BONUS TWO
A brief excerpt from
The Vostok Juncture
Matt Chatelain's latest release
Leung's eyes snapped open. Miron stood less than twenty feet away. The cook briefly took his eyes off the spy and surveyed the area. Debris was scattered everywhere, a combination of broken shelves and chunks of ice. There was no sign of the poisonous mist. Leung was pinned, his legs covered by a mangled shelf. Miraculously, his hand was still clasping the meat cleaver.
Miron's flashlight scanned across the smouldering debris but stopped when a hacking cough attracted his attention. It was Robinson. The man was in a sorry state, having been nearest to the propane tank when it exploded. His left arm and leg were broken and he was bleeding from several lacerations to the body and head. Barely conscious, his eyes still closed, he was moaning, his head lolling from left to right.
Miron hurried to the downed man as Leung watched on, terrified. Illuminating Robinson's broken body with the flashlight, the spy shot him once in the head with his silenced twenty-two. Robinson's body jerked spasmodically then was still.
Leung gasped in horror. Miron's flashlight sought out the faint sound. Leung held his breath, his eyes riveted on the spy. The tendons on the back of his hand strained as he tightened his grip on the cleaver. Missing Leung completely, the flashlight beam caught Bowes full on. Bleeding seriously from a jagged wound to his side, he was crawling towards Robinson's shotgun, mere feet out of reach.
Revealed by the flashlight, Bowes lunged forward, grunting as he lifted the shotgun and pulled the trigger. Miron dove out of the blast's way, shooting several times with his pistol as he fell. Bowes was hit in the chest three times. Blood spurting from his wounds, he dropped backwards. Hitting the ground, he struggled to get up.
"You bastard. I'll... I'll... UNHHhhh!"
Weakened by blood loss, Bowes fell back, nearly dead but still conscious. Miron, aiming dispassionately, shot him in the temple. Bowes breathed his last as the spy fished in his pocket for a new clip. Hearing sounds from down the tunnel, Miron reacted quickly, removing his gas-mask and hurrying towards the coat room exit. Leung, seeing him approach, lay quietly, biding his time.
As Miron ran past, Leung swung he cleaver. The heavy blade sliced deeply into the spy's left leg, just above the calf. Miron gasped and tumbled forward, his leg folding under him. The twenty-two went flying as Miron braced for impact with his arms. Leung scrabbled out of the debris, reaching for Miron's dropped pistol, but was held back by his foot, still jammed under the broken shelf unit.
Miron, clasping his bloody leg wound, caught sight of Leung struggling to reach the pistol, the cook kicking at the shelf unit frantically. His pants ripped and he rolled away, landing a few feet from the gun. He went for it but was kicked in the side before he could grasp it.
Miron kicked him in the gut again. The cook grunted and doubled over. The driver went to stomp the man's head but Leung surprised him with another swipe of the cleaver. Miron had to jump out of the way, barely avoiding evisceration. The spy fell back hard and something cracked in his shoulder when he hit the ground. Trying to get up, he slipped on his own blood and fell back down.
Leung, gasping from the kicks to his ribs, clambered on top of Miron and rained several blows on his head with the cleaver handle. Lifting his arm up in the air, he readied to slice the man's head off. Barely conscious, Miron, unable to move his left arm, punched Leung in the throat with his right fist.
Leung dropped the cleaver, choking and gasping, instinctively reaching for his throat. Miron stretched his right hand as far as it would go, groping desperately for the gun, inches away. Miron swung the weapon up but Leung let go of his neck and grasped the pistol by the silencer. For a few moments the cook struggled intensely with Miron, both men grunting with the effort.
Leung leaned onto Miron's broken arm, a sickening sound coming from shoulder as the limb folded in two. Miron screamed in agony but, adrenaline flooding him, gave one last heave, throwing the cook off his chest with a jerk of the hips. The move loosened the cook's grip on the pistol enough for Miron to pull it free and shoot.
The bullet shattered Leung's jaw, ripped through his tongue, his palate, past the nasal cavity, and into the brain. The cook fell onto Miron, blood splattering on the spy's face. Spitting out a mouthful, he shoved Leung's body off and sat up.
Voices echoed through the tunnels as the other search party approached. Miron used the cook's apron as a makeshift sling for his mangled arm. Ripping strips off Leung's shirt, he wrapped them around his dripping leg as best he could and headed to the exit, vanishing up the stairs.
That's it for now.
See you in Book Two.
The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four Page 33
