The Rat Patrol 2: Desert Danger

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Authors: David King
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doorway, watched Colette run to the guard who stood at the entrance to the German headquarters. Troy could hear their excited voices. The guard ran inside the building and shouted something. Colette half turned, holding her hand at her throat, and looked toward the tavern entrance.
    "Dames," Tully said and spit.
    When the guard came out again, Colette ran into the building. The guard stood with his rifle at the ready, squarely facing the entrance to the tavern.
    "Take the other side, flat against the wall," Troy said brusquely. He slipped the kris from its sheath. "They'll know we haven't gone out the front way so they'll probably bust straight through to the back. As soon as they're in the back hall, we slip out. If the guard is still across the street, we'll have to try to jump him before he gets us. I think they'll bring him with them. If he isn't there, we go around the bazaar side of headquarters and see if we can get up on the roof from the back. If they discover us, it's you for you and me for me. Just try to get away and carry on."
    "Sure, Sarge," Tully said. He held his long-bladed Bowie knife sharp edge up, ready to slash and run.
    Troy pressed his shoulders against the wall, table guarding him from the front but with enough space to slip into the street. He held his kris poised at his shoulder for a dagger thrust at the base of the neck.
    Running feet padded on the packed dirt of the narrow street and two figures burst into the tavern with drawn pistols. Troy thought one of them was Dietrich. A few steps inside the dark room, they paused almost within reach of Troy, then ran toward the doorway at the back. Troy held his breath and remained motionless. More footfalls sounded on the trodden earth and a soldier with a bayoneted rifle, closely followed by a second one similarly armed, plunged into the tavern and followed the first two figures. Troy waited another moment and swore under his breath. He had not thought of Colette. Of course she would wait outside.
    The four Jerries were in the hall now. Troy hissed softly to Tully, sidled around the edge of the door. The guard was gone but Colette was standing at the headquarters' entrance. Troy dashed across the alley and slapped his hand over her mouth before she could scream. He dragged her, legs kicking and arms flailing, around the bazaar corner of the building. Her teeth bit viciously into the fat of his palm by his thumb. At the side of the building, he halted long enough to smash a blow into the side of her jaw. As she slumped, Tully picked up her feet.
    "We'll push her in the first doorway," Troy said, getting his hands under her arms. "She's no good to us."
    They trotted with Colette's limp body slung between them until they came to a recessed side door in the headquarters' building. They dropped her back in the recess.
    "I ought to wring her neck like a chicken's," Tully said bitterly.
    "No time for games," Troy said, shaking his bleeding hand that stung from her bite. "There should be a back way inside. Let's find it."
    The bazaar had closed its shutters for the night and it was pitch black along the side of the building. Troy ran blindly with his hand on the blank side wall. He had not gone far, perhaps fifty feet, when his hand slipped from the coarse plastered wall into the night. He stopped, felt ahead with both hands, took a step and then another before he encountered the rough surface of another building. The passageway between the buildings was about three feet wide.
    "Keep your hand on my shoulder," he told Tully, turning into the narrow passage he knew might be a cul-de-sac.
    "Sarge, you couldn't lose me if you tried," Tully said.
    Troy moved warily now, not lifting his feet but sliding them along the ground, toe to heel, counting his foot-lengths. He paused for a brief moment as a small dog or rat skittered over one foot and rustled away. The stench of the passage filled his lungs. It was not an odor of garbage or sewage but of things dead and

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