Danger Close

by Allen Manning

  “What’s he saying?” Curtis asked.

  “How would I know?” John retorted.

  “This was your idea,” Curtis whispered as the man reached them. “I thought maybe you spoke whatever language they’re using. What language are they using anyway?”

  “Afrikaans,” the teen said. “And my grandfather is saying hello.”

  “Is that all?” Curtis asked. “It sounded like he said a whole lot more than that.”

  “Well, he said it a couple of times. He also said he would bring some men to help unload the truck if you need him to, although he also mentioned that you two looked strong enough to do it all yourselves.”

  John nodded and thanked the man, but then his face softened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any supplies with us.”

  The teen translated and the old man’s face grew somber.

  “I mean, we don’t have it in the truck right now, but we will be bringing it soon,” John said.

  Again the teen translated, and the old man replied.

  “He asks why you are here now, then,” the young man said.

  John looked down at the screen of his phone, bringing up a photo. “Does he know this man?” He turned the device letting them see the picture of Damien Blanchard.

  The old man nodded and spoke to the teen.

  “I think that’s a yes,” Curtis said.

  Fire and fury grew in the teen’s eyes. “Yeah, we know him. That’s Damien Blanchard. We call him the Hyena. Not to his face, though.”

  “Has he been around here lately?” John asked.

  “Grandpa says no. Says he tucked tail and ran a few years ago,” the teen said. “But his men have never stopped terrorizing us. Are you going to run them off too?”

  “That’s the plan, kid,” John said. “But I’m afraid that the Hyena is back.”

  The old man’s face paled. It was clear that he could understand only a little of what they were saying, but John’s last statement hit him hard. He clutched the teen’s hand, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. The kid replied, trying to calm his grandfather.

  “What’s he saying?” Curtis asked.

  “He says we need to get out of here.”

  John shook his head and looked the old man in the eye. “No. You don’t need to go anywhere. We’re here to end this. To hunt down the Hyena.”

  * * *

  Millie pulled the brim of the worn ball cap low to block the sun. She ran her fingers underneath each side to tuck more of her hair up. With the toe of her boot, she kicked a large plastic case open. A truck had arrived to deliver the weapons and gear that they would be using, and Millie was there to inspect the merchandise.

  “It’s a little old, but they should be good to go,” Travis said as he approached.

  Millie crouched, getting a closer look at the rifles. “A little old is putting it mildly. I think these guns are older than you.” She lifted one of the AK-47s from the rack inside, working the bolt several times before looking down the iron sights. “Practically relics.”

  “Funny.” Travis opened up another case, removing a box and setting it on top. “At least these are newer. Compared to those AKs, anyway.”

  “Wow, are those gen one and two Glocks?” Millie asked, peering in the box.

  “We roll with what we’ve got,” Travis said, closing the box. “Sorry, we couldn’t get gen fives or any Smith and Wesson gear for you.”

  “These should work,” she said. “Looks like they’ve been maintained properly. Wait a minute, what’s this?”

  Digging down along the far end, Millie pulled another weapon from the long case. She plucked the loose straw-like packing material free and turned the firearm around to get a good look at it.

  “Judging by the look in your eye, I take it you’ve claimed that weapon,” Travis said.

  She brought the MP5 submachine gun up to her shoulder, checking the sights. “Yep.”

  Jimenez joined them, adjusting his hat before putting his sunglasses on. “Got any cool toys for me?”

  “I think there are a few in that bag over there,” Travis said. “I asked for something in 300 WinMag for you, but they didn’t have much to choose from.”

  The canvas bag ruffled as the old zipper peeled open. Jimenez pulled a rifle and looked it over. The dents and scratches on the wood stock and forearm showed the Dragunov rifle’s age. He fished a second weapon out and set it on the table next to the first.

  “Which one tickles your fancy?” Travis asked.

  “I’d go with door number two,” Millie said.

  “Yeah, I’m with you, kid. I’ll take the Remington 700,” Jimenez said. “The three-oh-eight will work just fine. And I’m better with the bolt-action” He took a flashlight from his pocket and inspected the insides.

  “So far, these are in decent shape,” Millie said, helping one of the soldiers with the ammunition boxes.

  “Where are John and Curtis?” Jimenez asked. “I noticed they left while we were eating.”

  “Wait, they weren’t with you two?” Travis asked.

  Millie pursed her lips and shook her head. “I figured John was out here talking to you.”

  “They hopped in a truck and took off about an hour ago,” Jimenez said. “I thought they had spoken to you about it. I’m not sure how the team operates now.”

  “Get him on the phone now,” Travis said to Millie. “We need to know what John is up to, before he does something to compromise the operation.”

  * * *

  “Say again?” Curtis pressed a finger to his ear as he stepped away to hear the call clearer.

  “I’m sending you the location of our forward operating base,” Millie said. “Make sure you get John there before he does anything rash.”

  “Roger that. Just make sure you set aside a Glock 17 for me,” Curtis said.

  “I’m serious, Clarke, don’t let John storm the castle without us.” She said. “These supplies are just as important as finding Blanchard.”

  Curtis looked back over his shoulder. “It’s not going to be a problem. He understands how important those supplies are.”

  He slipped the phone into a pocket on his thigh and joined the others again. John had driven them to two other small towns, each time asking about their experiences with Blanchard’s private army. Both had similar stories. The Hyena and his army seized control of aid distribution by bribing officials. He used the care packages to convince willing soldiers to join his ranks.

  With the rest of the communities suffering, they were forced to provide slave labor to earn the food and medicine that their families needed. With control of key people at the top, any inspectors sent to see how the people were doing always reported that the deliveries were helpful.

  John thanked a man and his wife for helping him communicate with the rest of the people in their town. He offered up promises to take Blanchard out, then help them eliminate the corrupt officials in charge of their aid.

  As the sun settled behind the horizon, John could feel the air cooling. He pushed his sleeves down to his wrists as Curtis reached him.

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  Curtis buttoned up his shirt. “She says sorry, they don’t have any 1911s, but she can check local archeology sites to see if they dug any up.”

  John smiled, unable to hide his amusement. “I imagine Travis isn’t too pleased with us. He’s been trying to call me all afternoon.”

  “He’s so upset he might even have a hair out of place. Millie sent me the location of the forward operating base they’re going to set up.” Curtis checked his watch. “I think we’re only half an hour out, so we should be able to reach it before they do.”

  “Good, that means we have time for one more stop,” John said.

  “One more? I think you’ve got a pretty good picture of what that weasel Blanchard has been doing here.”

  “Just up the road, there’s another village.” John looked back at the families he had just spoken to. “They heard about
us, and a few of the other town elders and community leaders want to meet up personally. They want to make sure we know exactly what horrors Blanchard’s been inflicting on these people.”

  “Hey, man, you only get to kill this guy once,” Curtis said. “I think he’s earned his bullet already.”

  John looked at him, his eyes cold and hard. “Just one more stop. This is about more than just Blanchard now.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  The fire crackled as embers floated toward John and Curtis, seated on a small log along one side. Several other men and women sat around with them. A larger group of bystanders gathered at the edge of the warm glow listening.

  “My father says the Hyena took his brother years ago,” a young woman said, translating. “They found his body the following summer. Animals had already shown up to…” She lowered her eyes “Scavenge.”

  “Was it reported to the authorities?” Curtis asked.

  “They said there was nothing they could do.” The woman’s eyes met his. “The death was ruled an accident.”

  “Blanchard’s control extends well beyond a few aid inspectors,” John said to Curtis.

  An old woman stepped into the fire’s light. “They are taking our boys. As soon as they are strong enough to work, we must let them go with the Hyena’s men. It’s the only way to keep them from hurting more of us.”

  “Are they training them to fight?” Curtis asked. “As soldiers?”

  She shook her head. “They work in the Hyena’s land, keeping his house clean and feeding his animals.”

  Curtis rubbed his hands along the side of his neck and leaned his head back. “You’re right, John. This all needs to end now.”

  John nodded and stood up. He turned to the old woman. “What about the men in your village? Can they fight?”

  Her eyes shimmered in the flickering light. A tear rolled down her cheek. “They are gone. Hunted down and killed.”

  Curtis gritted his teeth, barely able to relax enough to talk. “They came to your village and killed all the men?”

  “No, you do not understand,” the younger woman said. “The Hyena kidnapped the men one at a time and hunted them for sport.”

  Curtis looked at John, the fire in his eyes matching the pit they sat around. John returned his gaze and just gave him a short, almost imperceptible nod.

  “We need to get back to the others,” Curtis said. “Blanchard’s army needs to be wiped off the face of the planet.”

  “I think we’ve learned the hard way that men like the Hyena only infect those around him,” John said. “First Blanchard, then we help root out the corruption. If we merely remove him, the infection will still spread.”

  They thanked the townsfolk and headed to the truck.

  “Travis and the others should be at the rally point by now,” Curtis said. “Listen, Stone, I’m really sorry about Parker. I just want to let you know that I’m with you all the way.”

  “Thanks, Clarke. That means a lot,” John said.

  “I mean it. All the way to the top,” Curtis said. “After we wipe out Blanchard, we’re going after The Order. Anderson, Flair, and anyone else that stands in our way.”

  * * *

  The laughter of children mingled with commands issued to the men unloading supplies from the five-ton SAMIL 50. Millie ran alongside a group playing soccer. Her physical ability allowed her to keep up, but her lack of knowledge of the sport only served to entertain the children every time she messed up. Her smile beamed, and their infectious laughter reached her as well.

  Travis watched from the sidelines while coordinating with Kofi Nkosi, the commander of the soldiers with them. He and Travis watched over the group, making sure the proper supplies would be handed over to the small town. Travis looked down at a clipboard, checking off another box and pointing toward the soldiers unloading the previous cases.

  “How are we looking, Jimenez?” he asked.

  “It’s clear so far,” the sharpshooter said. “I’ve set up a perimeter with a few men on patrol, but I think we’re far enough from Blanchard’s turf that we should be fine.”

  “Great. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us.”

  “This place is surrounded by a wide, flat expanse of land, so we would spot anyone creeping up with no problem,” Jimenez said. “But with the sun setting, that advantage is going to go away soon.”

  “We won’t be here much longer,” Travis said. “Kofi and I are going to make sure the townsfolk are going to be okay with what we’ve brought.”

  “Copy.”

  Several children tugged at Millie’s clothes, pleading with her to stay as she stepped away from the game. She knelt down, reassuring them that she would only be gone for a few minutes.

  Wiping the sweat from her neck with the collar of her shirt, Millie stood by Travis’ side, glancing down at his clipboard. “How’s it looking?”

  “Smooth. So far.” Travis kept his eyes fixed to the page, tapping the rows with the tip of his pen as he counted.

  “I hate to be a naysayer, but we’re losing light,” Millie said. “Are we planning on continuing these deliveries into the night?”

  Travis looked up at her. “No, this is our only drop for today. It’s a bit of a drive to reach the rest. We’ll be heading straight for the forward operating base, further north.”

  “Is it safe enough?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we should be fine. Here, take a look.” Travis walked over to the map spread out on the hood of a nearby Mamba. “We’re right here.” He pointed to the map.

  “And this is the route we’re taking?” Millie traced a finger along one of the main roads.

  “That’s the one. We’ll be on provincial route R71 until this point,” Travis said, indicating where their path diverged. “It’s rougher terrain after that, but still outside of Blanchard’s known territory. We’ll be on the road for about an hour.”

  “Perfect, I can sleep on the way, then,” Millie said. “Right now, I’ve got a game to finish.” The smile grew on her face again as she jogged back to the children.

  Travis chuckled as he heard them cheer her return.

  CHAPTER

  14

  The worn shocks on the Mamba MK2 transmitted every dip and bump on the road as Travis rocked in his seat. He looked into the rearview mirror at the backseat. Jimenez peered out the window, clutching his rifle to prevent it from bouncing around.

  “Everything okay, Corporal?” Travis asked.

  “Clear so far,” Jimenez said. “But with the darkness and trees getting thicker, we should probably set up some spotlights on the vehicles.”

  “We’re almost at the rally point,” Travis said. “I’ll make sure we’ve got plenty of light while we’re camping, though.”

  Jimenez nodded and stared out into the darkness.

  Travis turned to look over his shoulder at the seat behind him. Millie had her arms crossed, head resting on her bunched up shirt, propped against the window for a pillow. Even asleep, Travis could almost see the warrior inside ready to spring into battle. He faced the front and dialed John’s number once more.

  Pick up, John, Travis thought. He let the call ring several more times before hanging up.

  “What’s up, boss?” Curtis asked just as Travis was prepared to press end.

  “Where are you guys? Why isn’t John answering?”

  “He’s driving. Safety first,” Curtis said. “We’re just now hitting the road, heading to meet you guys at the rally point.”

  “Good, no more delays,” Travis said.

  “Roger that.”

  Travis ended the call and slid the phone in his front pocket. “Those two are going to get rid of what few blond hairs I’ve got left. I swear, I’m going to look like Anderson Cooper inside of a month.”

  “It’s going to take a lot more than a head of white hair for that,” Millie said, her eyes still closed.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” Travis said.

  “I was, b
ut we’re almost there, so it’s time for me to wake up.”

  “What do you have, an internal timer or something?”

  She unrolled her shirt, pulling it over a tank top. “It’s discipline.”

  The light armored truck lurched as the driver pressed the brake just a bit too aggressively. Travis propped his hand on the dash, looking out at the line of red lights from the vehicles in front of them. He glanced at his watch and looked out the side windows.

  “Why are we stopping?” he asked.

  The driver gave him an apologetic look and shrug.

  “We should be reaching a clearing before setting up the camp.” Travis opened the door, ready to make his way up to to the front of the line.

  “Stop,” Millie said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “She’s right,” Jimenez said. “This looks like a trap. We’re right in the middle of a—”

  Gunfire erupted from the front of the line. Muzzle flashes popped and strobed from the tree lines on either side of the road.

  “Contact! Contact!” someone shouted over the radio.

  “It’s an ambush. They’re shooting from the trees,” a panicked voice added.

  Travis picked up the handset and shouted his commands. “Get us through it! Keep moving.”

  A mismatched pair of old, unmarked pickup trucks pulled out of the shadows, blocking the path as the occupants pointed door mounted lights at the convoy. Each vehicle had a weapon mounted in the bed as the gunners turned to face the lead Mamba.

  The mounted FN MAGs spit a stream of 7.62 x 51mm rounds as the tracers drew a bright line from muzzles to targets, the heavier rounds delivering too much energy for the light-armored hull. The driver tried to pull out of the path, off to the side of the road, but the bullets chewed him to pieces before he got clear.

  The soldiers inside did their best to return fire at the machine guns, but the ambushers in the trees killed them before their R4 assault rifles could make a difference.