps its gloomy light as the triple canopy filters out most of the sunlight. Every so often, a stray beam of light finds its way through and brings the dull green to a brilliant radiance. Insects fly in and out of the beam, drawn to its light. Vance tells his point to find a secluded place to rest.
They find a thick patch of bushes and settle down. There is a little opening within for them to be comfortable. They clear the small sticks and leaves from the middle and collapse in their little hideout; lying in a circle pattern with their toes touching.
“We have time before we’re due at the beach so we’ll rest here. We’ll stand one guard with one hour shifts,” Vance says feeling exhaustion sweep over him. He lays out shift schedules and is immediately asleep. Not even the heat and humidity bothers him as he sinks into a coma-like sleep. The pills have worn off leaving him feeling like he hasn’t slept in a week. Normally his mind would play over the events of a mission but there is no staying awake this time.
Startled awake, Vance looks around in a panic. The feeling leaves slowly as he becomes aware of where he is and the sight of his team lying on the ground around him. The man on guard looks over his way and nods. The birds chirp a symphony around their small thicket of bushes. Brightly colored birds flit from branch to branch overhead. His fatigues are bathed in sweat and his mouth feels like someone poured sand in it while he was asleep. He sits up and takes a sip from his canteen, swilling it around his mouth before spitting it out. He then takes a long draught. Not so much as to bring on a stomach ache but enough to quench the great thirst he feels.
The calmness and spirited birds filling the air belies the events of last night. It’s a surreal world Vance wakes to and he feels like he’s woken in another universe. He’s used to that feeling — the one of an adrenaline-based mission followed by a cold beer — but not like what they experienced last night. The loss of Gold Team and the LT hits hard. They’ve lost people before, either due to action or accidents, but not a whole team. Yeah, there was the one aircraft accident a while ago where they actually lost several teams, but not an entire team to action. He runs the events through his mind expecting some of it to make sense but nothing of the sort materializes.