Hunters by Matt Rogers (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

Opal said, ‘Diamond?’

The giant pierced him with his gaze. ‘King is mine.’

‘Do you need help?’

Diamond said, ‘Mine alone.’

Opal nodded. ‘That settles it, then.’

He fell in behind Topaz. ‘Remember, Spinel and Citrine didn’t make it.’

‘There’s a reason they were sent in first,’ Diamond growled.

‘Oh?’

Diamond touched a hand to the side of his mouth, as if sharing the deepest secret. ‘Expendable.’

Topaz growled, ‘Amateurs.’

Opal nodded again.

Then the rest of the world fell away as adrenaline took over. He narrowed and honed the sensation until he was trapped in a tunnel of focus, and he knew his brothers-in-arms were doing the same.

They started down the hill.

Opal and Topaz went right.

Diamond went left.

56

King led Violetta through the rain, now falling so hard it was akin to moving through sheets of eternally suspended droplets.

They reached the western edge of the archaeological site.

King advanced to the tree line, peered into the gloom, then shook his head.

Violetta had to yell above the downpour. ‘What is it?!’

King turned back. ‘Not feasible. Can’t see a goddamn thing. We go in there and it’ll be fifty-fifty.’

‘So we stay here?’

He grabbed her arm and ran with her to the nearest building. Beyond a railing that separated the perimeter viewing stations from the protected ruins, the earth sloped sharply downward, chipped away by the initial excavation that must have uncovered the farming village in the first place. Five feet below the lip of the slope, there was a flat platform made of hard packed earth. It overlooked the structures, which were awe-inspiring, but King couldn’t waste a second soaking in the eerie sight of a fifteen-hundred-year-old village drenched in gloom.

He lifted Violetta over the railing and dropped her to the platform, making sure she landed on her feet. Then he vaulted it himself. He spun, set the AK-47’s handguard on the lip of the slope for stabilisation, and waited.

It was an unending wait, and the concept of time vanished, but he had experience lying in wait for armed men.

Seconds became minutes, which felt like hours, then days.

He became aware of the ebb and flow of the storm, every sense attuned to the environment.

Violetta said something, but he didn’t hear it.

Then she positioned her rifle next to his, and she wordlessly swept a wider angle, covering the sections he couldn’t.

They waited, poised, encompassed by the roar of rain on the tin roof overhead…

A huge silhouette inched into view, rising from the undergrowth.

King fired twelve rounds at the shape in four consecutive three-round bursts, tightly clustered. Violetta followed suit. Twenty-four total shots between them. It was a barrage of gunfire.

The jungle swallowed the rounds.

Four semi-automatic pistol reports answered from the trees. The muzzle flashes were shocking, and the reports cracked like thunder. At least one of the bullets whipped over King’s head. He felt the displaced air, and recoiled down, out of sight. Violetta was already down.

It was chaos.

King resumed his position and saw the silhouette belly-crawling out of the tree line into muddy no-man’s-land.

Now or never.

He emptied the AK at the target.

But it was a crude gun, and the figure vanished back into the tree line.

Unharmed.

A pause, then the figure fired three more shots. They were heavy rounds, at least .45 calibre.

Violetta was back in position, one eye squeezed shut.

‘I’ve got him,’ she breathed, sighting in.

‘Don’t—’ he started.

But she followed his example, unloading her weapon, convinced she had the target in her crosshairs. This enemy was moving like nothing King had seen before. It was like he was using himself as bait, showing his considerable bulk for just long enough to know their aim was on him, and then vanishing like he was made of dust. King knew the amount of physical dexterity and fluidity it required.

They were dealing with a different beast to the usual Tier One operative.

The jungle ate the rounds, much like the previous forty-two.

King had no idea if they’d hit the target. Neither had Violetta.

Then a voice from the jungle screamed, ‘Nice try!’

They barely caught it — it was only a whisper above the storm — but it floated to them all the same.

Violetta clutched her empty Kalashnikov. ‘What now?’

Their rifles were useless. Antônia hadn’t included extra ammunition in her shabby arsenal.

King said, ‘Now we run.’

57

Slater and Alexis came to the same realisation as they charged through the jungle.

The buildings weren’t a community of the present day, but a community from Mesoamerica.

Ancient ruins.

Slater couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a landscape so eerie. They reached the edge of the archeological site at a jog, and he surveyed what appeared to be an ancient communal building, storage houses, and households inhabited by ancient villagers. All the structures were preserved and protected from the weather by modern-style warehouses with exposed walls. The site was empty, no doubt closed to visitors due to horrid weather conditions. Taking it all in at once, it was clear that an entire plaza had been excavated. The ancient buildings were made of rammed earth, wattle, and daub. It would have made an awe-inspiring sight if there weren’t rabid killers hot on their heels.

Slater forced Alexis down into the undergrowth at the edge of the site. From this position, they’d have a wide view of any approaching hostiles, as the land sloped gently down away from the plaza.

Her breath was ragged and harsh. She had to force the exhalations out — the pain in her ribs was making her insides seize up, and she made herself breathe despite the agony. She was far from fighting condition.

Slater burrowed himself into the mud beside her and splashed some of the gunk on his shoulders, then threw a few handfuls over his back, darkening his shirt. Thankfully his skin was a similar tone to the earth underfoot, and coupled with his ability to become statuesque, he could be invisible.

Alexis couldn’t.

Slater said, ‘Put your forehead in the mud.’

‘What?’ she mumbled.

‘Face down. Give yourself just enough room to breathe. Spread your hair over the back of your neck and the sides of your face.’

It must