Читать книгу Loose Cannon - Don Pendleton - Страница 2

He tucked the carbine in close to his chest as he zigzagged down the uneven slope. The going was precarious as the ground beneath him was clotted with loose stones and small rocks. For each sure step there would be one where the ground gave way under his weight. Several times he dropped to one knee, raising welts along his thigh as he half fell, half slid his way downhill, raising a cloud of volcanic ash and dislodging the gravel around him. It was as if he’d become a one-man avalanche.

After another twenty yards, the ground abruptly fell away and he was thrown forward, off balance, into a deep recess. He struck the far edge of the gully knee-first, then with his shoulder, jarring his carbine loose. The rifle sailed past him and rolled sideways another five yards before coming to a rest. Bolan, meanwhile, slumped into the cavity, dazed. He had the presence of mind to drop as low as he could, avoiding the stream of gunfire that, moments later, skimmed past the gully’s rim. As he waited for his head to clear, the Executioner reached for his web holster, unsheathing his Beretta.

He was down but not out.