PRIMAL Renegade (A PRIMAL Action Thriller Book 8) (The PRIMAL Series) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jack Silkstone
respiratory system. Her powerful heart was the next to go. It beat slower and slower before finally, as the flow of oxygen ceased, it stopped and she toppled over.
“Good work.” Mamba pushed through the thicket and approached tentatively. He ran his hand over the horn. It was impressive measuring as long as his forearm. The animal lifted her head and gave one last bellow. The forlorn cry for help startled Mamba and he fell backward in the long grass.
“She was a beautiful animal,” Colin said staring with sad eyes.
“Don't get all soppy on me, old man. You've killed more than most.” Mamba scrambled to his feet and pulled the razor sharp machete from its scabbard. With deft blows he hacked at the flesh around the horn. A pathetic bleating sound interrupted his butchering and he turned to see the rhino calf standing a few yards away. It was as big as a large dog with a tiny horn the size of a golf ball.
“Can I shoot it?” asked the ex-ranger.
“No, you idiot. It will grow and then we come back for the horn.”
As Mamba worked to hack the horn free the other men faced outward with their guns. The teenager, sulking, moved down to the riverbank.
Mamba sweated as he worked. His preferred method of removing horns and tusks was a chainsaw. However, with the threat of rangers he couldn't risk the noise. As he continued to hack at the base of the horn the kid called out.
“Hey, hey, can you hear that?” The teen scrambled through the tall grass back to the carcass.
He paused and listened. Over the bleating of the calf he could hear a faint noise. It took him a moment to identify it as the clatter of a diesel engine. “Fucking hell.” He handed the machete to Kogo. “Finish this.”
He gestured to the others as he unslung his AK. “We'll check it out.” With the rifle held at the ready he patrolled through the thick grass until he could see down into the riverbed and across to the other bank.
A cut-down safari truck appeared a few hundred yards downstream on the opposite bank. He knelt and watched as it crept toward them. Whoever was in it was searching for something, probably the rhino and her calf. Mamba took a compact monocular from his vest and focused it on the vehicle. There were two green-uniformed rangers in the front seats. Shifting his focus he spotted two women in the back. One of them was holding a long-lensed camera. The other, a strikingly attractive brunette, had a pair of binoculars slung around her neck.
“What are we going to do?” the youth whispered as he caught up.
“Nothing, unless they see us,” Mamba said as he flicked the safety off his AK.
***
The Land Cruiser slowed and came to a halt at the river. It gave the occupants a clear view of both the rocky riverbed and the opposite side.
Saneh looked up, searching the sky for Bishop’s drone. Maybe he would spot the rhinos first, she thought.
“Was this where she was last seen?” asked Christina.
“Yes, it was a hot one today. She will stay close to water,” replied Francis as he switched off the engine.
Saneh scanned the far bank with her binoculars. Searching the thick grass she caught a glimpse of what looked like a man crouched behind a clump of foliage. Beyond the figure a flash of movement caught her eye and a heart-wrenching bleat filled the air. “Oh my god, it's Kitana's calf.”
The bark of an AK-47 sounded in the still air jolting her into action. “Get down!” She shoved Christina out of the vehicle and leaped after her. They landed in a heap as bullets thudded against the vehicle.
Her training kicked in and she assessed the situation. Realizing the only weapons were in the front of the vehicle she wrenched the driver’s door open. Francis rolled out into the dust. His shirt was covered in blood, his face pale, eyes wide.
She fought the urge to check him for wounds. The only aid in a gunfight is self-aid, she reminded herself as she grabbed a pump-action shotgun from between the front seats. A
“Good work.” Mamba pushed through the thicket and approached tentatively. He ran his hand over the horn. It was impressive measuring as long as his forearm. The animal lifted her head and gave one last bellow. The forlorn cry for help startled Mamba and he fell backward in the long grass.
“She was a beautiful animal,” Colin said staring with sad eyes.
“Don't get all soppy on me, old man. You've killed more than most.” Mamba scrambled to his feet and pulled the razor sharp machete from its scabbard. With deft blows he hacked at the flesh around the horn. A pathetic bleating sound interrupted his butchering and he turned to see the rhino calf standing a few yards away. It was as big as a large dog with a tiny horn the size of a golf ball.
“Can I shoot it?” asked the ex-ranger.
“No, you idiot. It will grow and then we come back for the horn.”
As Mamba worked to hack the horn free the other men faced outward with their guns. The teenager, sulking, moved down to the riverbank.
Mamba sweated as he worked. His preferred method of removing horns and tusks was a chainsaw. However, with the threat of rangers he couldn't risk the noise. As he continued to hack at the base of the horn the kid called out.
“Hey, hey, can you hear that?” The teen scrambled through the tall grass back to the carcass.
He paused and listened. Over the bleating of the calf he could hear a faint noise. It took him a moment to identify it as the clatter of a diesel engine. “Fucking hell.” He handed the machete to Kogo. “Finish this.”
He gestured to the others as he unslung his AK. “We'll check it out.” With the rifle held at the ready he patrolled through the thick grass until he could see down into the riverbed and across to the other bank.
A cut-down safari truck appeared a few hundred yards downstream on the opposite bank. He knelt and watched as it crept toward them. Whoever was in it was searching for something, probably the rhino and her calf. Mamba took a compact monocular from his vest and focused it on the vehicle. There were two green-uniformed rangers in the front seats. Shifting his focus he spotted two women in the back. One of them was holding a long-lensed camera. The other, a strikingly attractive brunette, had a pair of binoculars slung around her neck.
“What are we going to do?” the youth whispered as he caught up.
“Nothing, unless they see us,” Mamba said as he flicked the safety off his AK.
***
The Land Cruiser slowed and came to a halt at the river. It gave the occupants a clear view of both the rocky riverbed and the opposite side.
Saneh looked up, searching the sky for Bishop’s drone. Maybe he would spot the rhinos first, she thought.
“Was this where she was last seen?” asked Christina.
“Yes, it was a hot one today. She will stay close to water,” replied Francis as he switched off the engine.
Saneh scanned the far bank with her binoculars. Searching the thick grass she caught a glimpse of what looked like a man crouched behind a clump of foliage. Beyond the figure a flash of movement caught her eye and a heart-wrenching bleat filled the air. “Oh my god, it's Kitana's calf.”
The bark of an AK-47 sounded in the still air jolting her into action. “Get down!” She shoved Christina out of the vehicle and leaped after her. They landed in a heap as bullets thudded against the vehicle.
Her training kicked in and she assessed the situation. Realizing the only weapons were in the front of the vehicle she wrenched the driver’s door open. Francis rolled out into the dust. His shirt was covered in blood, his face pale, eyes wide.
She fought the urge to check him for wounds. The only aid in a gunfight is self-aid, she reminded herself as she grabbed a pump-action shotgun from between the front seats. A
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