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involuntarily closing as weariness sets in. They are all tired and he tells the others to rest as well as they can. They’re going to need it in the coming days. Greg knows the driver has to be exhausted and the last thing they need is to run off the road. He has another soldier switch places with the driver. The things they can control, they will.
    “Sir?” one solider says, getting Greg’s attention.
    Having almost fallen asleep, Greg snaps his head up. “Yeah, what is it?”
    “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” the soldier asks.
    Others in the compartment nod, the same question running through their minds. Hearing the question, Greg can’t imagine how the ones they rescued must be feeling. To be rescued from the caves, and almost certain death, only to be thrown into this wild chase must be traumatic for them.
    “No…no, I do not,” Greg answers wearily.
    “Any guesses, sir?”
    “Well, we obviously pissed someone off pretty bad. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was my ex. In lieu of that, your guess is as good as mine.”
    “How long do you think they’ll come after us?” another soldier asks.
    “They don’t seem to like us much, so I’m thinking they mean to chase us to the ends of the earth. If they were merely safeguarding a base camp, they would have stopped their pursuit long ago. The fact that they’ve chased us so hard and for so long gives me the impression that they’ll continue to do so. Sorry, but that’s the straight skinny as far as I see it.”
    “What are we going to do, sir?”
    “We’ll run south, to Albuquerque if necessary, then turn west and make our way back to the compound. We’ll fuel up whenever the opportunity arises. They’ll have to do the same, so we’re at least even with that. If Jack makes contact with us, we’ll find a place for him to land and haul our sorry asses out of here. Until then, we keep our heads on our shoulders and conduct a strategic withdrawal…at high speed,” Greg replies.
    The last draws a few chuckles from the soldiers. Strategic withdrawal means retreat. It’s the military vernacular for ‘get the fuck out of Dodge’. The expressions of those they rescued ease to a degree. There are still lines of tension etched around the eyes, but there is some relaxation knowing there is at least a semblance of a plan, and that Greg isn’t entirely making it up as they go. Of course, there really isn’t anything to plan, or make up for that matter. It’s just run and try to stay far enough ahead. Kind of like a deadly form of tag…but in this game, there are no tag backs.
    There is one thing that Greg has kept in a corner of his mind, which he doesn’t mention and has him worried. There is the second group that split off from their pursuers, the one that went south at Pueblo. They are unaccounted for, and he hopes they took that direction to cover the possible avenues Greg could have taken. If there is communication between those behind and that group, well, that wouldn’t bode well.
    After the initial twists and turns, the mountain pass levels out and they are able to make good speed, even with having to drive on thermal imaging. The trip through the passage is a short one and they soon find themselves driving past lower hills, eventually spilling out into a long, gradually widening valley. So far, Greg hasn’t seen any sign of their pursuit, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there as the winding road prevents any distant view.
    They drive out onto the flat plain of the valley and the road runs straight for miles. Greg looks back and is dismayed to see their pursuit emerge from behind the hills. The chase so far hasn’t enabled him to gain any separation, but the others still haven’t been able to close the distance either. Greg reasons that the armored column following them must have had to refuel by this time.
    Perhaps they’re doing it in a series, refueling some while the others pursue , Greg thinks, feeling his eyes