‘‘Right at a sharp bend to the right…’’ I whispered back. The best I could do.

There was a long pause. ‘‘Come on ahead, I’ll cover you, we’re just past the bend.’’

Fine. Why didn’t you cover me before? ‘‘Ten-four,’’ I whispered. Yeah, come on ahead. Sure. All I had to do was force myself to get up, at least into a crouch. That was difficult, because all my instincts told me to keep down and still. But I had to get to Johansen. He needed assistance.

When I got to my feet, I found I was only about one step off the trail. Very carefully, I stepped out. I stopped, crouched down, and looked around, my rifle pointing ahead of me. Nothing. But… I didn’t have my first-aid kit. Where in the hell had I lost it? I backed back into the tall brush, and glanced down. It was to my right. Holding my rifle in my left hand, I picked the metal kit up and stuffed it partway down the front of my jeans. Both hands on the rifle again, I got back on the trail.

‘‘Carl,’’ I heard from the walkie-talkie. ‘‘You comin’, Carl?’’

I didn’t bother to answer, because I would have had to take one hand off my rifle again to do so, and I was feeling eyes on me all the time. Instead, I crept around the corner to the right. About four steps into it, and I saw them.

Johansen was about a foot off the trail, kneeling by a body that had to be Kellerman, although I could only see his lower half. They were both in camouflage clothes, and Johansen was as white as a sheet. They were shielded a little by a grassy mound about two feet high and a dead tree that stretched into the brush just past them. There were several pale blue paper wrappers strewn on the ground… first-aid kit compresses. They reminded me of flowers. I was to them in two steps, and knelt back down just off the trail.

‘‘You all right?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ said Johansen. His eyes were wild-looking, and his head was moving constantly, scanning the area. ‘‘They fuckin’ killed us, man. They killed us.’’