Is that what I am? A survivor?
Immediately, what he has survived and why are questions that begin to pinball around inside his head.
Do the soldiers know I survived? Is that who they are looking for? For me?
Sean compels himself to drop all the guesswork and devise a plan to blow this scene as quickly and quietly as possible without alerting the GI Joes. Approximately a hundred yards south of his present location is a path leading into the woods, which should afford Sean a comfortable security blanket until he can determine where he needs to go. There are miles of woodlands, nearly all the way to Saugatuck, a town around 25 miles south of Tamawaca. The woods would provide cover and possibly shelter if he is forced to hole up for the night. It seems to be his best option at the moment.
The problem lies in reaching the path without being seen. Streetlamps dot the sidewalk at various intervals along the beach, supplying more than enough light for him to be spotted. Sean decides it is a risk he is willing to accept.
The soldiers appear to be rapidly working their way from the beachfront cottages to the cottages further inland. He will simply have to ally himself with the shadows, which should offer a small measure of camouflage, until he can reach the path. His best chance is now, before they return to their helicopters.
Sean starts to ease out from underneath the porch when he suddenly stops. A lone figure casually ambles up the beach, dressed like the other soldiers, but different in a way. If Sean has to guess, this is probably the man in charge. He does not carry an automatic weapon like the other soldiers, only a Colt pistol with a pearl-colored grip in a holster at his side. The man's nonchalant demeanor suggests the utmost and supreme confidence in his leadership and that everything, despite appearances to the contrary, is under control.
The man arrives at the sidewalk and strides purposefully towards something. Sean cranes his neck around the side of the porch to watch, coming dangerously close to exposing his head to the light from a streetlamp. The man bends down at the foot of Abraham's overturned wheelchair and grabs an object from the back pocket. Sean notices the object is not much larger than a cigarette pack as the man straightens up and continues walking towards the back row of cottages.
Sean thinks momentarily about Abraham and whether the man upon whom so many legends and rumors are based played a role in the drama unfolding here tonight. The coincidence seems uncanny.
There is no time to think about that right now, however. Sean needs to exit this scene and do it fast. He glances around to determine if the coast is clear to find no soldiers or their shadows lurking about. He immediately starts sprinting towards the path.
His arms pumping and his legs running full stride, Sean is a Marine again: back in boot camp, negotiating the obstacle course. He feels like he can fly, as if he is running on air. He is going to reach the path. Sean has shelved his strategy of cautiously moving within the shadows and agrees with the great mathematicians that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
He is twenty yards away, fifteen, ten, and then…
Whack!!
Sean is leveled by the opposing team's linebacker, who he did not even see, let alone hear.
He sees stars for a moment as he lies pinned on the sand, a heavy weight sprawled across his body. He quickly clears his head and assesses the situation in a heartbeat.
The man hoists Sean off the sand and attempts to wrangle his hands behind his back, as if to handcuff him, but Sean's reaction is too quick for that. He painfully twists one of the man's arms out away from them, and with as much force as he can muster, slams his elbow backward, connecting squarely with the soldier's jaw. The blow does not break the man's jaw, but it unquestionably inflicts some damage. The man actually appears more stunned than hurt, for perhaps he thinks this fleeing man is simply an ordinary civilian, running scared and feeling helpless.
Sean surprises him again by pulling the man's head close and turning him around so that Sean is directly behind him. He thrusts one arm across the soldier's throat and the other across the top of his head and he begins to twist.
There is so much raw emotion coursing through Sean that he can no longer control himself. He wants answers and he wants them now!
“Where are they?” Sean whispers menacingly in the man's ear. “What happened to them?”
The man emits a strangled cry. Fearing he will alert the others, Sean makes one final twist, snapping the man's neck.
The man falls limp to the ground. Sean quickly drags the lifeless body towards the edge of the path where the woods begin. He covers the man as best he can with the available branches and leaves around him, and then scurries up into the hills. He hastily scans the surrounding area for signs this episode has been witnessed, but Sean does not see anyone in the vicinity.
Someone up there still likes me, he thinks.
Sean moves like a soldier again, like the men on the beach only minutes before. He is absolutely furious at himself and the man he killed. He did not want to hurt him, but he felt he had limited options under the circumstances. It was a matter of survival, of soldierly instincts suddenly awakened. His emotions burst forth as if a dam had broke, allowing all the rage and hatred to pour out. His fury is a result of the confusion engulfing him. What he has witnessed here tonight is not intended for his eyes. Indeed, he does not know if what he has seen is intended for anyone's eyes.
Sean knows he must escape from here and find someone he trusts. He cannot go to his parents’ house in Chicago or to any other relatives. It would risk placing them in mortal danger. He knows two men he can trust with his life in a situation like this and—
KABOOM!
Another explosion from the beach rips through the night air, causing him to jump. A moment later, he hears a sound from the road below that snakes around the small town. He struggles through the dense woods and underbrush, trying to make as little noise as possible, and arrives at the edge of a hill, where he looks down upon the road.
Sean spots three large, dark trucks rumbling down the street towards the beach. Each of them possesses a green canopy behind the cab of the truck, masking their cargo. Neither Sean nor anyone else could imagine the horrific contents the trucks are carrying, let alone their true purpose. To the majority of people, they would think it the most grotesque, twisted, utterly contemptible thing they have ever heard. To a small minority, it is simply business as usual.
Sean turns and begins to make his way, like a ghost, through the darkness.
* * *
When he was informed of what occurred on the beach, he wept in agony.
They had not been warned! Something must have happened.
The tears of sadness that ran down his cheeks, however, no sooner turned to tears of joy when he was told the man – without his family – escaped from the beach and fled into the surrounding woods, like a mouse ducking the predatory cat. A slight feeling of hope blossomed within him and he quietly applauded.
FOUR
Colonel Malcolm Fizer is a tidy man, a man that does not care for loose ends, like Jonathan Kaley. Unlike Sergeant Kaley, Colonel Fizer knows when to obey orders – always.
