Concrete Jungle - 01 by Nathan Archer

Author:Nathan Archer [Archer, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

Schaefer'd been disgusted by it, by the unnecessary sloppy viciousness of it, the waste and the pain, but then he'd realized that those boys weren't really all that different from Dutch and himself. They were out there, pitting themselves against nature by killing deer.

The only difference was that those boys needed to be wired up, needed to drive themselves into a killing frenzy, needed to see the blood. They had to make it into a perverse sort of fun, or they couldn't do it at all.

Schaefer had thought that over carefully. He'd thought it over, and he'd decided that there was a world of difference between killing because you have to, to do whatever it is you're out to do, and killing because it's fun.

Schaefer had decided he didn't want to kill for fun, and after that day he never had.

But that didn't mean he hadn't killed.

He was staring into the dying embers of the fire, thinking about that, when the thing in his neck suddenly jabbed at him-not digging into the artery, but doing something, something that hurt.

Even distracted by the pain, he knew what that had to mean. He hadn't felt anything like it before, but he'd have to be an idiot not to understand.

The thing that had marked him was getting his attention, letting him know it hadn't forgotten him.

And it wouldn't bother doing that if it was still back in New York; it must have followed him.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, clenching his fists in pain. "He's here!"

He looked around, scanning the jungle.

He didn't see it anywhere.

He knew it was out there, though. Maybe he wasn't going to find any clues to the thing's origins here, maybe the crater wouldn't tell him anything, but he'd have a chance to tackle it again.

And if he could kill it, who would care where it had come from?

18

The guide watched with interest as Schaefer unpacked and checked out some of the little presents he'd gotten from his pal in the DEA. He'd built the fire back up enough that both men could see what Schaefer was doing.

"That is a very big rifle," the guide remarked at one point as Schaefer assembled the contents of a steel suitcase.

Schaefer hefted the weapon in question. "This?" he said. "This isn't a rifle. It's a shotgun-full auto. Six rounds a second. You hear it popping, you get the hell out of here, comprende?"

"Comprendo," the guide replied.

That shotgun was the centerpiece of Schaefer's armament, but he also had a more ordinary automatic rifle slung on his back, and grenades and knives on his belt. He wanted to be ready when he met that big ugly sucker.

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