Читать книгу Sacrifice - Alex Archer - Страница 14

Annja had trouble following Vic through the jungle. He seemed to move like a ghost, intuitively knowing where the biggest tangles of vines were and how to get past them without disturbing anything. And while he carried a fair amount of equipment, he made almost no noise as he moved. In contrast, the night jungle was full of all sorts of animal noises. Annja found herself constantly swatting away the squadrons of mosquitoes that could apparently sense her mud shield was wearing away.

Only after they’d traveled a mile or so from Annja’s hiding spot in the tree did Vic signal for a water break. He handed his canteen to Annja, who eagerly gulped down the foul-tasting water.

Vic noticed the look on her face and smiled. “The sterilization tablets still don’t do a thing for the taste, but I can’t be picky about it. As long as it keeps me hydrated and all.”

Annja tried to grin. “I’ve heard there are better devices on the market now.”

“Sure, but you have to take time to use them. I don’t have time. So I fill up, drop two tabs into the water, and then my movement alone mixes them up and by the time I stop, I can just go ahead and drink.”

“I suppose,” Annja said.

He took the canteen and helped himself to a long swig. “In my line of work, the less time spent on the smaller stuff is more time spent on completing my mission.”

“What was your mission?” Annja asked.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shook his head. “That’s classified.”

“You obviously killed someone,” she said.

He looked at her. “You think?”

Now it was Annja’s turn to grin. “You’re a lone sniper in the jungles of the Philippines. And knowing what I now know about this godforsaken area, this is a hotbed of Abu Sayyaf activity.”

“I could be out on a training assignment.”

“Right,” Annja said. “And you accidentally shot someone.”

Vic looked off into the jungle. “We should keep moving. It’ll be light in another hour or so. I want us bedded down and concealed prior to dawn. That’s when they’ll come looking for us.”

“You really think so?”

He nodded. “They can’t find anything right now. Night in the jungle isn’t the best time to be out in the bush. No, they’re back sleeping now. Resting. Tomorrow, in the full heat of the day, they’ll be out. And they’ll be hunting us with a gusto.”

“Because of who you killed?” she asked.

Vic nodded. “Yes.”

He turned and slipped off into the jungle. Annja followed him.

They traveled another mile before Vic slowed and started making frequent stops. He seemed to be checking his bearings quite a bit more than he had earlier. Annja guessed they must be close to his hiding spot.

At last, he cleared away a dense outcropping of twisted vines and dead tree trunks. Annja heard a rustling that sounded like a thousand tiny jaws eating through wood.

“Ugh.”

“What?” she asked.

Vic pointed. “The ants have found my hole.”

He brought out a small flashlight outfitted with a red lens and flashed it down into what appeared to be a six-foot wide hole. Annja watched as waves of ants scampered over bags of equipment.

“Great,” Annja said.

Vic looked at her. “Cardinal rule in the jungle is don’t sleep on the floor. The bugs will get you. Plus, the scorpions and snakes. But sometimes, you’ve got no choice. And the people hunting you will presume you’re off the ground. So they spend a lot of time looking in trees.”

“So you did the opposite.”

Vic shrugged. “I’ve got liners that I’ve used in the past and they’ve kept me pretty comfortable. I never recommend sleeping on the jungle floor, though.”

Annja watched as another wave of ants seemed to crest and then fall all over the contents of the hole. Vic leaned in and hefted one of the bags. Ants by the dozens fell off it.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Annja looked at the ants and then at the bag. “Starving,” she said. Vic nodded and reached inside. Annja heard a zipper being drawn down and a second later, Vic handed her a small cardboard box.

“Spaghetti okay?”

Annja tore into the box and then into the plastic bag filled with noodles, sauce and small meatballs. She didn’t care that it wasn’t served hot. The food tasted amazing.

Vic helped himself to another box and leaned against a tree as he ate. “Make sure you don’t leave any bits of that box on the floor. They’ll have trackers with them. Any sign and they’ll find it.”

Annja swallowed and nodded. “How long have you been working in the jungle?” she asked.

Vic shrugged. “My whole life it feels like. I was born in Panama. I grew up around stuff like this. I guess it feels like home to me. I never did enjoy doing stuff in the snow.”

“You were in the snow, too?”

He frowned. “Yeah. Winter training. I hated it. I’m a natural in the jungle, but the snow? Forget it. I freeze in that stuff. Doesn’t matter how much gear I’ve got with me.”

“How long have you been here?”

“The jungle, a week. I’ve been in country for about two months. Getting ready for this assignment.”

“It’s a big one?” she asked.

Vic nodded. “The biggest, I guess you could say.”

“Are Abu Sayyaf really so bad that they warrant an American sniper stalking them through the jungle?”

Vic swallowed a gulp of his dinner and washed it down with a swig of water from his canteen. He set his spoon down and looked at Annja. “I don’t ask a lot of questions. My job is pretty simple. It suits me. I could never handle a complicated lifestyle, you know? That’s just who I am,” he said.

“No shame in it,” Annja replied.

“Of course not. How many people you know go through their lives trying to be something they’re not? Christ, society puts all these labels on everyone, you know? If you’re not married with kids by the time you’re thirty, you’re some kind of failure. My question is, according to who? Do I really give a rat’s ass about what the people are doing next door in their four bedroom two-and-a-half-bath Colonial on a half-acre parcel with the minivan and sedan in the garage?”

“Do you?” Annja asked.

“Not one freaking bit.” Vic looked up. “This is my home. This is my life. Things get easier once you’re honest with yourself about what makes you tick. It’s just a matter of being able to look into a mirror and not be terrified at what’s staring you back in the face.”

Annja sucked another strand of spaghetti into her mouth. “A lot of people, they wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Sure. They can’t.”

“But you can.”

“I don’t ask questions above my pay grade. I’ve found that if I just do my job, everyone’s happier. Most of all me.”

“So you don’t know what Abu Sayyaf have planned?”

Vic frowned. “You don’t give up very easily, do you?”

“I’ve been told I’m a bit stubborn,” she said.

“That’s a fair assessment.” Vic ate another bite of his dinner. “So, who are you anyway? There’s something about you that seems familiar. But I can’t quite place it.”

Annja smirked. “I look like Sasquatch right now and you think I’m familiar to you somehow?”

Vic shook his head. “It’s not the look. It’s the mannerisms.”

“I’m a journalist of sorts. I work for a show called Chasing History’s Monsters. ”

“Yeah, okay. I remember that now.” He frowned.

Annja held up her hand. “No, I’m not that host.”

Vic nodded. “You don’t look the type who would lose her top on a televised show.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. At least that means I’m not being saddled with an idiot,” he said.

Annja laughed. “I’ll remember that.”

Vic finished his dinner and Annja watched him wrap everything up, stuff it back into the cardboard box and then put that into his pack.

Annja did the same and then handed it to Vic. In exchange, he handed her a quart-sized plastic storage bag.

Annja held it up. “What’s this for?”

“Number two.”

“Excuse me?”

Vic stood up. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly going to be your idea of a dream date, but there’s a simple rule I live and survive by—leave no sign.”

“You mentioned that already,” Annja said, realizing where the conversation was going.

Vic nodded. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t just apply to dinner. It applies to everything. You have to crap, you do it in that bag I just handed you. Then you tie a knot in it and bring it back to me.”

“I never figured you for a collector,” Annja said.

Vic sighed. “It goes in the bag along with everything else. We can’t leave anything behind. If you take a dump out here, the animals will know about it and the bugs will swarm all over it. A tracker will see and hear all that activity and know he’s on the right trail.”

“What about if I have to pee?”

“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.”