Tropical Terror by Keith Douglass

on it where the pickup didn’t quite make it across. The fourth time had been a winner.
    â€œWe should be gaining on them,” Lam said. “This terrain is gonna stop them sooner or later.”
    It did, but it was a half hour later and the night sky was wide open and star-filled and the moon had waned a littlefrom its fullness the night before. They found the pickup nosed down into a ditch it couldn’t climb out of.
    â€œMissed it in the darkness,” Lam guessed. He went across the gully and used a pocket flash to figure out which way the walkers had headed. After two minutes of false starts he pointed almost due north.
    â€œLooks like he’s heading for the coast, Cap,” Lam said. “What’s he going to do, swim back to China?”
    They kept moving. The trail was easier to follow now since the men were walking in a file and making a track with as many as twelve sets of footprints. Lam tried to jog again, but lost the trail when they turned toward a patch of trees. These were native koa and ohia trees in what looked like an area designed to produce firewood for stoves and fireplaces.
    Murdock and Lam conferred. Then Lam headed out quickly and the SEALs waited. If the woods were clear, he’d give them a call on the Motorola.
    Five minutes later he called and the SEALs jogged the half mile into the woods. Lam had been working to find where the Chinese men came out. It took him five minutes more before he stumbled on the discarded food can. It had Chinese characters on it. The trail led north again.
    Murdock called up Franklin. “Take the driver and cut across country to the mansion. Fire up the other van and we’ll try to connect on some roads up ahead. We’re moving back into the more settled section of the place, and I’d guess the bastards will try to hijack a car or a truck. We need wheels over there. Go.”
    The crack of a rifle shot sent all the squad diving to the ground.
    â€œFucking thirty-ought-six,” Jaybird said. “I’ve hunted with enough of them.”
    â€œWhere from?” Murdock asked. They all stared ahead of their position just outside the patch of native woods.
    â€œMy bet is those eucalyptus over there to the right,” Lam said.
    â€œAll mine,” Murdock said. He lifted the Bull Pup and sent half a dozen rounds into the trees halfway up.
    There was no response.
    â€œRemember, we have two admirals with the bug-outs. Wedon’t want to endanger them. Spread out, ten yards, line of skirmishers. We’re running for those trees. Just a little over a jog. Keep your weapons at the ready.”
    â€œMy guess they’re gone by now,” DeWitt said as they picked up the line and began to jog forward. Murdock moved the line faster.
    â€œYeah, gone, but they know we’re here. We’ll have to be careful. Hard telling what this sailor might do on unfamiliar land in combat.”
    Murdock watched the trees as they came closer. The fast jog ate up the landscape. They encountered no fire from the trees. He didn’t expect any. It had been a rear-guard action to slow them down.
    The eucalyptus were more than a hundred feet tall and beautifully grotesque with their growth pattern of limbs. The scent of the menthol nuts on the ground came through sharply as they worked through the smaller trees to the far edge of the woods.
    Ahead they saw a farmhouse, complete with a barn, detached garage, and what could only be an outhouse. The buildings looked sixty or seventy years old and were badly in need of repairs. Even through the dim light they could see that any paint that had been used had long ago peeled and fell away.
    Murdock stared at the place.
    â€œAbandoned,” Lam suggested.
    â€œProbably, but a good defensive setup. I wonder how many weapons they have. The deer rifle could have come from the mansion. They might have some handguns, but I’d guess not much else. How far to the