Page 67 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

TOM HEARD THE ENGINES well before he saw the trucks.

He estimated he had been running for close to two miles. At the sound of the vehicles, he moved off the road and into the jungle, continuing to patrol north at a much slower pace.

I wish I had my survival ax or even a machete.

Don’t think about the tigers or snakes.

Fuck… you thought about tigers and snakes.

The noise of engines indicated that the trucks had stopped just ahead. He moved closer to the trail, the rain and wind of the monsoon helping mask his movement.

He saw the trail vehicle first.

Why had they stopped?

He dropped into a crawl, moving through the tall bamboo, thick liana vines, and palm and rattan trees with extreme caution, until all six vehicles were in view.

The convoy had not even bothered to put out security.

They felt safe this far north.

The convoy had come upon what looked to be a less than company-sized element of NVA in the road. Tom assumed their numbers were depleted in yesterday’s firefight with Team Havoc. They were accompanied by two men in bare feet.

Quinn’s face was beaten to a pulp, either by the NVA or the crash, it was impossible to tell.

Based on how they were handling him, it was probably both.

They had taken his shirt and boonie hat.

His torso was covered in cuts and bruises.

Even with his hands tied behind his back, Tom could see an unnatural protrusion of a bone in his left arm.

When an NVA soldier pushed him with the barrel of his rifle, he stumbled, dragging his right foot.

Hiep, by contrast, looked almost unscathed, aside from the bruising on the left side of his face. His hands were bound tightly behind his back and his shirt was gone as well.

Why wasn’t Hiep beaten too?

Tom knew of Recon Teams that had been captured or slaughtered, all except for one of the “little people” who was left alive by the NVA, Viet Cong, or Pathet Lao to sow distrust in the ranks of SOG and Project Delta teams. The intent was to make the Americans believe that their trusted ’Yard, Nung, or Hmong teammate had been turned by the North Vietnamese. Perhaps that was their plan with Hiep?

But then why take him from the crash site? Maybe in an attempt to actually turn him?

Two NVA soldiers started shouting at Quinn and Hiep, prodding them in the back with bayonets.

Tom’s grip tightened on the AKM in his hands. He brought it up into a firing position.

He was about 75 yards away, concealed in the jungle. He would have the element of surprise.

And then what?

Are you going to kill what appears to be fifty NVA by yourself?

Think, Tom.

The soldiers kept jabbing Quinn and Hiep with their bayonets, moving them to the back of the third vehicle, where soldiers already in the back of the trucks grabbed them under their arms and hoisted them aboard. Even at this distance, Tom could see Quinn wince in pain.

What was left of the company packed into the beds of the remaining cargo trucks, which then continued northeast toward North Vietnam.