PRIMAL Unleashed (2) Read Online Free

vehicle, a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. He waited until the approaching men were only a few meters away, then jerked upright, hefted his rifle and gestured to his comrades. The smaller boy who was casually cradling a rifle, stepped forward and slowly raised his hand for the UN officers to stop. The third swivelled the heavy machinegun towards them from the back of the rusted pick-up.
    The two Peacekeepers stopped only a few paces away. Bishop was close enough to notice their eyes were glazed. He nervously slid his hand to the grip of the Browning 9mm nestled against his hip. It was the norm for UN officers to only carry handguns, but faced with three heavily armed gunmen, Bishop wished he’d insisted on being issued a rifle. He carefully positioned himself a few paces back from the Colonel, slightly out of the immediate firing line, aware that drugs and alcohol could result in unpredictable behavior.
    A sideways glance at the battered Toyota pick-up caused Bishop’s stomach to lurch. Jammed onto the spike of a snapped side view mirror was a severed human head. Flies crawled into the open eyes and a black bloated tongue protruded between decaying lips. The putrid smell assaulted the young Lieutenant’s senses and he struggled to keep his composure, the taste of bile filling his mouth.
    All three gunmen were staring intently at the gold braid decorating Colonel Kapur’s uniform, like children intrigued by the costume of a clown. The tall youth with the cigarette stepped forward confidently, pointing at Kapur.
    “You some kinda big boss man?” His words were slurred. He reeked of alcohol and unwashed sweat. “My name is General Terminator!” The young African stabbed his thumb into his bare chest then swept his arms wide. “An dis here area is under control of dah West Side Boys!”
    The hairs on Bishop’s neck rose. He realized the checkpoint could only mean one thing, the rest of the gang was already in the refugee camp. It was going to be the Songo massacre all over again.
    The youths were members of one of the most feared RUF groups in Sierra Leone; a gang that raped pregnant women and sliced open their bellies to gamble on the sex of an unborn child.
    Kapur froze, unable to respond, much to the amusement of the West Side Boys. “Who is da big boss now, man? Run back to your momma before the Terminator kill you all!” the gunman screamed. He was completely unintimidated, his ego fuelled by the UN officer’s fear and a cocktail of alcohol and drugs.
    Bishop spoke up, stepping closer to the Colonel. “We just need to get to the camp,” he stated calmly, keeping his fists clenched to stop his hands from shaking.
    The leader of the small group spat at him, “Fuck off you white Yankee fuck. You not going anywhere.”
    Before Bishop could respond, Kapur grasped his arm, pulling him away. “We need to go now, Lieutenant.” The man’s voice trembled with fear.
    The younger officer lowered his voice, “Sir, I am going to offer them a bribe. It might change their minds.” He was intent on reaching the camp.
    “No, Lieutenant Bishop. You will— ”
    Sharp, rapid cracks of gunfire in the distance cut him off and his eyes widened with fear. More bursts of automatic fire accompanied by screams and shouts.
    The West Side Boys started whooping like animals, jumping up and down in the middle of the track, punching their weapons in the direction of the refugee camp. They laughed, making crude gestures at the Colonel. “Don’t be afraid, big boss. We will save some of da young girls for you.”
    Rage and shame boiled up in Bishop as he imagined the RUF gang sweeping through the camp, raping women and mutilating men. Images of the aftermath of the Songo massacre flashed through his mind.
    Stepping behind the petrified Colonel to block the boys’ view, he disengaged his pistol holster’s thumb-brake. Grabbing Kapur roughly by the front of his shirt, he pulled him close enough to smell the rancid stench of