Recoil - Andy McNab [80]
The flies swarmed back on to the raw flesh. I looked at the torsos and saw at least one mag tucked into a pair of jeans. And if there were mags, there might still be weapons.
I climbed over the limbs, grabbed the mag, and handed it to Silky. ‘Have a look,’ I said quietly. ‘Get any others. Careful of the blood.’
I pissed off the flies again as I searched under the torsos. They sounded like a chainsaw in a wind tunnel.
There was an AK wedged under the second guy. I grabbed hold, but it wouldn’t budge. The flies landed again and it looked like the bodies themselves were moving. Silky retched. She’d probably seen a few dead bodies in her time, but none after a gollock had done its worst.
The AK came clear and I fell back into the leaf litter. The magazine had taken a round through it, so I hit the release catch and let it drop. The safety lever was already down, so I pulled back the working parts and checked the chamber. There was a round in. I let the working parts slide forward, and flicked the safety back up.
I started to crawl, and beckoned Silky to follow. She needed no second bidding. I heard her vomit, but it sounded like nothing was coming up.
She’d get over it. I took a mag from her and pushed down on the rounds to make sure it was full. I rocked it back into the weapon, and gave it a little shake to make sure it was firmly in place.
We had to keep moving towards the mine, and try to box round whatever was just ahead.
We moved down into the low ground for another twenty metres, Silky sliding more than hopping. I stopped, checked the sun, and headed north again.
We’d gone no more than a hundred metres when I heard voices.
They were muffled, and I couldn’t make anything out. I dropped to my hands and knees and started to crawl, my body pumping with adrenalin. Silky did her best to keep up.
There was more mumbling on the high ground to our left.
Silky was three metres or so behind me, so I listened as I waited for her to come level.
There was no movement up there, no running around. Just voices.
I signalled to her to keep still.
I didn’t wait for an answer, or even a nod. I wanted to get closer to the voices and try to find a way out of this shit. Right hand on the pistol grip, index finger over the trigger guard, left hand on the stock, I started a very slow leopard crawl on my elbows and knees.
I stopped, looked, listened. Why weren’t they moving out to see if they had dropped us? If they were static, in positions, maybe they were Sam’s guys. The dead ones certainly hadn’t been. The one I’d taken the weapon from had been wearing an Eminem T-shirt and jeans.
I moved a couple more metres uphill and the mud and leaf litter built up on my chest like a bow wave. Now I could hear everything I needed to. I turned round and crawled back down to Silky.
I moved my mouth to her ear. ‘I think we’re near the mine. I need you to shout to them in French. Tell them it’s Nick, Sam and Crucial’s friend.’
I got up into a fire position, in case they patrolled towards her voice and I’d got the whole thing wrong.
‘Go on, shout.’
She gave it a couple of seconds while she worked out what she wanted to say, then did.
She got a reply, also in French. I understood ‘ami’ and ‘matin’ and that was about it.
‘What are they saying?’
‘Sssh, let me listen . . . They’re saying to come out.’
No way. Not without confirmation.
‘Tell them to describe Sam. Ask them what colour hair he’s got.’
She gobbed off, and smiled as she translated the answer. ‘They say it’s as orange as the earth. He’s a redhead?’
That was good enough for me. ‘Tell them we’re coming, and there’s two of us. One injured, so she’ll be carried. Make sure they understand before we move.’
She shouted again, then I got her on to my back and started moving uphill. ‘Keep shouting. Tell them we’re coming in now.’
I leaned forward into the hill and pumped my hands rhythmically