Page 43 of Murder Island

Weapons? What weapons?

I saw the other guys look toward their boots. That’s when I realized there was a camouflaged sack in the grass in front of each of them. I looked down. There was a bag in front of me, too.

The other five guys reached down and jerked their bags open. Each one pulled out a different weapon, like agoodie from a prize bag. I saw a spear. A cleaver. A heavy chain. A broadaxe. A spiked cudgel. Medieval stuff, crude but deadly.

I bent down and opened the sack at my feet.

I froze for a second.

Inside was my jeweled cutlass, polished and gleaming. I stood up, gripping it tight in my right hand.

There was a quick laugh from behind me. I swung around.

The Black guy was chuckling, holding his chain in his fist. He jerked his chin toward me. “Who’s this? Aladdin?”

The others started chuckling, too.

“Enough!” Leo called out. Everybody shut right up. He raised his right hand, then dropped it.“Engage!”

That’s when the mayhem started.

I expected everybody to come for me. Instead, four of the guys turned on one another. One of the white guys had a crew cut and scars all over his torso. He had the spear. He thrust it at the Polynesian guy, who looked like The Rock, only more massive.

The Rock shouted and parried the spear with his axe. The two other white guys went at it with a cleaver and a cudgel. One had a droopy walrus mustache, the other had his long blond hair pulled tight into a ponytail. They were doing their best to slice and batter each other into submission.

I spun around to see the Black guy rushing at me,swinging the chain over his head like a lasso. He let out an earsplitting yell and whipped the loose end toward my neck. I ducked and felt the wind as the chain whizzed over my shoulders.

The Rock and Crew Cut were now locked together, shoving each other with the wooden shafts of their weapons. They looked like two rutting bulls. Ponytail knocked Walrus down with a cudgel blow between the shoulder blades. Then he started in my direction, spinning his club like a cheerleader’s baton. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Black guy with his chain, ready to take another swing at me.

I was now in full battle mode. My vision narrowed. My muscles pulsed. I could feel my face flushing and my blood pumping.

Ponytail swung at me with his cudgel. I whipped my blade down—hard. It sliced through the narrow end of the cudgel like it wasn’t even there. The heavy part of the club went flying. Before he could even react, I planted a kick in his solar plexus, taking him down to the ground. He face-planted in the dirt, ponytail flopping.

I heard a rattle behind me. Spun around. Saw the chain whipping through the air in a blur. I did a shoulder roll underneath it and slammed the hilt of my cutlass against the Black guy’s temple. He dropped to his knees, stunned and shuddering. With one flick of my wrist, I could have beheaded him. I’m not sure what stopped me.

The Rock comes at me next, holding his axe over his head. I swung my blade to drive him back, slicing the air just an inch from his belly. He dodged and charged me again, swinging the blunt end of his weapon at my head. I sidestepped him at the last second and gave him a hard kick just above his right knee. He howled in pain and dropped his axe.

Now it was just me and Crew Cut, the guy with the spear. He took his time, moving in slow circles, closer and closer. He gripped the shaft of the spear overhand. At any second, he could thrust it, or throw it. Compared to my blade, he definitely had the length advantage. He jabbed the point of the spear at me, pushing me toward the edge of the clearing.

My back hit the trunk of a tree.

Crew Cut bent his knees and lunged. At the last instant, I bent my body like a batter evading an inside pitch. The blade hit the pine trunk and sunk in. I whipped my cutlass down and sliced the spear shaft in half. Then I cut it in half again. Crew Cut lost his balance and fell backward. I was on him before he landed, my knee in his belly, my blade resting on the skin over his jugular. The edge was so sharp that just pressing it drew blood.

“Hold it!” Leo yelled.

I looked up.

The other four were gathering around, leaving what was left of their weapons on the ground. A couple guyswere spitting blood, and The Rock was wincing in pain. He could barely stand.

I rolled to the side and let Crew Cut get up. He wiped the side of his neck with his fingers. They came away bloody. He grinned and held his hand out to me.

Apparently, I’d made the team.

CHAPTER 52

Democratic Republic of the Congo, 10 a.m.

CAPTAIN RUPERT GURNEY stood with a bullhorn at the top of the mine pit. A dozen of his men were gathered around him. It was the bulk of the unit. The men looked edgy and hollow-eyed. Not much sleep the past few nights.