On the Run, Southwest of El QaaI
t was just after midnight by Shake’s watch. They’d been moving through foothills since sundown, steadily ascending, helping each other like a trained fireteam when a hand was needed to climb or maneuver around obstacles. He’d given up trying to gauge distance covered. The terrain was just too rugged for any kind of reliable pace count. His best estimate was that they’d covered at least ten klicks. If they could maintain the pace, he figured they could reach El Qaa the next night, which meant they’d have to find a place to hole up at dawn.
They’d seen no search activity either in the air on the ground since nightfall but that was not surprising. The Lebs didn’t fly helicopters at night. Shake knew that from experience. And no reasonable military commander—
