The Way of the Shrub, Part 2

Dawn the next day found the three intrepid raiders of the desert crouched behind a sand dune surveying the recently hostaged oil well. That is to say, Fazool and You Fool surveyed – Aaloo spend his time muttering to himself. Faced with the prospect of sacrificing himself for the good of his country, local deity, and personal belief, he had started to wonder if it was all really worth it. More to the point, he was wondering if there was any chance of him escaping without a backside resembling a sieve.
He crawled crabwise (that is to way, with a deal more sideways component than forward) to the top of the dune, where Fazool and You Fool were gazing down at the hastily erected defences around the oil well. Chief among these defences were liberal amounts of chicken wire, presumably assumed to have the same stopping power as barbed wire. On these daunting strands were liberally posted several bowel-wringing threats to keep away, such as “Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.”

“Sarge.”
“Yur.”
“What now?”
“Well, we know there’s at least three of them, or so HQ says. There are three of us. What does that tell you?”
“We call up HQ and tell them we’re outnumbered, and that they should send backup?”
“Good one”, said Fazool, approvingly, “but no. We sneak in, find out how many there are, whether they’re armed or not, what their intentions are, and then sneak out again. Then we call HQ, tell them we’re outnumbered, and to send backup.”
“Good plan sarge!” said Aaloo, relieved.
“And guess what?” asked Fazool, innocence oozing off him in waves.
“Err…”replied Aaloo, with a growing feeling of dread, “I get to sit outside while you go in?”
“Almost, but not completely right. Me being the superior officer here…” began Fazool
“But I’ll get killed till I’m dead!” wailed Aaloo
“Look at it this way. In there, there’s the possibility of death, that I’ll grant you. Outside, though, there’s the certainty of me.”

Aaloo pondered this for a bit. His face brightened as a sudden inspiration struck him. “Why don’t we send the camel in?”
“If the camel gets killed, idiot, then we all die. It’s fifty miles back to base!” snapped Fazool, losing his patience. “Enough of this nonsense, soldier. Go and do your duty!” “Allright, allright, no need to get official about it” sulked Aaloo “But how do I get in?” “Nothing simpler,” said Fazool “You snip a couple of the wires, duck in, and generally reconnoiter about for a bit. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

With a last reproachful look at his sergeant, Aaloo began his descent down the slipface of the dune. On reaching the bottom, he quickly dropped to his knees, and began a stealthy crawl toward the closest strands of wire. After this method of locomotion had deposited a significant amount of sand down his trousers, he got to his feet, and made a quick dash toward his goal. The wires parted with a soft ‘ping’, and wary of lurking gunmen, Aaloo eased his way into the hostaged territory. A stealthy lurk around the perimeter confirmed that the wires had been trusted to do their job beyond any requirements of patrolling.
Emboldened by the lack of large, beweaponed defenders, Aaloo decided to sneak into one of the buildings surrounding the oil well. Making his way cautiously across the gradually brightening landscape, he flattened himself against the first wall he reached, and then gradually inched his way along it until he reached a window. A quick look inside proved the room empty. Congratulating himself on his phenomenal run of luck so far, Aaloo swung himself over the windowsill, and into the room. And onto a large, beweaponed, slumbering defender.