Day 5

0500 hours—Buck was up early, as always on these trips. Something was different about him though. Nothing was noticeable up front, but just the same, he seemed weird. Kind of nervous. That makes me uneasy. Maybe it's just anxiousness or maybe I'm just getting paranoid. Anyway... Coffee was on, Buck was looking for a tree, and the work was about to begin.

"Looks like they might have crossed here," Cut said, kneeling by some obscured trail when I caught up with him.

"How many?"

"A bunch. Five or six...maybe seven. Real sloppy walkin', whoever they were. They're heavy and slow. Sure ain't gonna get far like that."

Damn, that ol' boy can read sign! "Okay, Cut, let's move on to the target and get a good look around. Maybe we'll find some answers up there." Not likely, I thought as I moved toward the ridge.

"Buuuck!" Where the hell is that dog? "Cut, have you seen Buck?"

"Nope! Just found this between some rocks over by that little creek. Looks like your boys really been here. There's one thing else, Chase...

"What's that?"

"The clip's full. It ain't been fired, and there ain't no tracks, no gear, no equipment, no nothing."

"Man, do you know what this is?"

"Yeah! It's a pistol, and an expensive one," he answered defensively.

"No, you don't get it. This is a customized forty-cal SIG Sauer, P229 Nitron Compact. I don't think someone would just lose it. That's a mighty fancy piece to be carrying, lookin' for lost children. These guys were serious."

"Yeah, seems like."

"See if you can find anything else. Any kinda sign of a firefight, a fistfight...anything."

"On my way. Don't go far, Chase. Somethin's wrong here, real wrong."

"Just find those bums and let's go. Stay on channel twelve, and I'll see you in about five klicks on top of that ridge."

"Got it! Stay in touch!"

#####

Scanning the ground with one eye and keeping the other up ahead, I moved quietly toward my objective, an outcrop of rocks. Maybe Buck's gonna show up and keep me company. Damn dog, probably off ballin' a bitch wolf in a cave somewhere. Yeah, that would be Buck.

There was something ahead, I sped up my pace. Can't see in this mist. What is that? The closer I got, the more obscured it seemed. What is this? I reached down and picked up what was left of a field rucksack. Ripped to shreds, almost like a razor had sliced it. Very clean cuts in four or five places and empty. Maybe a bear? Nah! The black bears around here don't bother nobody. Straps are gone too, but it's new issue.

Running my hand through the cargo pockets, I pulled out a lone item. Can-opener! Knowing these pansies, they packed oysters and caviar instead of MREs. I'll take it with me.

I met Cut at the top. He was already there, and a bag full of bad news. A quick inventory turned up two standard issue M14s without their magazines, one more SIG with a full extra clip, a flashlight, a can of oysters—I knew it!—and a pilot locator, crushed like an empty beer can and its antenna snapped in half like a twig.

The walk back was silent.

"What you gonna tell 'em?" Cut asked, never looking up from the fire.

"Who?"

"The Suits."

"Oh! Nothing yet. We ain't done here."

"Chase, those guys are dead. You know that. Let's pack it in and call it MIA."

"What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" Cut was getting defensive.

"I mean, I never saw you so spooked. You okay?"

"It's just, with all this shit layin' around there should've been a struggle, a firefight, or at least some bodies. There's nothing, man. Nothing out there! It's like they just been swallowed up. No tracks, no sign. Somethin' ain't right, and that scares the shit outa me."

"Come on, Cut. You?" I squinted dubiously. "Man, I've seen you wade head-on into a company of AK-47 fire and never even flinch. This ain't like you."

"That enemy I could see, Chase," he muttered. "This one..." He left the sentence unfinished and side-tracked. "I hear that dog outside. Better let 'im in before he eats the door. See ya in the morning."