Chapter Thirty Five

With gunfire came the panicked confusion. Each shot rang from different directions as the gully’s peace was destroyed by continuous firing. Some were loud thunderous explosions, echoing against stone walls. Others shots whistled nearby, high-velocity fire passing dangerously close. Mike’s first reaction was to dive to the ground. He could make out smoke with bursts of orange marking the source of each shot. His panicked fall caused all the air to painfully exhale from his lungs, his ribs taking the brunt of the fall as he sprawled on the parched ground.

Turning on his side caused a fit of coughing. All he could do was draw his legs to his chest in a futile attempt to ease the pain. As Mike gently rocked away the worst of the numbing spasms, he grasped the nearest clump of grass to pull himself partly up. He risked a brief glance back to the hills. The shadowy figure he had momentarily glimpsed on the side of the gully was no longer standing. A crumpled body near a sheer edge marked the man’s fate.

With all the shooting it was impossible to decide where to run for safety. Firing came from both sides, the stark landscape providing little cover. Each shot exploded around the steep sides, amplifying the intensity of the bloody struggle. Mike looked for Louise, soon spotting her pinned beneath two Hmong, each firing through gritted teeth of determination. They looked to be peppering the higher reaches of the gully with fire, accuracy not being possible from their range. With luck they might hit a marksman out in the open. For now they hoped only to keep them at bay. Covering shots pushed the opposing figures away from the open ground. With so much crashing noise, Mike couldn’t be certain but thought some of the firing was coming from further down, close to the dirt road they came in on.

Needing a focus, he risked crawling to Louise. He felt the bruises on his ribs as he pulled his body over the tips of buried rocks, pieces of loose gravel raking his skin as he moved.

“Stay there, Mike. What are you doing?” Her words did little to stop his determined progress: he needed to get closer.

“I need to come over, Louise. I’m too exposed back there. I could easily get shot by those fanatics on the hill!”

Despite her protests, he continued his snaking crawl, stopping each time a bullet passed within a couple of yards. With each whistling shot his fraying nerves caused involuntary spasms deep within his body. Biting hard on his cheek, he pushed on. The thinking was that if he were hit he would stand a better chance if there were others close enough to press a shirt into his wounds. He might still die from shock, but he wouldn’t bleed to death out on his own. Louise held her hand out for him as he closed in the last few feet. He could read the relief in her face that he had made it.

“Who do you think it is?” It was as much he could do to speak at all. His gasping breaths were close to full-somersaulting in hyperventilation.

“Not sure,” Louise replied, catching her breath as she did. “It’s probably local bandits; most are armed around these remote parts. They might have seen the trucks and taken an interest. There again I wouldn’t put it beyond government spies - Pin says they are our most dangerous enemy. He thinks they’ve been getting closer for weeks. It’s why we went ahead when we did. How we would have loved that second document!”

“Great! There could be an entire army out there.”

Peering through some parched bushes, the only genuine cover the gully floor had to offer, Mike watched khaki-clad figures gradually move down as they gained more ground from the Hmong. He could only count ten or so, but they looked well equipped and held the advantage of high ground over the defending Hmong.

A stocky Chinese man broke ground, firing as he did so. Mike saw two more khaki figures drop in the fire zone. A volley of shots returned fire, missing their target as the Chinaman threw himself down. Behind him a jeep accelerated hard into the melee. Armour plating defected the continuing small-arms fire. Perched on the rear a heavy Type 85 machine gun raked through the centre ground, spewing out 500 rounds a minute. Most of the returning gunfire stopped, the Hmong pulling back to seek any shelter they could find amongst the heightened onslaught.

With the gully opening up, the jeep was able to make a long swing, taking in the far corners with the heavy pounding of the gun. Mike sullenly watched as only the Chinaman was able to offer any resistance, feeble though it was, a small calibre handgun now holding out against this overwhelming blitz. Within seconds he too would be overrun, the last token effort smothered under heavy fire.

As Mike turned away, unable to watch the finale play out, he heard a roaring explosion, instantaneously feeling the rush of furnace heat blow across his face. Though shielding his eyes, curiosity drove him to look back at the jeep. No longer ploughing through the hapless Hmong, it lay dethroned, blown over on its side. Mike’s first guess was that a lucky grenade had found its mark, lobbed blindly into the vehicle’s path. He looked again as the flames licked the buckled wheels, themselves torn from the burning chassis. It seemed a lot of damage for one grenade. His eyes picked up the tracks, weighty armoured plating pushing the tyres deep into the sandy topsoil. He knew then that the jeep’s fate was tied in with the huge tonnage of high explosive pounded into the ground during wartime B52 raids. For once their legacy worked for the powers of good.

The Chinese guy was already up on his feet, firing at the enclosing ring of army figures. Mike thought he recognised him. His mind rattled back over events from the past week or two, a sea of faces conjured up by places they travelled through. Then he had it. The smoke rising from the upturned jeep took him back to a similar scene of destruction on the Vang Vieng bus route. The man had been taking Jean away from the billowing black smoke, leading her towards safety. Then, as now, he moved confidently, the stride of a veteran not panicked by the smells and fears of war. He used the burning jeep as cover, keeping his nerve as he edged back. Who was he? Mike watched as he continued firing rounds at the militia pushing down the hill. The man’s role in all of this made no sense. Had he pivoted from angel to daemon and kidnapped Jean? He wasn’t with the militia, so who else was here?

“Blood Ravens.” The words were almost spat out.

“What?” Mike replied, suddenly aware that Louise was trying to say something.

“Dan was talking about them. They’re a renegade unit with the secret police, PC38. They make their own rules - state-sponsored terrorism, if you like. I bet they were behind the hijacking of your bus. You see there?” Louise was pointing at the closest figure wearing fatigues. “Some of them have a red raven sewn to their uniform. They see it as a badge of honour.”

“Hardly secret if they go around with pictures of red birds on them.”

“They don’t need to be invisible, Mike. Just scary.”

Mike watched as the Hmong were forced back further, pulling back closer into a defensive circle, finally bowing to superiority of numbers and firepower. The two defending their small ridge were the last to lay down their arms. As Mike and Louise stood up, arms half-raised, a captain pointed at them. It was Mike’s hope that they might be too visible, too politically important to gun down on the spot. Despite what Louise was just saying, the Blood Ravens still represented the state and would surely have accountability to one locked office or another. Passports and consular representation must still count for something; accidents could not simply be attributed to misfortune. He sorely hoped the bus hijack was not Blood Raven sanctioned.

Slowly the Hmong were systematically rounded up and instructed to form a group in the centre of the gully. It would be easier to keep checks on them that way but also easier to machine-gun them all. Mike and Louise were pulled slightly to the side. It appeared that any special treatment, good or bad, would be meted out at a preliminary stage of this new encounter.

As he was being ushered over to where the captain now stood, Mike caught sight of movement back towards the dirt track. He almost did a double take. Rusty and Jean were walking his way. Close behind them stood a man, a man he recognised immediately. Kae.