Taken

growth timber but they do stretch a ways toward the blue sky peeking through the tops. The silence is encompassing. An occasional flurry of activity, as something scampers through the brush at my approach, is all that accompanies me. The smell of the firs and cedars releasing their scents reminds me of my love of the woods and outdoors. The ground is dry so I take care of my footfalls in order not to snap branches under my boots. The hill ends and begins a descent towards flatter land on the same level with the camp and surrounding area.

Beginning my descent, one of the team members on guard waves from behind a tree where he is keeping watch on the dirt road further up from our camp. I wave back and continue down the hill. Passing the outpost, I slow and begin to take my time on the descent. I move a few yards and pause, listening and watching the surrounding area for any sound or movement. The sun heads further down toward the horizon to my left. The warmth it sent down during the day is trapped beneath the trees causing beads of sweat to form on my brow and trickle down. Near me, a couple of birds flit from branch to branch as if following or leading me; they wait until I am adjacent to them and then take off to the next branch a few trees ahead. I am sure they are trying to lead me away from their nest but it’s nice to think they are just keeping me company. I see the dirt road following the power lines through occasional gaps in the trees and then it disappears altogether as it and I take different paths.

I arrive at a point I think is adjacent to where I want to be and start a zigzag path keeping in the general direction of the camp. This allows me to pause at each turn and observe my back trail. If I had others with me, the last person would erase the signs of our passing. Solo, it would divert my attention from observing as I move and it would take forever to reach my location. I come across a few game trails but nothing anyone has used. No tracks or sign of passage so I’m reasonably sure the people from the camp don’t come out this way but if they hunt during the day for game, anything is possible.

The trees thin and I see clear sunlight where they end just prior to the highway. I ease up to a position just inside the trees and glass the area to my front on the other side. It appears much the same as on mine; a stretch of tall grass next to the two-lane highway. I search for some time looking for movement. If they are watching this part of the road, they are keeping well-hidden. It is only a little over three hundred yards to the camp perimeter from here so I decide to wait for the sun to get a little lower in the sky before venturing further.

As I wait, the sound of a vehicle approaching penetrates my little hideout. I am nestled behind a downed log next to a tree. Peeking out as the sound increases, I observe the red pickup truck pass by. The sound then diminishes. I barely see a part of the overpass leading from the highway to the north part of town but it is enough to see the truck momentarily as it crosses. The noise of its engine fades and then disappears entirely. I figure this is as good a time as any to cross. The sun has lowered to just above the hills to the west. Nighttime is approaching.

“What in the world am I doing?” I say softly to myself thinking about being out at night.

The night runners aren’t fun when in a group. Being out solo with no place to go is a nightmare. I think back to Greg’s comment about not thinking this all of the way through. At this moment, I’m not so sure I did. It sure seemed like a good idea at the time. With a last listen and look across the road through the scope of my M-4, I rise and creep to the very edge of the trees. The tall grass waves very slightly from a gentle evening breeze; almost unnoticeable. The gray highway stretches left and right out of my line of sight. I would prefer to cross on a corner but seem to be short of those right now.

Hearing nothing, I rise and proceed at a crouch through the tall grass raising the stalks behind me to minimize my trail. Gathering myself at the edge of the road, I dart across when I’m reasonably sure the coast is clear. Heading through the grass on the other side, I make for the opposite tree line and settle in just inside. I look back and see a trail through the grass on this side. It just looks like a small game trail but if anyone is looking for something like that in particular, they’ll know someone passed recently. The trail will disappear by morning as the evening moisture weighs the grass down. When it rises in the morning with the coming of the sun, my passage will be completely obscured.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you run like the exact opposite of a gazelle?” Greg asks through the radio.

“Congratulations! You’re the next contestant on kissmyass,” I respond pressing the mic.

“Good thing I shaved nice and close this morning then,” he replies.

“Hope you have plenty of Chap Stick handy,” I return.

“Greg, this is Lynn,” I hear on the radio and think uh oh.

“This is Greg, go ahead, Lynn,” I hear him respond. I want to crawl deep into a hole right now.

“I heard your last transmissions, is Jack going in?” Lynn asks.

“Who said I was talking about Jack?” Greg replies.

“Because I know how he runs. Is he going in?” I hear her ask again.

“Well, um, yeah,” he answers. Thanks for the sell-out, I think but with a kidding aspect. As a team, we can’t hold anything back and I should have let her know.

“How many are going in with him?” She asks. I’m not worried about anyone else hearing our conversations as our tactical radios don’t have a scan function. We switched frequencies so anyone would be hard-pressed to find our current one. Lynn knows this as well or wouldn’t be asking for information like that.

“Hang on, let me count,” Greg responds. “One.”

“One! Are you kidding me? He’s going in alone again. Jack, this is Lynn, over,” Lynn calls. I press the mic and make static noises.

“Jack, I know better than that. Nice try,” she says as I release the button and stop transmitting.

“Hey there, hon. Sorry, little trouble with the radio cords,” I say.

“Uh huh. I can’t leave you alone on the playground for a minute can I? What are you doing and why are you going in alone?” She asks.

“I’m just going in for a look around, that’s all,” I answer.

“I know your ‘that’s all’, Jack. It means you’re going in with a half-assed plan and will wing it if something happens. Jack, really, be careful, okay?”

She knows me too well, I think. “I will. I promise. I’ll call you when I get back,” I reply. I don’t hear a response but picture her words, “fucking men,” as she strolls briskly away from the radio.

I sigh and wait for a moment listening and looking to see if my crossing has been observed. Assured that I wasn’t seen and am the only one in the vicinity, I edge back out along my trail in the grass to the edge of the road. I backtrack, again raising the stalks to the vertical position erasing my trail; or at least making it less visible. Close to the trees, I gather several clumps of grass. I find a concealed place to hole up in until dusk approaches. Separating the grass stalks, I remove my vest and insert them into the back molle straps, taping them into place before donning the vest again. I spray on the scent mask making sure to run it through my hair and hoping the odor of the people in the camp helps mask my individual scent as well. I wrap a shemagh around my head. I use the shemagh outdoors depending on the circumstances. If there is a chance of a chill out, not only does it keep you warm but it also minimizes the steam emitted when breathing out in cold air. The cloth traps the moisture and minimizes any visible breath. Every little bit helps.

The air chills as dusk begins. The sun once more gives warning that its time is drawing to a close. I rise from the bushes and slowly make my way to the edge of the trees. I see the chain link fence through gaps ahead and look to make sure I’m close to where I saw the limited gap in light coverage.

“I’m at the edge of the tree line between the second and third towers,” I radio Greg.

“Copy that, Jack. Good luck and call if you need,” he responds.

A View from Inside

She isn’t out for long. The sound of the van door opening intrudes upon her darkened world. A dull, throbbing pounds inside her head accompanied by an occasional sharp, shooting pain as if an ice pick is penetrating her skull. Her eyes are open but the blackness remains. The fear inside heightens as she recalls the attack and what she assumes is her subsequent capture. She remembers heading out in search of her kids and her fear mixes with anxiety about finding them.