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He knew what the soldiers in tan were doing. They were playing head games with his men. They were eroding that sense of invincibility that his men had developed after two years of victories in battle. Little quick raids announcing that we can attack you at any time and there’s nothing you can do about it sapped the spirit. It was a strategy that worked, but it didn’t destroy armies. At some point in time, they would meet in a full out battle and he’d show them what it was all about.It wasn’t just the soldiers in tan that were hurting him. Four days ago, the four mosquitoes showed up. They were stupid little cloth covered airplanes with the wings over the body. They didn’t roar like a jet but buzzed like a mosquito. They were single engine planes with propellers.He had laughed the first time they’d showed up. What were they going to do? Nothing, he thought until the grenades started falling from the sky. It wasn’t that they killed so many men, but the falling grenades did cause his. “I wouldn’t have done what I did, oh wow! …Why?” Tricia repeated almost chanting “why, why” over and over several times, silently under her bitter breath, troubled indeed, to say the least. Her old sagging mattress and thin, worn sheets usually evade comfort, forcing her to fight the springs and the lumps for slumber, and bundle for warmth. But at this very moment on the day that should have been, was supposed to be, was publicized by the Mayan calendar as being the last, the bumpy bed offered an unusual comfort. This sort of trouble was unusual for Tricia. Usually the good girl in any crowd, Tricia never made waves, never went to the edge. This was all so very new. Foggy and hung over from the unexpected adventures of the past night, and with a ratty strand of Christmas lights blinking a tedious, dreadful pattern of glare and gloom above her head, Tricia with eyes closed, carefully began putting last night’s pieces back into place, A worthy job in her condition. The food, the.
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