He joined the scouting party as they arrived at their location. Swanson wiped his forehead with his shoulder. “Twenty armed men, six vehicles. They have the road blocked with three, then a few paces back, three more.”

“No way to push our way through.”

“Not feasible.” Swanson pulled a map out of his breast pocket and opened it on the hood of the truck. “They’re here,” he said, tapping with his fingertip. “We’re here. Our rendezvous is here.”

Rick saw no way to get to their rendezvous spot without going through the roadblock. They discussed alternate routes.

“We could go by river,” McBride said. He gestured at what looked like a large animal path into the jungle. “It’s through there, about eight hundred meters.” He drew a line on the map with his finger. “Use the river to cut through this way, then when we’re here, we’re close to the exfil.”

Rick nodded, then glanced up at the surrounding jungle. “It’s going to be a long eight hundred meters,” he remarked, considering the two men, all their necessary gear, and the three-hundred-pound cricket. “Right. McBride, you and Swanson haul the cricket down to the river, then double back and assist. Peña and Fisher, you assist Ozzy. He should be able to one-leg it to the locale.” More quietly, his words intended only for his men, he added, “The doc and I will carry Drumstick on the stretcher. I don’t know how far she’ll be able to go, but we’ll get as far as we can. Hopefully you two will be back before she reaches muscle failure.”

As they unloaded the truck, Doctor Myers slipped her backpack on, then her medical bag, angling it across her body.

Rick watched McBride and Swanson head into the jungle before he turned to the doctor and said, “You aren’t going to be able to carry that weight. I need you to help with Sanders’s stretcher.”

She nodded. “I’ll put the bag on the stretcher, over his legs. It’s not a far distance.”

He pursed his lips, mentally figuring their odds of success, before nodding. “Okay. I’m going to get rid of the truck. Peña, you’re with me.”

He made a sloppy three-point turn with the truck, intentionally kicking up a rooster tail of dirt behind the back tires. He drove about a quarter of a mile back down the road, then turned and drove into the jungle, letting the trees close around the truck. He and Peña covered the tracks. The untrained eye would think they’d turned around from the roadblock and headed back the way they came.

After jogging back to where they left everyone, Rick looked at Ozzy, who sat leaning against a tree. “You feel like a walk?”

Ozzy shrugged one shoulder and grinned up at him. “Good as I can be, I reckon.”