Sharp Shot

“What about this?” McCain asked, kicking Darrow’s heavy rucksack containing his souvenir statue.

“You check on the Jeep,” Chance told him. “Dex, you do what you can to help Mark. See if you can stop the bleeding.” He picked up the rucksack—it really was very heavy, and there was no way they could take it with them and carry Darrow. Speed was vital now. “I’ll bury this with the rest of the gear,” he said.