-Anonymous, "Blood on the Risers" D-1, three miles north-northeast of Nugaal, Ophir "You all right, Little Joe?" Welch asked of the swaying Tex-Mex with the pack on his back and a chute rolled up and carried in his arms. Terry's pack was on his back, chute over his shoulder. He carried a stubby and conventional looking Russian-made "Kashtan" submachine gun in his hands, a suppressor extending far past the barrel of the piece. Venegas didn't answer right away, as if he hadn't quite understood the question. When he did answer, his voice sounded much weaker than normal. "Hit my head on a rock, Terry. Helmet's only good for so much." "Can you make it to the drop-off point?" Welch asked. "Not a lot of choice." "No," Terry agreed, then lifted his goggles and consulted his watch. And not a lot of time until moonrise, so . . . "Let's get moving." He replaced the goggles and glanced again at Little Joe. "Give me the chute," he ordered. Looking around, his gaze came to rest on one of the other team members, Darrell Hammell, the Tennessee ridge runner generally known as "Pigfucker." "Pigfucker, take Little Joe's rifle and helmet," Welch said.
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