LETHAL STRIKE (The Specialist Book 2) by Zeke Mitchell

Author:Zeke Mitchell [Mitchell, Zeke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zeke Mitchell - 1st Edition
Published: 2017-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

TEN

Thorn crossed a stony chaparral and slogged through a weed-infested ravine. He scrambled down a steep slope that crumbled underfoot. In the distance a timber-wolf howled at the moon.

He pressed on. He was surrounded by murky shadows...by the lurking unknown. A surge of apprehension made his gut tighten. He paused to scan his flanks and backtrack for possible danger. For hostile trackers. He saw none.

He checked his GPS again. He turned five degrees west. Then he was treading over a crust of black volcanic rock. Ten million years ago the ground here was covered in fiery lava. He would have been incinerated by the molten sludge. Burned alive.

After a hundred more paces the rock crust broke away to reveal red-brown soil. Tall grass scraped against his pants. Tumbleweed tangled around his boots. He was mindful of snakes. It would be a sad irony if he was nailed by a pissed-off reptile after all he had survived tonight.

He slogged on for another quarter mile and reached another treeline. Another deep dark forest. He stepped along the treeline and found a narrow game trail. It led in the general direction of his waypoint.

Lacking any better option he entered the trail. As he moved he was flanked by looming trees and thick tangled brush. The trees and brush and shadows pressed in on him. Claustrophobic. Almost smothering. A thick eerie mist rose from the damp ground. It swirled around him and it was lit by stark gray moonlight.

He reached a curve in the trail and saw a thick vine hanging in front of him. Not a vine. A tree viper. It was colored green with large rough scales and black glistening eyes. Its bite was lethal.

Thorn edged backward and drew his knife. As he did the viper hissed and exposed massive fangs. It coiled and pulled itself upward. But it was not attacking. It was retreating. It slithered across a branch and vanished from sight.

Thorn paused to check for more snakes and saw none. He pressed on for another fifty yards. He was following the narrow trail. Abruptly he halted. His combat senses tingled. There was movement up ahead. Someone was approaching from the opposite direction on the trail.

He dropped into a low defensive crouch. He peered ahead through the Razors. He saw the dim outlines of five men. Make that six men. They were trudging along the trail.

He listened. He could hear two men speaking. He did not recognize their language. What mattered was that their voices were getting louder as the men were advancing his way.

He scowled. He had to avoid detection. He had to avoid a head-on confrontation. Which meant he had to conceal himself.

As before the solution was to climb. He found a tree that was stout enough to support his weight. Its branches hung low enough to reach with an easy jump.

He made his jump and scrambled upward. He climbed quickly but as quietly as possible. He grasped limbs with his gloved hands and pulled himself into the cover of thick foliage.

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