Ricks Adventure #4

The problem with dogs is their sense of smell. It is just too damn good. They have a way of snifing out a trap when the idea is still being formed. Even if you tried to confuse them by throwing a kaleidoscope of smells at them, they still usually figure things out.

A secondary expostion ripped throught the dark jungle night as a canister compressed gas reached its limits of structural integrity, showering the two brothers with mud and burning earth. Barett turned to Rick, telling him once again with a look that it would be a whole-hell-of-a-lot easier if they just slipped away down into the river and disappeared into the night. Rick's look spoke volumes. Yes, it would be easy to just leave and his sense of reality agreed that they would have a much better chance at getting out of there in one piece. After all, there is no real shortage of female cats in the world. But the problem was that he liked this one. He had brought her down here and such being the case, he fel obligated to get her out too.

As the last bits of debris rained down, Barett saw the familiar look of Rick's mind working out some plan.

Rick took the gun from Barett but then using his hands, makes the sign for wait and sniper.

Barett smiled at this. He wants that gun anyway.

Getting it was almost as good as a reason to stay as Rick's cat friend. He knew there was a dog with his gun out there setting up a shot that covered the river bank. Where would he be? Rolling, Barett scanned the adjacent areas and calculated where he would go to set up the shot. To his trained eye, two possible options became clear, one to the left that would give the best cover and the cleanest shot but would be difficult to reach without being spotted. That was unless the dog was already in place. The other was straight ahead about the mine compound on a short ridge. This was a big gun that could take them both out in a matter of seconds.

Which place? He would have to gamble on that.

Turning back to Rick, Barett signed the locations of 10:00 and 12:20 o'clock. Rick gives him the thumbs up an he pulled off the local's barrowed poncho and hat. He signs back. Rope. Tape.

With the clothing off, Rick pulled out his tanto, the blade giving a dull flash as it reflected the burning glare from the camp. They had less than two minutes to pull this off.