3

I was running down a narrow, overgrown pathway in the jungle, silent in spite of the fast pace, not wanting a sound to give away my position to the enemy that sought me. An open wound in my thigh ached excruciatingly, but I refused to allow it to hinder me, and I pressed one hand to my oozing side.

I came upon a fork in the road and stopped, my hand in my pocket tracing the engraving on the small disc there. I could hear them behind me and I unhesitatingly stepped onto the wider of the two paths and trod on the plants at the edge, bruising the leaves. I then stepped back out and carefully entered the other path, so narrow that it was almost unnoticeable.

I was quiet and cautions as I advanced, leaving no sign of my presence, and I could hear my enemies tramping down the other trail. As their clamor faded I moved faster and faster, and in a mile or so the path began to widen until it became a dirt road, wide enough for a jeep or other narrow vehicle.

I knew I'd found the road to the border, and my heart was light as I jogged along toward freedom and light and love.

I gradually came awake, dried tears on my face and the pages of the book wrinkled and stuck to my cheek. I felt rested for the first time in months, and my stomach growled. I hopped out of bed and went into the kitchen to make fresh coffee and eat a couple of doughnuts.

Then I called Tank. "Have you heard anything?" I asked.

"Nothing. Bombshell. You haven't called in months. Why today?"

"I… I had a dream… I just have a feeling…"

"I'll get back to you."

Two hours later my phone rang. "Yo," I answered for the first time since Ranger left.

"He's out!" I'd never heard Tank sound anything but neutral, until now. He sounded positively jubilant, and I screamed, jumping up and down.

Then I remembered the wounds and stopped flat. "How bad is he?"

"Nothing permanent. Knife wound in his side, gunshot wound to the thigh, various other minor stuff, but nothing that will keep him in the hospital for more than a day or two."

"When can I see him?"

"He's going to be stuck in Washington, debriefing, for a few weeks, and they won't let him see or speak with anyone until they're finished with him."

"Okay. Thanks, Tank."

I hopped into the shower to get ready for dinner at my parents'. I was starved.

oOo

Two weeks later

I was sitting in my living room watching a hockey game on TV when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I leaped up, spun around, and there leaning against the doorframe was Ranger. He was thin and gaunt, holding a cane in one hand, with a red scar across one cheek, but he was smiling all two-hundred watts.

I shrieked and threw myself into his arms, but carefully, avoiding the left side where I'd felt the knife wound in my dream.

"Oh, God, Carlos, I missed you so much," I told him, tears streaming down.

"Babe, you've lost a lot of weight."

"You too, Soldier."

"It's over, Babe. I'm out. No more missions."

"Thank God."

His lips came crashing down on mine, and he picked me up with one arm and used the cane in his other hand to walk us into the bedroom.

oOo

Late the next morning, we were still in bed. Ranger reached down to the floor for his pants, feeling in the pocket. "Here, Babe, I brought this back to you," and he handed me my St. Christopher medal. It was minus the chain, a little bent, but I took it from him with a smile, sending up a silent prayer thanking God and St. Christopher for his safe return.

I dug around under my pillow for the little leather book. It, too, was a little worse for wear, the pages crumpled a bit, the binding bent. It fell open to the page with the pencil marks. I'd read that poem over and over in the past two weeks and knew it by heart. The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost.

Ranger looked at the page, at the underlining. "Babe, when things were at their very worst on the mission, that's exactly what I did. I took the road less traveled."

"I know," I told him. "I dreamed it."

"You saved me, Babe. When I reached that fork in the road, I had no idea which way to go. But it was as if you were there, telling me which path to choose."

I shivered. "Let's not talk about that now. Let's talk about brunch. Where are you taking me? I'm starving."

"Babe, I think my brunch is right here in front of me," and he buried his face in my neck.

The End