Jake Higgins trudged up a pine-needle-littered slope during daylight. These past weeks he’d slept during the day and traveled at night. Now that he moved under towering evergreens, he’d decided to switch it back to normal.
It had been a week since the ambush east of Alamosa. Jamal and Alabama Ted had stuck with him for two days longer. It had been terrifying: a crawl and wait, watch and then crawl again. Ted had finally crapped out, refusing to go any farther.
“We’re almost past Alamosa,” Jake had said.
Ted had rolled over, closed his eyes and refused to say another word.
In the end, Jamal had dragged Jake away. The two of them kept going. They made it west of Alamosa and kept trudging. He’d lost Jamal when he stepped on a landmine. It killed him instantly. That part was good. He’d gone without pain. The wretched part was that pieces of Jamal hit Jake in the chest. Seeing the man’s mangled finger cling to him—Jake had fallen to this hands and knees and vomited. He’d crawled blindly for a time, making it somehow through the minefield. The only thing that had consoled him in the end was that he knew he’d see Jamal again in heaven someday.
Yeah, Jamal’s death had been the worst. He missed the man’s cheerful attitude and he missed Jamal’s endurance. He’d been the toughest, after the lieutenant.
As he trudged up the mountain slope, slipping over pine needles—one time he went down on a knee—Jake wiped sweat out of his eyes. He was thin, hungry and growing weaker every day. He wore Chinese boots, having stolen one of the flyers’ pair. If he’d had his old worn boots—no way, he would have stopped because of bleeding feet.
How much longer could he go on? He thought about it all the time. His grandfather used to read him Louis L’Amour novels, westerns about incredibly rugged individuals. Jake realized he would have never made it back then. Those settlers and explorers had been plain tough. America could use some of those old-fashioned types about now.
Jake stopped. He had his M-16 and three full magazines. That was it. His canteen had water and he had one final Chinese ration packet left. As far as he could tell, he’d made it west of the Chinese lines. It had been two days since he’d seen any evidence of enemy patrols.
This was an empty land, and the farther west he traveled the steeper and more rugged the Rocky Mountains would become.
Jake had stopped just now because he heard an engine backfire. Was it an American engine or a Chinese vehicle? The noise came from upslope.
He should go check. If it was Chinese, though—
Have I come this far only to fail?
His mind shied away from the thought of all the dead Americans who had begun the journey with him. It was crazy he would be the one to have made it this far. He’d like to think that meant something, but he knew better. It was stupid dumb luck. He wasn’t better than the others, nor did Fate or God have anything in store for him to do.
“Heck! My own country hardly likes me,” he said aloud to himself. “They put me in the frigging Detention Center.”
Jake took a deep breath and decided he would be like his grandfather and his father. They had looked up to Louis L’Amour characters, the Old West Americans. If nothing else, he had a story like one of them. He’d made it through miraculous odds. So maybe if it meant anything, he was supposed to act like an Old West American.
What would one of them do?
Jake knew the answer. He would check the backfiring engine. He’d be brave. He’d take a chance when life called for taking a chance.
Putting one foot ahead of the other, Jake kept trudging uphill. It was hard with all these slippery pine needles. He went slowly but he went steadily, and he made it to the top of the slope.
He stared down at a dirt road thirty feet below. He’d seen an old movie as a kid: The Wizard of Oz. This dirt track was the Yellow Brick Road to him. No more slipping on pine needles.
He worked his way downslope and soon trudged on the rutted road. There had been an engine cough. How far had the vehicle traveled already from where it made the sound?
Jake walked, and after two turns in the road, he heard