While they rested inside their hiding place, Sheila was amazed by the amount of “traffic” that passed through the area. In all cases, the men, and the few women with them, had no idea that she and Pajaro observed them. But they moved quietly and on full alert with what ever kinds of weapons they carried at the ready. If she’d needed further convincing that the area within the tri-angle that Pajaro had drawn on his palm was extremely dangerous, that would be it.
Sheila shook her head slightly at how ignorant she was sitting in that booth just the day before, or perhaps it was two days ago. In the rain forest within that tri-angle, time and all the elements that ruled the world, as William used to call it, seemed curved, as if controlled by some evil version of e=mc2. Herman Melville had written of it in Pierre and the Ambiguities, having the title character think that it was foolish to live by New England clocks when in China. The idea was now known as moral relativism. As a student, hard edged and safe in the womb of the University of Michigan, she’d rejected the idea put forth by Melville. Her life with William had been such that the question had never arisen. Now she sat wrapped in her piece of camouflage parachute and held a knife, not knowing what she would do if they were discovered.
Pajaro held his knife, prepared to do whatever was necessary to survive – including using the Uzi, which lay close at hand. His eyes had the look of a wild animal. He was on full alert and ready to react without much participation of the higher brain. His training and experience as a LRRP had given him that.
She has seen that look in William’s eyes once when they were having a fight over some issue involving one of their kids. He’d charged her in full attack mode. She’d screamed and peed her pants, but managed to get through to him. After he’d calmed down, he’d apologized profusely. She’d feared he’d become abusive and told him that if he ever did that again, he’d never see her or their kids as long as he lived. She must have had an equally wild look in her eye because he never came after her in the same way. But the wildness in him was always there. Just below the surface. Ready to show itself in the right circumstances. Sheila had to admit that it gave her comfort in the face of new and ever growing incidents of home invasions. What she had to presume was her wildness came out once more. One afternoon, without time to think, she drove an intruder from their home with only her expression and voice as weapons to protect the kids. Now she wondered if she’d act without thinking to protect herself. Step, turn, thrust, hard.
The first group arrived shortly after the incident with the snakes.
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