Path of the Tiger

by J M Hemmings

  ‘SIR!’

  ‘How many rounds you packin’ for that there .458 rifle?’

  ‘THIRTY-SEVEN SIR!’

  ‘Good. Should be enough for any lions, rhinos, hippos, gorillas or any other heavy-duty critters we come across, yeah?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’

  ‘Good. Now I know you’re a goddamn kike, an’ it’s easier t’ split a V-8 engine block in half with your fists than it is t’ pry a quarter outta your stingy Jew hands, but you’d best not be stingy with them big ol’ cannon rounds, y’hear? You see any a’ them big-ass critters out there in the jungle, you pump the fuckers so full a’ lead that they sink through the fuckin’ crust a’ the Earth an’ come out in Indo-China or Australasia or some other faraway shithole, you got it?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR! I WILL NOT BE A STINGY KIKE WITH THESE .458 ROUNDS SIR!’

  ‘That’s what I like t’ hear. You’ll be taking left flank, an’ cover is your priority; you ain’t no goddamned balls t’ the wall hero this mission, you’re a fuckin’ sniper, you got it?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’

  Colonel Rudd then turned to Yamamoto, who was also armed with a heavy .458 calibre rifle.

  ‘Yamamoto, I don’t know how the shit you see through them tiny slanty lil’ eyes a’ yers, but by Jesus an’ Buddha an’ Muhammed you’re the best goddamned sniper in this here squad. Must be somethin’ magic they put in the fuckin’ rice in ol’ Japan there huh?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR! THE RICE IN JAPAN IS FULL OF SNIPER-MAKING MAGIC SIR!’

  Rudd grinned and nodded with satisfaction.

  ‘I bet it is, you sneaky yellow fucker. You’re on right flank. Same as Jew-boy there, you make sure your cover is solid as fuck, then you take them sniper shots. For every headshot each one a’ you pull off I’m gon’ give y’all a ten-grand bonus. An’ that goes for any man in the squad! Did y’all hear that loud an’ clear, ladies? Ten grand in sweet green banknotes for every goddamned headshot you pansies pull off!’

  The entire squadron of mercenaries let out a brashly loud, perfectly unified ‘sir yes sir’. Colonel Rudd allowed his eyes to roam over all of them, and in the eyes of each man he saw himself reflected, the greatest achievement he could have dreamed of claiming. He had moulded this rag-tag bunch of misfits, loners and sociopaths into one of the most brutally effective killing machines on the planet. He had done that, with the skill of any master sculptor or architect. And as he saw the bloodlust and savagery in their eyes – a primal wrath and unquenchable thirst for violence that was, paradoxically, under computer-precise control – a ripple of pride tore through his every vein and artery with the ruthless hunger of a virus.

  ‘My boys,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘My fuckin’ boys.’

  He walked up to Jimbo, the black soldier from New Orleans, and McKenzie, a curly-haired, swarthy trailer park resident who was covered head to toe in poorly done tattoos, who possessed a striking pair of light green eyes that practically jumped out of his haggard, stubble-heavy face.

  ‘Jimbo, that bonus don’t go for you though. If you somehow manage t’ get a head shot with that M134D minigun, you’ll get a lifetime supply a’ fried chicken, courtesy a’ Colonel Sanders, who I happen t’ know on a personal basis! But more likely, you’re just gon’ use that beast in your hands t’ cut motherfuckers clean in half, like it’s a fuckin’ scythe, ain’t ya?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR! I PLAN TO SEPARATE THEIR LEGS FROM THEIR TORSOS SIR!’

  ‘That goes for you too McKenzie! If you can get that pinhead brain a’ yours off a’ your sister’s fat, hairy pussy for more than five seconds an’ make a headshot with your M134D, I’ll buy you your own fuckin’ trailer park, with enough trailers for all a’ your sisters and female cousins! You’ll have yourself a good ol’ harem right there, all the motherfuckin’ incest you could ever dream of! How does that sound, you white trash waste a’ jizz? Does that sound good, soldier?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR! I CAN’T WAIT TO GET ME MY OWN TRAILER PARK SIR!’

  ‘Good! Well you, you watermelon-eatin’ homeboy, an’ you, you white trash sister-fucker, you two got point! Y’all are armoured up as heavy as goddamned tanks so don’t be scared none a’ takin’ a hit or two from some kid soldier’s AK-47! Y’all lay down that minigun fire like it’s fuckin’ Christmas an’ y’all are Santa givin’ these poor jungle bunnies’ stockin’s full a’ hot lead! Y’all got it?’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’ they replied in unison, their voices hoarse with unleashed aggression.

  ‘Fernando!’ Colonel Rudd then yelled, turning his attention to another soldier.

  ‘SIR YES SIR’

  ‘Well look at you, dressed in your gillie suit an’ all painted up like some high school skank eager t’ get her pussy licked for th’ first time! Good, good, them animal-changing motherfuckers won’t see you even with their special goddamn eyes! You an’ Hampel are on scout duty. Off y’all go! We’ll be right behind you.’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’

  With that the two scouts disappeared into the jungle, and Colonel Rudd turned to face the rest of the squadron.

  ‘Are y’all ready to kill!’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’

  ‘I SAID, YOU LIMP-WRISTED DICK-SLURPING CUM-GUZZLING PANSIES, ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKIN’ READY TO FUCKIN’ KILL?!’

  ‘SIR YES SIR!’

  After Colonel Rudd slung his M-16 over his shoulder he pulled out his gold-plated Magnum .44 and held it high above his head, like a battle-emperor of old raising his ancestral sword to the sky.

  ‘Well what the fuck are y’all waiting for?! Move the fuck out! Let’s go!’

  As the blood streak of dawn began to seep through the dark skin of the sky in subtle slivers, with a roar of naked bloodlust the mercenaries moved off into the jungle.

  ***

  T’Kalanjathu

  Before Margaret could ask any further questions about the barrels bobbing in the river, a teenage soldier came sprinting down the path. She skidded to a halt at the jetty’s edge, saluting the General with a stiff, rail-thin forearm and a long-fingered pianist’s hand.

  The General, who looked as if he had been about to say something to Margaret, turned and faced the newcomer.

  ‘Sergeant,’ he said curtly, ‘I gave specific orders that I was not to be disturbed this afternoon for any reason whatsoever, unless it was an emergency. You had better be coming to me with something rather important.’

  ‘It is extremely important, sir!’ the teenager replied, half shouting as she communicated. She had thus far not dared to make eye contact with the General.

  He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head as he stared intently at the girl.

  ‘Well go on then Sergeant, inform me of the situation.’

  The girl’s gaze darted quickly to Margaret, upon whom it lingered for an uncomfortable moment or two, before returning to an unseen spot on the surface of the river, where it then remained.

  ‘Sir, I think, er, with a, um, civilian present, we should—’

  ‘Dr Green is my honoured guest, sergeant, and she is not a security risk to us in any way. Please, go ahead and speak. It does not matter if the good doctor hears.’

  The girl swallowed and looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she nonetheless obeyed the General’s command and started to speak in a harsh, almost robotic tone.

  ‘Sir, I bring a report of a skirmish near an observational outpost in the jungle near the remains of Mine CF-3HV.’

  A look that Margaret had never seen on the General suddenly clouded his visage. Indeed, this was a look seemingly alien to that hard, angular face with its prominent features: it was worry, it was puzzlement, and it was consternation.

  ‘A skirmish? With whom? M-23? The LRA?’ he asked.

  ‘No sir. They appear, from what the survivors have said, to have been foreign mercenaries. They were not Africans, sir.’

  The General narrowed his eyes, and something else now crackled in his irises. It wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t his characteristi
c gunpowder-fuse anger … no, it seemed rather more like a blend of the two, a mix flavoured heavily with tense anxiety.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he replied, his tone low and flat, his brow furrowed with deep lines of concern. ‘Survivors, you say? These mercenaries killed our troops? They defeated our forces?’

  The girl swallowed slowly before replying and shifted uneasily on her feet. The focus of her gaze on the river seemed to grow more intense.

  ‘Yes sir, they took a patrol by surprise. There were five casualties and only two survivors, who had to retreat in the face of heavy fire. The outpost was overrun and taken by the enemy.’

  The General’s face began to pale over, and a haggardness grew evident in his features; it seemed as if all of the strength that had formerly glowed bronze-like just beneath his skin had abruptly lost the fire of its burnished brilliance, and that a sudden and corrosive oxidation had occurred, leaving the metal dulled and tarnished by green patina that showed through like mould on a rotting corpse.

  ‘My children … my dear, dear children…’

  The sound was as a death rattle, creeping cockroach-like through between barely parted lips. ‘All ye gods above and below, my poor, innocent children…’

  Now Margaret saw something that she had never expected to see in those obsidian eyes of his: forming and condensing around their creased edges, and beginning to navigate a snail’s path down his high cheekbones were tears. Despite her dislike of the General, she could not help but be moved by the depth of emotion churning with tectonic force in his expression. She bowed her head and looked away as a flush of emotion heated the surface of her skin.

  ‘Five killed, you say?’ he eventually asked, his voice soft now like a child’s, almost.

  ‘Yes sir.’

  He nodded slowly.

  ‘We must arrange a ceremony for their departed souls then. Mobilise the city when you are done here, for we will hold the ceremony in the Moon Hall tonight. Tell me, what of the survivors?’

  ‘They fled through the jungle and joined the garrison at the fortified outpost of T’Kalagelellerani, sir.’

  ‘When did all of this happen?’

  ‘They were attacked in the early hours of the morning, sir.’

  The General’s familiar wrath began to find its footing once more, recovering from the unexpected jab and subsequent nosebleed it had suffered from the sucker-punch of grief.

  ‘Why was I not informed immediately?’ he asked, his displeasure apparent.

  ‘The mercenaries had some sort of tech that disabled all of our troops’ electronic equipment at the outpost, sir. They were therefore not able to communicate with any other units; all they could do was fight, heavily outnumbered, for their lives, sir. We only found out about this when they reached T’Kalagelellerani, half-dead from both their wounds and the exhaustion of their flight through the jungle, sir.’

  Tears were running freely from the General’s eyes; indeed, with the force of their flow they were dripping off of his cheeks and jawline onto his uniform, creating dark patches of moisture all about his shoulders. His eyes themselves, however, were hard and sharp as katana blades; the resolution crystallised in his dark orbs could have sliced through steel or diamonds.

  ‘When did they reach T’Kalagelellerani?’

  ‘Twenty minutes ago, sir. I came to find you as soon as the communique came through.’

  ‘Then these mercenaries have somehow managed to catch us on our back feet, soldier. Have scouts been sent out to gather intelligence?’

  ‘They have, sir. Colonels Mandela and Hubble are in command at T’Kalagelellerani, and they are confident that this threat will soon be neutralised, despite the early advantage the mercenaries attained, sir. The enemy no longer carries with them the element of surprise, so they can expect much stiffer resistance from this point on. Already Colonels Mandela and Hubble are mobilising guerrilla strike units, sir.’

  ‘Good. I need all the information I can get, updated every minute.’

  The General turned to Margaret and locked a severe look into her eyes. He made no attempt to wipe the tears from his cheeks as he did.

  ‘My apologies Dr Green, but as you can see we have a situation here, and I must cut our tour short. This soldier will escort you back to your chambers for now. I must go and meet with my battle commanders. Please, forgive me.’

  ‘I, er, I understand, General,’ she replied uneasily. ‘You have a very pressing matter that needs urgent attention. Besides, I’m beat from all this walking around. I could do with a lie down and a nap.’

  The General nodded curtly.

  ‘I thank you for your understanding. Please, go with the soldier. I will arrange for refreshments to be sent to your chambers immediately.’

  With that the General turned and hurried off toward the city with steadfast purpose quickening his stride, while the teenager, still staring at the river, saluted him. She then turned to Margaret, and for the first time looked her directly in the eye. Margaret could see nothing of the soul within through the veil of cold severity the girl wore over her face.

  ‘Dr Green, come with me please.’

  It was an order, not a request; that much was unmistakable. Margaret took one last sneaky glance at the barrels bobbing next to the quay and then shuffled meekly over to the soldier, feeling much like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

  ***

  A knocking on the door roused Margaret from her nap, and she woke with a start. As soon as she had reached her chamber she had collapsed onto her bed, her energy spent, feeling utterly exhausted from the extensive walking tour. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but it certainly did not feel as if it had been long enough. It took her a few moments, despite her jumpy wakeup, to fight through the candyfloss wool of weariness that clouded her mind, and she did not have the self-control to stop herself from snapping with angry impatience when the door was rapped on again.

  ‘Hold your damn horses, all right!’

  She bit her lip, regretting the words the moment they escaped her lips.

  Gosh darn it Margaret, you’ve got to control your damn temper here! Especially now that there’s a chance, a chance to—

  ‘I’m sorry Dr Green, I can come back later,’ a familiar voice, heavily muffled through the thick door, said.

  ‘No, no Tesla! Come on in, please!’

  Play it cool Margaret. And play it smooth. This boy is your key, he’s the key to the chains, to the lock! Your key to getting out of here and back to Ting, back to the puppies! Your only key!

  A key turned in the lock, and Margaret sat up on the bed as the door creaked open. Sergeant Tesla walked in, cradling a food-laden tray in his thin arms. When his eyes met Margaret’s a shy smile spread across his face, and his rubbery, fire-scarred skin shifted like a prosthetic mask as the muscles beneath it contracted. Margaret winced at the sight of it but she did her best to conceal this, flashing him as toothy and warm a grin as she could muster.

  ‘It’s always lovely to see you, my boy,’ she said, taking care to adopt a congenial tone.

  ‘It’s nice to see you too, Docto—’

  ‘Remember Tesla, we’re friends,’ she interrupted sweetly. ‘I want you to call me Margaret, see?’

  He looked down and sucked in a quick breath, obviously feeling bashful.

  ‘All right … Margaret. Here, let me put your food down. The General told me you walked a long way with him today, so I’m sure you must be very hungry.’

  He hurried over to the desk and set the platter down on it with careful hands.

  ‘There you go Doc-, Margaret. I hope you enjoy it. I’ll come back in half an hour to pick up the empty—’

  Margaret was quick to interrupt him – a little too quick, she thought, as a light blush dusted her cheeks with a hint of red.

  ‘No, no. C’mon Tesla, you know I get lonely by myself in here. Please stay and eat with me, just keep me company for a while. You’re my only – no, my best friend in this place, you know.
And I really like talking to you. It won’t kill you to stick around here for a bit, will it?’

  Tesla grinned and looked up at Margaret, and a genuine smile illuminated his eyes with a warm radiance.

  ‘Do you really mean that, M-, Margaret? I’m really your best friend?’

  ‘Why, you sure are!’ she exclaimed genially. ‘Heck, Tesla, I’ve never met quite as wonderful a boy as you. I love our little conversations! I only wish they could be longer, but you always seem so busy.’

  ‘I am very busy, yes…’

  ‘But not too busy to sit down with me right now, are you? C’mon, just for a few minutes. Whaddaya say?’

  Tesla turned around and peered out of the doorway for a moment or two, checking to see if the coast was clear. He shut the door and then walked shyly up to the desk, where Margaret had already taken a seat.

  ‘Go on, sit down. Come, have some of this, there’s far too much of it for me to finish on my own and I’m sure a growing boy like you needs as many calories as he can get in a day, especially with all the exercise you no doubt do.’

  He nodded eagerly, staring at the food with keen, hungry eyes.

  ‘Yes, yes, we soldiers work very hard here. It is good to have some extra food.’

  Margaret began chatting with Tesla as they both nibbled at the plate of exotic fruit and vegetables, and she kept the conversation as light and as casual as she could, mostly asking Tesla about his daily duties and activities. All the while the cogs and gears in her mind were whirring at a frenetic pace, trying to put the pieces of a workable escape plan together. Suddenly, something that Tesla said ignited a spark of inspiration in her mind.

  ‘Busy like a bee, yes? That is a correct English expression, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, “as busy as a bee”. And you certainly sound like a lil’ ol’ bee, buzzing around here and there and everywhere, all day long!’

  They both chuckled at this observation, but Margaret now began to work her subtle scheming into the conversation.

  ‘Speaking of bees,’ she said, ‘you must have a lot of ‘em out here, right? I mean, there are so many beautiful flowering trees and plants that I saw today, I couldn’t help but think about the bees that must be buzzing around.’