The Killing Grounds: an explosive and gripping thriller for fans of James Patterson. Jack Ford
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Deliver him!’
The hut having already being doused with petrol, and the twisted branches of the banana tree piled around, even in the humid, wet rain it took only a single match. A single moment for it to be greedily swallowed up by dancing orange flames.
And as Papa Bemba stood outside, he could feel the heat of the fire. Hear the smothered rasps. The terrified cries of Emmanuel Mutombo amid the crackling and sizzling and splintering noise of the blaze. He smiled. The screams were the sound of the possessed burning. Defeated. Overcome by the righteous. By the chosen one and he, like the other villagers, was satisfied.
*
As the night drew in and darkness set, cementing its rule over the day, a solitary figure, shadowed and blotted out by the night, moved quickly across the mud-logged ground. The noise of breaking branches over the sound of the heavy rain made the man crouch down, hiding behind the tangled foliage of the sprawling forest.
After a while, and deciding it was probably only the sound of the nocturnal animals who roamed and hunted for prey and, like him, didn’t want to be seen, he moved on, hurrying towards the partially burnt down hut – now doused by the heavy rain.
Drawing himself up against it, he looked round, making sure he hadn’t been followed. And it took a moment for him to be assured that darkness had been his advocate; letting him come here without being seen.
Inside the hut he called out. Moving towards the dais. ‘Emmanuel…? Emmanuel? C’est moi.’
The putrid smell from the burnt flesh of Emmanuel Mutombo was overpowering, but a groan – a sign of life – made him speak once more.
‘Emmanuel, I’m here to help you.’
Then picking up Emmanuel, he carried him out into the night, before both of them disappeared into the darkness and sanctuary of the forest.
At the Scottsdale airport, Arizona, which served as the home for many of the area’s corporate aircraft, Levi Walker wiped the sweat from his forehead.
‘Man, I’m hot. I got to get me a cold drink. I can almost taste the beer on my lips.’
Joining Levi by the side of the airstrip, Cooper leant on the hood of Maddie’s truck. His six foot three frame towering over both Maddie and Walker. He gave a crooked smile to his friend, relieved to be on US soil. He’d thought about this moment since Eritrea, and it sure as hell didn’t disappoint.
‘Anyone would think you’d spent the last week in a hot penitentiary, the way you’re talking.’
‘Not me, Coop, no way. I’ll leave that to the crazy folk… Oh crap. Is that who I think it is, Maddie?’
Levi pointed up to the sky. Shielded his eyes from the dazzling sun. Watched as a beautiful Diamond DA62 aircraft with turbocharged Austro AE330 jet fuel piston engines came into view. Soaring down gracefully.
‘I’m afraid so.’
Levi raised his eyebrows. Scratched his newly cornrowed afro and admired the expert landing of the plane. He walked towards it but stopped. Turned back. ‘You know, Coop, I never told you earlier, but it’s good to have you back.’
And in the glaring sun a few hundred meters back from the plane, the warm winds caressed Cooper’s handsome face and the light bounced off the white body of the aircraft, making it difficult for him to see.
The jet’s door opened and casually he sauntered forward. Greeted the pilot with warm words and a gesture of his hand.
‘Hey! Good to see you, Granger.’
The punch to Cooper’s jaw was quick. Hard. Knocked his head sideward. He touched his lip with his tongue and tasted the spring of blood. He stared back at Granger. Said nothing.
‘If you ever. Ever, do anything like this again, you’re out. You got that Cooper? You want to play Superman, maybe you should’ve done that when it mattered.’
Cooper lunged forward, but although he was angry he let Maddie grab him, letting the familiarity of her touch calm him down.
‘Don’t like the truth Cooper? Neither do I.’
Granger rubbed his face, red from stress. He turned to Maddie and Levi. ‘I expected better from you Maddison, thought you were the one who was supposed to have a sensible head on. And as for you, Levi, never, ever try to pull a fast one on me again.’
And with that he stomped back to the plane, stamping his feet into the dust, followed by Levi.
Cooper watched on, unable to move. Resentment had a funny way of doing that to him. Granger had a funny way of doing that to him. He felt Maddie touch his arm gently.
‘It’s only because he cares, Tom. We were all worried. I don’t know what you expected. You can’t just go around doing what you want and think it won’t hurt others. Because it does… It really does.’
Without bothering to say anything, Cooper lit a cigarette before walking over to join the others. Something told him this was going to be one helluva day.
Cooper wasn’t sure what had woken him up. Knowing it could have been one of many things he decided not to dwell on it. Even though the Colorado night was cool . Chill. Both he and the white linen sheets which Levi, or rather Levi’s wife Dorothy, had bought him last year for Thanksgiving were drenched in sweat. He kicked them off. Sighed away the images of the past which had awoken and were playing in his head like a movie reel.
Reaching across he grabbed one of the many bottles of pills by the side of his bed. It didn’t matter which. As long as they worked. How many he took, it didn’t matter to him either, though tonight it happened to be three. Two OxyContin and a Xanax always seemed to do the trick.
Rubbing his face and feeling the hurried job he’d done with shaving the night before, Cooper wearily got out of bed to get some water. Just to do something, rather than just lying there. Thinking. Anything was better than that.
He didn’t bother to look at the clock. It was dark. He was tired, which could only mean it was late. Any other information seemed irrelevant. He wasn’t going anywhere, not even to sleep, it seemed.
The sanded wooden stairs felt smooth under foot. It’d taken him the whole of last year’s 4th July holiday weekend to complete them. Unlike the unfinished kitchen of the ranch. Seven years untouched. Semi-masked up, with unopened paint tins with names such as Ancient Map and Cottage Leaf and Proud Peacock, colors he couldn’t even guess without opening the tins, yet colors he and Ellie had argued about when they’d bought them… just before he’d been deployed to Lamu.
He hadn’t seen the point of finishing the kitchen. Not now. He never cooked anyway. At a push he used the microwave to heat up the meals Maddie or Dorothy Walker made for him. Because it was Ellie who’d wanted the big, open plan room with a Sully seven burner stove and a view out over the acres of meadow which ran up to the aspen covered hills and on to the mountain ridges beyond. She’d wanted it. Not him. But like the ranch, which she’d fallen in love with when the realtor had simply shown them photos of it, he’d been happy to give it to her. He’d have given her anything.
So now he was stuck with the ranch along with the paint and the unused brushes and the stove which he’d always thought too big and the view of the goddamn meadow. And the only way he could see round the problem was for her to come back. Come back to him. Just so he could give it to her all over again. Because he needed her to remind him of what the colors were, to prove to him why the hell, when there were just the two of them, they needed seven burners instead of four, but this time, this time, he wouldn’t care if she painted the whole of the goddamn place bright green.
He shook his head. This was bullshit.