Tomcat by David E. Meadows

Author:David E. Meadows
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Berkley Publishing Group
Published: 2002-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Ooorah!” The Marine Corps cry that so emulated the rebel yell of the Civil War filled the air as the three groups of Marines charged the oasis. Heights and his team appeared near the center of the oasis, they, too, running and firing toward the east. The Marine Corps yell encouraged them, while the primitive sound had the opposite effect on the enemy.

Supernatural terror rippled through the Tauregs.

Screaming in fear, many ran north, away from the Marines, and disappeared into the desert night, believing devils and demons pursued them. Stapler shot two men wearing khakis who were attempting to put on their pants.

He saw rifles thrown onto the sand where frightened Tau regs dropped them in their mad dash for their lives.

Stapler burst through the bushes surrounding the well.

Catsup Kellogg dropped to the ground and shoved her weapon through the brush, covering the gunny. Jones dashed into the clearing before he realized he had run out of cover and just as quickly rolled back into the bushes.

Sheila Anne Forester stood at the well, casually drawing water and filling the canister. Stapler was certain he heard her humming.

Four Taureg natives lay around the well, two at her feet. A huge Taureg, dressed in a flowing black robe, crashed through the bushes on the other side of the well, screaming. The Bedouin jerked a curved knife from beneath his robe and ran toward Sheila, raising it as he neared. The oodalooping sound the native made by trilling the tongue against the roof of the mouth caused Miss. Sheila Anne Forester to turn her head toward the charging giant. How in the hell do they do that? Stapler wondered.

Stapler raised the M-16, but she was in his line of fire.

“Damn!” Stapler shouted. He charged, running as fast as the shifting sand allowed, his combat boots sinking in the sand, slowing his advance. Stapler brought his bayonet level with the native’s midsection. He screamed as he ran, hoping to draw the man to him and away from the unarmed young woman. The native glanced at Stapler, trilled louder with the knowledge that Stapler was too far away to stop him from killing the demon girl. The Taureg raised his knife for the downward slash as he closed the last few feet.

Stapler shouted at Sheila, “Get down!”

She glanced at Stapler and set the gallon jug on the rim of the rock well beside the other gallon container.

The Taureg stopped his trilling long enough to scream something in dialect Arabic.

Sheila took two steps back as the man brought the knife down, the blade barely missing her. She grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it under and back. Using his own forward momentum, she stuck her foot out, pulled the knife arm down and around to flip him in the air. She twirled around as the attacker was in midair and jerked the arm toward her. She leaned onto one leg, lifted the other, and slammed her foot into the attacker’s stomach as he tumbled down. A loud, short grunt escaped from the native.

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