Page 71 of Wild Idol
I shouldered the weapon and took aim. My finger squeezed the trigger.
DAK!
DAK!
DAK!
The rifle hammered against my shoulder as I sent 7.62 mm rounds zipping through the air. They pelted into the scumbag‘s chest, erupting with crimson. He tumbled and fell into the inferno, screaming all the way down.
Jack still wrestled for control of the weapon with the other goon.
I tried to get a clear shot.
Another tremor shook the mountain.
By that time, Red Bandanna had climbed to his feet. He sprinted back up the mountain. With a face full of rage and a mouthful of blood, he charged at me with fury in his eyes. He tackled me before I could get a shot off.
We crashed down to the jagged rock, which didn’t feel pleasant. I managed to buck the dirtbag off of me.
He rolled away, then managed to charge back.
I kicked him in the face, shattering his nose, then grabbed the AK and put two rounds into him.
His face exploded, spewing bone and brain in all directions.
I may be biased when I say it was an improvement in his appearance.
I swung the weapon around and aimed at the remaining goon. By that time, JD had wrestled the weapon free. We both took aim and simultaneously put an end to the guy.
Muzzle flash lit up the night.
The scumbag twitched and convulsed with each hit.
Could I have waited for him to make another lethal move, waiting for him to reach for the pistol in his waistband? Yes. Would that have been a bad tactical move? Yes. Did I feel bad about killing the man in cold blood? No. Not at all.
I was trying to kill people only when absolutely necessary. This was necessary.
“Are you okay?” I asked Jack.
He looked himself over, his elbows and forearms bloody from the rough rocks. It looked like he had taken a spill on a motorcycle and had a close encounter with the pavement. We were both in the same condition.
Jack nodded. “I’m fine.”
I had no doubt the sound of gunfire had carried down to the retreat. With any luck, Solomon would believe his goons had executed us. But when they didn’t return, he’d figure out what happened.
We had the element of surprise for a limited window of time.
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Blood trickled down my forearm from the abrasions. I kept wiping it on my pants, but it kept bleeding for a while until it finally crusted over. There were a few tasty slices in my skin.
That volcanic rock is a real bitch.
We made our way down Tzacoyotl into the thick of the jungle. I had taken one of the goons’ walkie-talkies and turned the volume down. That way, we could keep tabs on their communications. Hopefully, we’d get a heads-up when they figured out half their security squad was now deceased. JD and I had loaded up on weapons and extra ammo, stripped from the goons.
We hurried through the darkness like stealthy warriors. The dappled glow of moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves.
A few more tremors shook the ground, swaying trees and rustling leaves. The jungle grew silent before each one, the wildlife sensing the impending doom.
