Jackson followed Light into the jungle filled with fog. They walked slowly until they reached an especially large tree, which had buttresses at the base taller than Jackson’s head.
“You go up,” Light whispered in Jackson’s ear.
“How?” Jackson asked.
Light took the barrel of his rifle and poked at something above their heads. A rope ladder fell to the ground.
“Known this was here all along,” Light said.
Jackson was glad Light’s confidence had returned, but he did not want to climb the tree.
Light continued, “You go up. Tiger’s got a sniping platform. He’ll know you’re there. Only way he can get a shot at you is from another station on up the ridge.”
“What if the trap don’t work?”
“It’ll work. Remember, you said I was the best.”
Jackson put one hand on the first rung and hesitated.
“You scared of high places?” Light asked.
“I’m not scared,” Jackson said.
Jackson started up the ladder. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder, barrel down. Every time he put his boot on another rung he felt it bumping against his back.
Don’t look down, don’t look down, he thought.
The climb was easy and soon he reached a bamboo platform in the crown of the tree. Below, the jungle looked like a deep, green sea.
Jackson waited for the fog to lift, but hoped it would linger on into the morning. He watched a set of ropes the Tiger had strung from another tree. The Tiger would come that way. Jackson imagined shooting the Tiger as the man came across on the ropes, and the thought of being the Tiger’s killer excited him. He checked to make sure a round was in the chamber and set his M-16 on automatic.
Thunder rumbled over the mountains but the sun broke through the fog, and Jackson saw the sky covered with patches of clouds. He could see the firebase clearly. A tiny figure crossed the compound at a run and disappeared into a bunker. The big trees dripped water off their leaves. From the jungle floor, the smell of rotting vegetation rose up to him. A flock of birds settled in the branches above his head to scream at each other and drop twigs and pieces of fruit to the jungle floor. Along the curve of the ridge he could see holes that had been blasted out of the jungle by the bombing and treetops charred by napalm drops. Jackson pressed his back against the trunk and tried to breathe slowly.
Bark splintered off the tree next to his head as the Shockwave of the bullet moved over him. The birds left the tree with loud squawks. An instant later Jackson heard the heavy report of the Tiger’s rifle. Jackson threw himself face down on the bamboo platform, all the air temporarily gone out of his lungs, his whole body limp and heavy. But he managed to suck in several deep breaths and fire off a magazine on automatic in the direction the shot had come from.
Light’s rifle cracked from the jungle floor up the ridge.
The Tiger shot another round at Jackson, the bullet clipping the toe of his right boot. Jackson pressed himself even closer to the platform and thought about jumping out of the tree. Light shot again, one round. The Tiger replied with two.
Then for a long time there was silence. The birds returned to feed in the branches above Jackson’s head. Suddenly there were two simultaneous shots. Jackson listened hard to hear a body falling through the canopy. But there was nothing, only the cries of the birds circling over the canopy.
After waiting for what seemed like a long time, Jackson decided to try to go back down the rope ladder. If he could get off the platform, he would be shielded from the Tiger’s fire by the trunk. He started to back off the platform.
Bamboo splinters flew up in his face, the sound of the rifle reaching him an instant later. The bullet had been deflected by the platform. Jackson pressed his face against the smooth, cool bamboo and gasped for breath. Light shot one round.
Jackson lay on the platform and waited. His body was covered with sweat, and the muscles in his legs twitched. Light and the Tiger still exchanged fire, the sound moving off farther up the ridge. Always there were two shots, one quickly followed by another. Then for a long time there was no sound at all. A troop of monkeys passed through the canopy above him. The birds returned. Jackson decided to try to leave the platform again. Light had fucked up, and Jackson no longer wanted to be a decoy.
He backed off the platform, moving very slowly and keeping his body pressed flat against the bamboo. When he was off the platform and shielded by the tree trunk, he breathed a sigh of relief. A pair of rifle shots came from far away, the sound muffled by the trees.
Jackson sat down with his back to one of the buttresses and tried to decide what to do. He thought of going back to the firebase. Light had almost got him wasted. A single shot came from even farther off in the jungle.
He stood up and after a moment’s hesitation ran off in the direction of the sound. The Tiger would have a hard time hitting a moving target from the treetops, he reasoned. Twice he heard shots as he jogged through the forest, following a zigzag course on purpose, ducking behind trees, running at a crouch and all the time expecting to be shot by the Tiger at any moment.
There had been no more shots, and he wondered if the Tiger had escaped. Suddenly, someone reached out and pulled him to the ground behind a tree. At the same time the Tiger’s rifle cracked from the treetops, the bullet making a splat as it hit the trunk.
“Keep your fucking head down,” Light said. Then he paused and continued, “If this was night and I had the starlight, I’d have already wasted him.”
“Goddamn, he almost got me. You said I’d be all right,” Jackson said.
“You’re still alive, ain’t you? He was worried about me. Didn’t take the time he should’ve when he shot at you. Won’t nothing happen to you now either. Fooled me. Had another sniping station I didn’t know about.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“No, I got the trap waiting for him. We just gotta get him in the right tree. Right now he’s moving the wrong way. You stay here. Every few minutes fire a few rounds up into the canopy. I’ll go up the ridge and drive him back where we want him.”
Light left the cover and the Tiger tried a shot. Jackson noticed the bullet did not even come close.
Yeah, Light’ll waste that fucker, Jackson thought. Light’s the best.
Jackson stood with his back pressed against the tree trunk. He held the M-16 on automatic around the side of the trunk and without looking at his target fired off a magazine in the general direction of the treetops. When he replaced the magazine with a fresh one, he had trouble because his hands were shaking. He waited a few minutes and then did it again. Off in the trees he heard the crack of Light’s rifle. There was no reply from the Tiger’s rifle, and Jackson hoped Light had gotten him. Jackson watched the treetops, his neck already sore from looking up.
Light joined him at the tree.
“We got him moving the right way now,” Light said.
They followed the Tiger through the jungle. Light tried several shots at him but missed. The Tiger shot back once, the bullet missing Jackson’s head by inches.
“We got him now,” Light said.
Jackson lay with his face pressed into the leaves and gasped for breath.
Please, no more goddamn “Fish on the bank,” Jackson thought. I can’t fucking take any more of this.
Then they lay in the bamboo thicket on their backs. Light watched the top of a big tree. Jackson tried to follow Light’s eyes up into the treetops but could see nothing but a tangle of vines and leaves.
“Only way he can get a shot at us is from up there,” Light said. “He’ll be where that big limb comes off to the right and forks.”