"Hey, boss – you look worried.”
Rafe tore his eyes from their charging, laboring pursuers and glanced at the man who’d just come up beside him.
“Worried? Why the hell would I be worried, Bran? We’re four thousand miles and fifteen hundred years from home, with three big goddamn canoes full of really pissed-off natives on our ass, and this piece-of-shit river could dead end just around the next bend.
“Why the hell would I look worried?” He grimaced, looked back at the tattooed and painted natives straining mightily at their paddles less than a hundred meters behind, then went on. “To paraphrase the old cliché, it’s hard to remember your objective is to save the world when you’ve got a horde of hungry cannibals on your ass.”
Bran gave a snort of laughter, gesturing at their surroundings with the muzzle of his M16. “Yeah, good point. How the hell did we get ourselves into this mess anyway, Colonel?”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to his friend momentarily. “We fucking volunteered, amigo; don’t you remember?”
Rafe tore his eyes from their charging, laboring pursuers and glanced at the man who’d just come up beside him.
“Worried? Why the hell would I be worried, Bran? We’re four thousand miles and fifteen hundred years from home, with three big goddamn canoes full of really pissed-off natives on our ass, and this piece-of-shit river could dead end just around the next bend.
“Why the hell would I look worried?” He grimaced, looked back at the tattooed and painted natives straining mightily at their paddles less than a hundred meters behind, then went on. “To paraphrase the old cliché, it’s hard to remember your objective is to save the world when you’ve got a horde of hungry cannibals on your ass.”
Bran gave a snort of laughter, gesturing at their surroundings with the muzzle of his M16. “Yeah, good point. How the hell did we get ourselves into this mess anyway, Colonel?”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to his friend momentarily. “We fucking volunteered, amigo; don’t you remember?”
