Vigilante Angels Book III: the Candidate: Vigilante Angels, #3 by Billy DeCarlo

Author:Billy DeCarlo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Assassination, beach, island, trump, police vigilante justice murder organized crime, serial killer dark disturbing vengeful urban pulp, noir revenge hatred racism cop retribution anger, executioner prejudice terminal cancer diagnosis, loss rage Marine veteran retaliation aged death, political corruption, loss grief hero criminal savior convict aging
Publisher: Wild Lake Press, Inc
Published: 2018-01-11T00:00:00+00:00

HE HAD JUST ARRIVED in-country, green from training, full of piss and vinegar, and now that he was there, he was scared out of his mind.

The M113A1 Green Dragon Armored Personnel Carrier he was in was cramped, and the other ten men sitting below in benches against its walls spewed bravado. The vehicle was on reconnaissance, rambling through the jungle as they laughed and joked in its belly.

There was a sudden acceleration, and the commander in the turret was heard shouting. Their .50 caliber Browning M2 machine gun began rattling off rounds. The bursts stopped, and the leader’s limp body was passed down from the hatch as the vehicle swerved out of control.

The medic immediately jumped up to provide first aid to the wounded man, as one of the top gunners took control of the vehicle and shouted that they were pinned down and going to attempt to cross the river to escape. Tommy was frozen in place, eighteen years old and wondering if he was in a bad dream or war movie. He wanted to be home, in his bedroom, safe.

They began to hear the unmistakable sound of machine-gun rounds hitting the vehicle. Some pierced the light armor, and daylight showed through randomly appearing holes in its walls. They all hunched down, and he heard a splash as the vehicle entered the water. He remembered that the vehicle was “moderately amphibious” and looked around at the men weighed down with battle armor and weapons.

He checked his M14 rifle nervously. They bobbed in the water, and he could feel the rush of the river taking the craft under its own control. He was convinced at that point that he was going to die there, in that aluminum tin can full of sweaty, smelly men.

“Do not panic, you are United States Marines!” Sergeant Campbell shouted at them. “Keep your composure! We are not going to die here today, Marines!” He looked at the other men, who all wore grim determination on their faces. Tommy hoped he didn’t look as scared as he was.

The carrier swayed and bounced, and he heard the water sloshing against the hull, thinking that if it sank without deploying its hatch, they would all have to somehow exit through the turret above. They were all thrown to the floor as the vehicle slammed into an obstacle in the water and stopped. The hatch deployed, and he heard Campbell yell, “Cover yourselves, exit, now!”

They got up and charged the rectangular doorway, weapons held high above their heads to try and keep them dry. The vision of the men in front of him struggling in the current, trying to stay on their feet, rounds dancing off the water, was forever burned into his mind. He was last, except for the sergeant, who shoved him out. “Go, Borata, damn it!”

He remembered the welcome chill of the water and fresh air, after being cramped in the sweaty compartment breathing diesel fumes for so long. He saw a man ahead of him go limp, and the river took him away, streams of blood trailing behind him in the water.

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