He had been meaning to land squarely on the shooter’s shoulders, a leg to each side of his head.
But the gunman seemed to feel the rush of motion. He turned at the last moment, so that Zeb’s left thigh slammed into his hard shoulder, and his right knee smashed into the shooter’s head.
Zeb grunted. He couldn’t help it.
The shooter began collapsing from the sudden weight, a startled shout escaping from his throat.
It was too late for evasive action.
He was falling.
Zeb’s knife was plunging into his chest.
Repeatedly.
Zeb rolled away from the bloodied shooter on the ground, his left hand flicking back to draw his Glock.
Just as the advance team crashed through the bushes.
Two pairs of startled eyes took in everything.
‘Enrico!’ One man yelled.
They sprang apart, their AKs coming up.
Their shouts were drowned out by the roll of thunder from Zeb’s Glock, which knocked back the killer to his left.
The hunting knife flew from his right hand and thudded into the right shooter’s chest.
Not a clean throw.
The Glock blurred as it flew from his left to his right palm.
It cracked twice, and the second shooter went down.
Zeb rolled swiftly to the far edge of the clearing.
Checked the approach.
Clear.
The ridge, too.
He listened.
No sounds of approaching men.
He took in the three dead men.
Enrico, one of them had shouted.
They didn’t look like any of Namir’s men that he had seen.
Tavez’s shooters, then. That means the cartel king and the terrorist have joined hands.
Tavez probably knows the forest.
There will be more men after us.
He didn’t spend any time thinking about this development.
It was what it was.
‘Tulip!’ he yelled, as he dragged the bodies and hid them under bushes. He removed spare mags, another hunting knife, and their wallets.
He found no cellphones.
He covered the bodies carefully. Sara Ashland had seen enough death in her life.
No need for her to see more dead shooters.
‘Tulip!’ he shouted again.
‘I am here.’ She came from behind him, her teeth biting her lip when she saw the state of his leg.
But she said nothing.
She helped him gather the AKs and then stopped when he exclaimed: ‘That isn’t an AK 47. Things happened so fast, I didn’t pay attention. It’s an M24 SWS, Sniper Weapon System.’
He tested the rifle’s heft, fingered its stock and peered through its scope.
‘Good condition, too.’
‘One of the men was a sniper?’ She slung the other AK 47 around her shoulder and shrugged when he stared at her. ‘What? You said we can’t have too many weapons.’
She bent and pocketed the spare magazines on the ground.
Her steely façade disappeared when they heard shouts from the ridge.
She came closer to him instinctively.
‘Are those…?’
He crept forward and hid behind one of the bushes, the girl behind him.
He raised the M24 to his eye and took in view of the slope.
‘Yeah. Three of them.’
‘I didn’t know Namir had a sniper.’
‘He didn’t. Tavez has joined him.’
He felt her shiver as he lay down and brought the rifle to his shoulder.
It felt comfortable, the stock warm against his cheek, as if he had used the weapon for a long time.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Discouraging them.’