Savage Sniper

Danilo had seen the injured man and had used his bolo knife to cut a long staff from the branches of the deadfall, something that the soldier could use to take the weight off his injured ankle. The sooner he could hobble up the trail, the better.

The sight of the staff gave Deke an idea. He reached out and took it from Danilo. “Cut another,” he said.

Danilo shrugged and started hacking at another tree limb with his bolo knife.

“Maybe he’ll just take us all prisoner again,” Faraday said.

“To hell with that,” Deke said. “Here, take my rifle. It’s only got three rounds left, but it’s something. Philly, you and Danilo stay with Faraday.”

“What about you?” Philly asked. He nodded at the staff in Deke’s hands. “I was just joking about fighting the Japanese with sticks, you know.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Deke said. “Kill as many of these Japs as you can. And for Jasper’s sake, get these fellas moving.”

Faraday got the men up and moving. He and Philly had the only operational weapons. Somewhere up ahead, if the lieutenant got lucky, he would run into the American advance.

Deke stepped off the trail and almost immediately found himself enveloped in the deep jungle. Rather than feeling cut off and alone, Deke felt himself reassured by the darkness. He was now a hunter, just like he had been as a boy in the mountains. He felt the hopelessness he had experienced earlier slip away. An ancient kind of power flowed through him, something so old that it was more like what a wolf or a bear felt than did a modern man. It was the power of the hunter.

He had left his rifle with Faraday. But he was far from defenseless. A cold smile played across his face, one that would have chilled a witness to the bone, although there was no one to see it.

The only light came from the sliver of moon, which created dappled pools of pale silver across the forest floor. Using one of these pools of moonlight to work by, first he laid out the staff on the forest floor. Then he drew his bowie knife, revealing the shining blade in the moonlight. This was the same style of knife that had been used by his ancestors to fight the Indians, the British, the Yankees — hell, maybe some distant Cole relation had even used it at the Alamo.

Working quickly, he bound the handle to the wooden staff using a length of twine that he’d been keeping in his pocket. It wasn’t long enough, so he cut some vines and used those next. The vines were surprisingly tough and suitable to the task. The result was a spear that looked so primitive that a caveman might have used it — if a caveman happened to have a bowie knife. There was no telling how long the binding would last, but with any luck, he would need to use it only once.

Satisfied with his effort, he hefted the weapon. It felt natural in his hands.

Blade against bow, he thought.

The thought of a bow came to mind because it was Yamagata he wanted. He knew that if you wanted to kill a snake, you had to cut off its head. He had already killed Mr. Suey. If he could just eliminate Yamagata, he was sure that the Japanese pursuit would falter.

The only question that nagged at Deke was, What about Lieutenant Osako? Deke hadn’t seen him, and for all he knew, the young officer had been left back at the prison compound. He decided that it didn’t really matter, because Osako wouldn’t have the backbone for pursuing the prisoners. No, it was Yamagata who was the snake’s head.

Deke slipped through the trees, moving parallel to the jungle trail. He moved by instinct and by sound, listening for the occasional gunshots. There weren’t many, which was a good sign — it meant that the Japanese had not caught up to the Americans yet.

He had no doubt that Yamagata would be at the head of the enemy column, leading his men. Deke moved through the forest with all the practiced silence of a natural-born hunter. He soon heard voices ahead, speaking Japanese. He had found the trail.

He crept closer. The Japanese had paused in their pursuit, probably wondering why the Americans had stopped. Were they planning to make another stand? Was it a trap? Knowing the enemy, they would not be stopped for long.

Deke was rewarded with a glimpse of Yamagata. The colonel stood alone in the moonlight, in the middle of the trail, scanning the path ahead for any sign of the Americans. Several of his men stood a respectful distance behind him. He held his bow in his hands, an arrow already nocked to the string, but the bow wasn’t drawn back.

Now or never, Deke thought.

He stepped out of the forest directly into Yamagata’s line of sight. Deke was close enough that he could see the whites of Yamagata’s eyes widen in surprise. Whether he recognized Deke was impossible to say — it was likely that Deke was little more than a silhouette, although he still wore the distinctive bush hat.

Yamagata did not hesitate. Deke had to give him credit for that. Fast as a viper, the colonel drew back the bow and fired an arrow at the target that had presented itself.