Mercenary s-5

by Duncan Falconer

  ‘You should be halfway down the hill before I follow.’

  ‘Not even I’m that slow.’

  ‘You want to bet?’

  Victor looked around. ‘You have a horse?’

  ‘No.’

  Victor was confused. ‘You don’t have anything to bet with.’

  ‘A life of servitude to the other, whoever loses.’

  ‘If you survive and I beat you to the bottom you’ll be my manservant for life?’

  ‘And vice versa.’

  ‘Done.’

  ‘Go get the others and be ready to move on my say.’

  Victor ran to the stables and Stratton headed back to David.

  ‘They’re mustering to charge,’ David said as he arrived. ‘They have numbers.’

  ‘Let’s not disappoint them, then.’

  ‘How do you always seem so confident?’

  ‘It’s a trick . . . you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’ David nodded.

  ‘Go to the other side of the stables and lay down a blanket of fire, everything you’ve got. I need the Neravistas on that side to stall before they join the assault.Then, on my signal, you go.Victor knows where to head for.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  David was about to go when he paused to hold out his hand.

  ‘Get out of here,’ Stratton said without taking it. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  David got the message and ran.

  Stratton went back to the M60, dragged a sandbag off the wall and placed it over the barrel to hold the gun in position. He checked the long length of ammo belts that the young rebel had prepared and ensured that they were folded in layers. He snapped a length of wire from the spool, threaded it through the trigger and around the trigger guard and drew the wire tight, pulling the trigger close to the guard.The weapon began to fire as he twisted the wire tight. The extended belt of ammunition was sucked into the weapon, the spent clips and casings ejecting into the air on the other side.

  Stratton left the firing gun and ran towards the corral.

  David was directing a long burst of fire from the far side of the stables. As Stratton ran past he signalled Victor to move.

  Stratton reached the second claymore on the other side of the corral as Victor, David, the Indians and the remaining rebels left the cover of the stables. They charged for all they were worth past the corral, over the crest and down onto the wide-open slope that led to the cliffs, spreading out as they ran.

  Stratton took the spool of wire connected to the claymore and raced across the open ground with it as far as it would go. He jammed the metal stake attached to the end of the wire into the earth and hurried back to the claymore to arm the trigger mechanism. Only when he had completed the task did he realise that his machine gun had stopped firing.

  He checked the slope that led to the cliff to see the others running at full tilt, the incline contributing to their speed.

  Another mortar shell landed nearby but Stratton ignored it and sprinted to the stables and the end stall. He grabbed his parachute pack off the nail and ran back towards the crest of the hill, jumping over the tripwire on his way.

  Gunfire erupted from the track leading from the cabins. The Neravistas were coming.

  As Stratton pulled his parachute onto his back the first government soldiers came into view. Many more followed behind them, encouraged to charge by unforgiving officers waving pistols.

  The first soldiers to reach the gun emplacement fired into it.The rest stormed up the hill, shoulder to shoulder, bayonets at the ready and screaming their war cry.

  One of the soldiers tripped the wire. The claymore exploded, sending hundreds of steel balls into the advancing Neravistas, servering limbs, shattering heads, pulverising torsos. The projectiles passed through the front rank and into the second and third rows. Those behind were showered with the blood of their colleagues and dropped to the ground, stunned by the carnage.

  Stratton looped the AK 47 strap over his neck so that the weapon hung against his chest and jogged down the hill while buckling the leg straps of the parachute.

  The Neravistas regrouped to charge again. A soldier in the front rank, whimpering in fear, refused to go any further. An officer quickly shot him through the brain and levelled the pistol at the next man. Then he yelled and charged himself. The others followed.

  This time the assault was unchecked. They were joined by the charge that came around the other side of the stables, the soldiers shooting wildly into the stalls as they passed. The two groups met at the crest of the hill, searching around for their enemy, hungry for blood.

  They saw Stratton running away, the others far ahead.

  They aimed their rifles.

  One of the Neravistas tripped the second wire.

  The claymore, aimed at the top of the hill, detonated like a thunderclap, sending its hail of steel through the men, shattering them like dolls. Those who were not killed outright or wounded flung themselves to the ground, horrified at the destructive power of the weapon as pieces of flesh and bone fell around them.

  At the sound of the explosion Victor looked back and thought he could see a figure heading down the hill below the pall of smoke. He could only pray that it was Stratton.

  He looked ahead to the bottom of the field and the edge of the cliff where he could make out a figure that he hoped was Louisa. A glance to his side revealed the riders that Stratton had described. They were closing on the end of the finger of jungle which, if they rode around it, would lead them towards the cliff. At the rate Victor’s group was going he calculated they would intercept them. He held on to his magazine pouch as he ran.

  Several shots rang out from a distant line of trees. Rounds zipped between the men. The bullets were aimed shots and at that distance, with moving targets, any hit would be pure luck. And a lot of luck was what Victor knew they needed. ‘Keep going!’ he shouted. ‘Keep going!’

  Stratton fastened his chest strap as he ran, feeling the wind in his face, the slope building his momentum. He felt for the rip cord and pulled it. The back of the pack popped open and the pilot chute sprang away, dragging the deployment bag to the ground as the suspension lines played out. The bright green chute slid from the bag and Stratton felt the tug on his shoulders. He grabbed the risers and shook them to help spread the chute.

  It began to inflate as the nylon edges snatched at the air.

  The leading cells opened as the wind crept along the tubes and the chute started to rise off the ground and take on its rectangular shape. When the slider appeared above Stratton’s head he knew he was in business and the firm grip of the harness around his body told him that the chute was eager to take his weight.

  He ran as fast as he could in order to keep the canopy inflated. The harness tightened around his thighs and the chute started to pull at him.

  Seconds later Stratton rose up. The ground zoomed by feet below as he glided with majestic ease, the chute’s harness creaking under his weight. The wind ruffled his hair and the exhilaration he felt at his success was immense.

  When he looked for the spot where he hoped Louisa might be he realised he was not on track and eased down on one of the toggles to make a gentle turn, angling across the slope.

  Stratton gradually gained height and his view of the field became that of a bird’s, his men spread out below him, running as fast as they could. The noise of distant gunfire filtered to him through the sounds of the wind blowing past his ears and the flapping chute. He looked towards the finger of jungle to see the riders coming around it and heading towards the cliffs.

  As Victor ran he glanced back once again, hoping to see Stratton, but there was no sign of him. He feared he had been shot and was lying somewhere on the slope.

  He ran on, suppressing any thought of stopping to make sure of the Englishman’s fate. Stratton had made his sacrifice to give Victor and the others a chance to get away and for them to get themselves killed or captured would make a mockery of it.


  A shadow moved across Victor although the sky was cloudless and he heard a strange flapping sound coming from overhead. He turned to look, his gaze angling skyward. Something big hung just below the sun. He squinted, recognising what it was, and could not believe his eyes.

  Stratton gave him an easy wave as he sailed past beneath the green chute with its red dragon emblazoned across it.

  Victor was filled with emotion, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He roared. ‘Go, my eagle. Go!’ he shouted as he laughed. ‘I am your slave! I am your slave!’

  David looked up and around at Stratton and was stunned.

  The Indians did not know what to make of the spectacle, Mohesiwa tripping and falling on his face because he was so distracted.

  As Victor watched Stratton sail on he suspected what he meant to do. The Frenchman saw the riders appear around the trees and gauged where they would all intersect. He also knew what he had to do.

  The grim reality of their plight came home with a bang, literally, as a burst of machine-gun fire caught one of the young rebels and he fell dead. The group pressed on. A mortar shell landed close by, followed by another, and shrapnel flew among them. Kebowa was struck in his side by a piece. It caused him to stumble but he regained his balance and pressed on, blood pouring from the wound.

  Another burst of machine-gun fire found its mark again, one of the rebels dropping and rolling to a stop.

  ‘Down!’ David shouted and the group dived to the ground to return fire.

  Another mortar shell landed nearby and David knew they had to move on or die. He got back to his feet. ‘Fire and move!’ he shouted to the others. ‘Fire and move!’

  He ran several metres, dropped to the ground and fired at the enemy. ‘Move!’ he shouted.

  Several of the others scrambled to their feet and ran on a few metres before dropping to the ground to open fire. As the rest of the group caught on they began to repeat the tactic.

  The riders arrived at the cliff and raced along its edge. Stratton pulled his gun strap over his head, brought the weapon against his shoulder and fired several shots at them. David and the others also engaged the horsemen.

  Steel had been concentrating on the cliff edge when the first rounds struck the group and unhorsed an officer ahead of him. The man hit the ground and tumbled off the edge, screaming.

  Steel brought his horse to a sliding stop, as did the others, and he dismounted to hug the dirt. The horses scattered, leaving their riders.

  Only then did Steel notice the parachute.

  Stratton fired several more shots until he ran out of ammunition. He dropped the rifle to the ground and grabbed the chute’s toggles. The edge of the cliff was coming up fast and he still had not seen Louisa.

  Steel lay in the grass holding his pistol, transfixed by the sight of the parachute. A grin spread across his face. ‘Does that guy ever give up? Jesus!’

  Stratton found Louisa struggling with one of the rope bundles, pulling the line over the edge. Elation coursed through him once more when he saw her. ‘Louisa!’ he cried. But she was still too far away and too distracted to hear him.

  Steel tried to line up Stratton in the sights of his pistol and, despite the ridiculous distance, fired a couple of shots, knowing very well that they would be in vain. He assumed the Englishman was headed for the cliff and safety and followed his track, wondering if he might risk intercepting him. Then he saw Louisa on the edge of the cliff, pulling at a line of rope.

  ‘There!’ Steel called out to Ventura and the officers around him. ‘Shoot them!’

  They followed his order and opened up on Louisa as well as Stratton.

  Bullets snapped past Louisa and slammed into the pile of rope. She dropped to the ground and scrambled behind the bundle as more rounds hit it.

  Victor saw Louisa and the government officers shooting at her. He was suddenly overcome with such anger that he abandoned any more fire-and-fall defensive moves and charged as he fired, racing ahead of the others and bellowing with rage.

  The Indians followed, arrows in their bows. David and the remaining rebels joined the charge.

  Kebowa stopped long enough to loose an arrow that struck an officer who was reloading his rifle in the back. But the officer beside him turned swiftly and shot Kebowa through the heart.

  A shell landed among the rebels, a piece of shrapnel severing Yoinakuwa’s hand.Victor saw his friend fall and went to his aid as the old Indian lay on his side in agony.

  Mohesiwa released a torrent of arrows in revenge, one of them striking Ventura through the top of his shoulder as he lay, prone, penetrating deep into his chest cavity. Yoinakuwa watched Mohesiwa fall after several government bullets found their mark, killing him as he drew back his final arrow.

  Victor dropped to the ground to fire some shots and to look around to assess their situation. There was only a handful of them left. His gaze fell on several of the officers’ horses wandering nearby, confused by the explosions and gunfire surrounding them.

  Stratton drew closer to Louisa by the second. His loosely drawn-up plan had been to land beside her and take things from there. But now that they were in the middle of a battle he had only one option left.

  ‘Louisa!’ he shouted.

  She looked up at the sound of her name and froze, wide-eyed and stunned. It was him. At the last possible moment he had come for her. And in a way she could not have dreamed of.

  A bullet struck close by, snapping Louisa out of her trance, and she dropped to the ground but stayed looking at Stratton. With him there was hope. Always.

  Stratton pulled down gently on the chute’s toggles to lose some height and steered directly towards her.

  Steel fired a couple of shots from his pistol, more out of frustration than anything else. ‘Christ, can’t any of you guys shoot!’ he shouted, glancing at Ventura to find him staring at him, his mouth open and his tongue hanging out. The orange fletching of an arrow protruded from his shoulder, the long, slender green tail feather of the quetzal bird attached to the nock by a line of gut.

  The rebels’ numbers had lessened and they were hugging the ground although they were still shooting. Steel scrambled forward, taking pot shots at them, and broke into a crouching run along the cliff edge towards Louisa.

  Stratton was close enough to see the expression on her face. He released a toggle to reach down as low as he could.

  Louisa had not thought about his intentions for a moment until then. Too much had been happening. But as she saw his outstretched hand it struck her what he planned to do. She glanced back at the edge of the cliff a few metres behind her, then back at him as he bore down on her. There was no time to worry about the madness of it.

  ‘Take my hand!’ Stratton shouted.

  He was confident that he could hold her. He would grip her like a vice, drag her up to him and hold her tightly in his arms as they sailed over the edge. And he would not let go until they touched down far below.

  Louisa focused on the hand, her heart filled with fear. But there was no time to consider the consequences. She would hold on to his hand with all her strength and he would hold her with all of his and never let go. He was Stratton and she would live.

  She stood up from behind the rope bundle and reached up to him.

  Victor was running with Yoinakuwa and glanced towards Louisa. For a second he saw the image: Stratton sailing towards her and reaching down, Louisa standing and reaching up. A bullet ripped open Victor’s shoulder, splashing his face in blood, and he ran on as hard as he could towards the horses.

  The distance between the two outstretched hands shrank by the second. As they touched fingertips the wind coming up the side of the cliff caught the leading edge of Stratton’s chute and the invisible wall of air lifted it. Their hands failed to grasp each other and he sailed over her and the world opened up beneath him.

  Stratton could not believe it. It was not possible. He yelled in frustration. He had failed Louisa at the last second.

 
He twisted violently in his harness, pulling down hard on the toggle to look back at her. The wind continued to raise him up and as his chute made a tight turn he realised it was not yet over. He had another hand to play as he faced Louisa once again and headed back towards her at speed.

  This time as Stratton reached the edge he pulled hard on the toggles to shut down the chute’s cells. His feet hit the ground and the chute collapsed around them.

  Louisa threw herself into his arms and he wrapped them tightly around her. For a fraction of a second there was nothing else in the world but them.

  But that was long enough. Stratton looked quickly over his shoulder to see Steel running at them.

  Steel aimed his pistol, his malevolent stare fixed on Stratton. He was about to pull the trigger when he suddenly noticed the ground disappear in front of him and stumbled to a halt as he reached the edge of the chine that cut across his path. He almost toppled into the abyss but managed to regain his balance and take a step back.

  Stratton’s hand reached for his pistol, but the holster was empty.

  Louisa turned her head to look at Steel.

  Now he was within easy range and, breathing heavily, he levelled his pistol at them.

  Stratton wrapped his arms tightly around Louisa, gritted his teeth and dropped backwards off the cliff.

  Steel fired quickly several times before they disappeared over the edge. He could not believe his eyes as he moved to the cliff to look down.

  The chute flapped furiously around the couple as they plummeted.

  Steel smirked. He had won. Stratton was dead. Then his smile vanished and his mouth dropped open in utter disbelief.

  The chute popped open with a flourish, forming into its rectangular shape, the red fire-breathing dragon snarling up at him. It soared away from the cliff and glided majestically above the river below.

  Epilogue

  Victor gazed into the glowing embers of the fire and breathed out heavily. Yoinakuwa sat on the floor, his back against the fireplace, staring at nothing.

  The FBI man, Harris, sat back in his chair, watching Victor.