Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (37 page)

Kinti
shouted the last of the translation, others translating her words, but it was
clear the message had been delivered even if most hadn’t heard it. The warriors
were enraged, whipped into a frenzy ready to battle anything that might be
found ahead.

Then
Tuk, raising his spear, rushed into the forest, in the direction the beast had
clearly laid out for them, its path of destruction self-defeating as they
sprinted, unhindered by the jungle.

Illegal Rare Earth Element Strip Mine, Northern Amazon, Venezuela

“Fire in the hole!”

Dawson
ducked, turning away from the pit as Niner hit the detonator. A series of
massive explosions ripped down the first few hundred feet of the road carved in
the side of the steep rock wall, and as Dawson held his breath, a wall of dust
rolling past him, he headed toward the edge to see Niner’s handiwork.

A stiff
breeze cleared the dust away from the surface fairly quickly, but inside the
pit was another story. It would take a long while for the dust to settle there,
but already it was clear a large portion of the far side of the pit had
collapsed, taking the road with it.

“Good
work!” he yelled, giving a thumbs up.

“That
should set them back a few weeks,” agreed Red, approaching from the runway. He
held his hands up to his mouth. “Clear the area!” He pointed toward a vehicle
approaching, Mickey at the wheel, dragging the netting that had covered the
runway behind it. The plane had been disabled earlier, the flimsy hangar
knocked down with a shove from the massive Atlas, and now the final piece of
camouflage from this makeshift airport was about to disappear.

Mickey
stepped out just at the edge of the pit then stepped over to the passenger
side, opposite the hook dragging the netting, and pushed the vehicle the few
feet it needed to teeter over the edge, then momentum and gravity took over as
Mickey raced away, the massive netting gaining speed as the vehicle dropped to
the pit floor, the final couple hundred feet whipping by fast enough to tear
someone’s arm off.

Dawson
was pleased with the speed at which things were progressing. Everyone had been
up before dawn, all had been fed and the prisoners locked in their cage with
extra provisions. The school bus had been brought around and was ready for
their evac to the river as soon as they were done, which should be within the
next few minutes.

“Ready
for the pit netting!” announced Niner, waving the detonator.

Dawson
activated his comm. “Confirm everyone is out from under the netting or inside a
building or cage. Charlie Team check the civilians, Bravo Team sound off by the
numbers, over.”

Confirmations
quickly came through as he, along with Mickey, headed into the main complex,
Niner inside the cage with the natives, its chain link cover hopefully all the
protection they’d need. He could see from his vantage point that the professors
had all the natives at the far edge, where the danger was lowest, and all
huddled under mattresses. And he could tell from here they were terrified.

We’re
going to have to force them into the forest, I know it!

With the
last all clear received, he activated his comm. “Proceed!”

“Fire in
the hole!”

A series
of explosions surrounded the entire facility as the poles holding the netting
in place overhead were blasted in sequence, the net collapsing in the middle,
dragging the couple of dozen poles with it, these twenty foot metal beams
tearing across the ground, damaging anything they hit. The building he was in
shook as a beam was dragged across the roof of the breezeway, tearing it apart,
and he heard screams from the cage as a beam was dragged across the top of the
chain link, it thankfully holding. Within seconds the entire netting and its
infrastructure had been dragged into the pit, as if it had never existed.

The
final explosives were for the compound buildings themselves and the runway, and
would be detonated when everyone was safely away.

Which
meant it was time to leave.

“There, see, everybody is okay, and it’s all over now,” said Laura
calmly, removing the mattress she had been lying under and tossing it aside.
James rose with her, piling his atop Laura’s, then began to lift other
mattresses off the terrified natives, natives who had probably never heard
sounds that loud in their lives. Some were so terrified that as she tried to
remove their mattresses, a small tug-of-war played out, she letting go after a second
try to move onto the next, the more nervous she knew would come around as they
saw their friends give up their cover.

“Very
good,” she said, smiling, careful not to show her teeth. “You are all very
brave.” She realized she was talking to them like children, but she could think
of no other way to speak to them other than to be as calm, soothing and
friendly as possible. “You are all as brave as my friend Tuk, and he was like
you. Tuk had never seen people like us before, and now he’s my friend.”

A young
woman rushed over to her, dragging an older woman with her, both with
expressions of disbelief written over the faces. The young one grabbed Laura by
the sleeve, a flurry of words erupting from her, none of which she could
understand, followed by the one word she did. Tuk.

Did
they know him, or was Tuk another word in their language?

“Tuk?”
she asked, singling out the word.

The
young one’s head bobbed in excitement as the older woman grabbed at her heart,
a smile spreading on her face. The girl pointed at her eyes, then at Laura’s
eyes, then said the single word again, “Tuk”, her intonation questioning.

“Did I
see, Tuk?” She nodded deliberately, pointing at her eyes. “Yes, Tuk, yes!”

She pulled
out her phone and brought up a photo of her and Tuk that had been taken the
morning before they went their separate ways. She held it up for them. “Tuk!”

The
young girl looked at the photo and jumped back, scared. She then stepped
forward and grabbed the phone out of her hand, talking to it, the word “Tuk”
repeated several times, then she tried shaking the phone.

Laura
laughed as she realized the poor girl thought Tuk was in the phone. She held
out her hand, smiling, and the girl put the phone back in her hand. “Watch.”
She took a photo of James then showed them. Nods seemed to suggest they
understood that Tuk wasn’t in the phone, since James was still standing where
he had been.

Instead,
the girl and the older woman, who Laura was beginning to think might be Tuk’s
mother, hugged each other, crying with relief.

This
must be Tuk’s people!

Potts looked over his shoulder as the road widened into the mine
site. The transport vehicles with the enemy troops were within sight, maybe
five minutes behind them, the road too rough to go too fast on. Their vehicle
had carried them half the way, but the rest they had covered on foot at a
sprint, Donny’s wounded shoulder and his recovering ankle holding out
admirably. As they turned the corner they saw a completely changed site, none
of the netting in place, sunlight pouring in.

“They’re
coming!” he shouted, waving his arms to get everyone’s attention, their comms
still not working on last check a few minutes ago. He spotted Dawson and
Leather coming out of one of the buildings, running toward them.

“Report!”
ordered Leather.

“Our
vehicle broke down and our comms were jammed. They’re not even five minutes
behind us. Five transports, each carrying a platoon, about one hundred men. We
took some fire from two individuals who came out of the forest, probably the
missing men from last night. Donny here’s been hit in the shoulder, but not
bad. We’ve only got minutes, sir!”

Dawson
was already walking away, trying his comm. “Jammed!” He shouted instead. “Man
the machine guns! A company of the enemy is not even five minutes out!”
Immediately Bravo and Charlie teams raced into position as Dawson ran toward
the cage. “Professors, get the civilians and the natives out of here now. Head
south as fast as you can. We’ll delay them here as long as we can, then try to
join you. Whatever you do don’t wait for us, just keep running south, then head
south-west. You should eventually hit the river. Use your satphone to call for
help.”

“Got
it!” replied Acton as they began to urge the nearly panicking natives out of
the cage. They didn’t know what was going on, but he could tell they knew
something bad was happening. Apparently though some sort of trust had been
established as a young girl was urging the others to follow her and Professor
Palmer.

Leather
ran back from the road, binoculars in hand. “They’re mobilizing about half a
klick down the road, spreading out fast. They’ll have us outflanked in
minutes.”

Today
just might be a good day to die.

Acton took the lead, his gun out, Reading directly behind him to the
right, Laura to the left, the natives and environmentalists behind them. Jenny
was helping Terrence who seemed to have regained most of his strength, and
Turnbull was being carried on a stretcher by his four friends. As they moved
forward Acton kept glancing to his right, knowing the enemy was in that
direction, then froze, raising his hand, bringing everyone to a stop. He
pointed.

Dark
figures could be seen spreading out rapidly, coming directly toward them and
already ahead of their position, sweeping forward.

“Fall
back!” he whispered harshly, motioning for everyone to turn around, the natives
at first confused until one of them spotted the figures, warning the others.

They
rushed back toward the camp and Acton tried his comm, afraid they might startle
the defenders if they burst into the open, but there was nothing but static.

As they
approached the edge of the cleared area he rushed ahead. “They’re coming!” he
shouted, but no one heard him as every machine gun nest opened up.

Niner squeezed the trigger for a second, firing off a burst from the
confiscated Chinese machine gun, Jimmy at his side feeding him ammo. They had
plenty, the Chinese well supplied, but he didn’t want to waste it. They were outnumbered
almost six to one and he had a funny feeling today was the day he was finally
going to take a dirt nap.

But
not without taking out my six!

He was
sure he had easily accomplished that prerequisite already, and as he squeezed
off another controlled burst, another shadowy figure in the forest dropping, he
felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked to where Jimmy was pointing and cursed.

The
civilians and the natives were coming out of the forest, obviously already
outflanked.

He
pointed at the buildings. “Take cover in there. Shoot through the windows if
you have to!”

Acton
nodded as they whipped by, yanking open the door to the building that had
housed the prisoners. Niner squeezed off several more bursts, providing cover
for the refugees.

If we
die today with them still here, we’ll have accomplished nothing.

The
thought pissed him off.

He fired
again.

Acton slammed the door shut as the last of their ragtag crew cleared
the threshold, locking it behind him, knowing that a gun or a good shoulder
would have it opened easily, but at least there would be some warning. Reading
was already racing to the other end to lock the door there. Acton pointed at
the dead Venezuelan soldiers from earlier. “Get their weapons and magazines,
including knives. Anything we can use.”

Laura
and two of the environmentalists began to strip down the soldiers as Turnbull
was placed on the floor near the rear wall and away from any windows. Acton
turned to Mitchell. “Feel up for fighting?”

“Absolutely,
sir!”

“You and
Jenny, take two of the AK’s and three clips each and cover that end,” he said,
pointing to where Reading was returning from. “Remember your training. Opposing
fields of fire, watch out for grenades. These guys aren’t coming to take
prisoners.”

“Yes,
sir!” Mitchell and his wife tore ass toward the other end, Jenny covering the
door, Mitchell the window in the cell facing out to the forest.

“Give me
those knives,” he said, bending over as Laura handed him three large knives
taken from the belts of the dead soldiers. Acton turned to the natives and
picked the strongest looking ones he could see, handing them the knives by the
blade. The men smiled, nodding their understanding.

It’s
do or die, and these guys deserve a chance to defend themselves.

Acton
turned to the environmentalists. “Who here knows how to use a Glock?”

All of
them stepped forward and he chuckled.

Ask
that in Britain and you’d probably be asked, “What’s a bloody Glock?”