Last Light ns-4

by Andy McNab

  I stood up and stretched, then ripped an armful of palm leaves from the trees at the edge and laid them out on the ground at my entry point, throwing mud on top to keep them in place. Then, with the heel of my boot, I scraped deep score marks into the mud for good measure. It didn't matter if Charlie's men found the long straight puddles after first light by then I'd either have done my job and be away from here, or it would all have gone to rat shit anyway and Carrie and Luz would need finding.

  I set off towards the house, conscious that the helicopter would be somewhere to my left. I was tempted to make my way over to it and have a look for a weapon.

  But what if the pilot was asleep inside or listening to a Walkman? What if they had somebody on stag? It was unlikely, in the middle of nowhere and with us now lost in the jungle, but still, I couldn't take the chance of a compromise so far from the house. The aim was to get all of us out of here, not go the best of three falls with someone in a helicopter.

  As I crested the high ground, I saw the glimmer of light from the single bulb burning away in the shower area. There was no other lighting, nothing from Luz's bedroom, or Carrie and Aaron's. I certainly couldn't tell if our escape window was still open or not, and I didn't intend getting close enough to that side of the house to find out. Why bother? It was wasting time. I'd go to the side where I knew there was an entry point that would definitely get me in.

  I moved back down the slope and, avoiding the helicopter, made my way round to the other side of the house as more thunder rumbled above. Picking my way through the mud, eventually moving up to the left of the house, I crested the high ground again. The shower-area light was now to my right, still trying to penetrate the curtain of rain.

  Approaching the tubs, I became aware of the chug of the generator, and at that point got on to my hands and knees and began to crawl. The mud felt warm and lumpy on my bare skin, almost soothing the itchy swellings on my stomach.

  The chug was soon drowned out by the rain beating on the lids of the plastic tubs. There were no signs of life from the house, and it wasn't until I drew level with the storeroom that I could just make out a thin sliver of light coming from beneath the door. I kept moving, and eventually saw a dull yellow glow filtering through the mozzie screen on the window between the bookshelves, but no movement inside.

  There was no need to crawl any more as I got to the end of the tubs and drew level with the veranda and wagons. Covered in mud, I stood up and moved cautiously towards them.

  I headed for the Land Cruiser, now pointing towards the track through the woods, rain hammering on its body work I stood off to the side and could see movement inside the house, though from this distance they wouldn't be able to see me.

  "Lurking', standing in the shadows and watching, was a skill I'd learnt as a young squaddie in Northern Ireland, during long hours on foot patrol in Republican housing estates. We'd watch people eat their dinners, do the ironing, have sex.

  Through the haze of rain and screens I could see the fans still spinning by the armchairs, which were empty. Three guys were sitting at the kitchen table, all dark-skinned and dark-haired, one with a beard. Weapons lay on the floor. Two of the guys wore chest harnesses. All of them were smoking, and seemed to be having a sober conversation. They were probably trying to make up the story of how we'd managed to get away.

  There was no sign of Aaron.

  I checked Baby-G as I blew out the water that ran down my face and into my mouth. Less than ninety minutes to go before they discovered he knew jack shit.

  I moved off to the right so I could get an angle through the front entrance and see the bedroom doors. Both were closed. He was either in one of them, or inside the computer room; I'd find that out soon, but the priority was to check if the Mosin Nagant or M-16 were still in the Land Cruiser. There had been no light, no movement or steamed-up windows in any of the three wagons. It was safe to approach.

  I wiped the water from the side windows and checked inside. No sign of either weapon or gollock, not that I could see much in the dark. It was a long shot, but I'd have been making a basic error if I hadn't checked.

  I went to the rear of the wagon and slowly but firmly pressed the release button and opened the glass top section of the rear gate six inches, just enough for the interior lights to come on, then bent down and scanned the luggage area. No weapons, no bergen, no gollock. I pushed the section back down until it hit the first click and killed the lights.

  I moved towards the storeroom to take a look through the gap under the door. As I passed the bookshelf window, too far from it for the weak light to illuminate me, I saw that all three were still sitting at the table.

  The tin roof above me was getting pummelled big-time as I moved in towards the side of the house and stepped up on the concrete foundations of the extension.

  The noise drowned anything it might have been useful to hear.

  Moving back out into the rain and round the water butt, I could now see the light seeping from under the storeroom door. I got back on the concrete and down on my hands and knees, shook my head to get off as much water as I could so it wouldn't run into my eyes, then shoved my right eye against the gap.

  I saw Aaron at once, sitting in one of the director's chairs under the glare of the computer-room strip lighting. A man, maybe mid-forties, in a green shirt and with no chest harness or weapon visible, was sitting next to him in the other canvas chair, in the act of offering him a cigarette, which he took.

  Beyond them, sitting at Luz's computer and with his back to me, was a younger man, in blue, with long hair tied in a ponytail like Aaron's, except his was still black. I guessed by the primary colours darting about the screen and the frenzied movement of the mouse that he was playing a game. An M-16 was resting against the table beside him.

  I looked back at Aaron. His nose was bloodied and his eyes swollen, and the right one had blood leaking from it. But he was smiling at the green guy, maybe feeling happy with himself that he'd got us away. I was glad he didn't know what had happened since.

  By now the cigarette had been lit and he took long, grateful drags. Green Guy got up and said something to Blue, who didn't bother to turn from the game, just raising his free hand instead as Green Guy went into the living room to join the other three.

  Right, so there were at least five of them, and there might be more in the bedrooms. What now?

  I lay on the concrete and watched the inactivity for a few minutes as Aaron enjoyed his cigarette, taking it from his mouth, examining it between his thumb and forefinger, exhaling through his nose. I was trying to come up with something that would get me Aaron and one of those weapons.

  Taking the final drag, he turned on his chair to look at Blue playing Luz's game, then he ground the dog-end into the concrete.

  Shit! What's he up to?

  I leapt back and scrambled behind the water butt just as the door burst open and light flooded the area. Aaron launched himself off the concrete into the mud, followed by startled Spanish screams.

  As he ran and slithered into the darkness towards the tubs there was a long burst of automatic fire from within the storeroom.

  I curled up, making myself as small as possible as yells echoed from the living room, together with the sound of feet pounding on floorboards.

  Rounds were hitting the tin wall with dull thuds as the weapon burst out of control.

  Aaron had already faded into the darkness when Blue got to the door, hollering in panic, and took aim with a short sharp burst.

  I heard an anguished gasp, then chilling, drawn-out screams.

  His pain was quickly drowned by panicky M-16s opening up through the window between the bookshelves to my right, just blasting away into the night. Their muzzle flashes created arcs of stroboscopic light outside the window, as the mesh screen disintegrated.

  Blue was screaming at the top of his voice probably to cease firing, because that was what happened. Panic and confusion ricocheted between them in rapid, high-pitched Spanish. So
meone was with Blue at the door, and they shouted at each other as if they were trading on the stock market. Other voices weighed in from just inside the living area.

  I stayed curled up to conceal myself behind the water butt as Blue moved out into the rain towards Aaron. The rest withdrew inside, still shouting at each other.

  I had to act: now was my time. I stepped into the rain after him, keeping to the right of the door to avoid the light, quickly checking through the storeroom for movement. There wasn't any.

  Rain fell into my eyes and blurred my vision. Blue's back was just visible in the light spilling from the storeroom, as he advanced on the dark, motionless shape of Aaron on the ground a few metres ahead of him. The M-16 was in his right hand, and the muzzle was trailing down alongside his calf.

  I was no more than five paces behind him, and still walking. I didn't want to run and risk slipping. I kept moving, concentrating on the back of his head. He was taller than me. Now nothing else mattered as I entered his zone. He'd sense I was there soon.

  I leapt behind him and a bit to his right, jamming my left leg between his, body checking him, at the same time grabbing at his face with my left hand, pulling hard, trying to pull him back over me. I wanted his mouth, but felt mostly nose when the warmth of his shout hit my hand. The weapon fell between us as his hands came up to snatch my hand away.

  Still pulling hard, I arched him backwards, yanking back his head, presenting his throat. I raised my right hand high above my head, palm open, and swung down hard to chop across his throat. I had no idea where it landed, but he dropped like a stunned pig in an abattoir, taking me with him into the mud.

  I kicked myself free, scrambling over the top of him until I lay across his chest, feeling the hard alloy of the magazines between us. My right forearm jammed into his throat and I leant on it with all my weight. He wasn't dead; it hadn't been that good. The chop had got the nerves that run each side of the trachea and fucked him up for a while, that was all.

  No reaction, no resistance, no last kicks yet. I pressed into him, shaking the rain off as it kept trying to get into my eyes. Looking up, I could see into the storeroom. The others were probably still in the living room, trying to come to terms with the even bigger nightmare they were now facing, waiting for Aaron's body to be dragged back by this fuck wit who'd let him escape.

  I looked down on him, his eyes closed, no kicking or resistance. I eased off and put my ear to his mouth. No sound of breathing. I double-checked by digging the middle and forefinger of my right hand into his neck to feel the carotid pulse.

  Nothing.

  I rolled off him and felt for Aaron. My hands were soon warm with his blood as I felt up his body for his neck. He, too, was dead. I scrabbled around in the mud for the M-16, then started to remove Blue's chest harness. I rolled him over, unclipping it from his back, then dragged off the neck and shoulder straps. His arms lifted limply in the air as I pulled.

  With the harness weighing heavily in one hand and the M-16 in the other, I ran to the back of the house for the cover and light it afforded me, and placed the weapon on the sink. The moths had found shelter out of the rain as well, flitting around the light on the wall between the sink and the shower as I gulped air, knowing I didn't have much time before they came out here to see what was taking their friend so long. Fuck the heli. If anyone was still in it now, he was deaf.

  Aaron's blood dripped off my hands as I took out a fresh thirty-round mag and pushed my thumb down into it to make sure it was full. For me it was too full with thirty rounds1 took out the top one and pushed down again to check the spring had a chance to do its job. I pressed the release catch on the right and removed the old magazine, then pushed the fresh one home by sliding it into the rectangular housing, waiting to feel it click home before giving it a shake to make sure it was secure. I cocked the weapon: the sound was barely audible above the rain battering the tin roof.

  There was a round already in the chamber and it flew out into the mud as it got replaced with a new one from the mag; it wasn't necessary to have done it, it just made me feel better to see a round going into the chamber.

  I applied Safe, quickly checking the other three mags in the pouches of the nylon harness. If I was in the shit and changing mags I didn't want to slap on a half-empty one. This took precious extra seconds but was always worth the effort.

  I put the harness on, straps over my shoulders and neck, the magazine pouches across my chest, and clipped the buckle at the back, continuously grabbing air in an effort to keep my heart rate down, whilst listening for shouts that would tell me they'd discovered Blue.

  My panting slowed and I mentally prepared myself. Pulling a magazine from the harness, I held it in my left hand with the curved shape facing away from me so it was ready to be rammed into the magazine housing if this one became empty.

  Then I grabbed the stock, wrapping my left hand around the whole lot.

  I thumbed the safety, pushing past the first click single rounds and all the way to Automatic, my index finger inside the trigger guard, then moved out into the rain once more, towards the heli to clear the corner in the darkness, and on towards Aaron and Blue. Their bodies were lying as I'd left them, motionless in the mud next to each other as the rain bounced in little pools around them.

  Looking into the storeroom and beyond, I couldn't see any movement apart from the blurred images on Luz's screen.

  There was more thunder but no lightning as I moved forward, butt in the shoulder, weapon up, both eyes open. My breathing calmed down as it became fuckit time once again.

  I stepped up on to the concrete and into the light from the storeroom. I moved inside, avoiding the cot, lifting my feet up high before replacing them to avoid the cans, spilt rice, and other shit strewn across the floor. Eyes forward, weapon up.

  I could hear them in the kitchen area and began to smell cigarettes. The talking was heated: today had been one big fuck for all concerned.

  There was movement, a chair scraping, boots walking towards the computer room. I froze, both eyes open but blurred by rain, index finger pad on the trigger, waiting, waiting ... I was going to have the upper hand for no more than two seconds. After that, if I didn't get this right, I was history.

  The boots appeared. Green Guy. He turned, saw me, his scream cut short as I squeezed. He fell back into the living room.

  As if on autopilot I followed him through the doorway, stepping over his body into the smoke-filled room. They were panicking, screaming out at each other, wide eyed, reaching for their weapons.

  I moved off to the left, into the corner, both eyes open, squeezing short sharp bursts, aiming into the mass of movement. The hot empty cases bounced off the wall to the right and then my back before clinking against each other as they hit the floor. I squeezed again ... nothing.

  "Stoppage! Stoppage!" I fell to my knees to present a smaller target.

  It was as if my world was in slow motion as I tilted the weapon to the left to present the ejection opening. It had no working parts: they were being held to the rear. Looking inside, there were no rounds in the magazine, no rounds in the chamber. My eyes were now fixed on the threat in front.

  I hit the release catch and the empty mag hit my leg on its way to the floor.

  Two bodies were sprawled, one moving with a weapon, one on his knees trying to get the safety off. I locked on to it. The mist of the propellant was already mixing with the heavy cigarette smoke. The bitterness of cordite clawed at the back of my throat.

  I twisted the weapon over to its right and presented the magazine housing. The fresh magazine was still in my left hand; I rammed it into the housing, banged it into position from the mag bottom, and slapped my hand down hard on to the locking lever. The working parts went forward, picking up a round as I got the weapon into the shoulder, brought the barrel to what I was looking at, and fired on my knees.

  Another mag and it was all over.

  There was silence as I reloaded, apart from the rain hitting the
roof and the kettle whistling on the cooker. Two of the bodies were on the floor; one was slumped forward over the table, his face distorted with a dead man's sneer.

  I remained on my knees, surveying the carnage. The acrid stench of cordite filled my nostrils. Mixed with the cigarette smoke, it looked as if a dry-ice machine was running, covering the bodies, some with their eyes still open, some not. There wasn't much blood on the floor yet, but it would be there as soon as their bodies gave it up.

  I looked around. Everybody I had seen was accounted for, but the bedrooms had to be checked.

  Getting to my feet, butt in my shoulder, I gave three short bursts through the door to Luz's room then forced my way in, and then the same with Carrie and Aaron's. Both were clear and Luz's window was now closed.

  I turned to the kitchen. The floor was covered in a mixture of mud and blood.

  I went over to the stove, kicking my way past empty cans that had been shot or pushed on to the floor, and took the kettle off the ring. I poured myself a mug of tea from a tin of sachets on the side. It smelt of berries and I threw in some brown sugar and stirred it as I walked towards the computer room, kicking a weapon out of the way. I dragged the blood-soaked Green Guy away from the door;

  empty cases chinked together as his body moved them across the floor. I stepped into the computer room and closed the door behind me.

  Seated in a director's chair, I slowly sipped the sweet, scalding liquid while picking out two empty cases that had got caught between my chest and the harness on their way to the floor. My hands were starting to shake a little, as I silently thanked all those years of skill-at-arms training that had made stoppage drills second nature.

  Tilting the mug for the last few drops of the brew, I got to my feet and went to Aaron and Carrie's bedroom. I pulled off the harness and changed into an old black cotton sweatshirt with a faded Adidas logo on the front.