by John Muir
CHAPTER 46
A DOG'S BEST FRIEND
APUAO GRANDE
T.A. saw frustration on Pater's face. He was trying to listen to sounds. Pater turned his face in different directions for his ears to become directional. Then in frustration, he would insert his little finger into an ear and wiggle it as though trying to clear a blockage.
To T.A., the sounds were unchanged. The different birds maintained their chirps and whistles and the other bugs and creatures their own ongoing sounds. It did not give him any sense of what might be happening.
He tried to concentrate on the sounds of the closer buggy creatures and different birds. To his surprise he found he could filter out the distant sounds. Perhaps this was what he was meant to be doing.
Only minutes after he discovered his new skill he noticed a change in the nearby sounds. Some species of birds had become noisier while others had stopped whistling altogether. The local bugs, too, seemed to have gone quiet. T.A. looked at Pater to see if he had sensed anything. He obviously had not; he was rubbing his ears again in frustration.
T.A. touched Pater's leg to attract his attention, then, held his hand up. Before he realised, he was pointing in the direction of where the change in sound was, on the path just outside their hideaway.
Pater slowly drew his wicked looking knife from its sheath and moved into a crouch. T.A. followed suit, drawing the diving knife from the sheath strapped to his leg.
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Mohammed's eyes had noticed flattened grasses on the left of the path between two bushes. Slight scrape marks had turned over some older vegetation. Perhaps it was Moamar and Mahmood 2, but he was not going to take any risks.
He held up his knife hand for Ali to remain back the ten metres. Then with the M16 in his left hand he pointed the barrel at the marks.
Both of them stood motionless, listening.
Ali gave a yelp of surprise as a furry creature ran past him. Mohammed turned quickly to see what had happened just as the growling grey dog sank its teeth into his left calf muscle. Pain made him yell out and instinct made him lift his leg. The little mongrel flew off a little further up the trail.
The hackles around Fred's neck were raised as he gave a savage growl from a ready to spring crouch. Then he stood erect to show his size and barked twice before crouching again and growling.
Mohammed's first reaction to the threat was to swap the M16 to his right hand and blow the little mongrel away with a full magazine. Then training replaced the anger. He realised he could deal with this threat using his knife.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the dog and his knife hand outstretched, he gently put his M16 on the ground. Staying in his crouching position he slowly started to inch forward.
"You cursed little dog. Mohammed is going to kill you."
Fred sprang forward just a little with a snarl, but Mohammed controlled his reaction. Then Fred lunged forward again, first one way, then another, but on the second lunge Mohammed swung his knife and found his target. Fred yelped loudly and fell on the right side of the trail.
Mohammed grinned and moved forward to the finish the job. The bushes to his left exploded in his direction. He raised his left arm to shield himself from the new threat and instantly felt pain in his forearm.
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T.A. was surprised to hear the gasp, then outcry of pain just outside their hide-out. Then hearing the bark and growling knew it was Fred. T.A's first reaction was Fred had led someone to their hide-out. Then he remembered that Fred did not bark except when he was annoying the turkeys. And this was an angry growl. He saw Pater's eyes briefly widen, then, take on a look of hate, as he seemed ready to spring forward.
T.A. knew he would have to follow Pater's lead, whatever it might be, but as soon as Pater heard Fred's yelp of pain, Pater sprang through the bushes. It was too soon for T.A.
Pater lunged at the side of Mohammed to drive his knife in below the rib cage, but the sudden raising of the arm deflected the blow. The advantage of the surprise and the power behind the lunge was lost.
Mohammed rolled forward after the strike taking Pater by surprise. Mohammed regained his feet staying crouched and turned to face his attacker. He quickly backed off a few paces to allow time to assess the threat, but Pater followed him too quickly for him to properly get his balance to parry the next strike or counter with his own knife.
Pater's controlled lunge caught Mohammed's left arm again as it was thrust out in defence. With Mohammed moving backwards he could not get any forward power for a telling counter thrust. He did not know how many more blows his left arm could take before it became useless. He hoped that Ali, now behind Pater, could get off a shot that would not kill him as well as his attacker.
Mohammed grinned as he could see Ali with the rifle already at his shoulder, then froze as another figure charged out of the bush.
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T.A. had not known what to do when Pater charged out. If he charged out too, what was he going to attack? Pater obviously knew something and had a target or a plan. T.A. did not. He moved closer to the exit to see what was happening. He could not even see Pater but could hear the sounds of grunts and jumps.
For some reason, the former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's comment to President George Bush on the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait came into his head. "Now is not the time to go wobbly, George."
Just as he was about to move out to help, a shadow on the path directly to his front caught his eye. He paused. The ground shadow was replaced by a man pulling a rifle up to his shoulder. He lunged out, diving knife thrusting at the target.
T.A.'s blow struck, but not where he wanted it to. The man had his weapon raised and T.A.'s knife struck the shoulder blade a glancing blow. The weapon discharged. When it did T.A. hoped it was not already too late.
The gunman turned at the threat and T.A. lunged again but this time his blade caught the barrel of the rifle. Another shot discharged and this one was too personal for him. His left hand made a grab for the barrel while he continued to try and stab with the knife. The barrel length kept him too far away to reach the gunman with the knife. His one-handed grip on the barrel was not powerful enough to stop the gunman forcing the weapon in T.A's direction. The gunman was no small Filipino. He was bigger than T.A.
He dropped the knife and grabbed for the barrel with his right hand. Now with a two-handed grip he had some control of the aim. Instead of pulling away he stepped closer and inside the gunman's grip, dragging the barrel flat across his chest and turned. The gunman was surprised, but he kept his grip, though he lost some balance. Another shot discharged off into the jungle. T.A. completed the twist and thrust his leg out as he turned.
The gunman tumbled forward, still holding tightly onto the weapon. T.A. followed the fall, not wanting to relinquish his hold. Both of them were on the ground with T.A. on top but with his back to the gunman. The gunman behind him still had one hand holding the stock, T.A. still held the barrel across his chest with both hands. The fall had forced the gunman to release one hand which immediately grabbed T.A.'s hair. The pain made T.A.'s eyes close as he fought to resist giving up the grip on the barrel. He could feel the grip was slipping on his sweat filled hair.
The pain to his head stopped, but the free fist now started to punch his kidneys. T.A. tried but failed to roll over, then was thankful he did not succeed as that would have put the gunman on top.
He flung his head back as he winced in pain from another punch. The gunman's head was too close and another shock of pain shot through the back of his head at the same time as he heard the gunman scream in pain. The back of T.A.'s head had scored a blow on the gunman's nose.
He felt the next punch on the back of his head. He felt dizzy, but knew if he let go or passed out he was dead. The next punch made him see stars and he felt his strength ebbing.
In desperation he let go the grip with his right hand and tried to punch backward over his shoulder. There was no power to the punch and the gunman saw it coming and grabbed
T.A's arm. T.A. flung his head back, again catching the gunman a glancing blow on the cheek. Now both the gunman's arms were off the weapon which was lying under them. The gunman's right arm was around T.A's throat, choking off his air and his left hand had grabbed T.A.'s face. While T.A. tried to move his mouth to a position he could bite, the gunman was trying to twist T.A's neck to break it.
The sweat on T.A's face was preventing the gunman getting any firm grip and he felt the hand slowly slipping. The gunman's fingers crossed T.A's mouth. He bit with all the power his jaw could manage.
The scream in T.A's ear was painful but he was free of the grip. He tried to regain his feet but the dizziness caused him to stumble onto his hands and knees. He gasped for breath. Something blocked the passage to his throat. An involuntary cough forced the hard thing onto the back of his teeth and he spat it out.
Just as he recognised what it was, he saw a foot swinging in the direction of his face. His instincts were enough to avoid the full impact to his face though it still caught him on the right side of the head before glancing onto his right shoulder. His arm lost all strength as he tumbled forward and rolled on to his back.
T.A. tried to see where his attacker was but his eyes could not focus properly. Then he saw the outline of the figure bend down and pick up the abandoned M16. His senses cleared as he watched almost with a feeling of disinterest as the figure tried to hold, then, point the weapon in his direction. All the action seemed slow. He could even see the blood pumping out of the hand where he had bitten off the gunman's right index finger.
T.A. let his head drop back on to the cogon grass, closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. He did not care any longer. He heard the screaming voice, the exploding sound and felt the searing pain in his head.
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Heidi led her trio along the path, five metres apart as trained. The little dog was long gone on his journey. She wondered where he slept at night and wondered if his dog brain had figured out that there was something different happening on the island at this time. She had seen many of the guests feed him from the scraps on their plates, even pour him saucers of beer which he took great delight in drinking. However it was a habit most guests stopped very quickly as it caused a very prompt biological reaction in the dog's stomach. The resultant smell from the generated wind meant guests did not repeat that treat.
The gentle incline to the hilltop began to get steeper. She could hear the dog growling and barking somewhere ahead of her. She guessed he had again found the wild turkeys that he seemed to love harassing. She grinned as she heard the dog yelp. One of the male turkeys had obviously managed to get a strike back.
At the sound of the shot she dived to the side of the trail and rolled into the cover of the rain forest. As she crouched at the ready she swung the M16 on to her back, held in place by the belt, and drew her pistol. The long barrel of the M16 might be a disadvantage in this thick entangling undergrowth.
When the second shot came she realised her group was not the target. Just in case she was wrong, she was cautious as she put her head out to glance up the path. When she heard the third shot she knew exactly where it had come from, the semi-hidden path on the side of the main trail, only fifteen metres away.
Heidi had barely re-emerged onto the path when Helmut charged past. She was pleased. Helmut seemed to have snapped out of his inaction and was taking the lead.
Heidi watched Helmut stop at the entry to the side trail and raise his hand for those following to pause. Then gently he parted the bushes at the entry to the path and disappeared. Then she too entered, trying to remain a proper distance behind, then, realised Helmut was barely two metres to her front and listening. Heidi could hear the sounds of a struggle though she could not see anything.
She stood still, allowing the gap between them to widen as Helmut moved forward. Domingo bumped into her back as he entered the path. They slowly moved forward some 20-30 metres before Helmut turned a gentle curve on the path. She saw him stop.
"Nein! Mach's nicht! Nicht schiessen!" yelled Helmut. His call was immediately followed by a single shot. Then a second later, three more shots.
Heidi watched as Helmut fell backwards onto the trail in front of her.
She raised her pistol and jumped around the corner into the centre of the path. The face of the startled Libyan barely had time to register the new danger to him before she squeezed the trigger three times and centred her grouping on his chest. She knew he would be dead before he hit the ground, though she was wishing otherwise. She wanted him to die a slow and painful death.
She dropped to a crouch and edged to the right side of the path to wait for any reaction from any of the Libyan's colleagues who might be further along the path.
While she waited, she looked at Helmut. From a quick glance she could see at least two bullets had found their mark. One in the left arm and the other high in the left chest shoulder area. He was still breathing, but needed urgent attention. If she could tend to him, he might survive. But first she had to finish what had started here.
She looked back at Domingo. He had taken cover on the same side of the path as she had. She knew she had to cross the path to see around the bend. She took off the M16 and laid it down. Turning to Domingo she signed her intention. Taking a deep breath, she dived out and across the path, curling into a forward roll as she pushed into the undergrowth. Turning quickly, she arced the pistol along her line of sight down the trail.
There was no hostile reaction to her move. A few metres to her front she could see the Libyan she had shot, then just past him the body of T.A. A further 30 metres along the path was another figure sitting and looking in her direction. It was Pater. She looked past him and saw another prone figure lying face down.
As she tried to consider what had happened she noticed Pater's right hand indicating for her to come out of the brush. But his hand was also clutching a very big hunting knife.
"C'mon, I know who you are," the seated figure called.
Heidi checked, her mask was still on.
"C'mon, check my friend."
Heidi stepped on to the path, keeping her pistol pointed at Pater. Moving slowly forward she looked down at the Libyan as she passed. All three bullets had hit around his heart, but something else had caused all the blood over his face. His bloodied nose was bent horribly out of shape. A flicker of movement from his hand caught her eye. Blood was still flowing from where a whole index finger was missing from the right hand.
She jerked her head around at the sudden appearance of Domingo at her shoulder.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God," he muttered, and crossed himself.
She nodded toward Pater. Domingo trained his weapon on the seated non-hostile posture of the form, even though the right hand still clutched a knife.
Heidi looked down at the still figure of T.A. The eyelids were flickering, occasionally opening to small slits but not focussing. A bullet had furrowed deeply along the right side along the hairline and above his ear.
She moved on, stopping five metres from Pater. She saw his bloodied left arm hanging uselessly at his side then saw the deep bleeding cut to his left thigh.
"Can I trouble you for some pressure bandages? Sorry I can't ask you in German, it's not my best language."
Heidi hesitated. She did not know if Pater was bluffing about his recognition.
"It's all right. Your friend Helmut gave it away when he called out 'don't do it, don't shoot,' in German."
"O.K.," replied Heidi, "but you get rid of that knife first."
Pater obliged with a weak throw of the weapon to Heidi's feet.
She pulled off her face mask and bent over Pater.
"I'll be all right for a while. Please see to T.A. I've seen his arm moving. He's alive but hurt bad I think."
Heidi stood and looked on at the Libyan further along the path.
"Don't worry about him," said Pater, "he's dead."
Heidi cast a quick glance at the surrounding forest.
> "Don't worry about their mates either, they're dead too."
Heidi felt her eyebrows lift in surprise at Pater's statement. She was wise in not underestimating this man. Then she wondered if she was making that mistake now.
"Domingo," Heidi called out. "What have you got in your medical kit?"
Heidi picked up Pater's knife and went back to where Helmut was lying. Domingo watched as she cut the clothing off Helmut and inspected his wounds. She grunted in satisfaction as she took various items from the medical kit and applied ointments and lotions before covering the wounds and binding Helmut's left arm across his chest.
Moving on to T.A., she rolled him on his side and again applied ointments directly onto the deep rut along the side of his head. Then, with unexpected gentleness, she wrapped a bandage around his head and covered that with a head stocking.
By the time she got back to Pater she could see his face was very white. He was barely able to keep his balance sitting up. The ground beneath him was covered in blood.
Pater looked up as she approached.
"Well?" he asked.
"Your friend will live. He'll have a huge headache and a lot of dizziness, but he'll get over it."
"Thanks. I guess he saved my life a few times."
"You are now a problem for me," said Heidi.
"I know. But you can't stay on Apuao with your friend wounded. There'll be too many questions. Besides if they have to operate on him he might blurt something out under sedation."
Heidi thought for a moment and knew Pater was right.
"But you're still a problem. Perhaps if I leave you to bleed to death there'll be no problem."
"Yeah. But I might just survive until the rescuers come."
"Do you want me to shoot you instead?"
"No. I want you to get me off this island with you when you leave."
"Why?"
"Too many questions for me too, too many bodies, too much publicity."
"You're not just a semi-retired ex-pat are you?"
"And you're no German tourist."
"Why should I take you with us?"
"Even as injured as I am, I'm still the only one with contacts who can keep you hidden and get you out of the country."
Heidi ran her fingers through her hair. She knew Pater was right. Helmut's wounding had changed all that. Even if he had died, the body might have been finger-printed. Any query with Interpol would reveal him as a wanted terrorist. Everything was now changed.
"Domingo. I need you and your w/t."
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T.A. could hear voices that did not seem to make much sense. The pain in his head made him want to scream yet he could not. He thought he might be dreaming, but did dreams really have such pain. He could hear things but not see things, although at one stage he thought he saw some dirty pink running shoes. What he did hear did not make sense. The voices seemed distant and though one seemed to be Pater, the other sounded like that German woman. He could not remember her name.
Then there was silence. Silence outside of his head but not within it. He was sure he must have slept for a while, because he woke as from a sleep and was aware of the sounds around him. He could also see the bush, though it was still a blurry vision. Keeping his eyes open for more than a second or two caused too much pain.
As he tried to sit up the dizziness returned. He decided to wait a while before trying again. With his eyes closed he tried to remember where he was. Yes, some of that came back. He could remember being caged in the tennis court with other hostages. He remembered he had escaped but could not remember how. He remembered hiding from the NPA with Pater.
Yes. He had to get back to the hide-out and away from the danger of being discovered. Looking around he saw the entry barely two metres away. As he forced his body to roll onto his stomach, every part of it sent painful messages.
He pulled with his arms and pushed with his legs. As soon as he knew he was safe the effort of the crawl overcame him, and he closed his eyes.
