Empty Hand Revolution

At the End of an AK-47, Part Two

By the time Cosmo reached the community center, dancing Jeep headlights were visible through the jungle canopy on the edge of the village. Without slowing down, Cosmo kicked in the paneled door of the community center, knocking it from its bottom hinges.

He skidded to a stop and scoured the dark for his things. They weren’t where he’d left them. Something didn’t feel right. He stretched his ears for any indication of human presence. What he heard was the release of the charging handle of an AK-47 as it chambered a 39mm cartridge.

Cosmo sprang toward the open doorway as the single-room community center sparked to life with the flame and roar of gunfire. After striking the door jam with his shoulder, Cosmo tumbled into the street and landed on all fours.

Quickly scrambling to his feet, he struck a path for the nearest shelter. Behind him, the single AK-47 spawned into several as gunfire erupted from the moving Jeeps. Through ringing ears, Cosmo heard angry shouts. They were closing in, but the bullets remained erratic. 

With a final leap, he ducked behind a hut and didn’t slow down. He burst through a low picket fence consisting of half-rotten boards and darted across another dirt road under the creeping light of dawn.

A Jeep’s headlights swept across him, followed immediately by gunfire. He altered his course. Abandoning his effort to reach the nearest hut, he chose instead to head for the nearest trees. The flimsy bamboo and mud huts wouldn’t provide much cover, and Cosmo didn’t want to get bystanders killed, if he could help it.

A second Jeep flanked him.

He dug inside for a reserve of strength, but he’d tapped the very depths the moment he heard the clack of the charging handle in the community center. Just another thirty meters and he’d reach the tree line. Almost there.

Before he’d gone three strides, another source of gunfire exploded from the shadow of a nearby hut—twice as close as the Jeeps. The first rounds struck the ground in front of Cosmo. Instinctively, he dove.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to die in the dark in some nameless village. This wasn’t a fair fight. This was murder.

Dirt pelted Cosmo’s face as bullets bit into the ground all around him. Driven by instinct, he dug his feet into the rutted surface and lurched upward like a sprinter from the blocks. Leaning too far forward, his muscles screamed to lift and drop each foot fast enough to keep him upright—to keep running.

The air turned to soup. Cosmo clawed at it with his hands. Thick as sludge, the darkness tugged at him, dragging him down. He refused to succumb. Each second stretched impossibly long.

Less than a dozen meters from the protection of the jungle, a hornet’s sting tore into the meat of Cosmo’s thigh. The leg faltered. He pitched sideways and crashed to the ground short of safety.

In shock, operating on survival instinct alone, Cosmo clawed his way forward with his three remaining limbs. Headlights illuminated him along with the trees just out of reach. The gunfire stopped.

Voices and footfalls approached from behind. In a final desperate effort, Cosmo raised his eyes and searched the jungle for friendly faces. Grasping at straws, he thought perhaps Damu had heard the Jeeps and returned to save him. Nothing but empty shadows greeting him.

An AK-47 fired from extremely close range. “Stay down!”

Out of options, Cosmo dropped to his stomach and protected the back of his head with his hands. A moment later, the butt of a rifle cracked into his skull, breaking his fingers in the process.