Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(101)
Author: Christine Feehan

The rising sun found them four miles from town where they settled in for the day. It was far too risky in the more populated area to travel. With the sun, the rain faded into a mist and then gradually disappeared altogether.

“We’ll rest here,” Ryland decided. “Try to scavenge up some food, find a water source, and clean up a bit.”

They all carried baby wipes and basic hygiene necessities and it felt good to take some of the grime of battle and travel off. Water came from a creek that ran into the nearby Congo River. Kyle, Jonas, and Gator went looking for food for everyone. Kyle managed to come up with a couple of dozen bananas and Jonas collected wild yams. Gator built a fish weir in the creek and captured a few tilapia.

Sam and Nico dug an oblong hole and built a fire in it. Using green limbs, they built a rack over the fire and cooked the fish and yams. They all sat back, finally satisfied, feeling as if they’d attended a virtual feast. The food was much needed, as it had been some time since they’d consumed any of their rations.

“We’re going to revise our plan a little and go with a new strategy for the night,” Ryland said. It was evident that while the others collected and cooked food, Ryland and Kadan had been working on a new plan. “We’ll split into two teams. The teams will do independent recons of two different routes to port. We’d like to find a small boat to take us down the Congo River to the Atlantic. When we’ve completed our recons, we’ll meet back up at a designated ORP and make a decision how to proceed. Any questions?”

Again there was no pause. “Good. Let’s get it done, gentlemen.”

Sam, Nico, Kadan, and Jonas headed out, traveling fast, as soon as they’d settled on an objective rally point. Sam slipped into the brush, close to the port. The place was heavily guarded, presumably to keep the rebels out. Armed men in uniforms paced restlessly. Several stood together, talking quietly, smoke and laughter drifting back toward him. He worked his way all along the river, trying to find some means of transportation, but the security had the place locked down tight. Cursing under his breath, he made his way back to his three team members. All of them shook their heads silently.

Kadan gave the signal to retreat back to the designated objective rally point. They could only hope that Ryland’s team had fared better. They crouched down, waiting for Ryland’s team when the radio gave a soft sigh.

“Burning Man … Burning Man … this is Firefly, over.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He was trapped in the jungle, no way to get out, the president’s army all around them. The soldiers sure as hell didn’t have a clue they were the good guys, and if caught, no one would claim them—not even the man who had asked for help.

He swallowed hard. She was right about the clarity of the radio. It sounded as if she was whispering in his ear. He hoped she was right about the audio capability—she’d devised some new audio device that if they stayed under fifteen seconds with each transmission, was supposed to be impossible to detect. Just the sound of her voice made him want to hold her close.

“Burning Man, over.”

“Your ride is waiting.”

“Copy that, Firefly, ride is waiting, over.”

“Tell leader, problem taken care of. Home office clear as well. Firefly out.”

His heart jerked. It seemed a hell of a lot easier to run around jungles with enemies surrounding him when he had nothing to lose. The freighter was anchored and waiting for them. They just had to make it out to the boat.

Ryland’s team returned, looking as dejected as he felt. Kadan gave his report. Ryland’s echoed it. The port was too heavily guarded to chance it. They’d have to move on.

Firefly has our ride in place. Sam was glad to give some good news. Rye, the problem both in the general’s office and the one you wanted addressed has been taken care of.

Ryland’s nod was barely perceptible, but he looked pleased.

It was a long, slow walk skirting the town. Several times they ran into dogs, but Gator quieted them before they could bark and give the team away. On the other side of town, they once again split into two teams for another recon. Almost immediately Sam spotted a van. The vehicle didn’t look in much better shape than the truck had been, but it was transport. Old and rusty, the paint chipping, it would at least provide concealment as well as needed transportation. From what Sam had seen, most of the vehicles—and there weren’t many—were in the same condition.

Gator and Sam crept slowly to the edge of town where the vehicle sat. A dog barked somewhere close and Gator turned his head toward it. The dog let out a soft whine and ceased barking. Sam went down on one knee and guarded Gator’s back while the Cajun hot-wired the van. Gator sent Sam a triumphant grin when the van rumbled to life. Sam jumped in on the other side and they got out of there quickly. A quarter mile away, they paused at the edge of the road long enough for the others to jump in the open side door.

“Wonderful carriage,” Kyle quipped.

“Nice work,” Ryland commented.

The van creaked and moaned, but it was running and that was all that counted. They only needed to get another ninety-two miles according to the GPS. Having a vehicle, even though it was rusted in three spots on the floorboards, allowing them to see the road beneath flashing by, meant they would make their destination by daybreak.

It was a long trip as a few more cars occasionally shared the road with them. Once a truckload of soldiers rumbled past and all of them held their breath, grateful the van was closed and nearly impossible to see into in the dark. Gator simply slowed and moved to the side, allowing the truck to rumble past them.

“Stop strokin’ that gun, Kyle,” Gator said. “You’re makin’ me nervous. I’m thinkin’ you’re about to make love to the damn thing.”

“She is purty,” Kyle said, giving the gun one last caress, his eyes watching the truck ahead. “Slow down a little, and let them get ahead of us, Gator.”

“What if they put up a roadblock?” Jonas asked.

Ryland opened one eye. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can the chatter and let me sleep. We’ve got swimming to do and I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Do they have sharks off this coast?” Jonas asked.

Sam snickered. “You and those sharks, Jonas.”

“I have nightmares, man,” Jonas protested.

“I’ll feed you to a damn shark if you don’t let me sleep,” Ryland drawled.