Code of Conduct by Brad Thor

clinic, beyond the weight of their packs, was the amount of water they needed. It was imperative that they be well-hydrated before going in, but that was nothing compared to the amount of water they’d need on their way out.
    Harvath had known this was going to be a problem, even before leaving the States, and had planned accordingly. They couldn’t depend on the clinic’s well. If it didn’t work, it could result in a death sentence. Harvath had seen enough wells fail to know better than to tie his survival to one in Congo.
    Following the narrow river upstream to where it snaked behind the clinic would take them out of their way and increase the likelihood that they would bump into locals, but it would keep them off the road where they might bump into rebels, and it would solve their water issue. It made complete and total sense, except to Dr. Decker.
    “You can’t do this,” she admonished him, once she had figured out what he was doing.
    “Watch me.”
    “You really are a selfish asshole. You know that?”
    Harvath had to take a breath and remind himself again that a gentleman never strikes a lady.
    “You’ve never had a well go bad before?” he asked as he finished rebalancing her pack and cinched its top down.
    “That’s not what I am talking about. I’m talking about you being willing to wash God-knows-what-we’ll-find downriver. Do you know how many people you could end up killing?”
    Harvath unzipped a compartment on his pack and unrolled four canvas buckets.
    “If you want to set up shop farther away from the river, that’s fine by me,” he said, tossing two of the buckets to her. “But you’re going to carry your own water. Mine too, since we’re partners.”
    Decker shot him a disparaging look and chided him. “Don’t you have any sense of moral obligation?”
    “My moral obligation is simple. I figure out what happened at Matumaini and I make sure we get out of here alive. Anything beyond that is not my problem.”
    “How about we try to leave this place better than we found it?”
    “Put it on a bumper sticker,” he said, standing up and holding her pack out to her. “This should be more comfortable now.”
    Decker took it and almost felt guilty over how much he had lightened it. He had removed a good forty pounds. His act of kindness notwithstanding, she was still angry at his lack of concern over the lives of the locals.
    But before she could say anything else, or even swing her pack onto her back, he had picked up his now considerably heavier rucksack, and was moving upstream.
    He had an answer for everything—even when his answer was silence. It was infuriating. The real salt in the wound, though, had been the lecture he had given her as they walked away from camp. After warning her about not wanting a repeat of what had happened that morning, he had threatened to tie her to a tree and leave her for the pygmies if she didn’t follow all of his instructions to the letter. He had said it with his boyish smile, but it failed to disarm her. She could see right through him.
    Harvath obviously had a problem with women, especially smart, accomplished women. He was nothing more than a caveman—a handsome caveman—but a caveman nonetheless.
    “Hey,” she said, trotting to catch up as he moved along the river. “Are you this much fun with your wife?”
    “Not married,” he replied and kept moving.
    “Imagine that,” Decker quipped.
    Harvath ignored her.
    They walked on in silence for twenty more minutes, until he stopped and checked his GPS. He took a long look around and then motioned for Decker to follow him up the riverbank and into the jungle.
    It was slow going. He used a machete he had borrowed from Jambo to help cut a path.
    Several minutes later, he stopped and turned to look at her.
    “Far enough from the river?” he asked.
    Decker nodded, not knowing whether to be pleased with herself or not. The bottom line was that he had taken what she had said to