Savage Sniper

Because Steele couldn’t speak el lenguaje, he had to rely on the priest to communicate with the guerrillas.

“Are your men ready, Father?” Steele asked.

“We are ready,” the priest said. “We have offered up our prayers. This night is now in God’s hands.”

“Then let’s hope God is paying attention. Move out!”

The lieutenant carried a pair of wire cutters in one hand, his shotgun slung over his shoulder. Getting through the fence wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t want to rely on anyone else to get the job done.

Cautiously, he approached the perimeter fence. Although strung on rough poles made out of trees and sagging in places, the fence was deceptively strong, its patchwork appearance giving it layers that made it even more effective.

To make getting through the fence yet more difficult, the Japanese had set out rolls of barbed wire all along the exterior base of the fence. Weeds and thorny vines had grown up over that barbed wire, which had begun to rust in the damp climate. Still, the barbs were sharp enough, and he didn’t relish the thought of being ripped open by the rusty wire. The jungle wasn’t the place to get an infected wound or come down with lockjaw.

Steele crept forward and got to work with his clippers. In the darkness, he had to work by touch more than sight. Rodeo was right behind him, his hands wrapped in rags to protect them. As Steele clipped, Rodeo forced the wire and vines back to create a wider path. Crouched over, they were soon shoulder deep in the thick weeds. They could hear scurrying noises as small creatures, probably insects or rodents, got out of their way. From time to time they felt something crawling over them, which was more than a little unsettling in the dark.

“I hope to hell there’s no snakes in here,” Rodeo whispered.

“If those guards hear us, snakes will be the least of our worries. Now try to keep quiet.”

Steele was correct that they had to work with as much stealth as possible. Then again, there was only so much one could do to clip quietly through the rusty wire, but the noise of the nighttime insects did much to cloak their advance through the tangled strands. The prisoner barracks blocked their view of the guard tower, allowing them to work in one of the few blind spots along the fence line.

After several minutes dealing with the twisty rolls of barbed wire and thorny vines, they reached the fence itself. Steele had rolled down his sleeves to protect his arms, but the cloth was now shredded in a couple of places.

The two guards had already made their rounds of the interior perimeter, so Steele quickly cut several strands of the fence, and with Rodeo’s help they pulled the wire aside, creating a gap wide enough to pass through.

However, there was no one waiting for them on the other side. They had expected Deke to be there, ready to lead the prisoners out. Instead, the prison yard was empty.

They heard the sound of muffled laughter, probably from the guard tower, and then a few words of Japanese. The guards were definitely awake and alert. Steele felt his pulse pounding even heavier than it had been.

“Where the hell are they?” Rodeo whispered.

“Give them a minute,” he replied. “You know Deke. He’ll be here.”

Steele glanced at the faintly glowing hands of his watch, which showed him that it was now a few minutes after midnight. The rendezvous was behind schedule, and each minute that they lingered put them in greater danger of being discovered.

It was hard to see more than a few yards into the gloom. Taking a chance, Steele leaned forward and whispered as loudly as he dared, “Deke?”

There was no answer.

* * *

Not more than one hundred yards away, Deke remained locked inside the hot box without any hope of escape. He had no way of knowing what time it was, but he knew that the minutes were ticking away, and along with them, any opportunity for the prisoners to break out.

The broken and bleeding nails of his hands were really beginning to ache, but he made one more attempt at finding the edge of a loose board in hopes of working his way free. After a few minutes, he gave up once again — not quite defeated, but certainly frustrated. He was trapped like a rat in a cage.

That was when he heard a sound outside. He listened more closely and made out shuffling footsteps approaching, then the sound of the latch being lifted off the door.

Deke rose, ready to leap for the opening. Bayonets or not, he knew that getting past the guard was his only hope of getting out of the hot box. He would either break free or die trying.

The door opened wider, and Deke crouched, tense as a coiled spring. In the darkness, he could see only a silhouette framed by the open doorway.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” asked a familiar voice in English.

Relief flooding through him, Deke realized it was Faraday. It looked as if he wouldn’t have to throw himself against a bayonet after all.

“I’ll be damned,” Deke said. “You came for me.”