CROCUTA: A Genetics Investigation Team Thriller by Russ Tilton

Author:Russ Tilton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-10-07T22:00:00+00:00

“You want the honors?” Brightner asked as they stepped onto the front porch.

“I’ll pass,” Jessup said. “The last time I did this it didn’t turn out so well.”

The sheriff raised an eyebrow but said nothing as they moved to opposite sides of the door using the framing as cover. He tried the doorknob, locked, then he slammed a fist against the panel.

“Policia! Abre la puerta!”

No response.

Brightner pounded again and repeated his command. “Policia! Abre la puerta!”

Boom! A shotgun blast blew a foot-wide hole through the front door.

“Shit!” Jessup yelped and jerked away. He jacked a round into his shotgun and was swinging the barrel around when a second round of buckshot smashed through the wood. A splinter clipped his arm, but he didn’t feel it as he fired the 870 through the door, aiming chest high. Though practically deaf, he heard the clatter of automatic weapon fire as Brightner brought the M-16 into play.

“Jake! The knob!” the sheriff shouted.

Jessup pointed the shotgun and jerked the trigger. The doorknob disintegrated and the door flew open. They filed inside, weapons aimed, in time to see a male run out the back door with a rifle.

“Don’t shoot. April’s back there,” Jessup said.

“Watch out!” Brightner slammed Jessup against the wall just as another gunman appeared from a doorway with a shotgun and fired. The round sounded like a cannon as buckshot shredded more of the front door.

Two bursts of automatic weapons fire erupted outside, but before either man could react, the guy with the shotgun jacked another round into his weapon and aimed. Off balance, Brightner jerked the trigger on his rifle and stitched a line of rounds from floor to ceiling. One of them hit the gunman, who cried out and fell back into the room and dropped his weapon.

Both men ran forward, weapons ready, and stormed the room—but it was empty.

“Hole!” Jessup said, stabbing a finger at a black void inside the unfinished closet.

They ran over, looked down, and saw the trafficker lying at the bottom of a four-foot opening. With each wheezing breath, air bubbled from a hole in the man’s chest. He looked up, smiled through blood-stained teeth, and brought up his right hand. Jessup realized what it was just as the gunman moved his fingers and the safety lever flipped through the air.

“Fuck!” Jessup said shoving Brightner out of the bedroom.

WHOOMP!

The explosion shook the house, knocking both men off their feet. Sheetrock dust and sawdust filled the air like a fog. Jessup pushed himself to his knees and shook his head. He heard a noise, spun around, and saw someone charging them from behind.

He yelped, flipped onto his back, and pivoted the shotgun up. His finger moved to the trigger and he heard, “Jake, Jake, are you okay?”

“Shit,” he said, tossing the weapon aside and clambering to his feet.

Flowers rushed up, grabbed him, and looked him over. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a little rattled. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“I’m okay, too, in case anybody gives a shit,” came a voice from the floor behind them.

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