They are here. Waiting. Lurking. Infiltrating. Hidden until I find them.
What are they doing? Gathering intelligence? Coordinating with others? Awaiting instructions? What instructions? To attack? To intimidate? To instill terror?
How did they get here? By land or sea or air? Maybe with the help of others. What others? With whom are they conspiring and why?
When I locate and capture them, they never talk. Many of them are armed with modern weapons, although some carry swords, spears or lances. Their animal helpers are dangerous in and of themselves and are not easy to corral. Today, while on beach patrol, I captured a militant carrying a semi-automatic pistol. As I took him into custody, I was vigilant for an ambush by his comrades, but none was forthcoming.
I now have eight combatants in my equivalent of Guantanamo, and two lethal beasts. I am sure that more are out there. Despite securing the campsite perimeter by installing motion-actuated lights, I am thinking that a moat might be necessary.
Eliciting the support of others in the apprehension of the combatants, I showed the captives to a camper kid. He remarked that I have nice collection of plastic action figures.
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