Chapter Eleven.

Stacey and Sandman had waited apprehensively in the berm at the border of the dry paddy for most of the afternoon. The Jolly green that was supposed to pick them up had not materialised; and sounds of vehicle movement were beginning to increase out on the road. Sandman glanced at Stacey.

'Well, Baby-Girl; I think we're screwed. Our best shot is to high-tail it outta here and try for a pick-up farther north. There ain't no goddamned way they're going to drop a Jolly green in this close to the HCMT unless they ride a couple of gunships in to cover the extraction… and we just ain't that important.'

They lay quietly, for a while, listening to the forest, and the sound of the light breeze as it danced through the tops of the taller trees. Sandman nudged her.

'Listen. It sounds as though most of the traffic out on the trail has passed by. Now's the time to move. Let's go!'

Glancing across the scrubby, smouldering ground between their hiding place and the devastated trail, Stacey could see no movement whatsoever. She nodded. Rising up out of the protection of the berm, they ran, crouching towards the tree line. Nothing happened… no shouting, no shriek of whistles... no shots. Within the forest, with the sky nearly obliterated by the thick growth of the triple canopy, they stood very little chance of being seen from the air. They would have to move well away from the trail before they could risk emerging into the open to signal any search airplane that might be sent to find them… not that they had heard anything since the Skyraider had departed. In the safety of the trees, they ate some of their survival rations, before starting off. Food wouldn't be a problem in the forest, but drinkable water could be. They might need any fruit they could find just for the moisture content.

Time to move. Stacey stayed close behind Sandman so that the branches and vines he was pushing aside wouldn't slap her in the face with too much force. He was hacking and cutting through the dense vegetation, forging a path in their quest for a pathway or track of some sort to follow. He was being quiet and Stacey followed suit, unsure if his silence was due to his concentration on the green blanket around them, or something else. Eventually, they broke free from the trees and tangled undergrowth into a small clearing. Sandman sighed with relief seeing the small pool with a trickling stream flowing into it. The water looked clean and clear, but he insisted he taste it first, to check for any contamination. It tasted sweet and he declared it safe. Stacey passed the used water containers to Sandman for filling. He filled the empty one, and then topped off the others. They then rested for a few minutes before continuing their journey. Sandman said their best bet would be to continue to head north, and then turn west towards the Mekong River. They spent another three hours cutting, hacking, and pushing their way through vines, branches, and heavy undergrowth. Stacey started to wonder if they would ever get out of this and find some open ground. It was beginning to get hot and oppressive as the sun rose higher; the humidity level was rising fast.

As they made their way slowly through the humid forest, the closely growing trees and undergrowth frequently blocked their progress, and they had to resort to cutting their way through. Struggling slowly through the thick undergrowth, she felt sweat beginning to bead beneath her shirt, with the salty liquid seeping through the fabric. Sweat was beginning to drip off her face, into her eyes, and trickling down her cleavage. She alternated between wiping the beads from her face to tugging the shirt that kept sticking to her wet body. Sandman had taken his soaking shirt off and had tied it over his head to stop at least some of his sweat running into his eyes. Stacey wished she could do the same; but if she took off her shirt, she'd most likely burn her shoulders and back from the intermittent, lancing sunlight. That was the problem with being so fair-skinned. At times, they were in such dense growth, the shade lulled Stacey into thinking she might remove the shirt. Then, just as she was preparing to take it off, they'd enter a clearer area, where the sun was pounding down with relentless force, reminding her why it was a good idea to keep the shirt on.

The heavy, thick air hung in front of them. That was the trouble with these dense, tropical rainforests; the humidity rose rapidly until it was like trying to breathe through a wet facecloth. Added to that, with the number of things that wanted to kill you... poisonous, or carnivorous plants, snakes, ferocious insects... it really was not a place to be in by choice.

Following Sandman; Stacey fought her way through the foliage, carefully shoving aside plants and tree branches out of her face; trying not to break any twigs or disturb anything that might give their supposed pursuers any clues as to the direction in which they were moving. At one point, she had to stop to untangle her leg from a vine that had caught her. Sandman stopped and came back, pulling out his survival knife with which; he cut her free. As they were about to move on, they caught the faint sounds of high-pitched North Korean voices penetrating the relative silence. They were distant, but did it mean that they were being tracked? Stacey glanced at Sandman.

'They could be almost anywhere within two klicks, with the echoes in this wood, right?'

He nodded.

'Yeah, and if they move in this direction we have to be ready for them. Now come on. Let's move.'

Picking up their pace, they kept moving north; heading for a paler patch of light through the trees about five hundred metres ahead of them. Suddenly, Sandman stopped dead and held up his hand. There! Very faintly, far away to the north-west; a familiar sound drifting on the wind… ebbing and flowing. Stacey strained to listen. Sandman glanced back at her. Yes! The faint clatter of a helicopter. She nodded.

'It's a Huey!'

Forgetting the oppressive humidity and discomfort of their soaking clothes, with a new burst of energy they headed towards the lighter patch. The forest floor started sloping down. In a few minutes they reached the edge of the tree line overlooking a large open field of elephant grass. It sloped away for close on a klick before it reached another tract of forest. Crouching at the edge of the field, Sandman pulled out his survival radio and switched to Guard channel. This was risky; the Dinks were known to monitor this channel, but his guess was that they had no idea where the transmission was originating. He keyed the mike in the handset, and it immediately emitted a high pitched tone. He swore quietly, turned the function knob to the next setting, and hit the button again. Still a tone sound. He turned the knob one more click and tried again. This time when he keyed the mike it was silent. Pressing the push to talk button he spoke quietly into the microphone.

'Sandman to chopper. Sandman to chopper… Over.'

No answer.

He repeated the call. There was still no answer. He checked the survival radio for damage. Everything appeared to be OK. He repeated the call…

'Sandman to chopper. Sandman to chopper… Over.'

The distorted, faint, and broken radio call crackled from the listen speaker.

"Ghost-rider Three Actual to Sandman. I read you."

'Ghost-rider Three; this is Sandman. I can barely read you. You are breaking up.'

The sound of the Huey was becoming more distinct. Surely to God, the radio reception must improve soon. The emergency radio crackled again.

"How do you read me now?"

The Huey pilot's voice wasn't quite as bad this time.

Sandman keyed again.

'Ghost-rider Three Actual, I read you better. Over.'

"Gimme a grid, Sandman."

'Wait one.'

Sandman pulled out the damp, rubberised survival map and scanned the surrounding area.

'Sandman to Ghost-rider Three Actual; grid Eight-one-niner, Zero-one-seven.'

"Say again, Sandman."

'Repeat; Eight-one-niner. Zero-one-seven.

"Ghost-rider Three Actual to Sandman. ETA your position… six mike. Over."

Sandman keyed again.

'Roger, six mike.'

He glanced at Stacey.

'Six minutes out. Let's get ready.'

She nodded; then suddenly grabbed Sandman's arm.

'Listen. I thought I heard something back over there.'

She pointed to the tree line across to the south-east. Sandman strained his hearing. Nothing. What he could hear was the approaching helicopter, but that was all. The Huey was coming from somewhere over to their right. He glanced at Stacey.

'Where did you hear it?'

'Over there, I think.'

She pointed to their left, almost parallel to the tree line. Sandman stared hard in the direction that she had indicated, but nothing was visible... nothing moved. She shrugged.

'I can't hear it now. Perhaps it was just some forest creature.'

The noise of the approaching chopper was drowning out anything they might have heard. The survival radio came live.

"Sandman. Pop smoke. Over."

Sandman pulled the ring pin and heaved the smoke grenade out into the field. Thick yellow smoke began billowing from the grenade cylinder and began to drift upwards in a dense cloud. The radio came alive again.

"I see lemon, Sandman!"

'Confirmed Ghost-rider Three Actual. Lemon popped!'

The sound of the Huey was really close, but it was still not visible. It must be behind them over the triple canopy. The noise of the Huey's blades slapping the hot, humid air was getting much louder. Suddenly, and without any warning; the sound of heavy automatic gunfire tore across the forest. It was very close. Stacey and Sandman ducked instinctively and quickly surveyed the surrounding area. The gunfire was coming from their left, somewhere in the tree line. A Huey slick came blasting almost directly over them and swept out across the open field. From their position, they could see the green "flaming onion" tracers tracking the Huey. As they crouched watching; they saw the chopper begin to take hits on its port side. The turbine suddenly began making a rattling noise and black smoke began hazing from its jet pipe. The pilot immediately aborted and swung up and away to the right with the tracer grasping at his tail with its green claws. The pilot was obviously in serious trouble as he flew out of the fire zone on an egress flight path dangerously low to the ground.

Sandman crouched at the edge of the tree line and looked out across the open field. The yellow smoke grenade had finally stopped producing smoke. The long yellow cloud about a hundred metres away was blowing further across the open field and slowly dissipating. He snorted.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

'Shit! We might just as well have put out a fucking great neon sign that declared; "OK, Dinks. We Are Here! Come And Get Us!" We're gonna to have to try to outsmart these little bastards by sticking to the forest.'

He turned to Stacey.

'Well, so much for a pick-up. We'd better get moving. We're gonna have to get cute, or the little bastards will box us in. I figure they’ll try to push us further north. They'll think it's obvious for us not to head west because we'll be afraid that they will trap us against the Mekong River.'

Stacey nodded. She ached all over, and her thighs were rubbed and stinging from her sweat-soaked pants and underwear. She gave him a resigned grin. Being rubbed raw was a damn sight better deal than the alternative of being captured, and what they knew they could expect spending a fun vacation in the Hanoi Hilton. Picking up their remaining supplies, they moved off silently into the forest.

The vegetation was becoming much thicker. Visibility was only about a dozen or so metres in places. They came to a slight depression in the ground where the earth and leaf mould appeared to be considerably damper than the surrounding forest floor. There was likely to be a stream close by and judging by the slope of the forest floor, of the land it would be heading west. It would give a good reference point in relation to the survival compass that Sandman was carrying; but there was no way they could avoid leaving footprints, however carefully they moved forward. They would have to chance that the Dinks wouldn't come this way.

Moving on; crouching under overhanging vines and carefully avoiding the thick ferns that might conceal any number of nasty surprises, they pushed their way further into the forest. Visibility was down to less than five metres; the undergrowth was lush and thick, and the effort was beginning to slow them down. As Stacey ducked under some particularly thick undergrowth, a sticky vine snagged her and she was forced to stop to try to untangle herself from it without making too much noise and creating too much movement. Sandman came back to un-hook her. As he did so, they both heard footsteps rustling through the ferns. Someone was coming down the trail on the far side of the depression. From the noise, they couldn't be any more than twenty metres away. There was no sign of movement, but the sound was heading directly towards them.

An NVA soldier appeared, walking down into the depression, his weapon held across his waist with the muzzle pointing towards the ground. He was working his way through the thicker vegetation, stopping to wipe his brow. He spotted the tell-tale footprints ahead of him in the mud and leaf mould. Tightening his grip on his weapon, he looked around cautiously. The foliage rustled to his left. Raising his weapon, the first soldier froze. Another NVA soldier appeared from the undergrowth and raised a finger to his lips, then motioned that they should move forward. Slowly, they began moving towards the thick clump of thorn bushes where Sandman and Stacey were concealed. Sandman silently drew his survival knife. A North Korean voice suddenly called out from the direction from which the two soldiers had appeared. There was movement through the forest out there. The two soldiers stopped and turned back, but not before one awful moment when one of them had peered directly at Sandman's and Stacey's hiding place. Gradually, the rustle of their footsteps receded, and the other sounds of movement in the forest faded away as the patrol moved on.

Sandman and Stacey remained where they were pressed down into the damp leaves until they could hear nothing except the sounds of the forest. Suddenly, Sandman froze. Stacey began to say something, but he cut in,

'Don't move a muscle… don't even breathe!'

She shot him a frightened glance. What was wrong?

Very slowly, he reached for a long twig. Then she felt something moving up her leg. Her stomach knotted with the fear of the unknown. Sandman inched the twig towards her. She felt it touch the damp cloth of her combat fatigue pants where, whatever it was that was on her, was slowly moving up towards her waist. She could see the sweat beading on his forehead as he delicately manoeuvred the tip of the twig. Suddenly, he flicked the twig with a rapid wrist movement, and in the same instant, dragged her towards him. She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of a huge, russet-red centipede scuttling away into the leaf mould. She stared at him with frightened eyes, and began to shake uncontrollably. At last she found her voice.

'What the hell was THAT?'

He breathed out and wiped the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his hand.

'THAT, was a Giant Red Centipede; a big one. The chances are that they won't kill you, but if you are bitten by a big one like that, the pain is enough for you to wish that it had killed you. They're fast and mean, so we won't be doing too much more romping about in the leaves in this goddamned place. It seems like the Dinks have moved on, so we'd better get going.'

He consulted the cracked and stained, thin rubber survival map.

'If we keep north for another three klicks and then turn west, we should reach the Nam Ngum River about half a klick north from Ban Pakknoung ville. According to the map, there's a ferry there. Our best shot though, would be to head to the north-west, following the Nam Gnang River valley which leads up to Highway Eighty-one and on down to Lima Site One-forty-four. It’s a long, tough haul but we'd be out of this goddamned forest, and following the river would keep us close to water… as long as you don't mind it tasting of purifiers. The long haul bit is the climb up to the strip. It's just to the south-east of a tiny ville called Ban Naphouak, the strip is known to the guys as "Ban Da Bom." They'll be able to get a Porter in there to pick us up.'

Stacey nodded.

'That sounds like the best plan. The ferry could be risky.'

Sandman nodded his agreement.

'Yeah, you're right. It would be safer…. But are you up to another forty klicks across country?'

She grinned.

'I may be blonde, but I'm not some fragile, sweet little thing!'

He returned her grin.

'And don't I know it, Baby-Girl!'

Sandman decided that caution would be the wise option until they were certain that the NVC patrol had left the area. The open area in front of where they were lying was covered with thick vegetation and a great deal of elephant grass, three, to four feet tall, and was interspersed with cultivated fields on the western edge close to the tree line. He turned to Stacey.

'We'll head down through the elephant grass towards the far tree line. If any Dinks are still prowling about, our movements will be pretty much hidden by the wind blowing across the field, and swaying the large, flat blades. The only problem looks to be the open stretch between the elephant grass cover and the tree line. Be careful as you move through the field. Elephant grass has razor-sharp saw edges, and this lot looks too green and thick to go through, so we'll probably have to push it down. That's where you can get sliced. The flat blades become very effective slides when they're pushed down and you can easily slip. Do that, and the natural instinct will be to grab at something to save yourself. Grab at the grass and you'll rip your hands and fingers to shreds.'

She looked across the open space at the sighing elephant grass. It looked so harmless and beautiful; swaying gently like a green ocean swell. To the north, a mountainous, blue-green forest/jungle marched across the hillsides that were dense with elephant grass, teak, and steaming bamboo. The nearly impassable terrain, along with the overwhelming, humidity and heat, gave the place a feeling of primeval isolation. It all looked so peaceful; and that was the most dangerous assumption to make. Laos was a wild, but beautiful country. If the communists would only stay at home and stop shooting at people, it would have been even more beautiful and enjoyable… apart from the millions of insects, which, if they cut themselves as they pushed down through the elephant grass, would be all over them like a rash… attracted by the smell of fresh blood.

It took the best part of an hour to negotiate the elephant grass, with no more than a few welts and scratches. Now, all that was left was a twenty-metre dash across the open ground to the relative safety of the tree line. Crouching at the edge of the high foliage, they listened... nothing; save for the sounds of the forest and the wind rippling across the elephant grass. Sandman nodded.

'OK, Baby-Girl. Let's do it. Keep low and run like hell!'

Gasping from the near-total humidity, with the sweat literally running out of them; Sandman and Stacey reached the tree line without anything happening, and slumped against the protecting tree trunks Pulling out two water containers, Sandman tossed one to her and took a deep swallow. She followed suit… savouring the invigorating lukewarm, mildly chlorine-tasting liquid as though it was the purest spring water. She rinsed her mouth and spat out, glancing around the thick, shadowy underbrush. The sun, shafting down through the triple canopy, was lifting the moisture from the soil, causing it to hang heavily and mustily about the tree trunks. The humidity, sweat, and dirt seemed to cling to her skin. The smell of the forest was strong… of leaves, earth, and rotting vegetation.

A narrow trail led through the jungle to reach the village. The trail was worn smooth by the tread of countless feet. Was this some NVA patrol trail? There was no way of telling. Carefully, they pressed on; listening for anything that sounded out of the ordinary; alert for surprise "nasties" concealed in the undergrowth... Mines, Poona pits, and the like. As they moved closer to the site of the ville it was beginning to get dark… it got dark early in the forest.

Suddenly, and without any warning, a strange feeling came over Stacey. She had the unnerving feeling that "something" was watching her. Glancing from side to side, she kept walking, but didn't see anything. Then she looked behind... right up into the eyes of an enormous elephant that was only about ten feet behind her. What the hell should she do now? Wild elephants were supposed to be mean and dangerous, and she had no idea that they could move so quietly. Very slowly, she backed away down the partly overgrown, slippery trail. The elephant merely watched her for a few moments, then turned, and ambled away into the dense foliage. Sandman was a little way ahead; he hadn't seen or heard their visitor. She hurried to catch him. Hearing her swift approach, he turned, and seeing her expression, reached for his automatic. He hissed quietly.

'What the hell is wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost. Did you hear something back there?'

She gave a nervous grin.

'Not a ghost, Alex. I've just had an eye-to-eye meeting with a goddamned great elephant! It just stared at me and then wandered away.'

He carefully holstered his automatic and exhaled slowly.

'Jesus H Christ! I never heard a sound. They can be fucking dangerous. He must have liked the look of you!'

He pulled out the map.

It'll soon be nightfall. The light goes just as though someone has flicked a switch off out here, and then the forest turns into a dangerous, wild monster. There ain't much moonlight down here, and soon it will be too dark to travel safely. Our best bet is to make for the edge of the tree line right now. According to the map, there's an abandoned ville about two klicks farther on, and there, we can settle into a hiding place for the night.'

The pathway began to narrow as they cautiously made their way through the dense, overhanging foliage. The ville was bombed out and abandoned. The battered dwellings stared back at them with blank, watchful eyes, as wisps of mist began to creep along the edges of the decaying track that ran through the middle of what had once been a thriving community. Now; only black, shadowy shapes of shattered buildings loomed all around. There were no signs of life in the entire place.

The first hut they checked out already contained occupants. They had been dead for quite a while, if the incredible stench was anything to go by. At the far end of the room lay two men face-down on the floor. Their already - rotting clothing identified them as being Lao peasants. The cause of their deaths was obvious just by looking… the back of the each man's skull had been sprayed across the nearby wall and ceiling… a typical NVA execution. In this heat, the bodies wouldn't last long... they'd only been here for a few days. It was the same story in the majority of the other huts. Sprawled bodies decomposing beyond recognition lay scattered about, maggot-blown, and seething with flies. There was nowhere here that could be safely used as a night refuge. It was obvious that an NVA patrol had come to the ville… probably as a reprisal for some incident, and literally wiped out every living soul. Farther up the desolated ville, Sandman discovered a ramshackle shed that appeared to have once been a firewood store. There were no bodies inside. It would make a reasonable shelter for the night. He and Stacey crawled inside, and were soon fast asleep.

Having spent a reasonably comfortable night in spite of the clammy heat; Sandman and Stacey awoke to the sound of teeming rain clattering upon the corrugated tin roof of their little shelter. They had spent the night under the insect nets that were part of their tropical survival kits. These were small, but kept almost all the blood-sucking insects at bay. The place stank of sweat, stale breath, and the all-pervading smell of wet foliage.

Stacey wrinkled her nose.

'Jeez! It smells like a football locker room in here!'

Sandman grinned.

'And how would you know that?... or shouldn't I ask?'

She grinned and began to rub the yellow plastic tube of insect repellent from her survival kit over her exposed skin. The tube contained a stick of yellow, transparent, solid gel-like compound that smelled vaguely of Jasmine. She wrinkled her nose.

'Not my first choice of perfume... I prefer Hermès Calèche... my first "big girl" perfume, and it is still my favourite.'

Sandman nodded and smiled.

'Yeah, but that wouldn't stop you from getting malaria, or possibly something even worse if one of these little bastards bites you… and that stuff will stop them!'

He reached into a pocket of his survival vest and pulled out a red and white box of condoms.

Stacey arched an eyebrow.

'You've just got to be shittin' me, Shepard!'

He grinned as he unbuttoned his fly, and pulled out his penis.

'Wishful thinking, Baby-Girl; but we might have to cross water with all this rain; and if you think I'm about to let a leech crawl up inside my dick; you've got another think coming!'

He broke the seal of the box; removed one of the foil-wrapped condoms, and grinned again.

'You could always slip it on for me!'

She snorted.

'In your dreams, Shepard… in your dreams!'

He shrugged and tore the foil pack open; then carefully rolled the condom onto his penis. The rain was still pelting down. Buttoning up his fly, he removed the drinking water storage bag from his survival vest pocket and moved towards the door, intending to use it to collect a fresh supply of rainwater to replenish their water containers. As he was setting up the storage bag; faintly, through the hiss of the driving rain he heard then distant sound of what seemed to be an engine. Peering back down the muddy track that meandered through the shattered ville, he saw a shape approaching through the misty murk. It was a vehicle, rattling and creaking; and sounding like a demented, gasoline-powered lawn mower. Out of the curtaining rain came an old Citroën 2CV car. Sandman quickly ducked back into the shelter and drew his automatic. Pushing Stacey behind him, he whispered,

'We've got company... and I don't think they're friendly.'