Danger Close

by Allen Manning

  A Ruger Redhawk with five-and-a-half inch barrel, loaded with eight rounds of .357 magnum, sat along his right thigh, just in front of the whip. Russell also carried a second revolver. A small five-shot Smith & Wesson, chambered in .38 special, tucked into the small of his back. Damien nodded to the man as he walked by.

  The bright cherry of a cigar grew in intensity as Retief took in two quick drags. On the table next to him was his signature flamethrower, fueled up and ready to rock. He checked the valves and gauges before turning his back to the tanks. Two men grunted as they hoisted the canisters up so Retief could slip his arms through the straps.

  He chomped down on the cigar, freeing his hands to adjust the fit of the wide nylon webbing, securing the buckle across his body to lock the weapon into place. Retief reached behind him, finding the handle of the gun assembly, checking for accessibility. Satisfied, he grunted and plucked the stub from between his teeth.

  “Good to go, boss,” he said with a nod.

  A smile stretched across Damien’s face, lips parting as it grew. A shark’s grin. The days of stubble cast his features in hard lines in the torchlight. Damien made his way to the middle of the group as all eyes followed him.

  “Gentlemen, we are about to embark on possibly our greatest expedition ever.” He paused to soak in the cheers and admiration of the men around him. “This man, John Stone, has been a thorn in my side for far too long, and now he has foolishly stepped into our hunting grounds.”

  Again, the excitement washed over the group as they whooped, barked, grunted, and shouted. Damien let them enjoy the rush for a moment before signaling for them to listen once more.

  “Make no mistake, even with limited weapons and ammunition, this man is dangerous,” Damien said. “He has bested some of the toughest warriors trying to take him down. But he will not survive us!”

  It was almost a full minute before he could be heard over the crowd, and still he had to shout. “I want John Stone’s head mounted on my wall!”

  With the men whipped up into a frenzy, Damien took a moment to admire his work before joining Zane and Russell.

  “You two are coming with me, but I want the rest of the men to form a line once we are near Stone’s last known location.”

  “Yes, sir,” Russell said.

  “Retief, make sure the men remain at least one hundred yards back,” Damien said. “Their only job is to contain Stone and his partner. The kill belongs to us. If anyone disobeys, tell them I’ll have their head next to Stone’s.”

  Retief grunted and nodded, tossing the final chunk of his cigar to the ground before crushing it under his boot.

  Damien looked around one final time before walking over to the truck, boosted up on the giant tires. He pulled the ladder down and locked it in place, climbing up to the passenger seat. Russell passed along Damien’s instructions to a group of men, patting one on the shoulder before climbing up and hopping into the bed of the monster truck.

  Zane took the ladder on the other side, joining Russell, grabbing hold of the roll bars with the floodlights mounted.

  The driver brought the monster to life as the engine let out a furious shout. Two quick taps of the throttle unleashed another pair of roars before he shifted into drive. The truck took the lead of the hunting party as the rest of the jeeps and pickups fell behind, dwarfed by the massive machine rumbling out of the front gates of Damien Blanchard’s compound.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Millie adjusted the fit on the sling of her MP5, pulling the weapon closer to her body as she crept closer to the mercenaries gathered along the side of the road. She had to belly-crawl across several meters, avoiding the headlights of the lead truck as she made her way to the shrubs and bushes that would allow her to get closer.

  She positioned herself in a way to give her a line of sight through some of the trees around the men. With her tongue pressed into her cheek, Millie retrieved her binoculars and brought them up to scan the group. She turned on the radio, keeping the volume low as she reported back to Travis and Jimenez.

  “I’m in position,” she said.

  “For the record, I believe what you are doing is foolhardy and can endanger all of our lives,” Travis said. “Yours included.”

  “Noted,” she replied.

  After a moment of silence, Travis continued. “What are we up against? Are they preparing to make a move?”

  “Hard to say. The truck that just joined the party looks like it’s got a few important people inside.” Millie scooted to her left for a better angle, careful not to make too much noise sliding across the debris. “I’ve got eyes on them. It looks like—” She froze, watching the two men join the rest of the mercenaries.

  “What is it, Millie? Are you in trouble?” Travis asked. “Jimenez, I need eyes on her right now!”

  “I still don’t see her, but I’m pretty sure I know why she stopped talking.”

  “The Alpha assets are here,” Millie said.

  “This is a big chance for us,” Travis said. “Jimenez, do you have a shot?”

  “Negative. There’s a truck blocking me now.”

  Millie rose to a crouch, stashing her binoculars. “I’m going to get a closer look.”

  “Wait, no, stand down,” Travis said.

  With a quick twist of thumb and forefinger, she clicked the radio off, stuffing it into her pocket as she stalked ahead. She brought the MP5 up to her shoulder, watching the men over the sights of her weapon as she approached.

  Millie got another glimpse of the lead Alpha, and out of instinct braced the submachine gun, settling the front sight over his head. Her breathing slowed as she lowered her weight onto a knee, taking the slack out of the trigger.

  If she took the shot, even if she hit at this range, the enemy would zero in on her position in a flash. With only a single magazine in the weapon, she would be outmatched and forced to flee. And that would draw the enemy to the convoy. The mercenaries would be rushing their position with far greater numbers than Travis and the others would be prepared for.

  Millie blew out a breath and eased the tension from her finger, lowering the muzzle of the MP5. It’s not your time just yet, she thought.

  Keeping the almost agonizing pace, she moved to the far edge of the mercenary encampment, taking her time to settle each foot into place before shifting her weight. From her final position, Millie was just within earshot of the Alphas as they spoke with the leaders of the ambush party.

  “—are to stand your ground here,” the Alpha said. “Do not let this convoy through, no matter what.”

  “And what about the others?” the lead mercenary asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

  The Alpha plucked it from his lips and tossed it down, grinding it out with his boot. “Your job is to hold the convoy here, Kamran. Mr. Blanchard will be handling the matter with Stone personally. Micah and I will be joining him for the hunt once we leave here.”

  The other man held his hands up, almost as if surrendering. “Alright, I got it. Hold the line. Don’t let Stone’s friends through.”

  “And scout the area,” the Alpha said. “Make sure there are no hidden side routes they could be using to sneak by.”

  The merc offered a lazy salute, watching the other man leave before lighting another cigarette. He took a short puff and shouted something to another nearby soldier in a language Millie couldn’t understand.

  The soldier shouted an affirmative and jogged to recruit a couple more men. Millie’s body tensed when she realized they were splitting up to search the trees on her side of the road. She looked side to side, slinking back before they unknowingly surrounded her.

  Millie took a step forward, mentally plotting a course that could get her past the mercenaries in the camp so she could reach the jeep that the Alphas were heading for. If she could sneak into the back, they would bring her to the hunting party, where she would be better able to help John and Curtis.

  Doubt crept into her mind, fueled by thoug
hts of helping Travis and the others. She stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder. The convoy was in bad shape. If the mercenaries pressed the attack, the soldiers wouldn’t be able to fight them off. Millie’s left foot moved forward another step, planting itself into the leaves and rocks.

  She took in two deep breaths, watching as the jeep’s tail lights came on. Gritting her teeth, Millie crouched and forced her body to stay put as the vehicle crunched through the dirt and gravel, turning back to the road, the red lights disappearing into the distance.

  * * *

  “Unbelievable. She just turned off her radio,” Travis said. “Jimenez, You’ve got to get eyes on her right now. Millie could be in trouble.”

  “Things seem calm, so they haven’t spotted her yet,” the sharpshooter said. “If the party kicks off, I’ll be sure to crash it.”

  “Keep me informed if anything happens,” Travis said.

  “Roger that.”

  Travis dug around the glove compartment looking for the map. He stepped out and unfolded it on the hood of the Mamba.

  “Kofi, we may need these men ready to rush the enemy,” he said.

  The convoy leader finished a conversation with a medic helping one of the injured men. “We are in no shape for that. These men are hardly prepared to stand our ground here.”

  Travis bit his lip. “The mercenaries are further up the road, past that bend preparing to attack. If we can mount an offensive before they are ready, we could end this.”

  Kofi shook his head. “We need to take advantage of the lull to push further.”

  Resting his palms on the hood of the vehicle, Travis closed his eyes. “The convoy is too slow. We can’t fight on the move.” He looked at the man in charge of the soldiers. “You’re right, we can’t take the fight to the enemy. But, we absolutely must prepare to make our stand here until help arrives.”

  “I will let the others know,” Kofi said, his tone somber. “I just pray that help will arrive in time.”

  * * *

  Her decision made for her, Millie needed to get back to the others. She pivoted and stayed low, walking several meters before dropping to a knee. The sentries pacing the area had already made it by her. She needed to sneak past if she wanted to reach the others without incident.

  Licking her lower lip, she did her best to split focus between all three men, plotting the best route through. The noise they made as they kicked their way through the brush helped mask her movement, allowing her to pick up the pace. She darted for an opening, sliding to a stop, dropping to both knees as one of the mercenaries snapped his head to the right.

  Her heart sped up, thumping in her chest as she dropped to her stomach, taking aim at one of the men. Her target turned his head away and then back toward her again. Did he see me moving?

  The man thought for a long second about walking in her direction, shifting his lead foot. Her stomach dropped when he pivoted and headed straight for her.

  Millie's finger tensed and relaxed, alternating pressure on the trigger of the submachine gun. The man was well within close quarters range, but he had adjusted his path and would pass by just to her right. Too close to rely on the darkness to keep her hidden. She clicked the weapon to safe and slid her hand down to her hip, looking for a blade.

  Where she frequently carried a karambit sheathed across her belt, Millie found only the black nylon belt. She didn't have any other weapons on her.

  Before she realized it, the soldier's boot brushed her arm. The man realized he had kicked something out of place as he dipped his chin to the side. His eyes bugged out, realizing too late what he was seeing. Millie drove off of the balls of her feet, keeping her body low as she dragged him down with a low ankle pick.

  She scrambled up and dug her knee into his stomach, pinning him and forcing the air from his lungs before he could alert anyone else. She used her full weight to press his rifle up against his neck. He gurgled as his lips pulled back into a snarl. She could see a mix of anger and hatred in his eyes as he bucked his hips to escape.

  Rather than fighting his strength, Millie used the momentum to roll with him, wrapping a leg behind his head and neck. She was on her back, working to secure a triangle choke while ripping the rifle free from his grip.

  Millie squeezed her legs and pulled his head down, cutting off the flow of blood to the man's brain. He panicked and worked up to his knees, then his feet, trying to stand and lift her up. Millie cupped his nearest boot when she felt the knife along the outer edge of his ankle. Before he could get his hips in position to stand, she plucked the blade from the sheath and buried it into the top of his foot.

  With the pressure from her legs around his head and trapped arm, the mercenary's scream of pain came out only as a low guttural growl before his body fell limp, slipping into unconsciousness.

  Millie rolled him over and came up to a crouch. She cursed under her breath and looked for the other sentries. They hadn't heard anything, but once they realize their buddy was missing, it wouldn't take long to find him.

  She cut one of the man's sleeves, using his boot knife, gagging him with it. Next Millie used his belt to bind his legs while she used hers to secure his hands behind his back. It may not take long to find him, but once he regained consciousness, he wouldn't be able to help his friends with the search.

  With her path clear, Millie clutched her weapon close as she bolted into the darkness, back to the convoy.

  CHAPTER

  19

  “That was gunfire,” Travis said. “It sounded like an AK.”

  “Do you think it was Millie?” Jimenez asked.

  “No, she had the MP5. I think she’s in trouble, though.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Those shots got the mercenaries’ attention, but it doesn’t look like they’ve mobilized just yet.” Jimenez said.

  “I’m on my way back, but I’ve picked up a tail.” Millie’s words came through the radio in short gasps between breaths.

  “Millie, where are you?” Travis asked, bringing his binoculars up.

  “Just about to turn the corner,” she said. “I could use some backup.”

  “On it,” Jimenez said.

  The AK chattered again, joined by the booming report of a shotgun.

  “Can you see her yet?” Travis asked.

  “Negative.” A second later the sharp crack of the Remington 700 echoed across the plain. “But I spotted her tail.”

  The AK’s rattle ceased. Another rifle report split the air. Travis watched Millie break the tree line, submachine gun clutched close as she zigzagged her way toward the convoy.

  “Did you get them, Jimenez?” he asked.

  “I got one, but the other decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He turned tail and headed back to the others.”

  “I think we should prepare for company. They had to have heard all of those shots,” Travis said. “And if they didn’t, the other man is bound to report back.”

  Millie slowed her pace after hearing the sharp shooter’s kill confirmation. She jogged the last fifty meters, stopping to rest her hands on her knees, sucking in deep breaths to get her wind back. She swung the MP5 to her back and brought her hands up behind her head to open her chest up.

  “I can’t wait to hear what you found out,” Travis said, a mocking smirk on his face.

  Millie tried to fire off a comeback but instead held up a finger, asking for another minute as she caught her breath.

  “Heads up, guys. Our friends are preparing for something,” Jimenez said. “Looks like they’re bringing the war wagons up.”

  Travis looked out with the binoculars, unable to see anything around the bend they were using as a way to funnel the enemy into the kill box. “What should we expect?”

  “The truck with the machine gun is back on the scene,” Jimenez said. “Plus another jeep and a couple dozen men.”

  “What’s the ETA?” Travis asked.

  “They’ve stopped, but it’s pretty clear those men wan
t blood.”

  “The Alphas,” Millie said. “They were with the mercenaries.”

  “Did you catch that, Jimenez?” Travis asked.

  “Copy. I’ll be sure to take them out first.”

  “They’re gone now,” Millie said. “John and Curtis are in trouble.”

  “Did Blanchard’s men find them?” Travis asked.

  “I don’t think so. It sounds like they’re organizing a manhunt to track John and Curtis down,” Millie said. “They were at the ambush site shortly after we left. Blanchard’s men are driving them deeper into his territory. We need to help them.”

  “We’ve got problems ourselves,” Jimenez said. “If we want to reach Curtis and John, we’ll need to break through that line.”

  Travis pressed his lips together and reached for his phone.

  “I thought they weren’t answering,” Millie said.

  “I’ve got to try,” Travis said. “They need to know what’s coming for them.”

  * * *

  Making progress in the darkness was difficult, even in clearing out in the open. John and Curtis crouched, using the tall grass to conceal them as they watched the line of soldiers approach.

  “Think we can get around them?” Curtis asked.

  “Not unless we can cover a couple hundred meters due south without them noticing,” John said. “The line stretches all the way out to that far end of the clearing. We’re boxed in by the ridgeline to the north.”

  “Maybe we can just lay in the grass and wait for them to pass.”

  “These guys are jumpy. If they see anything strange, they’ll shoot first and check for a pulse later,” John said.

  “Let’s use that, then,” Curtis said. “Make them shoot each other. Do our jobs for us.”

  John smiled. “As tempting as that sounds, we need to fall back. Let’s head toward the road. Maybe we’ll have a chance to swing around completely from there.”