Tropical Terror by Keith Douglass Page A

buildings?”
    â€œQuarter of a mile, maybe another hundred,” Lam said. The buildings huddled in the moonlight. Even if they had weapons inside, the darkness would cover the SEALs’ attack.
    â€œLet’s move up,” Murdock said to the lip mike. “No firing unless I do. They probably are short on weapons. Move out.”
    The line of SEALs advanced at a walk. Murdock had been listening for any sound coming from the buildings ahead. There were none. If they were there, they had good discipline. The two admirals were a long way from any fieldexercises, but they would know enough to keep quiet and follow orders. One of the invaders must speak English.
    They were halfway to the buildings when a pain-filled scream echoed across the flatness of the coastal plain.
    The SEALs all hit the deck.
    â€œWhat’n hell?” Ching whispered.
    â€œSounds like a bobcat in heat,” Mahanani said on the net.
    â€œNo bobcats in Hawaii,” Holt said.
    â€œSounded more like a cougar, about seven feet long and mean as hell,” Ching added.
    â€œWhat about a wild pig?” Canzoneri asked. “They do have feral pigs over here all over the place.”
    â€œHey, I grew up on a farm,” Bradford said. “No pig ever sounded that way.”
    â€œMoving out,” Murdock said, closing the discussion.
    The closer they came to the buildings, the more watchful they became. When they were twenty yards from the back of the barn, Murdock tapped his mike twice and the SEALs stopped and went to ground.
    â€œJaybird, on me,” Murdock said. Jaybird moved out of line and worked ahead toward the barn with the commander. They parted in back and each went around one side.
    Murdock checked the open door in the barn. It was high enough for a horse to walk in pulling a load. He sniffed. No animal odor. His NVGs came up and he scanned the place. A small stack of hay in one corner. A stall for a horse with a few recent droppings. Oil drips on the floor that might be from farm machinery or an older car. A pair of owls rocketed out of the place, their wings not the silent type. Could be the pueo owl the Hawaiians held to be a family-protecting spirit in their mythology.
    â€œNada,” the earpiece whispered. Murdock met Jaybird in front of the barn. They looked at the run-down house thirty yards away. For just a second a white light blossomed through a window in the house, then snapped off.
    â€œHit it,” Murdock barked, and the two men dove for the dirt and rolled away from each other.
    The roar of the submachine gun caught them both by surprise as it raked the area where they had stood with a dozen rounds on full auto. They rolled farther apart. Murdocklooked for some cover. The MG man worked his rounds toward Murdock’s side. He spotted the old wooden watering trough, and dove for it just as hot lead kicked up dirt where he had been seconds before.
    Murdock touched the lip mike. “Bradford. Get up here. Use the barn as cover for the house. Bring the EAR. When you get to the barn, come around the left side and put a jolt through the house window. Hope to hell you can find a window. I’m guessing it will blow the window out in front of it. Go, double time. It’s getting hot up here.”
    â€œBackup?” DeWitt asked.
    â€œYeah, but keep cover from that sub gun in the house. Only response so far, but the bastard has NVGs for damn sure. Might be a one-man rear guard, but where the hell did they get a sub gun?”
    â€œWe’re moving, Cap. Know the two aces might still be in the building. No deadly fire there. Will, spread out to both sides.”
    Murdock looked over where Jaybird had vanished. He couldn’t make out the man in the dim light. “Jaybird, you five by five?”
    There was no immediate answer. “Jaybird. Hey, buddy. Don’t play possum on me. You see anything from that angle?”
    Again there was no answer.
    â€œMahanani. Get to the