He woke up with a startled jerk. “Where the hell am I?” he thought.
Realizing that he knew noting of his situation, he closed his eyes to a squint and played dead or at least asleep. Around him, he saw white sandstone walls, it reminded him of photos of terrorists camps hat he had seen on TV.
He heard voices-foreign voices coming from the other side of he walls. Through a partially opened gate, he saw a group of men, dress in similar outfits, again, similar to those he had seen on news reports from new reports.
He tried to listen for any word he might understand, any clue to where he might be, or why. He could hear the foreign voices, shouting, perhaps arguing, then, suddenly, one group disappeared around a corner out of his range of sight or hearing.
Slowly, he rolled slightly to the left and observed a grove of trees surrounding the walls. He didn’t recognize the kind of tree, but the sky was soft blue, dimmed by a layer of thin clouds. No rain in sight, it seemed.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and assumed his position of unconsciousness as they drew nearer.
“I think we got ’em” whispered a voice in English. Not American-type English, but European or Australian, he didn’t know which.
His heart was beating out of his chest, yet he forced himself to breathe slowly and remain still.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that one of he men had rounded he crumbling corner of the sandstone wall and spotted him. What should he do? His had could just reach his ankle, and he felt for the knife he always carried strapped to his leg. Good, it was there.
“Good Lord!” said one of the voices as it gave him a gentle kick on the back. “I think its him!”
“Hey, Marcus, is that you?” The voice said. Marcus squinted and looked at the face hovering over him.
Marcus nodded slowly, uncertainly.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he laughed, “We did it.” We found the crazy bastard!”
Just then, a loud explosion went off a few hundred yards from the walls. Marcus heard the sound of a helicopter landing on the other side of the grove of trees. A shout of joy went up among the men,as they lead Marcus to the helicopter and pushed him aboard.
“Have you got it?” asked the taller of the men. Marcus felt a heaviness in his pocket and nodded, handing in to the man, with a smile. Suddenly, he remembered his mission, his last thought, and sighed with both relief and pride. He never said a word as they patted him on the back and welcomed him “home.”
All he could think about was Wisconsin, his wife and young boy, and how nice that job at the training school sounded.