"So that's the scoop, men," stated Colonel Grey in his matter-of-fact tone of voice. "The local police are going to be leading the search, but we must be on guard at all times. We believe the escaped convict may try to hide in our less frequented maneuver areas. So for this reason, we are going to be sending several platoons out to aid in the search."
With his hands behind his back, the colonel strode across the row of sergeants in his office until he stood next to Sergeant Carter, one of his most trusted sergeants. He continued.
"Now, not all of you will be used in these searches. There is also a possibility that the convict may disguise himself as one of us. For those of you who remain behind, I caution you to be wary of your surroundings. However, be careful not to let any of your men know about the escaped prisoner unless they are part of a search detail. We don't want any stray information to reach the convict's ears. Does everyone understand?"
"Aye aye, sir!" barked the sergeant in unison.
"Good. That'll be all, men."
As the sergeants filed out of the office, Carter stifled a sigh. Just great. As if he didn't have enough to do already. Why couldn't the police ever hold on to their prisoners? The mess sergeant, Hacker, elbowed him in the ribs.
"What d'ya think of that, Vince?" he scoffed, "Looks like a lot of late nights for you boys in combat."
Carter brushed off the haughty comment with his own retort.
"Don't you worry. We'll catch that lousy deadbeat before he even has time to blink."
"Sure Vince, sure. Just like it took you a full day to capture your first prisoner during our last war games."
Crackling with laughter, Hacker hurried away, leaving Carter to sneer after him. That mess sergeant thought he was so great. Well, he'd learn. As soon as it was his platoon's turn to search, he'd make that smart-alec eat more crow than he could cook.
Not long after, a man dressed in a sloppy suit with a black hat that covered his face in shadow stepped off a bus in the center of town. Glancing around for any sign of police, he tucked his worn-out briefcase under his arm and felt in his pocket for the twenty-dollar bill he'd lifted off the woman in the bus seat beside him. With a satisfactory nod, he then headed down the sidewalk towards the nearest army surplus shop, tipping his hat cordially to a passing policeman.
After walking several blocks, he noticed the click, click, click of footsteps behind him. Cocking his head to get a better look, he noticed a stray dog following close at his heels. It was the ugliest dog he'd ever seen, with greasy brown hair lying in mats over its body. One black ear and one brown ear gave the dog an uneven appearance, and a ridiculous grin covered its slobbering face. What got the man's attention, however, was the large drumstick hanging out of the dog's mouth. The man's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning before he'd escaped the prison. Sure, a slobbery drumstick was less than appetizing, but it was better than nothing. Who knew when he'd be able to eat next? As the dog trotted past him, he followed it into a nearby alley behind a pile of trash cans. The dog, realizing it was cornered, lowered its head and snarled at the man. Glancing over both shoulders, the man snatched a garbage can lid and hurled it at the dog. The mutt yelped as the metal lid glanced off its back. Dropping the drumstick, the dog scurried back where he'd come from, snapping at the man's pant leg before disappearing around the corner. Chuckling, the man picked up the drumstick and wiped it off on the inside of his suit. Sure, it left a stain, but that didn't matter any. He would have a whole new wardrobe after visiting that army surplus shop.