0800 Zulu

New Mexico Desert

Canyon Rim Camp

It happened in the middle of the night.

Timber growled: one low, soft, menacing rumble, followed by silence. He rose to his feet, his hackles silohetted by moonlight, as if he was a marionet being lifted to his feet by strings. I was frozen in terror. Timber was motionless, silent, watching, waiting. Somehow I whispered a quiet command. Timber glided off into the night, a ghost dog.

Harm moved quietly away from behind his juniper, where he had been watching, waiting. He disappeared into the shadows in an instant, gun in his hand, his camoflage fatigues doing their job.

I reached slowly down and grabbed my handgun; I was amazed that I could move at all. Reynolds has to see me, I thought. Heck, he can HEAR me, he's got to be able to hear my heart, thudding like a bass drum. I forced myself to turn my head. It was the hardest thing I've ever done.

I couldn't see him, I couldn't hear him, I had no idea where he was. For that matter, I had no idea where Harm was, either. Or Timber.

I've never felt so utterly alone in my life. I knew what it was like to be the hunter – and the hunted. The months hadn't dulled the sensation at all. I still hated it, hated it with a passion.

There – a shadow moved. Or was it? I turned my head slightly. Timber? A coyote? Reynolds? I didn't know.

The shadow coalesced into a human, too short to be Harm. It raised an arm.

Could I shoot a man? Could I kill a man? Did I have it in me, now? I didn't have an answer.

The arm moved, ever so slightly. My blood pounded in my ears. "Him or me, him or me, him or me," it whispered. Training took over, fueled by instinct.

I pivoted silently; my karate instructor would be proud. I pointed my handgun – like I was pointing a finger, just like the state police firearms instructor had drilled into me. My finger squeezed the trigger.

"Reynolds!"

Reynolds spun, to face Harm – or at least the direction his voice had come from. My fingers relaxed.

"You don't want to do this, Reynolds. There's still a chance….talk to me, Reynolds, talk to me."

Reynolds' reply was swift and decisive. Two shots flashed into the darkness toward Harm; and the next was heading my way. I dove and rolled - Oh God please let Harm be ok I can't loose another partner - out of the corner of my eye I saw a black shadow fly. Reynolds' shot went wild; simultaneously I heard his cry of alarm.

Timber. Taking down Reynolds.

I swung out from behind the boulder. "Drop it, Reynolds, and freeze, and I'll call the dog off! Do it now!" I couldn't believe the power in my voice.

Reynolds made no move to comply.

"Do it, Reynolds, or he'll rip your throat out!" Now, in the moonlight, I saw Harm moving….slowly working his way among the trees, angling for a better position.

Reynolds wasn't quitting, dog or no dog. I saw a shadow of a hand – his free hand – reach for his belt.

"Harm!" I cried. "Timber, OUS!"

Timber dropped like a stone, just an instant before Reynolds did. And in that instant, I didn't know if it was my shot or Harm's that felled Reynolds, I didn't know if Timber was dead or alive, I didn't know if I'd killed a person, or killed the dog who had just saved our lives.

In that instant I felt totally, absolutely, one hundred percent filled with a dread and remorse and a flood of emotions unlike any I'd ever imagined was possible. I had forgotten. It was awful.

An eternity later, Harm limped over and sat next to me, and I clung to him for the rest of the night like he was life itself. Sometime in the night Timber joined us.

The cavalry arrived with the dawn.