Restless Soul - Alex Archer [41]
It was an unusual model, a Tokyo Marui Colt, manufactured in Japan. It had a gas blowback release and was well maintained, though not a particularly good choice of pistol for any kind of marksman. She tugged free an extra clip and put it in her pocket.
She preferred using her sword, but it was no good at a distance. The Marui would be for just in case…just in case more men came down the side of the mountain. Saving one of the machine guns would have given her a better edge, but in her mind that was not an option. Machine guns were remarkable and simple in their engineering, and the military considered them one of the most important technologies—if not the most important—from the past century. They let a single soldier fire hundreds of rounds a minute, laying low an entire enemy company. Too many bullets, as far as Annja was concerned.
Working quickly, Annja retrieved the pistols from the other two men, removed the clips and tossed them away.
Annja slung her pack gently over her shoulders, again feeling the skull bowl rest against her back. Surely if it was broken, it wouldn’t feel so solid.
She briefly considered climbing back up to the trail to assess the number of men and take some pictures. But she had Luartaro and Zakkarat to think about.
She started off in search of them.
10
Annja heard men shouting, but their voices were growing fainter as she put more distance between herself and the Jeeps that were higher up on the mountain trail. How long did she have before they discovered the bodies of their fellows and managed to track her? And would she have enough time to find Luartaro and Zakkarat and get them to safety before reinforcements came looking?
Annja knew a good scout would have little trouble tracking her, even given the storm. In her haste she was leaving signs behind. And she also knew that the gunmen couldn’t afford to let her and her companions escape—not if they wanted to keep their treasure chamber a secret. In the gunmen’s desperation, there was no doubt that they would come looking for her.
It was all a matter of how many minutes she had.
Annja searched for the path that Luartaro and Zakkarat had slipped down. She guessed it was a little to the north, and so she angled that way, moving as fast as possible in the tangle of jungle growth, doing her best not to get caught in the ground plants. The foliage was thick where she traveled, and she had to come to a complete stop a couple of times to squeeze through a tight weave of plants. What was proving to be obstacles could also work to her advantage, she hoped, making her more difficult to be spotted from above.
“Damn!” Annja caught her hair in some low branches and with a vicious yank tugged it free. She pulled at a vine and ripped a length off, using it like a piece of yarn and tying her hair into a ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way. She wanted to holler out to Luartaro and Zakkarat to get an idea where they were and to let them know that she was safe, but that would benefit the gunmen as much as her. So she tried to move as quietly as possible. Branches tore at her clothes and scratched her bare leg and face.
She let out a hissing breath and summoned the sword. Slashing branches might not be as quiet as she wanted, but perhaps they wouldn’t hear it over the storm. Lightning continued to flash overhead, sending bright yellow-and-white fingers through the thick iron-colored cloud bank, and thunder reverberated all around her. She started hacking in time with her heartbeat, using the sword like a machete and making a little better headway.
Annja couldn’t tell how far she’d traveled since emerging from the treasure chamber, or how far she had to go to reach the bottom; the jungle was so thick that all she saw was a blur of green and brown. Listening provided no clues. She heard nothing but the rain and her thrashing. She didn’t hear the men’s shouts anymore. The incline was steep one moment, gradual the next, and so she had to watch her footing on top of concentrating