Into The Jungle: An Action Thriller (A Jumper Novel Book 1)

by TR Kohler

  Easy positioning to shove the man on toward the brick barrier where Kidman was perched just a moment before.

  A short trip that ends with Kidman tossing his slight form over the side, a single cry passing from the man’s lips before falling silent, not to be heard from again.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  The first bullet flies wide to the right. A quick shot snapped off before jerking the gun back, Hazik returning it in line with the rear of the girl’s skull. Close enough that the man cannot jump across the room and get between them.

  A human shield that can hopefully last long enough for help to arrive. For his men to swarm in and unload on both of the intruders, ridding him of this entire mess.

  The shot going wide enough to miss not only the man but the entire doorway he is standing in, it buries itself into the white stucco. A puff of white dust bursts forth, followed by the sound of plaster chips hitting the floor.

  Details that barely register with Hazik as he stares with wide eyes.

  How the man is even alive, he has not a clue. Earlier in the day, he stood over his lifeless body. Even fired a couple rounds into him just to ensure the job was done.

  Still, here he is, not a single sign of his earlier injuries to be seen.

  Some other genetic abnormality. A side effect of his ability to jump through space or an entirely different trait altogether.

  The reason mattering only insofar as what it means for Hazik getting away. Ultimately, finishing the man for good.

  Reaching out with his free hand, Hazik grabs for the tail of the girl’s tank top. Using it as a handle, he tugs her backward, the front tip of his gun still pressed tight to her skull.

  A slow reversal across the middle of his office. An open space that has never felt so large as he inches toward the door along the back wall.

  All the while with the American moving steadily forward. Curved knives of some form in hand, his features are twisted into a scowl. His gaze flicks to either side, visibly calculating.

  Plans and adjustments that Hazik cannot allow to come to pass.

  Jerking the gun to the left this time, he snaps off a second round. A shot even louder than the first, their positioning deeper inside the room causing the sound to reverberate around them.

  An attempt that is much closer than the first, shoving back a bit of the man’s long hair from his shoulders, though ultimately does no actual damage.

  “Don’t,” Hazik snarls. Twisting his hand in a quick circle, he bunches up more of the girl’s shirt. Wrapping it around his fist, he gains a tighter hold on her. Pulls her back closer.

  His body turned to the side, he keeps one leg up close behind her. The other, he uses to lead the way. A slow inching back through his office toward the door behind him. The only chance to make it back into the residence quarters.

  A place where he can barricade the two of them in and wait for help to arrive.

  Put his back to the wall and the gun to the girl’s head, setting up for as long as it takes for his militia to squash whoever else might be outside and make their way upstairs to his side.

  Jerking the gun a few inches to the side, Hazik tugs back on the trigger again. A shot directly at center mass of the American.

  A round that should draw flesh, slowing any progress, giving him the precious time he needs.

  A round that would do just that if not for the lateral jump the man makes, his features barely changing as he reappears five feet to the right of where he just was. A movement completely fluid and natural, not even breaking stride as he bears down, knives in hand.

  A quick hop that sees the bullet bury itself harmlessly into Hazik’s desk behind him.

  “No! Stop!” Hazik says, twisting his path to the side, matching the new angle of the man. Using his hold on the girl’s shirt, he pulls her in the same direction.

  The thought of trying to squeeze off a round occurs to him. A notion dismissed as fast as it arrives, the man no doubt able to just sidestep it again. Or take a direct hit and shake it off. Or whatever other tricks his kind can perform.

  Things that Hazik has no desire in seeing as he instead cocks the gun out to the side. Instead of extending it toward the encroaching American, he instead buries the front tip into the soft flesh of the girl’s temple.

  Wrapping one hand around her waist, he pulls her back tight against him. Pulse racing, he peeks out from behind her dark hair, staring at the man in the center of his office.

  The one he should have put down the day before, when he first appeared from nowhere on the edge of the forest.

  The man Hazik knew was lying from the first words he spoke.

  “Stop moving,” Hazik says. “Come no closer, or she dies.”

  A move that has the intended effect of bringing the man’s progress to a halt, even if it spawns an unexpected expression on his face.

  A thin smile that slowly grows, stretching most of the way across his features.

  “Hazik,” the man says, his first words since arriving tonight, “you just messed up.”

  Eyes widening, Hazik jerks the gun away from the girl’s head. Pushing it forward to again fire on the unwanted intruder, his hand progresses no more than a couple of inches before the girl’s hands land on either of his thighs.

  Grabbing hold with all ten fingers, she squeezes tight. Rigid clamps that bring a quick flash of warmth before excruciating stabs begin to pierce his legs. Sharp agony punctuated by the harsh crack of both femurs snapping.

  Overwhelming pain that sucks any thought from mind. Any form of bodily control as the gun slides from his grasp.

  Same for any chance of remaining upright dissolves, the world spinning as he topples flat to his back. A hard landing atop the hardwood floor, bright pops of light dancing across his vision before everything fades to darkness.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Just as Kidman had shown up unexpected in the back of the Jeep, it is Sanga’s turn to return the favor. Smashing into the side entrance of Hazik’s office, he sends the door flying open in a spray of wood chips and sawdust. Allowing his momentum to carry him into the room, he comes to a stop just a few strides inside, pausing long enough to snap his rifle up before him.

  A sudden appearance that causes Kidman and Anika both to jerk their attention up. A charge of shock and adrenaline that brings the pahoas up to Kidman’s side before acknowledging the man before him.

  And those that come after, a small crowd led by Wembo. Men openly panting and sweating, though otherwise looking no worse for the wear.

  Slowly lowering his weapons, Kidman watches the group spill into the room. Fanning out wide to either side, they form a half arc around the space, their focus all aimed inward at the man sprawled prone on the floor.

  The one with both legs twisted in angles that nature never intended, his right arm outstretched, reaching in vain for the nickel-plated pistol on the floor beside him.

  A pose he has maintained while slipping in and out of consciousness.

  A weapon that he will never get any closer to, Wembo doing the honors of stepping forward and drawing it up off the hardwood.

  “All good out there?” Kidman asks.

  A question Sanga answers with a simple nod. “And in here?”

  Pointing with the tip of one knife to the door behind him, Kidman replies, “Last I saw of Fumu, he was tumbling off the balcony out there. Otherwise, it’s just Hazik.”

  Twisting his gaze to the side, Sanga motions to the two men closest to the balcony door. Snapping his chin up an inch, both men obey the unspoken order, retreating outside to ensure the man has met his end.

  And if not, to help him get there directly.

  The instant they are gone, Sanga shifts back to Hazik. The man with eyes wide, his face bathed in sweat. The one drawing in shallow breaths, no doubt fighting excruciating pain from a pair of snapped femurs.

  A sight that seems to bring some measure of joy to Sanga, one corner of his mouth flicking upward as he raises his gaze to Ki
dman.

  “Thank you.”

  Nodding slightly, Kidman says, “You’re welcome.” Lifting one of the knives, he uses the tip to point down at Hazik, “But you should know, this was all her doing.”

  Dropping his focus back to Hazik, Sanga’s smile slowly widens. A white slash forming across his face, his shoulders quivering slightly with chuckles.

  Laughter that only grows louder as Wembo steps up beside him, a broad grin splitting his features.

  A response Kidman can’t begin to fault them for, this moment being a long time in coming. Months or more of hiding and fighting. Being forced to strip their beloved rainforest for resources to feed this man’s hubris.

  Time spent living in fear. Dealing with the pain from lost homes and loved ones.

  An endpoint they had probably often thought would never arrive.

  The mighty warlord, put down by a fifteen-year-old girl, using her unique gift in a way none of them had witnessed before.

  Chapter Seventy

  Based purely on the voice coming in over the line, Kari Ma would guess that Kidman has been through Hell. Less than twelve hours have passed since he jumped back for supplies, though she can detect a weariness in his tone that hints a great deal has taken place.

  As has a tendency to happen while on a mission.

  Significantly more than the fantastical story he has already shared, even.

  Standing behind her desk with her arms crossed, she stares down at the phone before her. Call flipped to speaker, the sound of Kidman’s voice pipes directly into the room, enough to keep Ali’i’s ears drawn up high on her head.

  Posted up in her self-assigned spot by Kari’s side, the dog rotates her muzzle from Kari to the phone. Befuddlement paints her features as she tries to determine the source of the voice she knows so well, anxious to go bounding toward him the instant he appears.

  A moment that it sounds like will still be a little way in the future.

  “Right now, Anika and I are helping with cleanup,” Kidman says. “Hazik and his men caused a hell of a lot of damage in the small villages, and there were some injuries in the battle last night.”

  Grunting softly, Kari asks, “Where is this Hazik now?”

  A small chuckle coming back in reply, Kidman says, “Yeah, about that...”

  Leaving it at that, Kari fills in the blanks.

  During their previous time together, never was Kidman one for combat. That part of things was always left to one of the others, the young man preferring to use his abilities for getting into difficult places or getting them all away safely.

  A preference she suspected had something to do with the collection of weaponry she noticed at his place in Molokai. A change in approach that also involved the various types of training he has spent the last decades partaking in.

  The reasoning behind all of it, she can only speculate on.

  Knowing just that it likely stems from that last assignment in Yangon.

  “I see,” she replies. “That’s new.”

  “Wasn’t me,” Kidman answers, seeming to pick up on the insinuation. “Seems the new girl has quite a bit of spunk. After that, the villagers were all too happy to dispose.”

  More of the story from the last couple of days she will be anxious to hear, Kari leaves it there for the time being.

  “When can I expect you to return?”

  “Hopefully, by late tonight or early tomorrow.”

  “Hopefully,” Kari replies, parroting his own word and intonation, “with a companion this time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kidman replies before adding, “Also, can you send another picture to the number I’m on right now? The satellite phone was damaged during the fighting yesterday.”

  Chapter Seventy-One

  How so many people were able to get into Makoua in such a short period of time, Kidman has not the slightest idea. Just as he had no clue that there were so many villagers hiding in the dense rainforest nearby.

  People that now seem to be filling the streets on the north end of town, everybody having flooded in to grab what they can from Hazik’s private stores being dumped for the masses.

  An event that seems to have called together everybody from the entire northern half of the Congo. A combination celebration and reunion, people gathered in the streets, hugging and greeting one another, extolling their sudden good fortune.

  A scene that makes the one that played out in Anika’s village a couple days before look small by comparison.

  And fully illuminates how much of an iron fist Hazik had over the region, having stockpiled anything of value for himself.

  “Look at this,” Anika marvels as the two of them stroll through the streets. A mismatched pair that just thirty-six hours prior was drawing stares, now completely unnoticed.

  And those who do bother to glance their way do so with a smile or a wave. Silent nods of thanks, the story of their role in things having swept through the masses in no time flat.

  A fact Sanga jokingly relayed to Kidman before informing him they needed to be measured for the statues to be placed on the front lawn of the mayor’s mansion before they go.

  The very place he and Anika are now headed. One last stop before bidding everyone farewell and jumping back to the other side of the world.

  “Definitely the social event of the year,” Kidman agrees, watching as a group of children go bounding by. Boys and girls of no more than five or six, lost in a game, chasing one another through the streets.

  A scene that Kidman can’t help but admit reminds him of his own childhood, more than seven decades before.

  “Think you’ll miss it?” Kidman asks as they make a final turn, their destination coming into view ahead of them.

  “What’s that?” Anika replies, glancing over his way.

  Waving a hand before him, Kidman gestures to the streets of Makoua. The crowds gathered in loose clumps, boisterous laughter rising at odd intervals. The children at play. The air redolent with the smells of food bubbling atop makeshift cook stations.

  A scene he would like to believe is how things were not that long ago. Back before Hazik took over with his grand plans for national domination.

  A state things can return to in the near future.

  “Yes and no,” Anika answers. “I mean, of course I’ll miss the people. Keicha and Belvia and all the other wonderful folks. But like I told you the other day, my coming here was to honor my parents by using my gifts to help.

  “I feel like I’ve done that.”

  Raising his brows in acquiescence, Kidman returns his focus to the town around them. A cross between a carnival and a summer street fair.

  A conclusion not just to the last few months of oppression, but also the last couple of days of cleaning up. Removing any sign of Hazik and his militia, whether it be stripping him from the mayor’s residence or deconstructing the blockades along the various entrances into town.

  Things that will need to be followed up on moving forward, but for now have made decent progress. Enough that Kidman feels no qualms with bidding goodbye, confident they’ll be able to see things through in the days ahead.

  “Hey,” Anika says, drawing his attention over, “something I’ve been wanting to ask you, since we kind of got cut off the other day.”

  Already with a faint inkling of what she might be referencing, a wan smile rises to Kidman’s face. A grin born not of the impending question, but of the pair of men appearing at the end of the street before them.

  The two people they are en route to see, providing him another out before the inquiry is even made.

  “Hello there,” Kidman calls, raising a hand above.

  A move that is matched by both Sanga and Wembo, the pair walking shoulder to shoulder through the middle of the street. Men that seem to have visibly shed much of the burden they carried just days before, everything from their dress to the expressions they wear hinting at their newfound realities.

  A life they will be at the forefront of helping to
shape throughout the region.

  “Wuss,” Anika mutters beside him.

  Pretending not to have heard the comment, Kidman keeps his focus aimed at the pair approaching. Smile affixed to his features, he waits until no more than a dozen feet separates the two sides before saying, “We were just on our way to see you.”

  “We thought we’d come meet you out here instead,” Sanga replies.

  “A much better final impression for you to leave with than the mayor’s house,” Wembo adds.

  Unable to argue with such logic, Kidman turns to the side. Again, he takes in the scene playing out around them. The one that is a far cry from most of what he experienced in the villages over the last couple of days.

  Even more so, what Makoua looked like when he first arrived.

  A region entirely shrouded in fear, snatching brief snippets of joy wherever they could be found.

  A marked contrast to the glee now on full display. A hopeful indicator of what may await.

  “Thank you both so much for accepting me into your homes,” Anika says. Drawing Kidman’s attention back over, he watches as she steps forward, embracing Wembo in a hug.

  A gesture that Sanga waits through before doing the same, replying, “Thank you. For everything.”

  Holding the pose a moment, he releases, extending a hand Kidman’s way. “And thank you as well.”

  Meeting the shake, Kidman replies, “You are very welcome.”

  Moving next to Wembo in order, he adds, “And as odd as it might sound, please believe me when I say it was an absolute pleasure.”

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  The picture Kari Ma had sent to them was of an open stretch of ground. A spot Kidman has never seen in person, his total exposure to The Ranch being the lecture hall he first arrived in and the storerooms just down the hall.

  The weapons bunker where he initially departed and the kitchen pantries where he and the others gathered as many supplies as they could for his return trips.