Jack Roberts for Kennebec7 (#2) Praying for Dex
We’re in the middle of nowhere here in Myanmar. We ran into a band of traffickers earlier tonight in the jungle. They had about twenty-five kids –Burmese boys and girls-- age about 7 to 13. They were linked by chains, heading for the Thai or Chinese borders. Although there was only me and Len and Connie, plus our fearless Burmese partner, Zaw, we heard them first, the kids crying and the traffickers hollering threats there in the middle of the jungle.
The traffickers numbered about twenty, but we had the advantage of knowing they were there before they knew what hit them. We have never slaughtered any enemy without giving fair warning, but sometimes threats do no good. The four of us got the drop on them. We had torches; we could see what they had. But they grabbed the kids and tried to use them as human shields.
The traffickers obviously hadn’t had much experience fighting people who know how to use silent weapons- knives, martial arts, knowledge of weaknesses in the human flesh, and so forth. Without a great deal of actual gunfire, we disabled several of them. When they realized that this might be a kettle of fish which they weren’t familiar with, they ran, scattering into the night and the jungle.
So, we got the kids out of their chains. Zaw spoke their language, so he got a pretty good idea where they belonged. As best we could, we tended to their injuries. We buried the two traffickers who had been killed in the fracas, bandaged two more who sustained injuries, and restrained them with the same chains they’d been using on the children. Connie suffered a shoulder injury, but it wasn’t too serious. Connie is a tough young woman. She stayed with me, while Zaw and Len took off with the kids towards a village where their people lived.
We didn’t make a fire. The other traffickers could easily double back on us. We put mosquito netting around ourselves and the two prisoners. We shared some water with them, but not our dry rations. We didn’t have that much left after a five weeks in the wilderness. We sat listening to the night. We had some pretty efficient weapons nearby. There would be no sleep tonight. Len and Zaw would hopefully be back by the next midday.
Connie spoke softly. You got a message about Dex, didn’t you?
His wife texted me. Carla.
How’s Dex making out?
It’s not looking so good. He’s back in the hospital. But Carla says he wants me to know it’s not over until it’s over.
He’s so amazing, Connie said. I wouldn’t bet against Dex.
Suddenly I was reminded that it was a night so much like this one when Dex and I and Aranya were sitting around a campfire in the Burmese wilderness. That’s when the firefight erupted and Dex sustained some of the injuries that ultimately led to the condition he finds himself in today.
Dex and I have been best friends since we were young lieutenants in the Army back at the beginning of Desert Storm. Ten years later when my wife was murdered by Sadinsky in Africa, I retired from the military and became a freelance warrior. Now I had my own war to fight. Dex then opted out of the Army, too. My mission became his. I would have done the same if anybody did to Carla what those bloody bastards did to Jannelle.
I was back in Michigan taking care of Terry, tracking Sadinsky via satellite and my computer, when Dex, an agricultural warfare specialist, informed me about a high-jacking of invaluable pods from rare tropical plants in Brazil. The high-jacked plane was traced to the remote jungles of northern Myanmar where it disappeared from all surveillance systems.
Within days my small team, consisting of Dex and myself, plus a remarkable Chinese-Venezuelan fighter named Aranya, found ourselves on the Shan Plateau, just like we are tonight. That night we were tracking down Sadinsky who had had Terry kidnapped. Tonight has been a different mission, which must remain confidential.
But back when Dexter was with us, we also had more than twenty locals who were supposedly guiding us to Sadinsky’s hideout. The closer we got, the more nervous our ‘guides’ became.
Dex stood up and walked over the Arvid, the leader of the Burmese guides. Arvid’s other two lieutenants had melted momentarily into the darkness. Arvid, he asked, puffing on his pipe, “how many more miles you figure to the fortress?”
The small, sinewy, gray-faced man stared at Dex for a few seconds. When he spoke, his English was surprisingly clear, but his manner betrayed his annoyance. Colonel Roberts ask me that question already. The woman asked me too. I told them-- maybe forty miles.
Dex nodded, Okay. Then he had a funny feeling. Where’re the boys? he asked referring to the other guides.
Again Arvid stared extra long at Dex, as if measuring him. Getting some more firewood.
Dex casually strolled back to the fire where Aranya and I were checking our weapons. In addition to her Beretta automatic pistol, she carried an Uzi. I had a revolver hanging under my armpit and an automatic rifle I slung over my shoulder when I was hiking through the jungle. Maybe we’d better sleep with our toys tonight, Dex joked grimly.
What’s up, Dex? I whispered, immediately alerted to the possibilities of trouble by my friend’s tone.
I’m not sure, yet, Dex commented, relighting his pipe. He turned to Aranya, Ron, whatta you think? Maybe Sadinsky ain’t gonna wait for us to show up at his door?
I told the two of you, I don’t trust these guys. She had been suspicious of the guides since the beginning. After what she had experienced with Sadinsky, Aranya basically didn’t trust anybody. Except, maybe Dex and me.
I was turning the situation over in my mind when Arvid suddenly appeared at my side. He pulled a gun and stuck it in my ribs. He sneered, Colonel Roberts, I have sore feet. I don’t feel like guiding you anymore, so I have arranged other transportation to the fortress.
His eyes gleamed with a supernatural hatred. I had seen that look before. Dark Seekers, I thought instantaneously. The Dark Seekers were a cult of hypernatural hit men.
Before Aranya or Dex or I had a chance to react, about twenty local warriors, armed with automatic weapons stepped out of the dark into the circle of light from the campfire. Suddenly, Aranya lashed out with her nun-chucks which had been hanging around her neck, almost faster than the eye could follow. They wrapped around Arvid’s gun arm, spinning him around.
The guide’s finger reflexively pressed the trigger of his weapon, sending a hail of bullets into the midsections of several of the approaching warriors. Then Aranya’s fist connected with Arvid’s chin, pitching him into the fire.
Oh well, she quipped, one less for breakfast.
Dex tackled a warrior aiming his automatic at Aranya. His bullet plowed into the night sky. I grabbed her and dove for cover just before the other seventeen Dark Seeker hirelings opened fire.
Aranya came up firing back. She managed to toss Dex an automatic. Between them, they scattered a half dozen warriors who were almost on top of us.
Hugging the ground. I circled around to the other side of the camp. When I came upon two unsuspecting warriors, I utilized my own martial arts skills to flatten them. No shots from my handgun were required.
The firefight lasted less than a half hour. I was operating from one side of the battle. Shots were whipping through the leaves, thudding into trees. Suddenly there was silence. As I maneuvered carefully back toward the campsite, I heard hurried footsteps disappearing in the jungle. I saw bodies. Plenty of them. They were all locals. I called for Dex and Aranya. No answer. Then I realized that blood was filling my boot. My right foot had taken a round. So had my shoulder. It wasn’t until the adrenalin wore down that I fully realized I was in deep pain.
To Be Continued
Jack Roberts
Myanmar
(04/27/2010)
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Contributor's Note
You can read the first part of Jack on
http://www.kiwi-i.com/search/label/Kennebec7%20War%20of%20the%20Realms
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