Operation: Congo

- 21 -

The king addressed Banks directly.

“You and yours have caused me no end of trouble here today, sir,” he said.

“Aye, well,” Banks replied, stepping forward to stand between the raptors and the squad, holding the spear casually in his left hand. “We passed your wee test, didn’t we? So what’s next? Membership of the tribe I think you said?”

“I think we’ll forego that pleasure, don’t you?” the king replied and with no warning, kicked his raptor into an attack.

Banks was ready for it.

He wielded the weapon, not point first but holding it two-handed like a quarterstaff. He let the raptor come on then at the last second stepped aside on the opposite side from the king’s spear. With a quick one-two honed of years of practice, he clubbed the beast on the head. The beast staggered, almost fell, and Banks stepped inside. He thrust the blunt end of the spear forward in a smooth stroke, hitting the king between the eyes and tumbling him out of the saddle. The raptor was struggling to get to its feet. Banks took out its throat with the head of the spear and stepped on the king’s wrist as the man reached for his weapon. He held the bloody, still-dripping point at the king’s neck.

“We’ll be leaving now,” Banks said. “Thanks for the hospitality. Don’t try to follow us. I only show leniency once; I’m not stupid.”

Two of the riders behind the king edged forward. Hynd and Wilkins stepped up to the captain’s side and raised their rifles.

“Enough lives have been lost,” Banks said. “Let’s do this the easy way.”

He was answered not by the king but by a bellowing roar from the direction of the crater.

“What the fuck is this now?” Wiggins said at Banks’ back. “King fucking Kong?”

The king laughed.

“You talk of hospitality? You have betrayed his. Your punishment is out of my hands.”

Banks resisted a sudden urge to plunge the spear deep into that laughing face and turned away to speak to Hynd.

“Get them together, Sarge. Your lady friend will be glad to know we are indeed getting the fuck out of here.”

The king was still laughing as he got to his feet and waved a goodbye as Banks led the squad and WHO people away.

“I shall be seeing you soon, my friend. We are not done with this dance.”

Banks took a handgun from Hynd and Wiggins got one from Davies.

“To the canoes?” Hynd asked.

“Aye, fast as we can manage. And we’ve got some stowed gear to pick up on the way back. There’s ammo there and rations we might need. Can they all walk?”

It was the woman, the sarge’s new friend, who answered.

“They can run if need be,” she said. “Please, just get us home.”

“Anything you say, ma’am,” he replied and she laughed.

“A lass and a ma’am both in the same day. How quaint.”

They were moving at a fast walk through now-empty streets, although they were watched by silent townspeople from doorways and windows. Nobody tried to stop them.

Another roar came from behind them.

“You didn’t leave the gate open, did you?” Banks asked Hynd, who smiled ruefully.

“You ken me, sir, born in a barn.”

“So what is it? Another raptor?”

“We never saw it,” Hynd replied. “But it sounded big. Big and angry.”

“Then let hope it takes it out on yon bugger we left back there and lets us go,” he replied.

They reached the track leading towards the river and he had them up their speed to a jog.

He was leading a hard pace so he was surprised when Wiggins came forward to run alongside him. He was amused to see that the corporal, although almost running flat-out, had a cigarette stuck tight between his teeth and was taking gasps in between breaths, or breaths in between gasps—Banks couldn’t quite figure that out.

“So, the sarge and a WHO lady, eh?” he said. “I never saw that coming.”

“Judging by the look on the sarge’s face when we joined them, I don’t think he did either. Still, you never can tell when it’s going to hit you.”

The bellowing roar they’d heard earlier came again, behind them but sounding too close for comfort. Banks looked ahead at the trail they had yet to travel and the exposed ridge they’d have to clamber up and over.

“I don’t like our odds if yon king decides he needs some sport,” Wiggins said. “A pack of riders on raptors would mow us down. We don’t have the firepower to keep back more than a few at a time.”

“I’m hoping that getting beat down in front of his men was a sobering experience for him,” Banks replied. “But if not, we’ll deal with whatever comes at us. Nobody else dies today. Not on my watch.”

Then it was back to the serious running. Wiggins needed all his energy for that and finishing off the smoke so they ran in silence that Banks only broke when he recognized a large tree ahead.

“That’s where we left our stash,” he said. “Get back to the sarge, tell him we’ll take a break—a couple of minutes, no more—then we’ll have to get moving.”

He left the corporal to relay the order then headed for the stash of gear. He got himself a jacket from his pack, retrieved a spare knife and sheath that he strapped to his ankle, and picked up his binoculars. The rest of the squad and the WHO team were gathering around the tree as Banks clambered up three levels of branches until he found a spot with a good view back down the trail to the town now some distance behind them.

Something was kicking up dust near the edge of town. Even with the binoculars, he couldn’t make out detail, but whatever was disturbing the ground was on the point of leaving the town proper and onto the trail. He saw sunlight flash on something and focused slightly farther back into the town itself. The first thing he saw was the unmistakable tall headdress of feathers; the king, riding another tall raptor, was leading a troop of almost a score of raptors and riders and they were following whatever was disturbing the ground.

He focused farther ahead in the trail to a gap in the foliage and finally got a glimpse of the thing the king and his men were trailing. Terror gripped hard at him and awe as another bellow echoed across the jungle.

There was more than one king of this land and the second had now made an entrance. A Tyrannosaurus rex barreled along the trail roaring as it came. It loomed large in the binoculars and Banks had a feeling it was looking straight through them back at him.

He dropped out of the tree without bothering to look for branches to climb down, causing the people below to scatter, startled.

“Run,” he said. “Right now. The canoes are our only hope.”