“We’re ringed in,” Chaz said. They were all out of breath from the run and coughing from the smoke in their lungs, their throats raw from it.
“Back toward the water,” Dwayne said. He turned and began stepping toward the sound of gentle surf. The villagers emerged in a mass from the cover of the huts and onto the sand. Even the dogs had found their courage again and were yapping at their masters’ feet. The mob formed a broad half-circle around the four men and started closing it up in a classic pincer movement. They were deliberate now. Their quarry was trapped. No need for haste or hysterics. Soon they’d have the intruders on a spit over their fire. The only advantage the Rangers had was the range of their weapons. But that edge would vanish if the skinnies rushed all at once.
“We make a last stand there?” Jimbo said. “At least I got to go to the beach,” Renzi said. He spat on the sand.
“Look around you,” Dwayne said. “You see any boats? Canoes? Dug-outs?”
Except for the scattering of bones and shells that marked the tide line the beach was empty all around.
“That means the little fuckers can’t swim,” Dwayne said. He unlimbered the last satchel charge he’d been carrying.
Spears began to fall around them. One landed with a thud by Jimbo’s boot, its point buried deep in the sand. The range was closing.
“Run for the water,” Dwayne said. He pulled the fuse ring of his last satchel and threw the charge in a high looping trajectory toward the growing mob of silhouetted shapes stalking closer.
The four men sprinted over the expanse of sand and reached the water just as the last satchel charge boomed behind them. They waded into the soft breakers with knees pumping. Chaz and Dwayne turned and fired suppression into the villagers just now reaching the water’s edge. The Rangers were up to their waists with spears and rocks splashing into the water all around them. Each man lay back in the warm brine to reduce his target area. The villagers came no deeper than their knees into the swirling water. The skinnies went mad with frustration at the four men. They could see their quarry, but not reach them.
There was a surprisingly strong undertow, and the Rangers let it carry them from the shoreline and away into the darkness, stripping off gear and clothing as they went. Soon the enraged howling of the villagers and the yipping of their dogs faded away into the distance until all the four could hear was the lapping of the mild chop around them.
The current eventually carried them into shallow water they could stand up in, the level at their chests. Dawn light was beginning to show the outline of ridges to the north. Dwayne led the way, and the rest waded after him. The water had a slightly salty tang to it. There were rolling swirls on the surface near them and once or twice they were bumped by something unseen beneath the chop. Chaz wondered aloud what kind of fish might be in this water, but no one answered him.
They were down to the clothes on their backs. They’d stripped off ammo belts and other gear that might drag them down. Their rocket rifles were empty, and were discarded. All had dropped away to the bottom of the sea.
The sun was over the mesa as they splashed through still water that only came to their knees. They’d waded for miles as the lake floor rose at a slight grade, turning from sand and shale to gooey, clinging mud. The shoreline was marshy here and thick with reeds. They cut their arms to bleeding as they crashed through the saw-toothed fronds growing from the seabed. The mud sucked their boots off. They retrieved them from the muck and hung them around their necks by the laces.
Dragonflies with a wingspan as wide as a hubcap hovered just over the water. Flocks of birds that looked and sounded like geese exploded from the clumps of reeds as they neared.
Renzi fell hard with a splash and lay on his side.
“Move your ass, Ricky,” Chaz growled. “Give me a minute,” Renzi said and touched a hand to the patch of dried blood caked in his hair.
“You okay, bro?” Chaz crouched, his tone was softer.
“Dizzy,” Renzi said. “Puked back there. It’s a concussion.”
“You lean on me, all right?” Chaz extended his hand.
“Stick that up your ass,” Renzi said and rose to his knees. “I can hack it. I never needed help before.”
“Then fuck it.” Chaz jerked his hand back and stood up.
Dwayne slipped back between reeds and looked at them hard. He pulled Renzi to his feet. Renzi began to growl his thanks, and Dwayne put a hand to his mouth.
“Listen,” Dwayne said.
The three men grew quiet. Jimbo stood point in the reeds ahead with his head up and listening hard. All around them they could hear the brittle crack of reeds being broken down. There was a soft sucking noise of movement in the mud. A snuffling sound, a gruff rattling exhalation of breath, came out of the reeds. A lot of somethings were making their way through the canes toward the open water. They were close enough to smell now. A rank, gamey smell.
A shadow fell over them as a shape loomed large over the reed tops.
“Don’t. Run,” Jimbo hissed and held a hand out to still them.
An elephant. A huge, hairy elephant. It stood in the muck
