Defending Camp

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Max woke up early at the first crack of light. He lay on the cold ground in the tent for a minute before rising. He moved quietly so that he wouldn’t wake up James, who was sound asleep, snoring loudly.

The first thing he thought about wasn’t the immediate safety of the camp. Things had been calm for a week. No signs of anything about to happen. No strangers stalking them. No footprints where they shouldn’t be.

His mind went right to that radio call they’d received. Someone needed help. Max had the coordinates.

But should he do it? Should he go?

John and Cynthia were on watch, stationed at opposite ends of the camp. They were fairly close to the fire, and they nodded wearily at Max.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” said Max to Cynthia as he gathered the supplies for making coffee.

She nodded without saying anything. Her eyes were bloodshot from staying awake all night. She stood, slightly unsteady on her feet, and gave John a silent kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the van where the women slept.

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