If all these weapons failed, I still had my fists to fall back on—part of me even relished the opportunity to take up with Rickard where we’d left off before the interruption of the L2A2 hand grenade.

“Ready, bud?”

I nodded. “More than.”

Throwing our discarded clothing inside the trunk, we lifted out backpacks nowhere near as large as the bergens we once carried on military operations but roomy enough to carry field rations, water, a small medical kit, and extra ammunition. Rink also brought extras in the way of a nylon DPM sheet and more netting. Then we slipped down an animal trail and under the trees.

“You’d think we were a thousand miles from nowhere,” Rink drawled.

He was right, but that of course wasn’t the case. Nearby were the hospital buildings, and not too distant, the historic Anhinga Trail. There could be any number of civilians wandering around out there, so we’d have to be extra careful. The last thing either of us wanted was to come across a group of trigger-happy hunters who might mistake us for a couple of deer. It would be a grossly unjust way to end our days.

For such a big man, Rink moved with the casual grace normally associated with dancers. He had the build and size of his Scottish-Canadian father, but the fluidity of movement was reminiscent of his mother, Yukiko, as were his hooded eyes. He loped along the barely discernible trail without stirring any of the branches that tried their damnedest to snag on his clothing. I followed three paces behind, conscious of my footfall and the thud of my heart.

The stench of rotting vegetation clogged my senses. Nearby, something large splashed through water. Alligator, I thought, or maybe just a bird diving for fish. Worst case scenario was that it was Luke Rickard already on his way to assault the hospital. I came to a halt, listening intently, but the sound didn’t repeat itself. Alligator, I thought a second time. Then I moved on trying to cut down on the lead that Rink had set in those few seconds.

Coming to a sluggish inlet of water, we paused.

“We’re gonna have to cross it,” Rink said. “Else we’ll be too close to Hubbard’s crew.”

The water looked murky and deep, almost black with silt and decomposing plant life. On the far side, the bank was choked with mangrove roots. I studied the still water. Anything could lurk beneath the surface and the first we’d know about it was when jaws clamped on to our limbs. Maybe I studied it for just a little too long, because Rink turned to me with a smile. “Don’t worry about the ’gators; it’s the turtles you have to watch out for.”