Inside the hut, with his gun still drawn, Cooper snuck into the back room which was set up in the same way as Zola’s hut had been. And freezing at every sound, he sidled into the bedroom. In front of him was a woman lying unconscious.
Putting his gun in his holster, Cooper recoiled at the strong aroma of gangrenous flesh.
Holding his breath he stepped towards her.
And although her condition looked bad – real bad – it was obvious to Cooper her body certainly hadn’t broken down as much as Zola’s grandson’s had.
Her right leg was almost twice the size of her left one and swollen and mottled with stretched purple skin showing the beginning signs of necrosis. Leaning closer, he had to work hard not retch from the smell. Her whole body looked bloated, with her mouth slit with deep cracks, looking like she’d been deprived of fluids for a while.
And then, right there, Cooper noticed something.
Something which caught his eye.
He gently lifted up the woman’s arm and carefully began to examine it in greater detail.
‘Thomas! Move it…! Come on! Hurry up!’
Rosedale shouted urgent words and they were followed by the sound of gunshots. Immediately, Cooper bolted for the front door but on seeing three men racing down towards the hut, he backtracked, jumping through the open side window.
Machine gun fire came from the side, forcing him to roll behind the hut and to the right of him, he saw Rosedale, shooting and taking out one of the men, who fell. Dropped to the ground screaming in agony. His knee blown to pieces.
‘Thomas, head to the river! Go! Go! Go!’
Whilst the gunfire continued, ricocheting around, Cooper turned his head to see one of Bemba’s men charging up towards Rosedale from near the banks of the river, a Rimfire rifle in their hand.
‘Rosedale! Six o clock!’
Rosedale, turned and aimed and fired but once again the gun jammed. For a split second Cooper saw the panic on his face but before Bemba’s man had time to aim, and without a moment’s hesitation, Rosedale grasped the tip of the six inch MK3 military knife he held, and expertly angled and threw it to flip with power in the air and hit home, puncturing deep into the man’s chest.
Cooper fired in a 180-degree motion, throwing Rosedale his other handgun.
‘Rosedale, I’ll cover…! Go!’
Running backwards, Cooper continued to fire as he charged towards and into the river, which surged over his face. Deep and fast. Swollen from the heavy rain. And the bullets, unrelenting, blazed down, forcing both men to dive under the rushing brown waters where they headed upstream, fighting against the force of the river until they managed to clamber out onto the mud banks and charged up through the thick undergrowth back to the SUV. Skidding the white Toyota away.