It wasn't their day for luck.
Two gunships hovered, firing at both the anti-aircraft position on the opposite hill, and the NVA coming up the trail, but it was more to buy time for the team on the ground than anything else. Their slick was somewhere up ahead, downed by the bastards on the hill. The team's extraction had suddenly turned into a search and rescue for the downed crewmen.
The team was moving toward the wreck as fast as the dense jungle would allow. Hannibal figured, if anyone had even survived the crash, the gunner and co-pilot were probably in bad shape. Both had been hit before they even got the ladder out. He didn't know about Murdock, but he wasn't going to leave until he had any and all survivors with him.
Hannibal was surprised to find it mostly upright, and in one piece except for the rotors. He left Ray and BA to watch their back trail and he, Peck and Wiley hurried to check for survivors. The gunner was dead and the co-pilot had taken a bad hit in the thigh. Wiley worked on the wound, while Hannibal and Peck looked for Murdock. 
Seated on the far side of the cockpit, he'd survived with a couple of nasty cuts and doubtless a lot of bruises; Hannibal hoped there was nothing else. They quickly got him out of the chopper, and Murdock painfully pulled his helmet off and threw it into the trees.
"Damn, Hannibal. The other guys?"
"Sorry, Murdock, we lost Rib-Eye. Handy's shot up, I don't know how bad."
"Aw, shit, man..."
"C'mon, Murdock, stick with me, okay? We gotta move."
Murdock swallowed and nodded. He'd mourn his friend later.
Peck was on the radio, and he didn't look happy. Hannibal looked up to see the gunships moving away.
"What the hell?"
"They're running out of everything - fuel, ammo - we're on our own, Colonel. They've sent for replacements but..."
"Okay, let's move!"
BA took Wiley's place, practically carrying Handy as the team moved further into the jungle. None of them had any illusions about stealth. The NVA knew exactly where they were. Their only hope was to find a defensible position and pray the new extraction team got there in time.
Hannibal shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. He knew it was a futile attempt; there was no possible way to be comfortable in a tiger cage. He was actually hoping they'd be moved again tomorrow. Maybe someplace where the food was a little more plentiful. Or the ground not so marshy. The bugs not so thick.
Maybe Hawaii. Hawaii had been nice.
Didn't seem like just a few weeks ago he and Peck had been there. Time flies when you're having fun. He shifted again. He would have done all right on his own, but Peck had the gift. Not that Hannibal would admit it to him. But, yeah. Hawaii would be good.
He heard a cough behind him and stretched to see if Murdock was okay. Hannibal knew he had a couple of cracked ribs, maybe more. Murdock looked over at him, slowly nodded. Hannibal returned the nod before turning back around and trying once more to find a comfortable position.
Probably be better if they didn't move tomorrow. He sighed.
Hawaii would have to wait.
But not too long.
Ray wasn't paying attention to what the others were doing. For one thing, he was the farthest away, could only see two of them. Secondly, it didn't really matter. Not yet. Not until Hannibal gave the signal. Let them know, somehow, that he had a plan, that things were in place. Until then, he did his job, just like they were on patrol. Learn the surroundings, the routine, notice the oddities. So he watched the guards. When they changed, where they walked, who they were. The patterns, the weaknesses. Every time they moved the camp, he learned whatever routine they had.
So far, these guys were really screwing up.
They'd moved every few days, sometimes walking for a day, sometimes only for a few hours. But each time they stopped, the guards' routine was almost exactly like the last one. Small variances, but not enough to matter. They used old campsites, rebuilding or just repairing, and it seemed the camps were pretty standard. Good for concealment, good for defense. From the outside, anyway.
Strengths, weaknesses. He knew them both now. So when Hannibal made his move, Ray would be ready.
He leaned his head back, nestling it in the ridge between two bamboo poles. Sighing softly, he began to recite the Apostles' Creed in his head. Tomorrow he'd try the Gettysburg Address.
It was a small chance, but that's all he'd really needed. It had only taken a couple of days to figure out who the "real" NVA were, and who would prefer to be home, tending their own business. He just had to watch how they looked at the Americans to know. He'd been almost sure, and then when the soup had come with small pieces of bread in it, he'd known.
The first move had been the most dangerous. Always was, no matter what the circumstances. You never knew for sure how the mark would react, no matter how closely you'd checked them out. He was acting almost on gut instinct with this one. And the stakes were incredibly high now, not only for himself but for the others. If this guy wasn't what he thought, they could end up dead.
Or worse.
The first overture was quick, simple. 
A small smile as the cook placed the bowl just outside the cage. For a split second, they looked eye to eye, and then the smile was returned.
It was two more weeks before the opportunity arose for more than an exchange of smiles. A quick whisper.
"Ân nhân? Friend?"
The cook glanced quickly around, then nodded sharply before moving away.
Every day, every other day, whenever they could after that, they spoke. A word, maybe a quick exchange. Gradually, they forged a tentative...well, he couldn't really call it a friendship. He wasn't sure what to call it. Not until he knew how far he could take it.
What Lin told him today meant he'd have to find out.
He knew Hannibal had said to forget it, not think about it, but it was hard. Days, weeks, of nothing to do except think about it. That, and watch for bugs, snakes, grubs. Anything to supplement that crap the gooks called food. He sighed. Shouldn't complain. Anything would taste good today. There'd been nothing yesterday.
He looked up suddenly at the sound of low voices. Hannibal was looking in the same direction.
At Peck, talking to some gook.
Wiley started to straighten up, but at a quick frown from Hannibal, he settled back down. Maybe Hannibal was close enough to hear what they were saying. Maybe he understood more of that lingo than Wiley did. So maybe it was okay.
Hannibal wasn't watching them anymore, instead looked off in another direction. So he didn't want anyone drawing attention to them. Wiley looked away, too, but not enough that he couldn't see them. Peck kept looking around the camp while he talked; the gook kept looking at the prisoners.
It only lasted a minute. Maybe not that long. Then the NVA walked off, and Peck settled back in his cage, looking casual. Almost relaxed. Like he was on a fucking vacation. Peck's glance stopped at Wiley, and he smiled.
Wiley just stared back.
Murdock watched Hannibal watching something. Or someone. He couldn't see who. Not without turning, and he didn't really want to turn. He didn't really want to breathe, but that was inevitable. He'd bruised his ribs a few years ago, and that had been bad. This was worse. And he knew it wouldn't get better any time soon.
He carefully, very carefully, slid down so he was lying flat on his back, knees bent to accommodate the confines of his cage. They weren't built for a man of normal height, let alone someone like himself. But at least he could relax a little bit this way.
As the guards came around, doing their nightly security check, Murdock closed his eyes and went through his evening ritual. All the things he was thankful for. Like the gooks not finding out he was the pilot. And that they let one of the guys help him as they made their way from camp to camp. It was a hellish way to live, but at least it kept him alive. And if Peck was right...
As much as it would hurt, he hoped they would move out tomorrow. He knew the lieutenant would find a way to be with Murdock.
If he had any news, anyway.
BA was across the camp from Ray. The NVA kept the prisoners spread out as much as they could, isolated from each other. And no talking. No way. They'd damn near knocked Hannibal out cold when he tried. Didn't even like it when they looked at each other.
BA was watching the lieutenant and that other guy, too. He couldn't figure that out. It was the second time he'd seen the two of them like that. Late last night they were together, too. Either Peck was taking one hell of a chance, or...
No. No, he wasn't ready to believe that.
The two men broke apart and BA closed his eyes. He needed to get some sleep. He opened his eyes. He needed to sleep but he didn't like closing his eyes. Every time he did he saw Handy.
The NVA had played with the team for a long time before the final attack. Let them settle, and then come in from three different directions, firing like fury. No way the guys could hold them off. So they'd take off again, BA dragging poor Handy, until they found another spot they thought they could hold until help arrived.
But the help never came. They kept being pushed farther and farther into the jungle, and never had a chance to radio their new position. Never had time to figure out where they were.
And then they ran out of ammo. One by one. The NVA came raining in on them, shoving them down, kicking, hitting. Then they found Handy, half-conscious behind a big rock.
He never had a chance.
BA closed his eyes once more.
Maybe that was a mercy.
"But why me?"
"Because you're the only way to Hannibal, that's why. Besides," Peck stepped carefully over a root, trying not to jar Murdock in the process, "you're already a little strange. Shouldn't be that hard to pretend you're totally nuts."
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"Look, this captain may be educated and 'modern', but most of these others guys aren't so quick to give up their superstitions. And if they think you've got demons or spirits possessing you, they'll steer clear."
"Yeah, or shoot me."
"No, they won't do that. That might turn the spirits on them."
"What about Lin?"
"The rest will think he's foolish for talking to you, and the captain, if he thinks about it at all, will just think he's trying to get intel. Which makes both of you safer."
"Okay, one last question."
"Fine, but make it quick."
"Why can't you talk to Lin anymore?" Peck didn't answer, and Murdock looked sharply at him. "I said, why can't you..."
"I heard you." He stopped to wipe the sweat off his face, nodding and smiling at the guard who started to prod them forward again. "I can, but I don't know for how long. Lin told me we're joining up with another group of prisoners in a few days. And one of them has apparently been more than 'helpful' to his captors."
"What? No way!"
"Shut up!" Peck pulled Murdock to the side, again nodding and smiling at the guard, who scowled back. They stumbled on a few yards more before the guard moved away. "Look, I don't know if it's true, but I can't take the chance. You know enough of the lingo to work with Lin; if these guys think you're a fruitcake, you'll have the privacy I won't; and, you're the only one who has any real access to Hannibal. It's got to be this way, Murdock. Without Lin, we don't stand a chance of getting everyone out."
Murdock scowled. What Peck was saying made sense, but he still didn't like it. Maybe it would work the way he said; then again, maybe the guards were getting suspicious and he was just saving his own skin. Or maybe this Lin and he had made some kind of deal.
Damn. Peck had never done anything to him, but Murdock knew Wiley didn't trust him. BA wasn't real sure of him, though he'd stopped grumbling about him. And Ray actually seemed to like the guy. Still, he had that rep...
Then again, Murdock had a rep, too. Probably why Peck had come up this whole stupid idea.
He was right about one thing, though. Murdock did have access to Hannibal. And so far the colonel liked what Peck was doing. He sighed. They would definitely need help to get everyone out...
He looked at Peck, nodded.
He was about to take Howlin' Mad to new heights.
