was so ridiculous Patrick couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” Darren said.
“Nothing. That just seems really trivial right now.”
“Gotta pass the time somehow.”
“I didn’t really do much of anything except hunt.”
“What were you one of those bums livin’ off of welfare?” Patrick glanced at him and he said, “Sorry.”
There was commotion outside. The men were drunk now and rowdy. Two men were arguing about something and then they both seemed to come to an understanding. They walked to Jane’s tent and Patrick heard a scream.
The two men were dragging Jane out of the tent and into the forest. She was kicking and clawing and trying to bite but the men only found it funny and were laughing as they began to tear at her clothes.
Patrick looked to the two guards in front of him and they were smiling. One of them shouted something in Spanish akin to, “Save some for us.”
Patrick bolted from the tent. He grabbed the first guard’s Kalashnikov and twisted it up and slammed the butt into the man’s chin, knocking him cold.
The other guard tried to swing his rifle around but Patrick lashed out with a kick to his groin and it caught the man unprepared. He hesitated a split second but that was all Patrick needed and he twisted away the Kalashnikov and fired into the man’s chest. The guard collapsed onto his back screaming and Patrick turned toward Jane.
It had happened so quickly the other men weren’t prepared. The two men holding Jane let her go and went for their guns but Patrick rushed them and fired several shots as they dashed for the safety of the jungle. One of them collapsed from a wound and the other disappeared into the trees.
Patrick turned around and fired quick bursts at the men running around him. There was enough confusion that they weren’t exactly sure where they were shooting at in the dark. He ran to grab Jane and she began to scream and fight.
“It’s me! It’s Patrick. Hey! It’s Patrick.”
Their eyes locked and he lifted her to her feet. Voices from all over the camp were coming near them and he sprinted for the jungle, not letting go of her arm.
The vegetation was thick and the canopy so dense that the moonlight couldn’t come through. It was absolute blackness for long stretches and then the canopy would thin and a soft blue glow would illuminate the trees and shrubs and bushes.
Patrick ran until his legs burned and his lungs felt as if they were about to explode. The air was warm and humid and it made it difficult to breathe. His face and arms were raw from the harsh shrubbery scraping his bare skin and he noticed for the first time that he was up to his ankles in mud.
They made it to a clearing with waist-high grass. The moon shone fiercely in the night sky and without any light pollution the sky was blanketed in stars.
“I can’t go anymore,” Jane said.
Patrick stopped, his hands over his heads and his breathing heavy. “We shouldn’t rest out in the open.”
“I can’t.”
They stood in the grass, panting and sweating, listening for any sounds in the surrounding jungle. They could hear monkeys in the distance and then a roar and the jungle went quiet for a long time. The monkeys began softly and before long were at full pitch again.
“How long were you there?” Patrick said.
“A day maybe. I got into a cab and the cabbie locked the doors and drove me to a warehouse. Some men were in there and they paid him for me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, but I haven’t eaten or drank anything.”
“We should keep moving.”
“Okay, okay, just give me one more minute.”
Patrick checked the clip in the Kalashnikov. He had a handful of rounds left. It was an interesting weapon and he had fired them for fun in the deserts of Iraq when they had captured them from enemy combatants. They were at least twenty years out of date but they were tough rifles, easily firing in mud and sand and absorbing impacts that would shatter many other automatic rifles.
“What?” Darren said.
“Nothing. That just seems really trivial right now.”
“Gotta pass the time somehow.”
“I didn’t really do much of anything except hunt.”
“What were you one of those bums livin’ off of welfare?” Patrick glanced at him and he said, “Sorry.”
There was commotion outside. The men were drunk now and rowdy. Two men were arguing about something and then they both seemed to come to an understanding. They walked to Jane’s tent and Patrick heard a scream.
The two men were dragging Jane out of the tent and into the forest. She was kicking and clawing and trying to bite but the men only found it funny and were laughing as they began to tear at her clothes.
Patrick looked to the two guards in front of him and they were smiling. One of them shouted something in Spanish akin to, “Save some for us.”
Patrick bolted from the tent. He grabbed the first guard’s Kalashnikov and twisted it up and slammed the butt into the man’s chin, knocking him cold.
The other guard tried to swing his rifle around but Patrick lashed out with a kick to his groin and it caught the man unprepared. He hesitated a split second but that was all Patrick needed and he twisted away the Kalashnikov and fired into the man’s chest. The guard collapsed onto his back screaming and Patrick turned toward Jane.
It had happened so quickly the other men weren’t prepared. The two men holding Jane let her go and went for their guns but Patrick rushed them and fired several shots as they dashed for the safety of the jungle. One of them collapsed from a wound and the other disappeared into the trees.
Patrick turned around and fired quick bursts at the men running around him. There was enough confusion that they weren’t exactly sure where they were shooting at in the dark. He ran to grab Jane and she began to scream and fight.
“It’s me! It’s Patrick. Hey! It’s Patrick.”
Their eyes locked and he lifted her to her feet. Voices from all over the camp were coming near them and he sprinted for the jungle, not letting go of her arm.
The vegetation was thick and the canopy so dense that the moonlight couldn’t come through. It was absolute blackness for long stretches and then the canopy would thin and a soft blue glow would illuminate the trees and shrubs and bushes.
Patrick ran until his legs burned and his lungs felt as if they were about to explode. The air was warm and humid and it made it difficult to breathe. His face and arms were raw from the harsh shrubbery scraping his bare skin and he noticed for the first time that he was up to his ankles in mud.
They made it to a clearing with waist-high grass. The moon shone fiercely in the night sky and without any light pollution the sky was blanketed in stars.
“I can’t go anymore,” Jane said.
Patrick stopped, his hands over his heads and his breathing heavy. “We shouldn’t rest out in the open.”
“I can’t.”
They stood in the grass, panting and sweating, listening for any sounds in the surrounding jungle. They could hear monkeys in the distance and then a roar and the jungle went quiet for a long time. The monkeys began softly and before long were at full pitch again.
“How long were you there?” Patrick said.
“A day maybe. I got into a cab and the cabbie locked the doors and drove me to a warehouse. Some men were in there and they paid him for me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, but I haven’t eaten or drank anything.”
“We should keep moving.”
“Okay, okay, just give me one more minute.”
Patrick checked the clip in the Kalashnikov. He had a handful of rounds left. It was an interesting weapon and he had fired them for fun in the deserts of Iraq when they had captured them from enemy combatants. They were at least twenty years out of date but they were tough rifles, easily firing in mud and sand and absorbing impacts that would shatter many other automatic rifles.
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