Just when I come to a big rock there is a small whistle. Nobody said anything about signals but I've got a clear view of Prophet, and when he hears it he backs up to another rock and leans his ruck on it. I stop too. Prophet is wearing a green headband and he wrings it out with one hand. I happen to be looking at his rifle, and I notice he flips the safety switch. I can hear the murmur of Pops and Peacock talking behind me, although I can't see anything but the radio antenna.
“How you holding up?” Pops asks me. His butterscotch face is slick with sweat and I notice a mole on his chin I'd never seen before.
I am still huffing, out of wind. He doesn't wait for my answer, although he looks right at me and squeezes my shoulder. He says, “Wait until we start uphill,” and winks. He unshoulders
