The figure stepped back, further into the shadows. “Goddamn it, Chris, I said stay back.”

“I just want to see you—”

“Well you can’t. You can’t see me and you can’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“ ’Cause I’m dead, that’s why. There, good enough reason?”

Stiles just stood there, too confused to move. “Don’t bullshit me, Alex. You mean you think you’re gonna be killed, is that it?”

“I was killed. Tonight. Back home.”

“And then you flew all the way here. Boy, I’ll bet your arms are tired.”

“Funny guy. I can see you need proof.” He held out a hand that slipped from the shadow and into a column of daylight. The flesh was pale and bore a web of scars. Some were still open, though they did not bleed. “C’mon, little brother. Take my hand.”

Hesitating, but thinking, Why are you hesitating?, he reached out and clasped it, and then he shivered. There was a hint of contact at first, a frosty chill that seemed to permeate his glove. And then the contact ebbed until Chris’s hand passed completely through his brother’s. Only the chill remained. “Jesus!” he stammered, tearing off his glove to rub at his hand, to erase the taint that lingered there. “Jesus H. Christ! You’re dead!”

“Surprise. And you will be too if you don’t listen. Are you listening, Hoss?” The ghost stepped before Stiles and peered into his face. The shadows seemed to prevent Stiles from peering back. “Are you listening? ’Cause they’re all around you.”

“Ghosts?”

“Vietcong. You’re walking right through an ambush.”

Stiles searched the jungle. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Then it wouldn’t be an ambush, would it, stupid. They’re waiting for you to pass and lead the men in here.”

“Then I’ve got to warn them,” he started, but Alex’s words held him back.

“You move to the rear and you’re dead before you take a step.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You take them out yourself.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, I’m a ghost,” Alex retorted, “and that is your ace in the hole.” He pointed to Stiles’s rifle. “Any good with that thing?”

“Sure.”

“Good. So here’s what you do. Wherever you see me next, you fire. Aim right for my breastbone. I’ll be your pointer.”

“I don’t know—”

“Just do it, Chris. You don’t want to be dead. It’s no fun. Take my word for it.” Then the apparition was gone.