The Genesis Plague - Michael Byrnes [112]
The Arab scowled, didn’t budge. He looked back into the house, as if someone was beckoning him.
‘Ta’ al huna!’ Meat yelled in Arabic, and motioned again with more urgency. ‘Come on over here, stupid,’ he grumbled.
Finally the man broke away from the house and made his way to the truck with hands spread in confusion.
‘Put him down nice and quiet,’ Jason instructed.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be tender.’
As the Arab drew close, Meat turned from view, pretending to get something from behind the seat.
The Arab cornered the truck’s front bumper and came to Meat’s window, saying in an agitated tone, ‘Ista’ gil?! Esh cair fik?’ He slammed his hands on the door and leaned in for a better view.
The Arab made eye contact with Jason and his haggard face blanched.
Meat wheeled, grabbed a fistful of the man’s tunic and tugged him close. In the next instant, he plunged the blade through the man’s Adam’s apple. He felt the tip of the knife clip bone. The Arab’s attempted scream was instantly reduced to a gurgling yelp. Blood spewed over Meat’s hand as he turned the blade like a doorknob, then sliced upward to the jaw and into the brain. The Arab’s eyes rolled back into his skull and Meat made sure to let the body drop to the ground out of view from anyone who might be watching from inside the house.
‘Let’s go,’ Jason said, calmly opening his door and stepping out from the truck. He directed his face away from the house and clutched his AK-47 low behind the opened door.
Meat got out and stripped the AK-47 from the dead man. The safety was off and he checked the clip. Full. Gripping the weapon, he hurried around the truck, headed straight for the door. His face was knotted with determination and adrenaline.
‘So much for being subtle,’ Jason mumbled and fell in behind him.
At the door, Meat intercepted a second unlucky Arab who’d been calling out for the dead guy. Without hesitation, Meat levelled the AK-47 at his chest and squeezed off a quick burst that opened his torso like overripe fruit. Then he charged inside.
Jason stepped over the body and shadowed Meat with his weapon drawn. Peering in at the house’s tight rooms, he was glad to have an AK-47 since the weapon’s short muzzle and rapid-fire action were just what the doctor ordered for a raid in a place like this. He turned right and swept the first room. Nothing but a wooden table and two metal folding chairs.
Like a raging bull Meat stormed to a second door that led into a narrow hallway. He held his AK-47 with a straight arm, turned flat. What he liked to call ‘gangsta style’.
Jason heard frenzied voices overhead. Three distinct tones. He immediately moved back against the wall just as the plaster ceiling tore apart in a hail of bullets. He dropped to one knee, raised his AK-47, and strafed the ceiling in a wide ‘G’, followed by a tight ‘X’. In one corner, a heavy whump shook the floorboards, followed by a second whump near the middle of the ceiling. In both spots, blood dripped down from the sieve of bullet holes. The voices had gone silent, but a single set of footsteps pattered fast towards the centre of the house before Jason could line up for another sweep.
Meat also heard the runner and bolted to the base of the house’s central staircase. He immediately spotted his target and opened fire. An agonizing scream rang out just before a rifle came cartwheeling down the stairs.
By the time Jason made it to the hall door, Meat had ducked into the next room and reappeared, shaking his head to indicate that it was empty. Jason signalled for him to remain still.
A perfect silence settled over the house.
Then Jason heard a small voice coming from a room at the top of the stairs. He listened intently. Someone was chanting a prayer.
‘Fuck this,’ Meat grumbled. ‘Cover me.’
Before Jason could stop him, Meat charged up the stairs.
Jason raised his AK-47 to cover the landing, fully expecting Meat to get hit with a faceful of lead. But there was no resistance from above. At