One More Day

The patrol of guardsmen, dressed in their desert camouflage, is easing through the higher sagebrush, each with their M-4 Carbine held at the ready. Their eyes squint against the blazing sun, searching for their human prey, this one, who is in violation.

While they makes almost no sound, their shifting movement give their positions away. And because they do not know it, nestled motionless in the sand near their passing boots, the last one moves by me.

Unfortunately, one ‘tail-end-Charlie’ will never return to his family again and I will survive to hunt and to be hunted one more day.