Jack tossed and turned restlessly on his camp mat. Apart from the troubling mosquitoes that he had to keep swatting, he was worried that John hadn’t returned.
Spencer suggested that John probably had a full tank and was still doing the inevitable. Only Derbyshire and Simeon shared in his worries.
“The lad has a gun,” said Spencer, “so what could possibly go wrong?”
“Everything,” answered Simeon.
Simeon was African and understood things better than they did, thought Jack. If Simeon shared their worries, then action was needed. He flung away his coverlet, grabbed his gun, and slipped into the night.
“John?” he called softly, again and again. “John?”
Unknown to him, John was much farther away than he would have imagined. Holding his gun in both hands, John was quietly following the whis
