It seemed this target wasn't simple. Edward calmed himself. Tropical rainforest combat wasn't their specialty, and as a commander he wasn't arrogant about it. He decided to be cautious.
"Contract the formation slightly."
Watching from a distance, Steve Owen saw the enemy begin to tighten up their formation and frowned.
He could still glimpse drones beyond the treeline, but the canopy was too dense for them to penetrate for now. If he left the woods, he'd be spotted immediately. It looked like he had to finish this inside the forest.
His arrows were running low. He needed to figure out a way to resupply.
In the shadows, Steve Owen watched the mercenary file closely. He quickly picked Edward out as the commander—only, killing him wouldn't be so easy.
Estimating their route, Steve Owen scanned for any place a trap could be set. His gaze fixed on a hornet's nest high in the crown of a big tree.
He gauged their speed and chose to edge closer. Staying low, he slipped through the brush and soon found an ideal angle.
Here, the shrubs would hide him from the approaching team, and he'd still have a clean shot at the nest. All that remained was to wait—patiently.
The mercenaries advanced in good order. Steve Owen held his breath. There didn't seem to be a sniper in the squad; if there had been, this ambush would be far trickier.
Wait. Wait. Wait…
When they reached his mark, Steve Owen drew his compound bow to full and aimed at the junction where the nest met the branch. He released. The arrow flew and hit dead-on.
The shaft struck the junction—but it was tougher than expected. The first shot didn't cut through. The twang of the string alerted the mercs, but no one had realized his target was the hive above their heads.
Seeing he hadn't achieved the effect he wanted, Steve Owen immediately drew and loosed again, hitting the same spot. Two impacts in quick succession were too much—the connection failed and the hive dropped.
At the same moment, the enemy caught the second arrow's flight, exposing Steve Owen's position—but it was already too late. The hive hit the ground, and a cloud of enraged hornets boiled out to defend their home. Anything they saw became a target.
A rising buzz mixed with human screams. The formation collapsed. Even elite troops couldn't stay calm under that onslaught; they scattered in panic.
Insects in the Amazon are far more venomous than ordinary bugs. Steve Owen had only meant to use the hornets to scatter them, but when he went to check, two were already dead from stings. Faces, necks, and forearms were covered in swollen welts—their deaths were horrific.
Steve Owen frowned, forced down his disgust, grabbed weapons and gear off the bodies, stuffed two magazines into his pockets, and slipped away ahead of any counterattack.
…
In the hills, Monica led Ina carefully through the dense forest.
"Monica, are we going to die?"
"Monica, I miss my parents…"
"Monica, I'm scared…"
Ever since that Brazilian grabbed her earlier, Ina's nerves were about to snap. The constant threat of being hunted was more than a ten-year-old could bear.
Monica didn't try to comfort her—she just put a finger to her lips.
"Help! Somebody help!"
A frantic woman's voice rang out in the distance, and a moment later a woman came stumbling toward them. Ina gasped and hid behind Monica, who drew her knife and went on guard.
The woman tumbled forward in a headlong flight for her life. She seemed not to notice Monica and Ina at first; when she finally saw them, she dropped to the ground in fright.
"Don't kill me! Don't kill me…"
Her plea was tearful. Monica glanced at the knife in her own hand, then toward the direction the woman had come from.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not a hunter. Who's chasing you?"
"A Black man—he wants to kill me. We have to run. He's already killed several people—ah, he's coming…"
The woman looked terrified, eyes darting back the way she'd run. Then, as if she'd seen something, she bolted to hide behind Monica like a startled rabbit.
Monica set herself, watching the direction the woman indicated—but saw nothing.
Something felt wrong. A jolt of alarm shot through Monica. She started to turn—when a soft "pff" sounded, along with the snap of a bowstring, and warm liquid sprayed across her face.
Behind her, the woman had a knife in her hand—but her head had just been pierced by an arrow.
Someone had saved them, but whether they were friend or foe was unclear. Monica spun toward the direction the arrow had come from—and saw a curly-haired man with a red headband.
Monica pulled Ina behind her, but Ina suddenly cried out in delight, "John, John\~\~\~"
The little girl's voice was full of joy. She slipped around Monica and ran straight into the man's arms.
"John, I got separated from my parents—people are trying to kill us…"
Ina clung to him like a kitten, sobbing out all the misery of the past day.
Rambo lowered his bow and held her. He didn't seem to know how to comfort a child; he just listened in silence. After a long moment, he said, "Your parents… they're dead."
Knowing this man was a friend, not an enemy, Monica stood by quietly. Ina wept for her parents. John Rambo glanced at Monica. "I've seen your husband."
The sudden news about Steve Owen made Monica tense.
"How is he?"
"When I ran into him, he'd just killed a hunter."
Monica waited for more, but Rambo fell silent. She found herself hating that he wouldn't elaborate and had to ask, "How is he now?"
"I don't know."
His manner of speaking made Monica want to roll her eyes. He didn't seem to notice.
Rambo didn't address her again. Instead, he looked up at the sky. As Monica and Ina wondered why, he suddenly loosed an arrow into the air.
The drone came tumbling down. Monica recognized it at once, and was about to ask a question when Rambo said, "Your position's been exposed. We have to move now."
Rambo led with Ina, Monica following. Since seeing Rambo, Ina seemed to have found her anchor; the fear was gone from her face, though the news of her parents' deaths left her subdued.
"There's a cave here. You two can hide for a bit…"
"Okay, John."
Ina was obedient. Monica suddenly said, "No. I'm going to find my husband. He needs me…"
Her words were firm as iron. Seeing Steve Owen was all she wanted; nothing else mattered. As she spoke, gunfire cracked in the distance, startling a flock of birds into the air. All three turned toward the sound.
"It must be Steve Owen. I'm going to help him…"
Monica grew even more anxious.
"No. You don't know the jungle. Stay here with Ina. I'll help you find him…"
Rambo stopped her from rushing off. Monica looked at him, and Ina tugged at her sleeve. "Stay, Monica. John's amazing. Last year he single-handedly wiped out a band of pirates. Even the police said he was born to be a king of the jungle…"
Monica hesitated. She was an urban SWAT operator—everything she'd trained for was city-centric. She really didn't know the jungle, and she didn't have a weapon.
Rambo, on the other hand, was a jungle-warfare expert, deadly with a bow. Compared to her, he was clearly better suited to help Steve Owen. He might look older, but she never thought age mattered. Bryan—was he old? Weren't his Ranger buddies old, too? They were still fearsome fighters.
"Alright. I'll stay here and take care of Ina. Find Steve Owen for me—and give him this."
Monica pressed the necklace into Rambo's hand. She and her husband each wore one; the pendant was their photo together. As much as she wanted to see Steve Owen herself, she chose what would help him most.
______
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