The Ruins: A Black Force Thriller (Black Force Shorts Book 10) by Matt Rogers

Author:Matt Rogers [Rogers, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

17

Time slowed down.

Slater heard the weapon discharge, and saw the translator’s head snap back on his shoulders, and instantly knew the man was dead.

There was blood and gore and brain matter in the mix, but he ignored the sight.

He simply acknowledged Mehmut’s death, and kept moving.

Not a single millisecond was worth wasting right now.

He compartmentalised. The first port of call was arming himself. Moving fast, he bent down and picked up one of the assault rifles that had been dropped at his feet. It was a QBZ-97A 5.56 mm — a variant of the Type 95 Automatic Rifle used at large by Chinese law enforcement. This particular model had been set to fire three-round bursts, and Slater absorbed all this information in a heartbeat.

He shot the guy with the pistol in the head, firing across the top of the open-topped jeep. That guy took all three consecutive rounds to his delicate facial features and spiralled out of sight, losing his footing as he died.

There was one other guy armed on that side of the vehicle, so Slater shot him too — this time targeting the chest.

He’d risked the headshot to ensure a quick death, but centre mass was always more desirable.

That man crumpled, bending at the waist like a collapsible table and disappearing in turn.

Then there were four left — three right near Slater, one standing across from him over Mehmut’s corpse.

And none of them were armed.

Slater had them all at gunpoint, and the rapidity with which he’d decimated their entire party left them frozen in a collective state of shock. The two guys previously holding Type 95 rifles — one now sporting a broken nose, the other a broken jaw — stirred from semi-consciousness, and sat up in unison.

They studied their surroundings through hazy eyes.

Slater kicked them in the head, one by one, and sent them straight back down again.

The four secret policemen left standing watched in awe.

And Slater stewed with indecision.

Deep in the throes of a moral crisis.

He didn’t let it plague him for long. He had a decision to make.

Leave these men alive and he was giving them the chance to regroup and come after him — which they no doubt would do. They weren’t noble in any sense of the word. Sure, they were up here intercepting ETIM soldiers, perhaps even planning an assault on the encampment in these mountains.

But when they weren’t doing that, they were running secret torturous re-education camps and slaughtering the ethnic natives of the region.

Slater knew exactly what was required to operate as a secret policeman in a region like this. It took a ruthless level of sociopathic behaviour. It took lies, espionage, rape and murder. It took locking up hundreds of thousands of people under the guise of “vocational training” and then pretending the camps didn’t exist.

He stared at them, and they looked back at him with hard, cruel eyes.

They would kill him without a moment’s hesitation, just like they’d slaughtered Mehmut.

Slater had no allegiance to the translator, but he could use it as a reference point for what they’d do to him.

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