U-WRITE-IT RESULTS

It was only a matter of moments until the inevitable would happen. He had to make sure that the jeep was on the correct path through the jungle to avoid any snares and obstacles that may impede the rescue. Rick felt helpless as he held onto the growling vehicle trying to avoid branches as they whizzed past. The camp was finally coming into view as they approached the clearing. The jeep came to a halt and Rick jumped out with the antidote in tow. He ran over to Sarah and injected her vein with the lifesaving serum. Her face was blue but her eyes still sparkled when they met his. A tear escaped his fearful eyes. She gave his hand a squeeze and with that released a calm that came over him giving him the reassurance that his actions had indeed saved her

"Really?" I focused my binoculars toward the barn.

Sure enough, that scrawny, tawny coyote was tracking. Shoving his nose close to the ground, he vacuumed the high desert lake bottom dust in search of another bone. Every once in awhile he'd lift his head to snort out a sneeze.

"Our own Nature Channel. Big screen. Right out the dining room window. I LOVE it here."

Rick said this a lot watching bald eagles, jack rabbits, cottontails, quails, and magpies. He said it marveling at clear blue-skied days, and breathing in clean, sage-scented air.

I loved it here, too:

No water bill.

No cable bill.

No sirens.

A million bright stars.

But, most of all: that unexplainably wonderful release each Thanksgiving, when from the kitchen door I'd fling that turkey carcass out across the sparkling snow.

The silence that follows is broken by another beep. I look up from my book. "What?"

Tearing his gaze from the eyepiece Rick turns to glare at me. Impatiently.

Dang. Caught me again. I just don't seem to hear him when Rick starts rattling off species names: burnt-billed toeheads, yellow-bellied mattress thrashers, cinnamon-tufted deals. Whatever.

"Popcorn." He points at the microwave.

"Right." Sighing not quite loudly enough for him to hear, I open the microwave.

The unpopped packet's right-angled grimace evens the score.

"Rick?"

Silence.

I wait.

Finally, he looks up. "What?"

I smile. Patiently. "You set the timer instead of hitting the popcorn button."

"Didn't Cap say a green light meant enemy movement behind us?" the young soldier asked.

"Yeah and a red light meant they are ahead. We better get moving."

"What about Jim's leg? It's bleeding. How do you expect him to travel?"

"The same way we do, soldier. Hide his gear and we'll take turns carrying him. Let's get moving! We only have about three hours till daybreak."

"Yes, Sir."

The young soldier moved quickly to hide the injured soldier's gear in the brush while his team leader picked up the man and headed into the trees.

"How far is the river?" the young soldier asked.

"Two hours past daybreak. Pray we make it."