Jungle Kill by Jim Eldridge

watched as it touched down.
    ‘Not yet,’ said Mitch grimly. ‘Ngola’s still alive.’
    Mitch moved forward and picked up one of the rifles near the dead body of one of the bandits, but Nelson stepped firmly in his path.
    ‘We don’t have time for this,’ snapped Nelson. ‘Our job is to get Mwanga to safety. We can leave Ngola for another time.’
    ‘There won’t be another time,’ said Mitch. ‘If he gets away, Ngola will tear Adwana’s village apart and kill everyone in it for revenge.’
    ‘Saving the village is not part of our mission,’ said Nelson.
    ‘Well, it’s part of mine,’ said Mitch, checking the ammunition rounds in the rifle.
    Nelson glared at him. ‘If you go you’ll be disobeying an order from your commanding officer,’ he snapped.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mitch shortly. ‘I’ve got to do this.’
    With that he stepped round Nelson and hurried towards the hotel.

23
     
    Nelson glared after the retreating figure of Mitch. ‘I’ll have him court-martialled for this!’ he snarled.
    ‘Absolutely right, Colonel,’ grinned Two Moons. ‘And for that you need him alive. So I guess I’d better go after him.’
    Two Moons bent down and scooped up his rifle.
    Nelson grabbed him by the arm. ‘I can give you ten minutes max, Two Moons,’ he said firmly. ‘After that, you’d better be back here, with or without Mitch, because that chopper’s taking off. One second after ten minutes, we’re gone! Getting Mwanga to safety is our first priority. I can’t risk a fire-fight with Ngola’s reinforcements.’
    ‘I hear you, Colonel,’ replied Two Moons.
    He hurried towards the hotel after Mitch.
    Mitch came running back out of the hotel as Two Moons arrived at the main entrance.
    ‘Ngola and the rest of his men have gone,’ he said. ‘The helicopter must have freaked them.’
    ‘So he’s out in the jungle somewhere?’ asked Two Moons. ‘Think his men are with him?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Mitch. ‘But I doubt they’re in a big group – too easy to spot. Anyway, Ngola is the dangerous one. He’s the one I’m after.’
    Two Moons looked at his watch. ‘The colonel said we can have ten minutes, then the chopper leaves. We’ve got eight minutes left.’
    ‘Then why are we wasting time talking?’ demanded Mitch. He pointed towards a track. ‘I’ll take that way.’ He pointed towards another, further on. ‘You take that one.’
    Two Moons nodded and they hurried off towards the dark jungle.
    At the jungle’s edge Mitch stood in the darkness and listened. He wondered how far in Ngola hadgone; he may have been the sort who scoffed at tales of bad magic but he would know how deadly the jungle was at night. The predators. The swamps. If Mitch guessed right, Ngola would be hiding in the fringes of the jungle, still near to the hotel area.
    Without his usual protective Special Forces gear, Mitch knew he was vulnerable. No radio. No protective helmet or night vision. No Kevlar body armour. No weapons other than a rifle he’d taken from a dead bandit.
    This was how it had been for warriors of days gone by, the stories Mitch had grown up on as a boy: one against one in the darkness of the jungle. Mitch kept moving, eyes and ears alert for any sound. Suddenly he heard footsteps just behind him, and he whirled round, rifle raised, his finger poised on the trigger.
    Two Moons pushed the barrel of Mitch’s rifle to one side. ‘Ngola ain’t that way,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘We got five minutes left.’
    ‘I’ll see you at the chopper,’ said Mitch. ‘If I’m not there, go without me.’
    With that, he moved further into the jungle. By now his eyes had grown accustomed to the ambient light coming from the helicopter and the dying fires from the explosions.
    Ngola was here somewhere. Lying in wait. Mitch could feel him.
    He squatted down and listened, trying to identify the different sounds he could hear: nocturnal animals; birds moving in the trees, roosting