Читать книгу Whisper Quiet - Tim Longmire - Страница 6

I’m not alone. I have just been startled awake from a light fitful sleep by the sound of a twig snapping. The sound came from behind me, it was like a bomb going off. To get any sleep at all I had turned my sense of hearing up to maximum. Hell I think I could hear a gnat fart at a hundred yards as focused as I am right now. I’m less than five feet off the main trail, it’s the best I could do without leaving more damage to the jungle foliage than I could cover up.

I had made a hasty bed on the floor of the jungle. I am listening with such concentration it is making my ears ring. I can pick out the sounds of insects moving and rustling about in the leafy covering of the jungle floor. Rats or some similar sized denizens of the jungle, lizards, frogs and snakes are always moving about. These sounds I have gotten used to and can easily identify. This is bigger, much bigger. Its behind me, coming up the trail I had come up.

After the twig had snapped the movement had stopped. Wait. There it is, a slow deliberate cautious movement, continuing up the trail towards my position. The insects and creatures of the jungle have grown quiet now. Yes. There is someone or something coming this way.

Damn, I had been extra careful to cover my trail since being dropped in this jungle yesterday. I knew it had gone too smooth up to now. My mission briefing had included the fact the target we are assigned to kill has an extensive and well-trained defense force, some of the best mercenaries available are in his employment. My eyes strain to penetrate the pitch-black jungle around me, they strain to the point of painfulness. I trekked right up to dark, kept pushing for too long. I should have picked a campsite sooner while there was more daylight to reconnoiter the area. I knew better than to just plop down in a spot, damn.

Whoever is coming my way is getting closer, the thing that is bothering me the most is I can not turn and look. If I move I will give my position away. It’s obvious He doesn’t know exactly where I am at the way he is moving so gingerly. Slowly probing in front and around himself. Waiting for me to make the first move and expose myself. Whoever he is he has been training in this jungle for a good while. I had assumed any encroachment would come from the direction of the Villa, up the trail not from back down it. If it is one of the targets mercenaries moving around in this jungle as dark as it is, he has night vision gear on.

I have sacked out under a small overhanging tree with three to four feet of ground clearance, even with night vision goggles on he is going to have to crawl up my ass to see me. I also covered myself with my Ghillie suit, I pulled it out of my ruck to give me some cover. I can wait, just lie here, and be quiet.

My rifle is out of the question. A shot from my rifle would be the worst thing I can do, the rifles report would carry for miles in this jungle. Giving away my position even more. Only one option, my Mark II, my old friend, I reach up and feel the cold of his handle, knowing that secured in the sheath is seven inches of hardened, razor sharp double-edged steel. I slowly slide the blade free from its moleskin-lined scabbard, moleskin is silky smooth, great for blisters and will make a blade sliding out of a sheath completely silent. My hand melds with the handle of the Mark II, they become one, each knowing every nuance and movement of the other, God I love this knife. Give an Army Ranger a good blade and he can kill three combatants before they even know they are dead.

I have steeled myself to the fact this is a kill or be killed situation.

The rustling is getting louder, movement then stop, movement then stop. Whatever or whoever is closing in on me is moving very cautiously. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end. The small tree I crawled under just shook, my company is close real close. I am forcing myself to be perfectly still, like a copperhead snake, they will lie in the leaves and remain perfectly still, then lightning fast, they will strike, sneaky, deadly, bastards. I am hoping he will get in close enough so I can inflict some fast heavy damage with my blade.

I have controlled my breathing, I have forced it to become silent and shallow, imperceptible to most people.

As a kid I scared more than a few other kids and teachers with my “dead” breathing, it also helped to avoid more than one middle of the night beatings for breathing too loud from my father. He had this mean anger for loud breathing, never have figured out why. I keep meaning to ask him, maybe after this mission. I have been planning to go back home for a few months now. My Mom had told me my father has been on the wagon for over a year now and has turned back into the father I knew before “Vietnam”.

More movement brings me back to reality, I am lying here as if dead, but ready to spring shut the steel blade of my deadly trap. The movement stops.

The darkness of the surrounding undergrowth is mind numbing. I have only experienced this kind of darkness one other time in my life and that was when a few us went on a trip to the lava tubes when were deployed to the Pohakuloa training grounds on the big island of Hawaii. We spent a day crawling through the caves. At one point we decided to turn all our lights out, could not see your hand in front of your face.

The jungle is so thick here it’s damn near as dark. But like they say, when you loose one sense, the others become more sensitive and my ears are going to be my guide.

Other than the normal jungle noises it has been very quite for the last couple of minutes, no movement. Maybe I am imagining it all. Besides how did he find me? In escape and evasion training, I graduated top of my class. I was one of only two students in the class to complete the total course program, Zach was the other. I know my concealment is good. But my senses tell me there is something here with me, something or someone.

Then I hear it, a faint sound of breathing, near, very near just to the right rear of where I am laying. I feel my Ghillie suit being tugged a bit on my right side leg, the side nearest the trail. Like it’s being walked across, drawing it to the ground and tightening it across my leg. I feel a very light faint nudge to the bottom of my right boot, is he trying to see if I am going to move, damn straight I am going to move. The speed of my lunge even surprises me. I feel the blade of the Mark II sink into his flesh, it slides across a rib bone and hesitates for just a second before the serrated edge cuts through it like butter, did I mention I love this knife? The bone is not enough to stop or deflect it from its intended target, a vital organ.

The silhouette of my enemy is barely discernible, but I know I have hit center of mass on the dark silhouette. I feel the warmth of his blood shoot out across my hand, could I be so lucky? The hilt becomes slippery in my hand. He is totally silent, not a sound except his body crumpling to the ground, hard, followed by the sound of leaves being thrashed by his flailing limbs. I pull the blade free and prepare for another strike, but I realize it is not going to be necessary, my victim is in his death throws, a tremor moves him from time to time making slight rustling noises. He was dead before he hit the ground. My blade pierced his heart on the first stab, proof of success of my stab comes from the spray of warm blood to my face and chest, sticky, copper smelling blood. Spraying from the gash in his chest made by the inch wide Mark II blade. My eyes are flooded with it, damn. If he has company, my ass is done. I blink and rub my eyes trying to clear them. Even the ability to make out shapes is better than being completely blind, total blindness caused by his blood flooding my eyes.

I lay still now, very still, the jungle has grown quiet around me, the thick, sticky, blood is bringing tears to my eyes, flushing them clear, or is it the realization I have taken a life? The adrenaline in my body is beginning to wear off, damn my mouth is dry. I need a drink of water, even my pill purified canteen water would taste like champagne right now. I have lain here deadly still, allowing fifteen minutes to come and go, there has been no further noise or indication of anyone else in the area. The jungle has returned to its normal crescendo of noises.

I can smell my victims blood in the air, it is beginning to dry on my skin and uniform. Sticky blood covers my right hand up to my elbow. Flies have begun buzzing his body and mine, feeding on the blood, the jungle wastes no time trying to claim a meal, after just one day here I understand the old saying, “It’s a jungle out there.” The darkness is beginning to give way to a slight glow, I can begin seeing more than just shadows. I can make out my enemies dead lifeless form laying at the base of my feet. Damn, have I ever screwed up.