barrack and suited up, strapping on his heavy pack and making sure each canteen was full. He had learned that here it’s better not to question an officer. There was too much frustration brewing among the command. Any refusal of serious questioning resulted in a mess that would keep Wallace from getting home anytime soon.
He exited the tent to see Smith crouching. He motioned for Wallace to do the same. He complied, confused. The corporal waddled over.
“We’re going to move south. Stay low for the first mile and don‘t make a sound. We are not notifying anyone.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Shut up,” Smith hissed. “Just follow and trust me. If not that, then at least listen to me.”
The two men slowly crept away from camp, moving at a snail’s pace into the dark sands. None of the uninterested, drowsy guards noticed. It was torture for Wallace. He was in darkness , only the stars above providing any illumination. Smith would stop every so often and check his compass, correcting their course when necessary. Wallace hated the uncertainty. Not knowing where he was going, not knowing what lay ahead. He began to think of crawling straight into a nest of camel spiders, the repulsive arachnids creeping over his body. Even more frightening,
TANNER - SANDS OF BAYLON
49