Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,63
the firelight shone weakly, King’s wide-open pupils could clearly see the surrounding area. There were two guards patrolling. Both had their heads down, keeping the rain out of their faces. They didn’t appear to be alert, but he had learned his lesson about doubting the VPLA.
He turned to the others. “We’ll make a run for the forest when both have their backs to us. The rain should conceal our . . .”
Before King could finish his sentence the hiss grew quiet and then stopped. He wanted to shout curses at God. One minute more and they would have been gone. One minute more! King peeked through the exit again. The guards were shaking the water from their waterproof ponchos. Then they met next to the fire and lit cigarettes in the lingering flames. They’d have to risk it when the men were looking the other way. Waiting until morning, when Queen was to be executed, was hardly an option.
King looked back at Sara and Queen. “Get ready,” he said, and then pointed to the left. “Head that way and don’t stop until I tell you—”
He saw Sara tense. But she wasn’t preparing to spring from the tent. She was confused. Hearing something, maybe. He’d learned to trust her sense of the world around her and focused on tuning out the jungle noise. Then he heard a distant explosion that instantly registered. Mortar! Sara looked at him with wide eyes. Only then did he realize he’d spoken the word aloud.
Queen had heard it, too, and acted without pause. She pushed between them and pounded from the tent. She held two ice picks, one in each hand.
King followed, but stopped when Sara stayed behind. He turned back to her and reached out his hand. “We only have a few seconds at best.”
She took his hand and felt his strength despite all he’d endured. She’d been ready to give Trung anything he asked for and she hadn’t been touched. But King had endured hell. On her behalf. As she raced beside him, hand in hand, she thanked God for the man and then prayed this wouldn’t be the end.
The guards, now on alert after hearing the sound of a mortar being fired, saw Queen as soon as she exited the tent. But the ice picks had already flown from her hands. One man was struck in the eye. He went down screaming. The other caught the pick with his Adam’s apple and toppled over holding his throat.
As soldiers woke and exited from tents, half dressed, half asleep, but armed with assault rifles, Queen, King, and Sara bolted through the center of the camp in plain sight. Queen veered toward the two fallen guards, intent on taking their weapons. She was knocked down when the two men exploded, burst like water balloons, struck by an exploding mortar round. King hoisted her up as the sound of continuous mortar fire sounded in the distance.
“Run!” King shouted. He knew some of the VPLA were already in pursuit. He could see the trees at the edge of the forest being pelted by bullets. If not for the recently awakened state of the VPLA men, he was sure they’d already be dead. But with the camp under attack, only a small force would pursue them.
As they entered the jungle, mortars exploded all around the camp. The explosions were followed by loud voices, inhuman shouting, and very human screams. Intense gunfire followed—a full-blown battle between the Death Volunteers and someone else was being waged. Had the Khmers followed after all? For a moment, King thought he heard a voice shouting in English, but not Trung’s. He listened, but the sound of violence consumed the night. Pulling an individual voice from the chaos was impossible.
Fire blossomed as some of the tents took mortar rounds. The light lit the first few layers of forest. King saw Sara just in front of him, scrambling over a massive tree root. But Queen was nowhere to be seen.
But he knew she was there. She just wasn’t running.
“You’ll follow us?” he asked the darkness.
“Yes,” came Queen’s voice. “When I’m done.”
TWENTY-NINE
MAKING SENSE OF the network of tunnels became impossible as Rook charged ahead, no longer caring about finding a way out. Losing the cadre of attackers following them was his top priority. With the penlight between his teeth doing little to illuminate the three-foot-square tunnels, Rook often bumped into walls where he thought an open tunnel was, or crashed through unseen debris that felt and sounded