Stupid horse, this is where you run.
Except the animal didn’t, and continued to hold its position behind Keo. He didn’t know what to make of that, not that he really had the time to try to figure it out with three rifles pointed at him. All it would take was one pull of the trigger and he was a dead man. Oh, sure, he could probably get one of them—two, if he was really fortunate—but he was definitely not going to get all three before at least one of them put a round through him.
Bad. This is very, very bad.
Three rifles and three guys in ghillie suits, though there was a good possibility one of them was a woman. The one on his right. She was smaller than the other two by a good foot, though the varied heights of their suits might have been throwing him off. Not that it mattered, really. A woman or a kid or a donkey, it was still another person with their weapon pointed at his head.
Finally, after what seemed like minutes but was probably less than a few seconds, Keo said, “Looks like we’re at an impasse.”
The man in the center exchanged a quick look with the one to his right (Keo’s left) before doing the same to the one on his left (the possible woman). Keo couldn’t really read their reaction from twenty meters away; the fact that all three ambushers’ faces were covered in black and brown paint didn’t help. They had really gone all out with the whole “blending into the environment” part; he had to give them that.
“How you figure that?” the man in the center said. He had a deep voice. “There are three of us and only one of you. That doesn’t sound like an impasse to me, son. Sounds more like a ‘You’re royally screwed.’”
The man’s got a point.
“That’s not true,” Keo said anyway. He kept the MP5SD pointed at Deep Voice even though he could see all three of them without having to move his head thanks to their forced early reveal. “There’s Horse.”
“Your horse?” the one to Deep Voice’s right said. He sounded much younger than his companion.
You hit puberty yet, kid? Keo wanted to ask him but said instead, “That’s three against two,” and thought, Man, do I even buy that? Do they? How long before they shoot me in the face?
Damn, I don’t want to get shot in the face…or anywhere else, for that matter.
“Your horse,” the second man said, as if just to be sure.
“Yeah, Horse,” Keo nodded.
“Are you for real?” the woman (Aha, I was right!) to Keo’s right said. “His name is Horse?”
“He didn’t exactly come with a name tag,” Keo said.
“But you call your horse Horse.”
“It’s a horse. I don’t think it cares what I call it.”
“Good point, Holly Golightly.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“Too bad, cause it’s a killer reference.”
“Speaking of which, I’d appreciate not getting shot by you and your dad here.”
The woman chuckled. “He’s not my dad.”
“Grandpa?”
Deep Voice grunted. “Enough.”
“Why?” Keo said. “I was having a nice conversation with your not-daughter.”
The man ignored him and said, “Put down your weapon.”
“Can’t do that.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s not true. I can choose not to lower my weapon.”
“Then we’re going to kill you,” the younger man said. He regripped his rifle, though Keo wasn’t sure if that was for effect or if he was just a little bit nervous.
Which one makes me feel better?
Oh, right; neither.
Now that he’d had some time to get a better look at his ambushers, Keo was pretty sure his biggest threat was Deep Voice in the middle. The man was armed with a bolt-action rifle with a large scope on top like his two companions. They really did look like a father and his children out for a little hunting trip.
So kill the old man first. Gotcha.
Either Deep Voice suspected what Keo was thinking, or he got lucky when he said, “It won’t be the first time these two have killed someone. Even if you somehow get me, they’ll get you for sure.”
“And your horse, too,” Young Guy said, and once again regripped his rifle. It looked like a nervous gesture to Keo that time.
Shoot the old man, then take out the girl, and then Mr. Nervous.
Good plan. Now all you have to do is make sure you don’t die while pulling it off.
“Leave Horse out of this,” Keo said. “Don’t make me sic PETA on your ass, kid.”
“Kid?” Young Guy said. He sounded incredulous, which was a little amusing. Then again, Keo might have just thought it was amusing because he was trying very hard not to accept just how up a creek he was at the moment.
“What are you, fifteen?” Keo asked.
“Old enough to shoot you dead,” the kid said.
“A lot of people thought they were old enough to shoot me dead. I’m still here, and they’re not. What does that tell you?”
“That you’re stubborn?” the woman asked.
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“What’s another?”
“Persistent.”
“Not quite the word I’d use, but sure, if it makes you feel better.”
“You know what would really make me feel better?”
“I’m all ears.”
“Not being shot.”
She might have smirked. “You’ve been shot before?”
“Yes. And it’s not fun, let me tell you. So I’m very anxious to avoid it happening again. Maybe you can tell your little brother here to calm down before that happens.”
“I’m not her little brother,” the young man said.
“Little cousin?” Keo said.
“Dammit, enough,” Deep Voice said. He sounded annoyed now.
What do you gotta be so annoyed about? I’m the one about to get murdered out here in this friggin’ field of nightmares.
“Put down your weapon, and we’ll take you alive,” Deep Voice said.
“And then what?” Keo asked.
“Then you’ll come with us.”
“Where to?”
The man made a backward nodding motion—just barely, since he did it while keeping his eyes (and weapon) on Keo the entire time.
“What, the ocean?” Keo said. “No thanks. I didn’t bring my swimming trunks.”
“You’re a real piece of work,” the woman said. Keo couldn’t tell if she was amused or irritated. “You’re this close to getting shot to hell, and you’re making jokes. I don’t know whether to be impressed or feel bad about your total lack of awareness for the current situation.”
“I won’t tell you again,” Deep Voice said. “Lower your weapon.”
“I can’t,” Keo said, and thought, Because if I do you’ll kill me, and there’s still a mother and daughter out there I have to find.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I thought we already went over this. I have plenty of choices. Okay, maybe ‘plenty’ isn’t the right word. I have some choices. I can lower my weapon like you want, or I can not lower my weapon.”
“You wanna die, is that it?” Young Guy asked. Keo didn’t have to wonder what he was feeling—it was all irritation. “You must have some kind of death wish, man.”
“Not at all.”
“Sure feels like it to me.”
“Hey, you’re the ones who ambushed me. I was just going for a walk with my horse, the two of us minding our own business. The way I see it, you three should be apologizing to me.”
“Say what?” Young Guy said.
“But I’ll overlook that part.” Before they could say anything, he quickly added, “In fact, here’s my proposal: We all lower our weapons, say ‘Nice to see ya,’ and go our separate ways. How about that?”
“Can’t,” Deep Voice said, shaking his head.
“Why not?”
“You already saw us.”
“Saw you? I can barely tell what you look like. Those are some excellent paint jobs, by the way.”
“Doesn’t change the fact you know what you know.”
“I know what I know? What does that even mean?”
“You know what he means,” Young Guy said.
“I truly don’t,” Keo said.
“We don’t have any choice, either,” the man in the middle said. He sounded almost…regretful?
Not as regretful as I’m going to be when we all start shooting.
“These are dangerous times,” the man continued. “Even if you’re not who we think you are, you need to be vetted.”
“I don’t have rabies or anything,” Keo said.
“Rabies?”
“Yeah. No rabies. So I don’t need a vet.”
The woman smirked. “I’ve decided: I’m mostly impressed with you.”
“Glad to hear it,” Keo said. “Who do you think I am, anyway?”
“We know who you are,” Young Guy said.
“So enlighten me.”
“That vest gave you away.”
“That vest?” Keo thought.
Then, Shit. The vest. The same vest I took off the dead Bucky and have been wearing since Princeville.
That vest, you idiot. They think I’m one of Buck’s men. One of the guys from Fenton. No wonder they’re not going to let me go. I wouldn’t, either, after what those assholes did to Winding Creek.
So what did that make these three?
“The enemy of my enemy is someone I don’t want to shoot me in the face.” Or something like that.
“I found this vest,” Keo said. “It’s not mine.”
“Bullshit,” Young Guy said, and fidgeted slightly.
“Swear to God.”
“How did that happen?” Deep Voice asked.
“Lots of things are just lying around these days. It’s not that hard and definitely isn’t a reason for the three of you to shoot me for it.”
“Nice story, bro,” the woman said. She might have been grinning, but it was hard to tell with all that goop on her face. “Got another one?”
“I knew a guy in Afghanistan who got kicked to death by a donkey,” Keo said.
“Just shoot him, Carl,” the kid said. He took one hand off his rifle and swiped at a bead of sweat. “We’re wasting our time. Let’s just shoot him and get this over with. There could be more of them out there.”
“There isn’t,” Keo said.
“Bullshit again. You could just be stalling us.”
“I’m not.”
“And I say bullshit.”
The kid’s going to shoot me. He’s going to lose it and shoot me. Crap.
“Easy, Floyd, easy,” the man named Carl, a.k.a Deep Voice, said.
“Yeah, Floyd, easy now,” Keo said. “No one has to die. Least of all me.”
“Shut the hell up,” Floyd snapped.
Keo grinned. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”
“This is your idea of friendly?” the woman asked.
“Again, I wasn’t the one lying around on the ground waiting to ambush someone. I’m just an innocent traveler.”
“An innocent traveler with a horse named Horse.”
“That’s it exactly. You’ve got it.”
“Your horse is awfully well-behaved. It hasn’t even tried to take off.”
“What’s it doing back there, anyway?”
“Huh?”
“Horse. What’s it doing back there? I can’t actually see, since I’m afraid you guys might shoot me if I turn my head even just a little bit. Especially Mr. Nervous over here.”
“It’s…” The woman’s eyes darted away from Keo for a second before coming back to him. “It’s grazing. I guess it’s hungry.”
“It’s always hungry. That horse eats like a horse.”
“Carl,” Floyd said, “this is taking forever. Let’s just shoot him.”
“Whoa, whoa, let’s not, Carl,” Keo said. Then, focusing on Carl, “I get the feeling you think I’m someone I’m not. Why don’t you tell me who that is, and I’ll do my very best to convince you that you’re wrong.”
Carl chuckled. “You’d just lie to get out of this.”
“Not true. People say I have a very honest face.”
“Not with that scar,” Floyd snickered.
“Ouch.”
The woman chuckled. “First time someone told you that?”
“Yes, actually,” Keo said. “I’m a very big people person—”
The pop! of a gunshot interrupted the rest of Keo’s speech, and he was already dropping to the ground when Carl’s head snapped back as a spray of blood flicked into the air.
Someone shouted Carl’s name—it could have been the woman to Keo’s right or the young man to his left, but at that very second Keo couldn’t distinguish their two voices and didn’t care to try—just before the field around him was filled with bullets and the pop-pop-pop of automatic rifle fire filled the world like cascading thunder.
His nostrils were instantly swamped with the smell of burning foliage as rounds sliced through the stalks of grass around him and dirt flicked at his face and eyes and just for good measure, the rest of his body. Keo was only aware of moving, rolling away from the spot where he had dropped because that was where the shooters had last seen him and where they would be pouring their lead. It was the smartest thing he could have done, because mere seconds after the first volley, even more bullets began digging into the patch of ground where he had been not more than a few seconds earlier.
Roll, baby, roll!
Somewhere behind him, he thought he heard Horse letting out a loud (and almost angry?) squeal.
Run, you stupid horse, run!
He had no time to look up and back to make sure the animal did the sensible thing because he had rolled onto his stomach and was now too busy crawling forward and angling to his right.
The gunfire kept coming, the pop-pop-pop seemingly louder now than before, which either meant the shooters (and there was definitely more than one, he was 100% certain of that) were moving in for the kill or—
Silence, as the last gunshot faded, before disappearing completely.
Keo rolled onto his back and lifted his head just high enough (Not too high, you idiot!) to look past the swaying edges of grass in front of him.
A group of men walked out of the tree line, reloading their rifles as they did so. There were at least five of them that he could see, wearing civilian clothes with black assault vests over their shirts. The sun blinked off a white circle with the letter M on the closest shooter’s ammo pouch.
Buckies.
Eighteen
Buckies.
The same guys that Carl, Floyd, and the young woman thought he was one of. Maybe that was also the reason why whoever had taken the first shot had gone for Carl instead of him, even though Keo was standing right in front of the other man. Did the Buckies think he was one of them? There was a very good chance of that. After all, he was wearing one of their vests. What were the chances the Buckies thought they were even saving him?
Sorry, Carl, but better you than me, pal.
Keo remained where he was, on his back, with his head only partially lifted off the sunbaked ground under him. Thank God for the tall stalks of grass camouflaging his position. He spent a few seconds trying to gauge how far he had rolled, then crawled in the time between when the shooting began and stopped.
But he had to have put enough distance between him and his three ambushers because the Buckies were now about twenty meters away. There were five of them, three with balaclavas pulled over their faces while the other two sported ball caps. They were moving in formation—or a pretty good facsimile of one, anyway—as they approached the spot where Carl and the others had fallen.
Or, at least, Keo assumed that was their destination: the last known location of Carl, Floyd, and whatever the girl’s name was. Not that any of their names me
ant a lick, because chances were they were all dead. The Buckies must have unloaded two magazines apiece downrange. At least. Keo knew for a fact Carl was a goner. The way his head had snapped back after the first gunshot, even before he saw the flicker of blood, was all the evidence Keo needed.
That left two possible survivors—his new buddy Floyd and the girl. But even that was a stretch. There had been enough bullets buzzing in the air that Keo was shocked he had gotten away unscathed.
It had to be the assault vest he was wearing that had saved his life. The same vest that had almost gotten him killed by Carl and company. He was sure of it now. (Probably.) The circled M was visible in the front and, more importantly, in the back where the shooters would have spotted it all the way from the tree line through any kind of optics. He wouldn’t be surprised if whoever had taken out Carl was using a high-powered scope. Something like that would easily have identified the M on the back of the vest Keo was wearing.
But if that explained why he had gotten out of there without catching a bullet, it didn’t really excuse the huge number of rounds that had been flying in his general vicinity earlier. All it would have taken was one stray round and it was officially a case of friendly fire. That was, of course, assuming the Buckies were purposefully trying to avoid hitting him.
Either/or, he thought, because he was still alive and right now nothing else mattered in the slightest. It was a little selfish (A little?), but a little selfishness went a long way these days when it came to staying alive.
He watched the Buckies continue pushing forward, all five men slightly bent at the waist to lower their profile. They were taking their time, opting for caution over speed. Keo had to admit, he was impressed with their patience, and it really did look as if they had some real training in their back pockets. That, more than anything, convinced him he was looking at a group of people who had, once upon a time, been in an army. If not Uncle Sam’s, then a very good version of one.
Gee, I wonder what that M stands for?
Or should I say, who.
A gust of wind swept across the land, lowering Keo’s cover just slightly enough to make him nervous. He quickly lowered himself back down to compensate, but soon the grass was back to regular heights and he could lift his head and reacquire the approaching men.
Road To Babylon Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 16
