Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

around the clearing, keeping to the heavier foliage as he closed in on the armory. He knew the weapons cache was enormous. The supplies had belonged to the former government and had come from the United States. When the general and soldiers abandoned their jobs in the military and scattered, they raided a number of the government armories. As an army they were well stocked, well trained, and completely mobile, a good five thousand troops strong. The general ruled the area with a ruthless and bloody hand, keeping people in line with swift violence whenever he deemed lessons necessary. The main encampment was at least a hundred miles into the interior and the smaller, satellite camps spread out from there like a spider's web.

    Near the armory, Jack dropped to his knees and elbows, crawling through the layers of rotting vegetation. Ants, beetles, and termites poured through the leaves and branches, over and around him. He ignored them as he kept moving forward at a snail's pace, staying to the shadows as much as possible.
    One guard walked over to another and gestured toward the wounded, talking animatedly.

    Jack moved forward inch by inch until he was out in plain sight, his skin and clothing now reflecting the deeper colors of the ground. Night had fallen and the sounds emerging from the interior of the forest had changed subtly. A jaguar coughed in the distance. Birds called to one another as they settled in the higher canopy. The monkeys quieted as the larger predators emerged. The insects grew louder, a sound that never ceased. Fog rolled in over the mountains and drifted into the forest and along the floor.

    Jack kept moving steadily across the ground, heading for the area where the guards were heaviest, his goal the circle of vehicles with the cargo inside. The main armory would be a bunker at the central camp, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    but all the outlying camps had to carry supplies with them—and they would keep those supplies under heavy guard and as mobile as possible. That meant in the vehicles. The Jeeps and trucks were parked a short distance away from the camp for safety.

    The guards were set six feet apart. Most were smoking or talking or watching the surrounding jungle.
    The two closest were taking bets on what the major would do to the prisoner when they got him back.
    Jack slithered through the grass to the first Jeep parked in the tight circle. He rolled beneath it and examined the area with a cautious lift of his head. The arms were in crates in the truck to the center of the circle, right where he'd guessed they would be. He made his way to the back of the covered truck and once again waited in the grass while the beetles crawled over his body. When the closest guard looked away, Jack went up the bumper and in like a human spider.

    They were well supplied with guns. He helped himself to several clips for the M16s as well as for a nine-millimeter handgun he took. The boxes contained assault rifles, belts, and cans of ammunition as well as crates of clips. Boxes of grenades were toward the front and claymore mines with detonators and wire were at the back.

    Jack shifted back toward the tailgate, needing to stash his supplies, when a bloody barrel caught his eye.
    His heart jumped in his chest as he reached down to clear debris from the weapon. The sniper rifle was carelessly thrown in with a crate of AK-47s. It was a Remington, covered in his brother's blood, even bearing a few smudged prints. He recognized it immediately and knew it had never before been treated with other than the utmost respect. He picked it up and cradled it to him, running his hand over the barrel as if he could wipe away what had been done.

    Jack's fingers tightened on the rifle as memories poured over him. Sweat broke out on his body and he shook his head, driving away the sound of childish screams and the feeling of pain and humiliation, the sight of his brother staring at him, tears streaming down his face. That face changed to that of a man's, and Ken was looking at him with that same despair, same pain and humiliation. When Jack lifted him, he had been horrified to see that the skin had been peeled from Ken's back, leaving a raw mass of muscle and tissue covered in flies and insects. He heard the screaming in his own head and looked down at his hands and saw blood. There was no washing it away and there never would be. He breathed deeply, forcing his mind away