Again that voice echoed inside his head.  Ricky wanted to believe it came from Lancer, but it was too clear.  It puncuated the roaring forest and the distant explosion of the claymore.  He heard Navrez whoop in victory.<br/><br/>Ricky wasn't new to voices in his head.  He'd often have that nagging sensation tugging at him, telling him to do something out of the ordinary.  The doctor's called it mild schizophrenia.  Ricky called it his gut.  He had grown to trust the little voice in his head; it had gotten him out of several sticky situations.<br/><br/>This one was different.  It faintly reminded him of Lancer; it had her timber and accent.  But the voice was much deeper, more silky smooth.  Almost exactly what he would think Lancer would sound like when she wasn't scared and filled with adrenaline from the hectic night.<br/><br/>Ricky hopped a log, his calfs burning.  Water had seeped in over the edge of his boot, and he knew they'd have to get somewhere dry as to avoid trench foot.  He thought of the voice again.<br/><br/>After a quick orientation, he and Navrez took off towards the caves.