Free Fall (Monsters and Bad Men, Book 3) (draft 01)

Chapter 8

Bart

This isn't my smartest idea.

I glance behind me as I run through the trees. There are a lot of them. I fire until I'm out of bullets, I think one falls.

Maybe, just maybe, the top of that hill to look in on Fernan's villa wasn't the greatest idea. I'm pretty sure I was well hidden, and I did get a good view in the back of the villa; mainly Fernan and his wife and kid.

It was sickeningly normal, from watching them around the kitchen, you couldn't tell the guy ran a drug cartel and human trafficking ring. I wonder if his wife knows.

I duck my head as gunfire erupts behind me again and swerve to put trees between us, well, more trees. I change the magazine.

My observation of the Fernans went well for a little more than twenty-four hours. Then they noticed the were missing someone. Not long after that, they found his body. Then, like a kicked anthill, they were everywhere. I didn't even have the time to put my coffee maker away before the shooting started. The poor thing was the first casualty. The SUV the second. I have no idea how I'm going to explain it to the border guard when I go back

"Hi, I was caught in a firefight while assassinating the leader of a human trafficking ring." Probably won't fly all that well.

Okay, looks like I'm out of view. Time to stop running. Gun back in its holster I climb the next tree and wait. A group of six run under me without looking up. Dumbasses. The sound of the others is far enough I should be okay.

I drop, take out my gun and shoot three of them in the back, one more as the turn to face me, one as he fires, and the last right after his bullet grazes my side. Not a bad trade, but the gunfire attracted the others.

I take off again.

There's a lot more of them by the sound of it. An ammo check tells me I'm in trouble, I'm on my last magazine, half used. I should have asked for twenty-one bullet magazines. I'll have to depend on my backup plan to get through this then,

Unless I can lose them. Hey, that's not an impossibility! I put away the gun and take off again. The slope goes up, maybe I can outlast them, these last months with Tristan have done wonder to boost my stamina. Yes, the sex played a part. Drug runners and traffickers aren't big on staying in shape, right? You have a better idea, I'm all ears.

If this was an old-style TV show, there would be a forgotten hunting rifle behind the next tree, or a box of magazine, I'm really not looking forward to my backup plan.

Nope, nothing. Someone didn't read the script. Better luck next time.

And no, I am not going to yell funny lines to them. For one thing, I don't speak Spanish, for another, I have you for conversation, although I'll admit, you're a much better listener than contributor. Just an observation. Yeah, you being a figment of my imagination probably explains the one-sidedness of the conversation.

Don't pout. Didn't I establish a while back I wasn't all up there?

Stop, whip out my gun turn, empty it into the closest pursuer, sending the rest for cover, start running again. I almost toss it, but if I do, there won't be any chances to take advantages of it if I find a magazine lying around.

I am not deluded, I am optimistic. There's a difference. The deluded guy doesn't know that's what he is.

Clearing up ahead. I need to pick up speed to get through it as fast as I can. No going around it isn't going to help, they're only a few hundred feet behind me. I think they might have realized I'm out of bullets.