At the next bend, Tom leaned back against the wadi wall and hoisted Mike up. The ground was flat, hard packed earth the color of sand. Like snakes slithering across the ground, wadis branched off all meandering south created by torrential rains in the mountains to the north.

Mike ducked down. “Bring me down.”

Tom pushed himself off the wall and followed Mike. “What’d you see up there.” They were trotting now, trying to save energy.

“Some asshole looking back at me.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “We won’t be able to move up there, but they’ll be afraid to do it too.”

They jogged to the next bend. Periodically, Mike ran backward to keep watch. It slowed them down, but better the alternative.

The hard packed earth turned to sand. Mike slowed down. There were two sets of tracks in the sand ahead of them. “Look down.”

“Al and Julia.” Tom shifted over. “If there’s a fork ahead?”

“Run in one set I’ll run in the other.” Mike turned and picked up the pace. “We’ll try to make it look like all four of us are still together but stepping in each other's tracks.”

Shots rang out behind them. They sounded like sharp high pitched snaps as they passed by and impacted the far wall in front of them. Without looking, they sprinted. One round hit a rock, dislodging it, and a small avalanche of dirt and rock fell to the ground in front of them.

The corner was close. They leaned in and jumped around the protection of the dirt wall. AK rounds followed them. Mike spun and dropped to his chest, and crawled forward, exposing only his rifle and head to the enemy. He fired three quick shots and pulled back.

Machine gun fire slammed into the bend in the wadi. It was a long burst. Mike waited until the blast was over, pulled himself forward, and looked around the corner. The Afghani’s were all laying down in the wadi except for one. The RPG gunner raised to a knee.

“RPG!” Mike pulled back.

The RPG boomed the impact was almost instantaneous as the grenade struck the newly formed mound of dirt they had dodged around. The rocket buried itself in the pile of soft soil.

Mike's mouth formed a small oh, his eyebrows high. He sighed a low whistle.

“Forgot to prime it.” Tom grinned. “Stupid fuck.”

“Let’s not wait for the next one.”

At the next bend, Mike peeked around into the straightaway they’d run through. Rifle fire continued to thunder down the wadi. Their last position was getting slammed. The dirt wall they'd hidden behind was falling apart under the continuous shooting. Dirt and rock dislodged and fell into a pile. A cloud of dust grew to the point the destruction became challenging to see through. A bullet whined off a rock and struck the opposite wall.

He pulled back. “Let’s go.”

They jogged for the next bend.

“They’re getting smart,” Tom said over uneven breaths. “They’re firing into the bend while they maneuver against us.”

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“Yeah.” Mike wiped the sweat from his face, gulping air as he ran. “This isn’t going to work. They are going to overwhelm us sooner than later. We’ll run out of ammo. Then we’ll be done.”

Tom lifted his arm and awkwardly dragged his hat across his face as he ran, wiping the sweat away. He didn’t have a response.

They rounded the next bend and stood at a fork in the dry river bed. The ground was sand in both directions.

The rifle fire behind them slowed. Only one or two men now shot, but it was sustained and getting closer.

Mike ripped off his Afghani garb. He angled his eyes at Tom’s man-dress. “Pull that thing off.”.

Sweat soaked man-dress in hand, Mike moved to the opposite fork where Al and Julia’s tracks stood out in the sand and dragged his sweaty shirt across the ground to blur out his and Tom’s tracks. Crouched down, he shuffled backward into the adjacent wadi and wiped the sand where his boots left imprints. He stopped and looked up.

Tom stood and watched his mouth half open.

“Follow me.”

“We’re going to…”

Al and Julia’s tracks remained pristine and evident in the sand.

“Hurry up.”

Tom looked at the tracks Al and Julia had made, then followed Mike’s lead. All evidence their group had split up disappeared as they backed up down the second fork in the wadi.

The enemy rifle fire would have echoed down the wadi, Al and Julia were sure to have increased their pace. At least Mike assumed so if they could. The AK and M-4 made distinctive sounds when fired, Al would know it wasn’t him and Tom doing all the shooting. He’d be pushing Julia to her limit.

Behind him, Tom wiped away his tracks backward until his feet landed on a patch of hard-packed dirt. Mike wiped the sandy tracks faster and made his way to the cracked, sun-dried surface. Once he stood on solid ground, they ran for the next bend. The AK gunfire was closer. Around the corner, they plopped down their soaked shirts against the dirt wall. Mike sucked air until he finally was able to breathe quietly through his nose. All they could do was listen. Peeking around would have been suicide.

The echo of the rifle fire changed. They were at the intersection. One man fired his rifle. The high pitched crack and echo sounded wrong. He was firing into the wadi Al and Julia had gone down.

The rifle fired once more and went silent. Mike looked over at Tom’s worried face. They didn’t dare look around. After the high pitched sound of gunfire, then a short silence, shouted voices echoed down the wadi. The men yelling at each other was a welcome relief in one sense. They didn’t know what to do. But, they might decide to split up and go down each wadi.

Tom shrugged and checked his magazine.

It sounded like an argument. Mike glanced at Tom, who smirked back.

Let them argue and waste time, Mike though.

One man raised his voice, and the decision was made. The two men strained to hear. The words held no meaning for them, but the tone was unmistakable. The leader of the group took charge and organized his men into the formation he wanted.

Mike held his rifle tighter, lifted the butt to his shoulder, and ran his finger along the trigger guard, ready to pull the trigger.

No more voices carried down the wadi. It was all quiet until something metal hit the stock of an AK. Next, something clanked against an ammo can. The leader’s angry shout got his men’s attention. It was the noise untrained and undisciplined soldiers made as they moved. They didn’t hear it again, but it seemed clear, the Afghanis now followed Al and Julia’s tracks.

A long exhale escaped Tom, then he squirmed over and sneaked a look. He pulled his head back and then stuck it out again. “Looks like their all going down the other channel.”

“Good.”

Tom leaned against the wall. “Now what?”

“We follow them.” Mike stood, “And kill them.”

"Good." Tom looked around the bend again. “It’s still not going to be easy, they outnumber us, and we’re running low.” He tapped his magazine with his finger.

“Nope, it isn’t. The machine gun is the key. It’s hot, that thing is heavy, and they’re just as tired as we are. Hopefully, the gunner is starting to drag hanging back a little. We’ll try to kill him first, quietly if possible.” Mike shrugged. “Anyway, when it happens, that gun will be an equalizer.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Tom's head dropped and raised. “Not much of a plan, but it is a plan.” He lifted the sandy, wet, man dress. “What do you want to do with these?”

“Ditch them. I think the proverbial jig is up.”

Tom reached up and took the roll-up hat off his head. He rubbed the sweat and dirt off his face with it and threw it, the vest, and the man dress to the ground. The pants were next.

Mike dried his face off with a dry spot from his man dress and threw it in the dirt next to Tom’s. “I’m keeping the hat.” He lifted the hat over his head with a half smile. “I don’t want to get a sunburn.”

Tom grinned. “I get it. Skin cancer can be a killer.” The grin left his face. “Let’s go get busy.”