With effort and considerable pain, he sat down on the lip of the ravine, legs dangling in space. The bottom of the gully was a six-foot drop from where he sat. He had to gauge the distance, brace himself to take the pain of impact, keep his grip on consciousness no matter what. If Bolan lost it here, he lost it all, and he was not resigned to death yet.

A sudden drop might finish him, and so the soldier wriggled forward slowly, inch by inch, until he was supported on his elbows with his legs and buttocks stretched out on the slope of the ravine. When he was ready, Bolan simply raised his arms and slithered down the bank, his trench coat bunching up around his hips and snagging sagebrush all the way. He landed in a crumpled heap, legs folded under him, and waited for the flares of pain to gradually subside. His touchdown startled several quail from cover and they scattered skyward, beating at the dawn with frantic wings.

Phase one had been the easy part, and Bolan knew it would be harder climbing out than it had been falling in. He waited out the giddy rush that followed in the wake of pain and crossed the bottom of the gully on his hands and knees, ignoring stones and thorns that tore his palms. He did not need to turn and look to know that he had left a crimson trail behind him in the dust.

The gully's northern bank was not as steep — no more than forty-five degrees — and Bolan noted little burrows scattered up and down its face, which he could use as handholds for his climb. The burning pain had momentarily receded to an angry whisper, and he knew that there was no time like the present to begin.

Slowly, hand over hand, Bolan tackled the slope, ignoring fresh alarms of agony that emanated from his wound. New blood was warm and wet against his skin, and he ignored that, too, aware that he would die in the ravine and rot there if he let the pain and blood deter him. Twice he lost his grip and slithered backward, eating sand, and twice he started over. When he finally dragged himself across the lip of the ravine, he was exhausted, and he knew he dared not stop to rest.