Sacrifice, page 10
part #18 of Rogue Angel Series
“You won’t get anything from me,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke at the ants, who quickly retreated.
The search team leader’s head turned slightly toward Agamemnon. He tried to speak, but he coughed and spit out bits of ants instead, retching as more of the tiny bodies filled his mouth and lungs.
Whatever he had hoped to say to Agamemnon was lost amid the feasting army.
But Agamemnon knew what he would be trying to say to him. He knew because he’d seen men die like this before. And after a man reached the point of no return, there was only one thing they wanted more than anything else.
Agamemnon unholstered his pistol and chambered a round. He puffed on his cigar and blew more smoke out into the night air. Amid the chattering ants, Agamemnon heard the first pellets of rain starting to fall. Tonight, it would storm. Already in the distance, peals of thunder sounded.
The ants would probably retreat under the deluge. But in the morning, when the sun came out and started to cook the jungle, they would return, drawn by the smell of baking flesh.
Agamemnon considered the man in front of him. He wasn’t really such a bad guy. He’d simply failed to live up to what Agamemnon expected of him.
And that, unfortunately for him, was not tolerated. Not when they were so close to unveiling their masterpiece.
“You could have gone so far,” Agamemnon said. “I trusted you to do your best and you let me down.”
The man didn’t respond. He couldn’t anymore. His head lolled from side to side, but only tiny sounds escaped him.
Agamemnon’s pistol barked once in the night air.
Agamemnon chomped on his cigar and then slid his pistol back into its holster. He blew another stream of smoke into the jungle air and turned to walk away.
Marta stood behind him. “You are hungry now?”
He smiled. “How long have you been standing there?”
She bowed. “You are most merciful. You did that man a great service by ending his life.”
“He was already dead.”
“Dying, master. And still suffering.”
Agamemnon shrugged. “What good are they to me if they cannot fulfill my expectations?”
“No good at all, sir.”
“Indeed.”
Marta looked at him. “You will need to eat before you leave tomorrow.”
Agamemnon smiled. “Now, who told you I was going somewhere?”
“It seemed obvious. If no one else is able to find the woman, then you must assume leadership yourself.”
“As much as it pains me to do so,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Agamemnon took another drag on his cigar. “I will eat.”
“And after that?”
He smiled. “Tell the men to get ready. We leave at first light to look for the people who have gone missing. We will find them ourselves and then, if all things go to plan, we will have much to rejoice in when Miki at the other camp carries out his assignment.”
15
Annja spent the night trying to sleep despite the constant pain in her body. She could no longer feel her hands; they’d gone numb sometime after the fourth hour of being positioned above her. But her back ached and her legs now joined in the party, sending muscle spasms that ended just short of her abdomen.
She figured she had gotten maybe twenty minutes in total when Vic stirred next to her. He had somehow managed to sleep despite being in the same position as Annja.
He looked over at her and grinned. “Already awake, I see.”
Annja shrugged. “Guess I’m not as skilled as you are at being able to sleep in the strangest positions ever known to man.”
Vic glanced overhead. “This? Oh, this isn’t the worst. Not by a long shot. There was this one time I was in Botswana and we had to find our way into this warlord’s lair by trekking through the most inhospitable swamp—”
“Would you kindly shut up.”
Vic turned. Eduardo had woken up.
Annja smiled. “Guess who woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Eduardo frowned. “I didn’t sleep.”
“No?”
“No. I can’t get comfortable.”
“Join the club,” she said.
Eduardo eyed Vic. “You don’t seem to suffer from that problem.”
“I was trying to tell Annja before you so rudely interrupted that I’ve actually been in worse positions than this.”
“I don’t care.”
Vic sighed. “Apparently.”
Eduardo looked around. “How are we going to escape?”
Vic scowled. “We?”
“Yes. None of us will be able to do this on their own. Our best bet is to…join forces, at least temporarily. Until we get out of here and find our way back to the surface, we should consider ourselves allies.”
“And what guarantee do we have that you’ll keep your word?” Annja asked.
“No more guarantee than I have that you won’t kill me as soon as you get the chance.”
Vic nodded. “He has a point.”
Annja tried moving her fingers, but she couldn’t tell if they responded or not. Without fresh blood reaching them, she was worried the tissue might start dying. She couldn’t stay here any longer, and escape was the only option. Trying to dodge an execution at the last second might have worked once, but Annja wasn’t too keen on gambling that way again.
“So how do we get out of here?” she asked, thinking aloud.
Annja took a look around the area. Torches illuminated the cavern, and the light flickered and made shadows dance in every corner. It wasn’t as spooky as Annja would have thought, but it did make her uncomfortable knowing they were somewhere underground. Even if they were able to escape, what promise was there that they could find their way back up to the surface?
She frowned. Promise or not, they had to at least try.
Vic seemed to be doing something with his left arm. Annja watched as he wriggled his left shoulder forward and then back again.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Vic winked. “Probably something that is going to cause me an inordinate amount of pain. But then again, desperate times and all that jazz.”
Annja heard a sudden vague pop. Vic groaned but gritted his teeth.
“Good lord, did you just dislocate your shoulder?” she asked.
Sweat ran down Vic’s face as his body lurched to one side. “Yeah.”
Eduardo shook his head. “You are insane.”
Vic ignored them both and continued to use his body weight to generate momentum. “If I can get enough motion going, it might break that knot.”
Eduardo sighed. “Didn’t you hear Hector? He said the knots are virtually unbreakable. There’s no way you’ll be able to do that. It simply won’t work. You’re a fool for trying it.”
Vic eyed him. “You’re a real up person, aren’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
Annja cleared her throat. “Will it work?”
Vic shook his head. “I don’t know. But we seemed out of other options. I can feel the knot tensing and releasing as I swing back and forth. Maybe if my body weight doesn’t work I can get some friction going against the backboards and that might gnaw at the knots enough to break them.”
“And once you’re down?” she asked.
“I can pop it back in, don’t worry,” Vic said with a grimace.
Annja grinned in spite of herself. Vic hung at an odd angle since one of his arms seemed longer than the other. “How in the hell did you ever learn to do something like that?” she asked.
“High-school wrestling.”
“What?”
He smirked. “I always wanted to be on the team, you know?” He grunted and continued swinging. “But for some reason I never did well. Turns out that this shoulder of mine just won’t stay in place. So every time I had to muscle someone over or try to get a takedown, the damned thing would just sort of pop out. Or even worse, if they got to me first, my arm would jump out of the socket and the ref would call the match. Sucked at the time, but it’s had its benefits since then.”
“Such as?” Annja asked.
Vic smiled. “Excluding possibly saving our lives? It’s a great pickup line.”
Annja almost laughed. “You use that to pick up women?”
“Sure. There’s nothing like the shock-and-awe effect.”
“And yet, somehow I can’t see any women flipping out over an arm suddenly going slack. It’s actually kind of gross.”
Vic swung back again. “Yeah, well, it’s not a foolproof bedding-down kind of thing. I have to work it just right and then spring it on them. There’s a fine art to it. Like everything else. You have to be patient.”
“Right. Are you really moving all that much with your other arm still tied like that?” she asked.
Vic nodded. “There’s enough motion to get most of me moving. But I’m not swinging like a pendulum here. Wish I was.”
“This is taking far too long,” Eduardo said. “We need to think of something else. Something more effective than this.”
Annja frowned. “We’re all ears if you’ve got a better idea. Vic’s the only one I see being productive.”
“You’re not doing anything,” Eduardo complained.
“I’m also not whining about ridiculous things like you are,” Annja retorted.
Eduardo glanced around and then up at his binds. “I had a knife in my shirt but they took it.”
“And you wouldn’t be able to use it anyway,” Annja said. “Look, I’m not exactly enjoying the sight of Vic’s dislocated shoulder here, but at least he seems to be doing something. Let’s give him some time to see if it works.”
Eduardo frowned. “Every moment we wait is another step closer to our deaths.”
Vic shook his head. “Isn’t that what you people groove on anyway? I thought you loved the thought of dying. Don’t you get all those virgins and shit when you go?”
“I can accomplish more by being alive,” Eduardo said.
“Uh-oh,” Vic said.
Annja looked at him alarmed. “What?”
“Looks like we’ve got an unfaithful one over here.”
Eduardo spit at Vic. “What do you know about faith? You think your Western ideals will serve you well when you die?”
Vic sniffed. “I’m not presumptuous enough to even begin to imagine what will and won’t help me when I cross over. But I’m also not dumb enough to follow someone who thinks that killing innocent people is the right thing to do.”
“Your leaders are no different.”
Annja sighed. “Didn’t we cover this already? Last night at some point? Or am I already imagining things.”
Vic grimaced again as he moved some more. “Yeah, you’re right. What’s the point anyway? I’ve known enough fanatics to understand they won’t give a contradictory thought a chance if it butts heads with their belief system.”
“Not all Muslims are fanatics,” Eduardo said.
“Did I mention Muslims? I said ‘fanatics.’ That means anyone, pal, regardless of religion. In case you haven’t noticed, the United States has more than its fair share of nut jobs. It’s not like any country or religion has a monopoly on them.”
Annja looked up at Vic’s bonds. “How are you making out?” she asked.
“I think I might be getting somewhere.”
Eduardo peered closer. “Really?”
“Yeah, keep pissing me off. I think it helps.”
“Cut it out, Vic,” Annja said.
“I’m being serious. I think I made the most progress when our new friend there started bitching and moaning.”
“You would equate me with a woman?” Eduardo sneered. “I am no such thing.”
“Uh, did I miss the part where you suddenly let us all know you were a misogynist?” Annja frowned. “Because, you know, really that’s not the best way to get on my good side.”
“I don’t care about getting on your good side,” Eduardo said. “I care only about escaping this place. Once we are back on the surface, all bets are off and we go our separate ways.”
Vic started humming.
Annja looked at him. “What are you doing?”
Vic stopped. “Sorry. I had a flashback to a Journey concert I went to when I was younger.”
“Aren’t you in pain?” Annja asked.
Vic nodded. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“Well, I’m a bit more used to it than I would be if I just did this for the first time. After a while, it gets a bit easier. I’ll be sore as hell for a few days, though.”
“I’m thinking you only do this if the woman happens to be someone you really want to get with, huh?”
Vic nodded. “You got that right. The ol’ dislocation trick only makes its appearance if the chick is a hot babe.”
“And if you need to escape crazed tribesmen in far-off jungles.”
Vic looked at her. “Nah, only if I want to impress a babe.”
Annja stared at him. “You aren’t seriously attempting to flirt right now, are you?”
Vic chuckled. “Let’s just say that I have a lot of faith in what a shower and a fresh set of clothes would do for you.”
Annja grinned in spite of herself. “This is definitely a first for me.”
“What, you don’t think mud is sexy?”
“And jungle grime? Not a chance.”
Eduardo sighed. “If you two are quite through, could we refocus on the task at hand?”
“Party pooper,” Vic said. He shifted and twisted slightly as he moved. “Piss me off again and I think I may just kill you.”
“Unless I have your word, the moment you get down from there, I will scream and draw attention to you.” Eduardo scowled. “You two will be dead before you get twenty feet from here.”
“You’ll die, too,” Annja said.
“Ah, yes, but I’m the mindless fanatic, remember?” Eduardo nodded at Vic. “He said as much.”
Vic shook his head. “Why bother arguing?”
“Don’t,” Annja said. “Just get it done.”
Vic shifted again and Annja heard something. “Was that it?” she asked.
Vic gritted his teeth. “Hang on…”
Eduardo cleared his throat. “Do I have your word?”
Annja looked at him. “We have a truce, yes. Now keep quiet.”
Vic took a deep breath and shifted hard to his right. Annja heard a snap. And then in the next moment, Vic’s left arm came free, flopping down to his side.
“Ugh.” Annja blanched. “That looks really bad.”
Vic smiled. “Putting it back in is even more fun.”
Annja closed her eyes. “Just get it done and get us out of here.”
16
Even before the sun had a chance to send its rays across the horizon, Agamemnon was awake and getting his troops ready to move out. He thought briefly about Miki and how the fate of their cause rested in his hands. To delegate such authority surprised even him. But necessity dictated he go out and find his missing men, the woman and the sniper. Only then would he be able to return to his objectives.
He had ten men with him at the edge of the camp. Eight of them were from the camp itself and two were specialists he’d brought in for just this task. After thinking about it long and hard, he’d radioed in for some experienced trackers. They’d appeared before dawn and both of them looked lethal and capable—the kind of men Agamemnon preferred.
They paused by the head of the search team leader. His skull showed in places as the ants carried on their gruesome task of devouring the flesh. There seemed no end to the trail of them leading to their nest in the jungle. Twin lines of the tiny workers moved to and fro, some returning to the head and others ferrying bits back to the queen and her brood.
“If only I had men who worked this hard,” Agamemnon said, “we would have already toppled the government.”
One of the men waiting nearby vomited his breakfast on the side of the trail. The sight of his friend proved too much for him. Agamemnon frowned. If he hadn’t needed him, he might have shot him for being so easily upset.
Agamemnon wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Well, since there seems little point in basking in that ungodly stench, I suppose we’ll be off now,” he said.
The two trackers moved out. Each of them carried only a pistol and a long machete on his belt. Agamemnon himself plotted their course on the map. They would pick up where the search team had left off yesterday, but first they would have to find that point on the map. Every few hundred yards they would have to stop and reassess their position. Agamemnon had no intention of getting lost or vanishing amid the jungle vines.
After about a mile, one of his men waved him over. Agamemnon stopped by the trunk of a huge buttress tree. “What is it?”
The man pointed at the ground. “Here. Tracks, sir.”
“Whose?”
“The search team from yesterday. And before that, a woman.”
Agamemnon looked at the landmarks on his map and sent two more of his men off to find higher points to the east and west to confirm their position. They returned and told him the points were where he said they should be.
He marked their position on the map and then called over the second tracker. “See if what he says is true. The woman’s tracks start here?”
The second tracker knelt and studied the earth. After a minute he glanced up. “Yes. Her tracks are still evident. But there is another set, as well.”
“More tracks?”
“A man.”
“You’re sure it’s not a member of the search team from yesterday?”
The second tracker studied the ground for another two minutes and then looked back up. “Tough to tell, but the aging on them is different. The tracks I’m looking at are older than the search team’s. The age seems to match the tracks of the woman.”
“Who could he be?”
“The tracks correspond with the boots worn by members of the military, sir.”
“Filipino military or American?”
The tracker shrugged. “Impossible to say, sir. I can only tell you that the man who made the tracks stands about six feet tall and weighs about 175 pounds.”
