Notes: This is the first ToD fic I ever attempted. It's also set during the third season, but it takes place before Johnson goes home. This one is going to be dark. I don't know how graphic it will be, but I'll try to keep it tasteful. Thanks goes out to Lt.Sprite for her beta efforts and her encouraging comments. Thanks again!

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm not making money off them. I love them dearly and promise to give them back in the same condition I found them. Don't sue me, it's not worth the effort.

Pitfall
-by Nati_A

Anderson berated himself for not seeing the ambush for what it was. The VC had waited patiently for the team to walk right into their trap. He should've seen it coming, but instead, he'd followed along like a dog being lead by its leash. He was far too experienced to have dismissed the unsettled thoughts nagging at the back of his mind for the past hour.

In retrospect, so many little things should have tipped off a veteran such as himself. The jungle had been just a bit too quiet. The trail had been too clear of tripwires and traps. There had been too many signs of recent enemy activity in the area. Each campsite, sandal-print, and clue had been purposefully left to lead them to this spot. Now, the remnants of his team were pinned and under heavy enemy fire. The front four men were down, and Zeke was left wondering if any of them were still alive.

The VC had set up the ambush carefully. Nothing was placed directly on the path itself or visible from it. The explosions had all come from the foliage just above or below the trail, detonated by the men lurking nearby but unseen. They'd known Team Viking was on it's way through and had laid in wait about 20 yards off the trail. There were enemy troops on the ground and a few snipers in the trees. The team had walked right into them, and they were now trapped, not knowing where the next grenade would land.

At the first explosion most everyone dove for cover. The second came not ten yards away from the first. Taylor had been on point and was tossed down the hill almost immediately. The second blast dislodged the outcropping under which Goldman, Ruiz, and the RTO had taken shelter. Dirt and rocks rained down on the trio, sending at least one tumbling down the ridge after Taylor.

Anderson could see one unmoving soldier laying half buried by the debris. So far no one had been able the reach the poor guy to determine if he was even still alive.

Purcell popped his head up from the relative shelter he'd found to scan the area for a target. He caught sight of some VC hastily heading down the steep ridge and let off a quick burst of rounds in their direction before ducking down again. A few enemy rounds pinged off the rocks where his head had been a moment ago. He wasn't sure if he'd dropped any of them, but he had to at least try to prevent them from making it down the hillside unscathed.

Then, as quickly as the attack had started, it was over. An eerie silence settled over the area as Team Viking waited for the next barrage. Purcell and Johnson took advantage of the lull and shimmied up behind their Sergeant.

"Keep ya' heads down and eyes sharp," he warned as they got close enough to hear his whisper. "I'm going out there..."

Johnson's firm grip on his shoulder prevented him from moving away. "Sarge, we might've lost the LT. We need ya here, not dodging bullets."

Before Anderson even had a chance to respond, Johnson had broken cover and was carefully working his way to their downed man. With a keen ear listening for any signs of another attack, he worked to unbury the injured soldier. The rest of the team could read his body language and realized the man was dead before Marvin had even started to retrieve the battered radio. He rushed back to report.

"It's Daniels, Sarge. No sign of LT or Ruiz."

"Damn. We go through RTO's as fast as ammo. It'd be nice to keep one more'n a few days for a change," Purcell moaned, never taking his eyes off the surrounding bush. "Do ya think LT and Ru went down?"

"I don't rightly know. I saw one set o' tiger stripes tumblin' that direction. Couldn't see who."

"We headin' down Sarge?" Johnson asked. He knew that this recon mission was vital to an offensive planned for later in the week, but they were down several men now. Their perch on the ridge was about 200 vertical yards from the flats below. They couldn't see any sign of their three missing members though the leafy vegetation, but they had all seen the VC heading down after them.

"We've gotta. We're short too many men, and those gooks are headin' straight for 'em. Ma'be we can reroute an' still hit the objective after we git down there. Pick 'em back up, then go ahead wit' it." He motioned for them to head back down the path. There was a trail heading down not too far back the way they'd come. Hopefully there weren't any more traps waiting for them.

"LT's gonna be pissed, Sarge. Stringer was riding him pretty hard about this mission." Added Purcell.

"Well, we can't worry none about that. Let's get to LT first, then we'll worry about the colonel."

Ruiz wasn't sure what had happened, but he was certain that tumbling headlong down the ridge was a bad thing. One moment he'd been following Taylor up the trail, and the next he was being pushed to the ground from behind by the LT. Unfortunately, he'd missed the narrow width of well-worn earth and landed on the slope below. Momentum from the dive had driven him forward into an uncontrolled fall. He didn't think either of them had been able to stop their rapid decent down the hillside.

He'd finally begun to slow his dizzying tumble when he managed to get his feet in front of him and slowly dig in his heels. It'd taken more than one attempt, as the first try was too abrupt and sent him down head first instead of slowing his pace. On the second attempt, he'd drawn his knees up so he was sliding on his feet and back. Gradually, he'd gained control and managed to stop falling. His lower center of gravity in the crouched position had helped prevent his upper body from toppling over.

Getting to his feet was going to be another challenge. The long descent had sent his inner ear into shock. He'd come to rest, but his head was still swimming. After laying on his back with his eyes closed for a few minutes, his head and stomach had settled enough to allow him to sit upright. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the world around him hadn't quite stopped moving yet. Ruiz concentrated solely on getting a clear picture of his surroundings before attempting much else.

He looked around him for any signs of the others. He wasn't sure where Goldman or Taylor had landed. He wasn't even sure if they'd fallen as far as he did. He counted himself lucky in one respect though; he still had his weapon. It didn't look to badly banged up from the fall. He was almost grateful the attack had been such a surprise, as he'd still had the strap slung over his shoulder. That had helped him keep his grip on it despite the fall.

When his eyes finally focused and the jungle quit swaying in front of him, he could easily see signs that the other two soldiers had tumbled on past. Concerned for his team mates, he drug himself to his feet and started to follow the closest path down. Putting his full weight on his left ankle almost landed him back on the ground. With a gasp, he realized he'd not come away unscathed by the fall.

Ruiz tested the joint carefully and found that it would support his weight as long as he was careful. He wouldn't be running any races, but he could walk unassisted, and that's all that really mattered. He knew his back was going to be cut up from the slide and that he'd be covered with bruises, but he could deal with that once he found the others.

After traveling another 100 feet down the hill, Ruiz came to a frightening sight. The slope had leveled off enough for him to stop his fall only to come to a sudden drop-off. The ground was scuffed up and bushed flattened down. He had no doubt that one of his friends had gone over. Peeking over the ledge, he saw the crumpled body of his lieutenant about 15 feet below.

The little Puerto Rican was thankful that the drop hadn't been as far as he'd feared, but he knew that Goldman was in desperate need of help. Ruiz rushed off to his left where the hill didn't form a cliff so much as it returned to the steeply sloped hillside it was above.

Alberto scrambled down as fast as he could and knelt beside his CO. Lt Goldman was alive, but badly injured. It looked like he'd taken as least one solid blow to the head. There was a bloody lump on the back of his head and a gash across his right temple. His visible skin had cuts from the sharp elephant grass, and Ruiz was certain deep bruises would already be forming just about everywhere. Goldman had his left arm cradled against his chest as well, as if he'd tried to protect it during the fall.

Marcus Taylor felt like he'd gone a few rounds with Mohammad Ali himself. For a skinny city boy, a few rounds with the former Heavyweight World Champion was no picnic. Not at all. His survival instincts and special training were the only things that got him moving. He rolled over and examined his position as best he could. He didn't want to budge an inch for a long, long time, but he could almost hear Sarge yelling.

"What're ya' waiting for?! Huh? Some VC gook ta put a bullet in ya' while you're admirin' the view. Move it! Always, and I mean always know where ya' are and what's going on around ya'!"

Taylor had no desire to end up dead in this hell-hole, so he did as Sarge had said. He moved and did his best to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten there.

[TBC...]