The Destroyer - 102 - The Destroyer 102 - Unite and Conquer by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780373632176
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1996-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

"Suits me. Let's hope we can get a line on Verapaz while we're at it. It's a big jungle."

"Bristling with all manner of high dangers and low corn," added the Master of Sinanju sagely.

Chapter 22

When the harsh rattle of autofire came, it sounded amazingly far away.

Maybe it was the terrible sound itself that contributed to the momentary amazement that seized the wild-haired warrior's helpless body.

Always in the past, the Extinguisher had been in situations that would break a lesser man. Many were the traps, ambushes and deaths engineered for him. Yes, he fell into a good many of these. No warrior is perfect. But always and invariably the Extinguisher mustered his jungle-honed combat skills and saved the day-not to mention his battle-hardened butt.

The percussive sound of autofire meant that this was one time that wasn't going to happen.

In the brief moments before the bullets ripped into his steely muscled form with their hot, fatal kisses, the Extinguisher said a silent combat prayer to the red god of battle. This was not the way he had ever imagined it ending. Not here. Not now. Not so soon, with so many battles to be fought and the enemy in this campaign as yet unvanquished.

But war is hell, even a wild-haired warrior's private war.

His prayer done, he tensed. If it was quick, good. If not, then he would spit out a final curse against the foes who had robbed a troubled world of its one pure protector. That would be good, too. Not as good as living, true, but-

A low moan ascended to the low-hanging moon.

The rustle and thud of a body falling into vegetation came next. Then another. More moans, followed by a confused rustling and thudding.

A final burst of autofire cut off a muffled curse.

The Extinguisher froze, not knowing what to do. He heard it all. The moans. The sounds of sudden death. The dropping bodies.

But none were his own. He still stood erect against the execution tree.

A slow, measured rustle came from the west, and he sensed a nearing presence, soft and stealthy.

Popping open one eye, he saw the firing squad curled up in the high grass like insects whose bodies had been doused with gasoline and set aflame.

A slow movement caught his eye.

Approaching was a cautious figure wearing a brown uniform, a black ski mask muffling the head. It was a very large head, bloated, almost pulpy, as if it concealed a monstrously deformed skull.

"Shh," the figure hissed. The eyes were luminous in the dark, like black opals.

A knife came out. His bonds were sliced apart.

"Thanks," he hissed, rubbing his wrists.

"Shh. Vamos!"

That last word he understood. It meant come on. Grabbing his gear, the Extinguisher followed the wary figure, casting frequent glances over his backtrail in case pursuit materialized.

None did.

The Extinguisher would live to fight another day.

And if this was one time he hadn't saved himself, what the hell? Breathing was breathing. Besides, there was only one witness, and he wore the guerrilla garb that marked him as a Juarezista.

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