At the snapping of a branch, Rick threw his left fist into the air. The men held weapons ready, hyperalert for any sound. When a pack of monkeys screeched by over their heads, Rick’s heart lodged in his throat and adrenaline made his limbs tingle.

“I wish we could put the wildlife to sleep for the next few hours,” Swanson said under his breath.

Rick chuckled to himself as he signaled for a report from Sanders, who waited in the truck with Cynthia. After a little bit more deliberation, they’d installed Ozzy in the back on a padded pallet and given him a weapon. Sanders would keep watch while keeping an eye on Ozzy. Rick had felt the temperature of Ozzy’s skin as he helped him into the back of the truck. They needed to get to the embassy like yesterday.

Sanders signaled the all clear back to Rick. Now they just had to wait for Peña and Fisher to get into position.

Rick motioned with his hand and led the small team to the edge of the jungle. From here they could see the road and bridge clearly.

“Ah, waiting,” Swanson whispered, scanning the area. “Come join the Special Forces. You’ll have months and weeks of soul-killing boredom punctuated by mere seconds of concentrated excitement.”

“Hold tight,” McBride said. “I need to email MEB and see if they’ll use that as their new slogan.”

“Hey, man, it’s what we call truth in advertising,” Swanson said.

“I’ll give you both more than a few seconds of excitement if you don’t cut the chatter,” Rick warned under his breath.

Neither man joked again, but McBride chuckled as he examined a tree. “This’ll do,” he whispered, then slung his weapon across his back and pulled himself up onto the branch. He would provide overwatch cover fire for them. Rick looked up at the tree as McBride maneuvered his way through the branches, finding one that had the right vantage point and with a sturdy enough limb to hold his weight.

Rick didn’t like sending his men over the river. They’d scouted the other side just as thoroughly as this side, but an entire river sat between him and them. This was one of the harder parts of leading men into battle—separating himself from them.

He checked his watch. They’d been gone too long. He thought of all the things that could have delayed them, starting with an angry bloat of hippopotami and ending with a giant water cobra out looking for a midnight snack. Just when he thought he needed to send someone to investigate, he got the signal from Peña. They had reached their staging areas.

“Let’s rock,” Swanson said, slipping the night vision goggles on.

“On my count,” Rick said into the microphone.