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Their first priority was the safety of their teammates. Even if everyone was good, they were still outnumbered about 2 to 1. However, if they were bound and gagged in their cots, they'd be sitting ducks. They had a few contingency plans, but first they needed to find out what kind of shape the others were in.
Dorothy gave Scarecrow his instructions then left him -and her pilfered AK- behind the latrine. She dropped back a few meters then worked her way around the camp and came in behind the sleeping quarters, She used her knife to partially pry up one of the tent stakes then slithered under the rear wall of the shelter she and Glinda shared. It was pitch black inside...and silent. She grabbed for the walkie and the flashlight she kept stashed underneath her pillow but was surprised to find someone there, but not surprised the walkie was gone.
"Glinda?" she whispered before recognizing that the hair belonged to a Munchkin named Cal. His magnificent 'fro was distinctive. She got a muffled response from the other cot that sounded like confirmation through a gag.
"I'm going to untie you guys, but there's a bunch of them outside so we've got to be quiet."
It didn't take long to get her teammates free from the gags and the strips of fabric they'd been bound with. Fabric? Seriously? Feels like denim. They better not have cut up my jeans!
They couldn't tell her what had happened beyond the tear gas and being tied up in the tent. Glinda thought one of the guys who'd tied them up spoke German since he'd let loose a string of profanity when he tripped over something while leaving. It sounded German, anyway, but she'd still been fighting the effects of the tear gas and not paying as much attention as she should have, especially for the group language specialist.
After reassuring herself that they were generally unharmed, Dorothy instructed them to give themselves a few minutes to work the stiffness out of their limbs then sneak out under the back of the tent and make their way upstream and wait for her and Scarecrow just beyond the bend. If they heard any commotion or they hadn't arrived within forty-five minutes, she told them to try to get to Paul and the others.
She repeated her actions in the two other tents, freeing The Lion and 4 more Munchkins. While Glinda and Cal hadn't seen or heard anything useful, The Lion understood enough French to pick up that their target was a red-haired woman. There was also a word mentioned a few times: Serdeych.
Glinda's hair was pale blonde, but both Dorothy and Auntie Em could be considered redheads, with Em's hair -and temper- being what men often described as "fiery Irish". She took it as a compliment.
At least that explains why they opened fire on me but didn't take out the team. But who or what is Serdeych? Maybe Em knows. And maybe it's not an inside job after all. But that brings us back to how did they know exactly where to find us.
She slipped out of the tent after directing them to the rendezvous point. Scarecrow was waiting behind the latrine. If all went according to plan, they'd wait until they'd seen the others safely on their way before moving to join them. If not, they'd provide their distraction to cover the others' escape.
They watched the invaders for any sign they were aware of the team's movements, but they were mostly just hanging around chatting. Someone opened a bottle of amber liquid and started passing it around.
Great. Alcohol could make them either docile or trigger-happy. Looks like they found one of Cal's bottles rather than bringing their own. They probably ate all our dinner, too. Bastards. She suddenly realized she was hungry. Lunch in the village felt like much longer ago than just 8 or 9 hours. No wonder I'm starting to get real irritable. I don't understand how Scarecrow never seems to notice working through a meal or two, or going a few days without sleep.
They saw the last of the Munchkins leave the tent. She hadn't thought to tell them to go one at a time to minimize noise, but obviously they were no strangers to procedure. She sometimes had to remind herself that while they were still teenagers, the Munchkins were all combat-experienced and had specialized skills well beyond their years. It wasn't all that long ago that she herself was a freshly enlisted, alarmingly qualified 18 year old. If she'd been male, she'd have been fast-tracked to Special Forces instead of coming to Paul's attention when he put the network together a few years later.
They gave the last Munchkin 5 minutes then headed to the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, Scarecrow got his foot caught in some brambles and fell down. Loudly. The men in the camp heard. Dorothy fired a quick burst into the air, both as part of their planned distraction and to alert their team to move out. With any wild luck, maybe Paul and the others in the village might have heard the shots. It was dark, but not quite late enough to rule out the likelihood that they were still awake. It felt like they'd been at this for days, but based on the position of the moon, she figured it was only around 10:30 or 11 o'clock. This is gonna be a long night.
She quickly gave Scarecrow a hand up, then pushed him in front of her, toward the 3 men sent to investigate. They were counting on their attention being on the blood splatters covering his mostly tan t-shirt rather than the AK shoulder-slung behind his back or the knife held hilt-first in his other hand. Staying visible but somewhat behind him in the clothing she'd taken from the dead man earlier with her AK at the ready should buy them a few seconds at least to accomplish what they needed to do.
Scarecrow stumbled toward them as if mortally wounded, falling forward and taking 2 of them down with him when he "collapsed". He'd knocked the wind out of one of them, then quickly knocked the other out with a blow to the temple with the hilt of the knife they'd taken from one of the dead men earlier. While the 3rd man's attention was on Scarecrow, Dorothy stepped in and dropped him with a leg sweep. Scarecrow rolled and knocked him out as well.
They would have preferred to question the man struggling to catch his breath, but the sound of the scuffle had attracted more attention. Dorothy quickly knelt down, her knee on the gasping man's throat. Scarecrow relieved him of his weapon as Dorothy went off-script and removed the hat she'd borrowed from the first casualty. She released her auburn hair from its bun. The man's eyes widened in horror at her words. "Serdeych will not be pleased."
She didn't know if the man spoke English, but the word obviously hit its mark. Scarecrow pulled her up. The groans and expletives the injured man sputtered after her parting kick to the crotch covered the sounds of their escape.
It felt like the least she could do for payback for making them miss dinner.
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Dorothy had briefly hoped that whoever the invaders were, they'd do the smart thing and stay put, hold the camp until morning, then clear out, or maybe abandon the mission immediately once they discovered their hostages had been liberated. Mounting a search in unfamiliar woods at night was dangerous bordering on insane even for well-trained and coordinated units unless they had fancy night vision gear, and they'd seen no evidence of that.
They did have flashlights, though, but not good ones. That further convinced Dorothy they were hired amateurs. The beams were only a little brighter than the little flashlight she kept in her purse. They obviously hadn't searched for better lights around the camp since they hadn't found the Maglight under her pillow.
We might not have a clear shot through the trees, but we can see where you are and unless we're careless you won't see us unless we want you to. Who the hell hired you guys and where did they find you? Advertising in the back of The National Enquirer or something? And if whoever hired you supplied the A-Ks and costume parts, why didn't they throw in a few good Maglights? Did they not consider nighttime movement? Bummer for you, dudes.
She'd always wondered what kind of idiots advertised as guns for hire in the tabloids ...and what kind hired them. Maybe now she knew. Auntie Em could probably have given her a full analysis and helped predict how they'd act and react.
She wished Em was with them -unless she was their target of course. In addition to her extensive medical experience in a MASH unit in 'Nam, she had been approached by the FBI to join their new psychological profiling unit based on some of her work in the field. Paul had made her a better offer a few months ago. Oz suited her far better than a boring gray office with boring gray men whose misogyny often brought out her legendary temper.
But if they're after Em ...why? I know she stepped on some toes at the FBI, but they wouldn't send ...these guys. Plus France is way out of their jurisdiction. And Paul wouldn't have brought her on board if she was a danger to the network. Ugh! Back to the inside job angle. It would be naive to think Paul hadn't had her work up profiles on everyone. What if she's a danger to someone in the network? That makes the most sense, but WHO?
Scarecrow grabbed her hand to start moving again, distracting her from her thoughts. They could see the flashlights fanning out in different directions and hoped their distraction had given the rest of the team enough warning to get away. She realized she should have sent them downstream toward the weapons they'd cached since it was likely their own weapons had been confiscated.
I doubt anyone anticipated playing Manhunt in the dark with a bunch of trigger-happy bounty hunters tonight. And I don't think that was their plan either or they'd have all come after us once they didn't find who they were looking for back at base. Was it the mention of Serdeych?
"Come on! Run now, analyze later!" Scarecrow pulled her deeper into the woods. She hoped he knew where he was going. Running blindly was a good way to get in bad trouble, doubly so at night.
They heard gunfire from what sounded like downstream and hoped none of their people were involved. Scarecrow took advantage of the distraction to fire a few bursts into the air himself.
Short short short. Long long long. Short short short.
"Oh, brilliant! Good call, Scarecrow!"
"You said earlier conditions were good for sound to travel." They both hoped their teammates in the village were awake and understood the SOS signal.
"Speaking of travel, you DO know where you're leading us, right?"
"The caves. If we can distract them into following us, the rest of the team will have a better shot at reaching the others. You don't mind us being bait, right?"
"When my mother told me there were plenty of fish in the sea, I'm not sure this is what she had in mind!"
It felt a little weird that Scarecrow kept hold of her hand as they ran. It would have been much easier if they weren't moving together, especially with unseen obstacles underfoot and branches snagging their equipment, but it was worth the inconvenience to not risk getting separated. Sure, she could navigate somewhat by the position of the moon and moss on trees, but she didn't have a compass in her head like Scarecrow seemed to have.
She had to laugh to herself. Holding hands with Scarecrow. Ha! Glinda -for all her supposed disdain- would be jealous. She'd never outright said she had a casual thing for him, but girls always know, and behind her brutal competence, Dorothy was very much a girly-girl ...at least when she wasn't being "one of the guys".
She didn't believe in mixing work with play. None of them did, really. Odd flirtation and innuendo, sure. Cozying up to a source for information, definitely. However, Paul had selected them partly for their history of loyalty to a team and lack of significant individual attachments. While she agreed that romantic entanglements within the team would be a liability, she enjoyed the sometimes crude jokes and double entendres as much as the rest of them.
Keep your mind on what you're doing! Run now, analyze later, like Scarecrow said.
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