Even though I’d been shot, I somehow managed to low crawl through the brush until I was behind a thicker stand of trees about fifty feet from my disabled car. I leaned up against a tree, taking shallow breaths, and ran my fingers up my forehead and over my scalp. There was some blood, but the bullet must’ve only grazed me, because my brain was still functioning. I was alive and able to see, and I still understood what it meant to be scared.

Suddenly I realized all that training I got in the Navy hadn’t been wasted. It was kicking in. I automatically took in my full surroundings, figured out my best chance of escape, and identified exactly where the danger was coming from. The guy with the gun was now standing at the foot of my car, peering into the dark woods.

I weighed my options. I could turn and run down the path away from the road, but that would give him a clear view and opportunity to shoot me. If I waited, he might walk into the woods searching for me and I’d have a chance to strike if he got close enough. But this guy seemed too professional for that. He was weighing his own options and knew time was on his side.

I needed something, some distraction to make him look away or run toward me. Without conscious thought, my right hand was in a fist and ready for action. But the last thing I wanted to do was get in a fistfight with a guy who had a gun.

Then I heard a noise on the other side of me. It was a low rustle in the brush. I jumped when a figure appeared out of nowhere. My fist almost struck out on its own. Luckily, my brain was able to register who it was.

“Jesus, Al. What are you doing here?” It was a hoarse, harsh whisper, but this was not the time for the older homeless guy to be hanging out.

“It looked like you could use a hand, Mitchum.” He slipped off the fleece coat I’d given him a few days earlier and said, “Put this on. You’re not used to the cold like I am, and if you lose too much blood the coat will help.” Then he peeked at the spot where the man with the gun had stepped farther into the woods. Then Al said, “Be ready to take this guy out.”

Before I could even ask him what he was talking about, Al stood up and sprinted, though not all that fast, on the path where the man could see him.

The man took one wild shot then fell into pursuit, immediately running hard right down the middle of the path. He had no idea I was behind a tree that was coming up quickly.