Morning arrived in the company of a steady rain that turned the slight hollow they had set their tents in into a mud bowl. Gretta crawled out of the tent and looked around, puzzled. She leaned back inside and shook Arny's leg.

"Get out here, Arnold. Our friend Pete has done a bunk on us."

Arny stuck his head out and cursed the weather, looking around the mucky area. "Where is he?"

"Brilliant question, Arny. Of course I would know the answer wouldn't I?"

She squirmed back into the tent, dug through her pack for her rain poncho, and began packing the rest of the gear. Ten minutes later, they both stood just below the plateau with their gear loaded and their feet in a few inches of muddy water.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to take a peek through the glasses to see if there is anything happening." She climbed up to a slightly drier spot and raised the glasses to her eyes.

"Oh shit."

"What?" He moved up beside her.

"We need a Plan B."

Four men were walking toward them, spread out and weapons at the ready. The tallest came right up to the edge of where they lay and looked down, smiling.

"Gretta Lawrence I presume."

"Good morning, although with all this rain it really isn't, is it?"

"On the contrary, it's a wonderful morning... for a long imagined fantasy." He stepped back and gestured for them to climb up where they were checked for weapons.

"I'm surprised and impressed, Miss Lawrence. No weapons?"

"I'm an archaeologist not a hired gun."

"Yes, I've heard that about you." He laughed, ordering the party back to their camp.

Pete was sitting on a log beside a sheltered fire having a coffee with Han Pok. He looked up as Gretta and Arny were ushered into the site and giggled aloud.

"Little prick." Arny cursed.

"You and Vincent have the same predilection; you don't vet your people very well." He grabbed a tin mug from his pack, poured some coffee from the pot on the fire and handed the mug to Gretta. She accepted it ad sipped, grateful for the stimulus and the warmth.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Arny looked at the coffee.

"Soon." Strom said menacingly, and Arny closed his mouth firmly.

The rain increased and even under the shelter of the trees, the campsite became wetter.

"Hello Vincent. Long time no see." Gretta gave him a short salute with her coffee mug.

He sneered and nodded back. "Too soon for me, lady."

"And Harley! My God, I thought you were retired after your flying experience." He just stared silently.

"How did you get him in place to be our guide?" Arny was seriously curious.

"Piece of cake, pal. We were told you always show up on these adventures, so we called all the hotels and found out where you were registered. After that we just spread a little cash around and, viola!"

Gretta handed the mug back and Strom automatically accepted it, cursing himself as she sat down by her pack and looked at the group. Arny followed suit, what the hell, he thought, might as well be comfortable.

"Now what?" She asked.

"Well, it's seven to two," Strom said. "I'm anxious to see how the great Miss Lawrence gets out of this."

"I don't have to."

He gawked. "Huh? Why not?"

She passed him her cell phone. "Check the last call and the time."

Strom called up the menu and read the name. "CONGA. So?"

"Shit." Vincent wiped a hand over his face.

"What? So she called this CONGA."

"See the time? It was only a few minutes before you picked us up."

"What she's telling you is she called for help, you jerk." Vincent swore again and gave her a malevolent glare.

"Well no phone call is gonna help her," Garvey snarled. "Are we through yakkin' about this broad and finishin' what we started?" He reached down and pulled her up by her arm.

Gretta's index knuckle drove hard into Garvey's throat, and he gagged noisily, his eyes almost exploding from their sockets. In one fluid motion, she spun him around, holding him across her chest, relieved him of his gun and levelled it at Strom.

"Drop them. Now."

Vincent and Harley obeyed immediately, raising their hands and stepping away from the discarded weapons. Pete and Han Pok froze where they sat, and Strom and Damon watched as Garvey's eyes rolled up into his head and his tongue dangled out of his mouth.

"That goes for you fellas too."

Strom shot a disgusted look at Vincent. "You pussy, we had them outnumbered. What's she gonna do, shoot us all in cold blood?"

"For Christ's sake, she's holding a sample of what she does! Are you friggin' blind!" Vincent yelled.

"Make up your mind fellas, this is getting heavy, and to help you decide, his gun was set on auto. I just pull the trigger once, and it fires until it's empty."

Strom eyed the rock still barrel of the gun aimed directly at him and wet his lips. The rain increased and Gretta shook her head sadly.

"Okay then." She released Garvey's body and bumped him away with her stomach. He collapsed like overcooked pasta at her feet.

Damon's gun came up and Vincent screamed a belated warning as Gretta pulled the trigger.

><><><><

The rain grew heavier and beat straight down through the covering tree branches, soaking the ground and turning the site into slippery muck. Arny and Gretta sat under their tarp in the driest section of the clearing, guns pointed at the group of huddled, unsheltered men who sat in a tight circle, facing outward about fifteen feet away.

"What now?" Arny whispered.

"Well we're down to five to two."

He snorted with disgust.

"Would you rather trade places?"

Arny just frowned in response. His mind was still stumbling over the fact that this violent, unremorseful woman was the same one that shared his bed. Dirty Gretta! The same one that played love games under the covers and did ironing and cooking. He found himself at sea... and not for the first time.

"Well?"

"No, I don't want to trade places," he snapped.

"Okay then."

"So when do the CONGA guys get here?"

She sighed. "They don't, and before you start, I never called for help, I was just checking in. I didn't know these guys were right on top of us at that point."

He stared hard, chewing his words well then swallowed them before he exploded.

"By the time this rain ends they'll be a lot more manageable, trust me." She leaned sideways and pecked his cheek. "Look how things have improved already." His eyes closed in long-suffering defeat.

Thirty minutes later the rain stopped abruptly, and the forest turned into a steam bath with mist rising in wispy clouds from the ground. Gretta climbed to her feet and walked to the circle of sodden men. Mud had splashed up onto their clothes and skin and they were soaked to the bone.

"Time to march, gang." She toed Vincent with her boot and he slowly lifted himself to his feet.

"You too, Strom."

He glowered at her with Oscar winning hatred. Not a full day into his mission and he had already been bested by the woman that prompted his accepting in the first place. When they were all standing, she called to Arny to fetch some rope and while he kept them covered, she bound Strom, Harley and the two Filipinos in a tight chain. They could only shuffle when they walked, and their arms were strapped to their sides. The rope ran from the waist of each one to the other, keeping them in a close bunch. Vincent was sweating almost to the point of dehydration; he saw his life flash past as Gretta aimed her gun at him.

"You get to lead, Vince. You have the exact coordinates, so you lead the parade."

He tipped up his hands nervously. "What about the booby-traps?"

"Just be careful where you step." She smiled and waved him forward.

"Don't do it, Crocadero," Strom shouted. "You pussy wimp!"

"Tell that to your pal, Damon, asshole. I warned you."

Strom clamped his mouth shut over the image of Damon's legs being literally cut from beneath him and the horrendous amount of blood that coloured the muddy water around them. He died screaming in the muck. Damon had never even pulled his trigger. Strom glared at Gretta's back as they shuffled through the forest. One chance, just give me one chance.

The column moved slowly, with Vincent stopping every few feet to check the ground around him. At one point, he thought he saw something and was afraid to move.

"Why can't we have Han up here? He guided us through before."

"Han's busy. Just keep going, Vincent."

He tried to swallow, but his throat was like tree bark. "I can't. I can't do this."

Gretta sighed. "Okay, we'll take a short break." She motioned the men down to the ground, which was a feat since they had no hands for balance so they all fell over, and she told Vincent to stay right where he was. Arny dug out the water canteen and drank thirstily before handing it to Gretta. She drank and handed it back.

"What about them?"

"What about them? This isn't the movies, Arny." He sulked and put the canteen away. Gretta walked back to Vincent and smiled prettily. "How far, Vincent?"

"I don't know, this all looks the same to me."

She took out a compass, freed his arms, and handed it to him. "Check it against your map and have a better answer for me next time I ask." The voice was like a drill into his gut and quickly fumbled out his map and began studying intently.

Sun began filtering down through the canopy of trees and the air became heavier and thicker. Their clothes clung like wet paper, mingling with the rivers of sweat soaking shirts and pants. She checked her watch and announced that break was over. The men were dragged clumsily to their feet and she gave Vincent a questioning look.

"I uh- it should uuhhhmmm- it should be roughly... oh shit... I can't. Maybe two hundred feet or so that way?"

"Maybe?" The gun wavered.

"No! Definitely. Definitely two hundred feet..." He pointed frantically, eyeing the gun. With a flick of her head, Vincent was off and searching.