Sacrifice

Agamemnon closed his eyes. “You’re too good to me, Marta. And I sometimes wonder why you choose to stay here. You could live a luxurious life anywhere you wanted with your kitchen skills.”

“You are a great man. And I have chosen my place well,” she said.

“Very well, then. I would love some of your adobo.”

“Yes, sir.”

But she didn’t leave. Agamemnon opened his eyes again. “Is there something else?”

She smiled. “It’s just I thought you might like something after dinner, as well.”

“After dinner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Marta turned and with her withered hands, clapped twice. The curtains parted again as two young girls entered the hut.

Agamemnon could see them trembling. They didn’t look much older than sixteen, and their light skin marked them as coming from the north. Perhaps from the cities. He could see a few light bruises from where they’d been roughed up by their handlers.

“Where are they from?”

“Bagiuo.”

Agamemnon smiled. “They’re a long way from home.”

“They are the daughters of a spoiled landowner.”

Agamemnon grinned. “Careful, Marta. You betray your past with statements like that.”

She bowed her head. “Forgive me, sir.”

Agamemnon waved the girls over. They walked tentatively toward him. “They’ve been trained well,” Agamemnon said.

Marta nodded. “They know their place.”

“And what is expected of them?”

Marta nodded. “Without question.”

Agamemnon smiled and waved Marta out of the hut. “Perhaps I’ll have my dessert first tonight.”

7

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.”

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.

“You sleep?” he asked.

Annja stretched as much as she could given the confines of the hole. “I guess. Not nearly enough.”

Vic poked his head out of the cover and looked around. “Well, some is better than none. Even if it feels like you got nothing, you probably did. And a little bit goes a long way around these parts.”

“It’d be nice to sleep in,” Annja said.

Vic glanced at her. “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

She smiled. “Good morning to you, too.”

Vic took a swig of water and then handed the canteen to Annja. “That’s something an instructor said to me one time. During training, we had to go for extended periods without much sleep. At first, it was a novelty, but eventually you wonder just what the hell you’re doing.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“Had to,” Vic said. “I wouldn’t have passed the course without going through it. But when you’re dead tired, you long to close your eyes more than any other desire. I’ve been hungry and thirsty like you don’t know, but the sleep thing hit me hardest.”

Annja helped herself to the canteen again. “How’d you come to terms with it?”

Vic shrugged. “I just did. I know now that I can go a lot further than I thought on precious little rest.” He winked at Annja. “I don’t recommend it, however. A lack of sleep compromises your immune system, opens you up to sickness and it clouds your ability to make good decisions.”

“You didn’t seem to have any trouble sleeping last night,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, well, that was the next part of the training. We learned how to steal sleep anywhere. Even with artillery shells bursting around us, the ground thundering as they hit. Bullets? No sweat. As long as we were tucked in our holes, we learned how to pass the night in blissful slumber.”

Annja handed him the canteen. “So, now that you’ve told me all about your stint as a tour guide in the Land of Nod, how about telling me where we’re heading?”

Vic broke out another cardboard ration box and handed it to Annja. “Forced march. We need to cover six klicks if you want to spend the night someplace a lot more comfortable than another hidey-hole.”

Annja tore into the breakfast of ham stew, chewing the dense meal. “Six klicks is a helluva lot of country to cover in thick jungle.”

Vic nodded. “Sure is.”

“You think I can do it?”

He laughed. “Well, you know, you’ve got a pretty strong motivational factor going for you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, if you don’t hold your own, I’ll leave you behind. These woods are about to turn ugly on me, as well. The people I pissed off last night will be out in force looking for yours truly. I’m not hanging around any longer than I have to.”

“You’d leave me behind?” Annja asked.

“In a heartbeat, sister. I’ve got my own agenda to play to. Sorry to break your heart and all.”

Annja frowned. “You’re not breaking my heart.”

Vic smiled. “Let’s get moving.”

Annja stood and rubbed on some more mosquito repellent. Vic hefted his rifle and then stopped. “Here.”

Annja turned. Vic held out a small-caliber pistol. “You know how to use one?”

Annja took the gun, dropped the magazine and racked the slide. As the bullet in the chamber spun out, she caught it in her hand. Then she topped off the magazine, rammed it home and racked the slide again.

“Yeah, I think I can handle it,” she said.

Vic pursed his lips. “You’re not exactly a damsel in distress, are you?”

Annja pointed out ahead of them into the dense jungle. “Just set the pace and don’t worry about me.”

Vic turned and broke down the hidey-hole, scattering the framework that concealed the hole and then filling in everything with deadfall, leaves and bits of dirt.

“As it gets hotter, the heat will help conceal our presence,” he said.

Annja slid the pistol into her belt. “You sure they won’t know we were here?”

“Oh, they’ll know. These people know this jungle like the backs of their hands. It’s only a matter of time.”

“You don’t seem worried,” she said.

Vic shrugged. “I’m a little new to the whole teamwork concept. Like I said, I normally come out here alone. I’ve been in plenty of tough spots before. I guess I’m not used to showing my fear on my face.”

“How long do we have?”

Vic checked his watch. “It’s 0500 now. I’ll give us maybe a forty-minute head start.”

“That’s it?”

“Hey, I let you sleep in.”

“What?”

Vic chuckled. “If it was up to me, we’d already be done with the first mile. But you spent so much of last night swatting mozzies, I figured you needed the extra time.”

“Just what time did you wake up?”

“Probably right after you finally fell asleep.”

Annja frowned. “Great.”

Vic strapped down his pack and unslung his rifle. “We move as fast as possible, but carefully. You follow my lead. And watch for any hand signals. If I motion to stop, freeze. And always keep your eyes peeled for the next bit of cover and concealment. Got it?”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Vic aimed a finger at her. “Hey, look, I didn’t ask for this. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a bit of an unwelcome guest. I’m watching out for numero uno on this jaunt. I suggest you do the same.”

“Sorry,” Annja said.

“Forget it. It’s just the exfiltration is always the toughest part of any assignment. And—no offense—having you along has just complicated things tremendously.”

“I’ll hold my own, Vic. Just set the pace and let’s get hustling.”

Vic looked at her for another moment and then nodded. “All right. Any last-minute trips to the toilet before we go?”

Annja checked herself. Her stomach seemed to have clenched up. Vic must have noticed because he started chuckling again.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“That look.”

“What look?”

Vic pointed at her stomach. “The MRE look. The rations we carry are so dense that they almost block you up, if you get my drift.”

“You mean—?”

He nodded. “Yeah, you’ll be constipated for a few days, I’d expect.”

“Great.”

“It’s no biggie. Happens to everyone who eats those things. Best cure is some fresh food. Maybe a chocolate bar and a cup of coffee. That’ll clear you out once you get back to civilization.”

“This is some amazing lifestyle you’ve got for yourself here, Vic.”

“Ain’t it, though?”

Annja frowned again. “I was being sarcastic.”

“I wasn’t,” he said with a grin.

“You really like it?”

Vic nodded. “Yep. I’m my own boss out here. As long as I complete my assignments, no one hassles me. I’m working in nature, having a ball and loving life. Not too many other people can say the same.”

“You’re killing people.”

Vic shook his head. “I’m killing monsters who kill innocent people. Far as I’m concerned, it’s justifiable. Even necessary.”

Annja shifted the pistol on her belt. “I guess it would be futile to argue with you.”

Vic leveled a finger at her. “Are you telling me you’ve never killed anyone before? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?” Annja asked, shocked by the question.

“Because you’ve got the look,” he said.

“There’s a look?”

Vic shrugged. “I think so. People who have been close to death or even dealt some of their own have a certain expression that creeps over their face from time to time.”

“And you see it on my face?” she asked.

Vic smirked. “Well, not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re filthy from all that mud you caked on yourself.”

Annja sighed. “You’re no prize yourself.”

Vic nodded. “Yeah, but I clean up real well.”

“I’ll bet.”

Vic pointed out to the jungle. “Let’s get moving.”

“Okay.”