Chapter 10
Matt dropped to the floor of the
tunnel and felt the ricochets of the bullets winging all around him. There was a sharp pain in his calf where he
knew he’d been hit. He was inside the
enclosure and if he tried to climb the ladder to escape he would be dead before
he reached the second rung. Hal was
still shining the light down on him offering the shooter a nice target.
“Shut the door!” Matt shouted,
feeling the wound on his leg and grateful the bullet didn’t hit an artery.
There was a hesitation, voices above
him arguing over the request, but he could see Nick reach over and slam the
door shut. Immediately the tunnel became
complete darkness. There was no sunlight
to slip through the cracks of the trap door.
Matt scurried to the other side of
the dirt floor and curled up, his heart pounding, his gun up and ready. He tried to slow his breathing. Adrenalin was his enemy. He needed to be still and quiet. There was movement from down the tunnel and
he couldn’t tell whether the movement was going away from him or towards
him.
There was nothing Nick or anyone
could do for him now. He was on an
island by himself and he needed his wits and his training to escape. As soon as that door opened above him he
would become a Piñata for target practice.
He was bleeding and needed medical attention, but he had more serious
issues ahead of him.
The tunnel became still. Without light his hearing went into hyper
drive. His other senses trying to
compensate for the loss of sight.
Nothing.
An agonizing long time went by. Minutes.
Matt thought he could hear breathing.
One person? Maybe two. It was a small enclosure so it didn’t make
sense there would be more than two shooters.
Matt decided to take off his belt and tie it around his leg to slow the
bleeding.
The shooters thought he was
trapped. The only way to save Matt was
to come through the door above him and expose his position, so they had time on
their side. But Matt was a sniper in the
Army. Special Forces. He knew things these drug smugglers didn’t
know.
There was one issue they were
probably mulling over just now. If they
shot at Matt in complete darkness there would be a muzzle flash. It would be a short flash, but in this environment
Matt would see this and respond immediately.
If they were smart they would’ve kept firing while the door was open and
he was exposed. Now they were deciding
how to proceed. They were coping with
the same sensory deprivation and relying on their hearing to make their
decisions. This was important.
Matt could find a pebble and toss it
across the tunnel and hope for a response, but they might be ready for
that. He needed to give them a sense of
urgency. Something that would cause them
to fire their weapons impulsively. They
would need to feel threatened.
Matt slowly pulled down on the heel
of his shoe, keeping his breathing low and slow. He lifted the shoe with his right hand and
trained the Glock on their position with his left hand. He drew back the shoe, low to the ground and
skipped it across the dirt floor directly toward his attackers.
Matt got the exact response he
wanted. Two bright muzzle flashes
continued to fire at the ruse. He made
two quick shots, one for each gunman. Years of training had him locked into the
exact target. From the angle of shot he could
tell both shooters were right-handed.
This made it easy to connect the dots and make two direct shots in less
than a second.
Silence. Moans.
Matt rose to his feet, wincing from
the bullet wound, then pulling off his other shoe with his free foot. He tip-toed down the tunnel, then pulled out
his flashlight to illuminate his shooters.
One was already dead. Headshot. The other was on his back moaning, clutching
his shoulder and stretching toward his gun lying a few feet away.
“Don’t,” Matt said. “I don’t play games, I shoot to kill.”
The guy ignored Matt’s warning and
kept straining to get to the weapon, just inches away. As his hand reached the butt of the pistol,
Matt frowned then shot the guy through the temple. The guy went limp.
Matt shined the light farther down
the tunnel to be sure there was no one else with them. There wasn’t.
He bent over to pick up the two
pistols and looking down at the guy he shot, he said, “I told you no.” Then something dawned on him. “I sure hope you understood English.”
Matt limped down the corridor and
managed to climb up the ladder using one leg and two strong arms. He pounded on the door.
The lid swung open quickly with Nick
and Hal and Martinez all training their weapons on Matt.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
Matt held up his arm and
grunted. “I could use a lift.”
Nick hauled up his partner, then
examined Matt’s leg under Hal’s spotlight.
Dane leaned over the wound and
looked like his was going to be sick.
“Man, that’s real disgusting.”
“You’ll need stitches,” Nick said.
“Yeah,” Matt agreed, placing his arm
around Nick’s shoulders and taking the pressure off his damaged leg.
“We can have the chopper swing
back,” Hal said. “He could be here in
ten minutes.”
Matt looked at the Border Patrol Agent. “You have a laceration pack in the truck?”
Hal glanced over at his SUV. “Sure, we keep one in every vehicle. You never know when you’ll be stuck miles
from help.”
“Does it have Lidocaine? Syringes?
Some nylon suture?”
Hal nodded. “Yeah, well the Lidocaine might be expired,
but it’s only there for extreme emergencies.
We’ve got plenty of time to get you to a hospital before that thing
causes any issues.”
“It’s already caused me issues,”
Matt said. “But I can sew up my leg
better than most plastic surgeons.”
Nick was already shuffling Matt
toward the SUV. “He’s not going to let
this go,” Nick told Hal. He glared over
his shoulder at Dane who followed the group like a stray dog. “Let him fix it, then we’ll take Mr. Uranium
here and find Reynoso.”
Hal shined the spotlight on the
kid. “You’ve been a real pain in the ass
haven’t you?”
From behind them Matt heard the kid
squeak. “Sorry.”
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