Or maybe they are here because of you?
He had noticed when taken out of the communal lodge, much like those of his village, that the Spirit People here seemed to be either staying on their strange boat, or in their own strange buildings made of some type of super-thin skin, each shaped oddly like half a head lying on the ground. They had an appearance of being temporary, which made him think his theory of them being here because of him might actually be valid.
“What is going on?” he finally asked Kinti, she not having explained the frenetic activity around him. If he didn’t know better, it looked to him like everyone was preparing to leave. Why anyone would want to do that in the middle of the night, when the jungle was at its most dangerous, was beyond him.
Then he felt himself pale, a wave of nausea sweeping over him as he realized what must be going on.
“Is it the Panther People? Are they coming?”
Kinti’s head bobbed quickly and Tuk dropped to a knee, almost passing out. He felt a massive hand on his shoulder, the Spirit Man he had heard Kinti call Read-ing, and who also appeared to be her mate, was kneeling beside him, saying something in his strange tongue that seemed to be expressing concern.
“I’m okay, sorry,” he replied, Kinti translating. The man smiled and helped him up, then gave Kinti a kiss as he left them, rushing over to help another Spirit Man who was on some sort of bed being carried by two other Spirit People who had darker skin than the pale faces like Lau-ra-pal-mer.
Kinti grabbed him by the arm and led him into the forest with the others, and before he knew it, the village and its large central fire were lost in the trees, even the glow disappearing within minutes. As he looked about, he couldn’t believe the turn events had taken.
And it terrified him.
For not only were the villagers like him fleeing, but so were the Spirit People.
Which meant the Panther People must be far more powerful than he had feared.
And there was no hope for his family and friends.
Acton lay prone behind a large log with a clear view of the inlet, the village evacuated only minutes before. The assumption was that any attack would come from the water, and as he laid here, Laura at his side, both armed with Glocks and a healthy supply of magazines, he began to wonder if the assumption was correct. While he agreed that they most likely would travel here by boat, if he were attacking the village, he’d disembark and come through the woods.
The very woods he and his wife were hiding in.
He looked into the darkness but could see nothing. The large fire was still burning, it intentionally fed a little extra just before the natives left to hopefully give the illusion that all was well and the residents had simply retired for the night.
Leather’s men were stationed at the other line of trees with a clear line of fire not only on the inlet, but the trees in which Acton was hiding. If they stood a chance, the element of surprise would be necessary. The boat was still docked, the lights dimmed as if for the night. The tents were zipped shut, a couple with lights on and fake bodies in their sleeping bags to give the illusion the visitors were all asleep or soon falling asleep.
The reality was the small encampment on the shore was a kill zone. Leather was to fire first, then all hell would break loose. If they were lucky, they just might be able to pull off their ambush.
But from Acton’s experience, nothing ever went to plan.
The radio crackled. “This is Recon One. I’ve got a boat, dark, on the river, at least twelve, repeat twelve, hostiles onboard. At current speed, ETA five, repeat five, minutes, over.”
“Roger that. Return to base when safe to do so, approach from east. Command, out.”
Acton looked at Laura who was staring at the water, her weapon at the ready. He wanted to hold her, to protect her, to grab her and race into the forest with the others, but he knew they were needed. Leather’s men were outnumbered, and they were only here because of them. Anyone trained was needed. Which was why Reading had put up a good fuss when Acton told him he wanted him to go with Milton.
Initially Acton wanted Milton evacuated on the boat, but when Leather explained that the boat provided no method of retreat or escape except for jumping in the water, at which point you would most likely be gunned down, Fabricio had bravely suggested that he and his men would go with the villagers to protect them.
That left Milton without a ride.
Reading had reluctantly agreed to go with the villagers. Acton knew it went against the man’s natural instincts as a former soldier and current law enforcement officer to leave the fight, but he also realized there was a need to coordinate the evacuation and protect Milton and those like Kinti should they fail here at the frontline.
Acton looked at his watch, the hands glowing slightly in the firelight.
Surely it’s been five minutes?
He stared out at the inlet, looking for anything, even a ripple, but there was nothing. He began to wonder if his previous fears of them coming through the forest behind them might be a more likely scenario. He listened carefully, hoping to catch any sound, even just the snapping of a twig, but heard nothing.
His heart was pounding hard now, his chest getting tight as the uncertainty of the situation began to control him, rather than he controlling the situation. He took a deep, slow breath and held it for a five count, then slowly exhaled, repeating the process several times, his heart slowly returning to a closer to normal state.
“Are you okay?” whispered Laura as she looked at him.
He nodded. “Just getting it together.”
“Oh shit!” she murmured and Acton looked back at the water.
And gasped.
Laura froze up, fear taking over as a scene from a horror movie played out in front of her. Ripples approached the shoreline, too many to count, too many intersecting with others, confusing the numbers.
All she knew was it was too many.
The first broke the water, a glint off a face mask the first thing she noticed as they noiselessly walked out of the water. A second appeared, then a third and fourth. Before she knew it the count was up to twelve, exactly as Leather had predicted, and within seconds they were out of the water, a semi-circle created around the tents by half the men as the others spread out to establish a perimeter.
The first group opened fire, shredding apart the tents, the others taking knees, their weapons watching for activity from the surrounding area. She ducked as one stopped not five feet from their position and lowered a pair of night vision goggles.
Oh no!
She heard a round fire from James’ gun.
Leather opened fire, someone else having beaten him to the punch from the Professors’ position. He didn’t blame them, he would have too if he had someone five feet from the muzzle of his gun with night vision goggles about to reveal his position.
They opened fire with their MP5’s on full-auto, cutting down the unsuspecting team firing on the tents before they had a chance to respond. He wasn’t worried about them, they were simply the easy targets, it was the other half dozen—scratch that five since one of the professors had dropped one—that were more his concern. Which was why two of his team of six were already picking the others off.
If it took twenty seconds he’d be surprised, but he called out the ceasefire before his second clip was empty. The two professors jumped up and waved, smiles on their faces as he activated his comm. “Stay down for Christ’s sake!”
They dropped just as the second shoe did.
Chester raced as fast as he could toward the gunfire, tripping several times over roots and other obstacles. The forest was nearly completely dark, starlight and moonlight blocked by the thick canopy of leaves and branches overhead. As he neared, the gunfire dwindled and he smiled, breathing a sigh of relief as his trained ear detected the final shots were fired from an MP5, the return fire from a distinctly different weapon, a Type 79 would be his guess if they were indeed dealing with Chinese Special Forces.
&
nbsp; He slowed up and activated his comm when he heard something behind him. He spun but it was too late, a knife plunged into his belly, the blade twisting. “Second…group…” he gasped, as the blade was withdrawn and slid across his throat.
Reading huddled with the rest of them, his Glock at the ready. As the gunfire dwindled, he prayed for his friends, frustrated at being left to wonder what was happening. The comm provided to him by Leather squawked in his ear.
“Second…group…” then a burst of static.
“Oh shit!” he muttered as a second burst of gunfire erupted from the village. “It’s a bloody trap!” He turned to Kinti then looked at Fabricio. “I have to go help, they’re being ambushed.” He gave Kinti a peck on the forehead as she translated for Tuk. Reading sprinted back toward the village, veering to the right, making the assumption the new attack would be coming from the north. It didn’t take long before he could see the glow of the village’s fire pit to the left then muzzle flashes from both sides of the clearing.
Far too many muzzle flashes for him to take on alone.
He heard something behind him and felt his chest swell with pride as several dozen warriors, spears and blow darts at the ready, appeared from the forest, Tuk at their lead.
Maybe there was hope after all.
When Acton saw the first shot erupt from the forest they were hiding in he had immediately grabbed Laura and retreated east, out of the line of fire. Several shots had chased them but the trees were thick and they had survived the initial counter attack. It made him wonder how Leather had known, his shouted warning the only thing that had saved them.
As he and Laura crawled deeper into the trees, trying to find a position to be able to fire from, the distinct sound of a Glock firing from behind the new arrival’s position had him jumping to his feet, realizing there were only two possibilities. Either Chester was attacking alone from behind, or Reading was.
Either way they needed help. Shouts erupted, then cries, Reading’s voice bellowing orders to what sounded like dozens of native warriors. He activated his comm to warn Leather of the new arrivals.
“Friendlies attacking from the rear of the new position, over!”
“Roger that, out.”
He noticed the weapons fire from Leather’s position immediately switched from full-auto to single shot.
But it didn’t matter.
The enemy fire had stopped.
“Hugh, are you okay?” shouted Acton, praying to God for the umpteenth time on this trip.
“Yeah, over here!”
Acton followed the voice and the sounds of the excited natives, holding Laura’s hand as he led her through the trees. After weaving in and around for several minutes, they suddenly came upon the victorious group, the bodies of their enemy already being piled in front of them, and too many of the honored dead beside them.
Reading stepped toward them, dirty but unharmed as Kinti rushed past them and into his arms, saying something over and over that Acton echoed the sentiments of.
“Thank God you’re okay!”
Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil
Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson pointed ahead, holding a finger up to his mouth. The motor of a high speed boat could be heard approaching. At the helm, his second-in-command, Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme, cut their speed and guided them toward the shore, out of the line of sight of the boat that should come around the bend in the river any moment.
“Prepare to engage if hostile,” ordered Dawson, his men taking up position from stem to stern as he raised his night vision binoculars. An impressive high speed boat banked around the corner, empty lest its pilot.
Its pilot dressed head to toe in combat gear.
“Niner, take the shot!”
A round was immediately fired from Niner’s M24A2 SWS Sniper Weapon System, the unit’s best shot lying prone on the prow of the boat. The pilot of the oncoming craft immediately dropped, the dead man’s switch dropping the boat into idle almost immediately. Red gunned the motor, taking them back into the flow of the river, spinning the wheel to bring them alongside. Sergeants Will “Spock” Lightman and Trip “Mickey” McDonald jumped aboard, Spock securing the controls, Mickey making certain the target was dead. He gave a thumbs up.
Dawson checked the GPS. They were only a couple of miles from the coordinates provided and either this boat had just dropped off an assault team, or it was fleeing a failed assault. He was betting on the latter. If it had just dropped off a team it would have not been at full throttle, potentially giving away the element of surprise, the motor loud enough to probably be heard back at the native village these coordinates apparently represented.
He pointed to the shore. “Secure the boat there then get back onboard.”
Spock nodded, gunning the engine and expertly bringing it to the shore, Mickey jumping to the ground, lashing the boat to two trees, fore and aft, as Red brought their CIA provided boat alongside. Spock and Mickey climbed back in and Dawson was about to give the order to get underway when he heard something.
“Cut the engine!”
Red complied and they all listened.
“Sounds like gunfire, BD,” said Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James, his impossibly deep voice almost a whisper.
“Definitely,” concurred Spock.
“Punch it, Chewie!” ordered Dawson, Red immediately firing the engine up and pointing them downriver. “Gear up, we’re going in hot!” As he prepped himself along with the men, he kept a keen eye on the shore, and when done, smacked Red on the back and took over the controls, allowing his second-in-command and best friend to prep. A glow among the trees became visible and he wondered if it were a controlled campfire or a torched village, it impossible to tell, the glow seeming very large.
He spotted an inlet, almost hidden by low hanging tree branches and cut the power, bringing them along the shoreline as the gunfire, now loud, continued to fill the night. Red jumped to the shore and tied the boat to a tree, Spock doing the same aft, then all twelve Bravo Team members jumped ashore, Dawson splitting them into two teams. His six heading along the shoreline of the inlet, the other team led by Red sweeping from the south.
As they advanced, Team Two double-timing it using the noise from the gunfire as not only an indicator as to where the parties were, but cover for any noise they might make, Dawson’s expert ears began to dissect the battle. He could hear three distinct weapons. MP5’s, Type 79’s and Glocks. He would expect the MP5’s were Leather’s ex-SAS men, the Type 79’s the hostiles—presumed Chinese for the moment—and the Glocks could be anybody’s guess, but he was presuming the good guys or perhaps a mixture of both.
Suddenly everything went silent, then cheers erupted along with hooting reminiscent of an old John Wayne western, coming from the far side of the village they had just gained sight of. He spotted a group of half a dozen men cautiously rise from their positions as one of them spoke into his comm.
“This is Team Lead, say again?”
A transmission was repeated and the man whom Dawson recognized from the desert in Egypt, retired Lt. Colonel Cameron Leather motioned for his men to advance. They rushed the tree line, weapons at the ready, but no gunfire was heard as they disappeared into the dense forest.
Dawson activated his comm. “Bravo Two, Bravo One. Sweep right, over.”
“Bravo One, Bravo Two, sweeping right, over.”
Dawson and his team maintained their cover, each behind a good size tree, friendly fire still deadly. He hesitated to call the satellite phone number he had been given just in case it might give away someone’s position, or worse, startle someone who might just shoot the poor bastard holding the device. They waited for several minutes for someone to emerge from the jungle, but no one did.
Clever man.
“This is Sergeant Major Dawson, United States Military! Is Colonel Leather there?” he shouted as loud as he could toward the village.
“Right behind you, Sergeant Major.”
Dawson grinned as he turned to see Leather and his men approaching from the rear, guns raised but now lowering. “Good thing you identified yourselves.”
Dawson smiled, pointing behind him. Leather turned and laughed, Red’s team behind them. His orders to sweep right had Red’s team doubling back while sweeping the jungle for another group of attackers. He had suspected that with the north side of the village apparently secure, any further attack would come from the south where they were.
And with the delay in anyone appearing, not even a celebrant, he had suspected Leather had ordered everyone to stay in the trees while they investigated the new arrivals.
“How’d you know we were here?” he asked as his men rose, exchanging greetings with the other team.
Leather motioned toward the opening of the inlet. “Saw your boat go by, assumed it was a third wave. Hoofed it around the inlet, across the opening then came up behind you.”
“I had a feeling. Your celebration got too quiet.”
“Yeah, well, no explaining things to the locals.”
“Everything secure?”
Leather nodded. “Yes. And now I have to go retrieve my man.”
Dawson frowned. “You lost one?”
“Chester. He was our spotter. It sounds like he got jumped by the second squad.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll secure the area so you guys can take care of business then get some well-deserved rack time.”
“I appreciate that, Sergeant Major.” Leather walked away with several of his men, a solemn procession if Dawson had ever seen one. He pointed at Red.
“Team Two, set up camp then get some sleep, we’ll wake you in four hours.” He turned to Niner. “You and Mickey bring the boat in and unload the gear, then retrieve the hostile’s transport and bring it back here. Search it thoroughly. I want to know if there’s any indication as to where they came from.”
Niner clicked his heels. “Yes’m!” Dawson raised his MP5 and Niner ran away, magic fingers on display, Mickey in pursuit, hands up in surrender as Red’s team helped Leather’s salvage what they could from their camp while waiting for their gear to arrive.
Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) Page 21
