BooksBarbecue
Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

The struggle grows fiercer as the colonel’s men become more desperate. This is hand-to-hand fighting, the way it must have been for a Spartan phalanx or a Roman legion. I’m stabbed in the hip, and a second later a soldier grabs me from behind and tries to gouge out my right eye.

He’s got me in a headlock that I can’t break, while his thumb grinds into my eye socket. Then his grip relaxes and he falls to the ground. Eko has run a spear straight through him. Thanks, Ninja Girl, I owe you one.

Twenty feet away, a prison guard grabs Mudinho and raises a club to brain him. Gisco darts over so fast he’s a blur, and sinks his canines deep into the guard’s calf. The guard screams and tries to kick the snarling hound away. Mudinho jumps on the guard’s back and soon the three of them are rolling around on the ground.

Fifty yards to the prison. Half a football field. The rain freezes into hail that comes pelting down at us like iron Ping-Pong balls.

I press forward, leading the final charge. Blood runs down my nose and cheeks, into my mouth. I feel its heat and taste its salty tang and it stirs me to a new level of savagery. This is pure blood rage. Punches and kicks don’t faze me. I will not be denied.

Lightning strobes the battlefield and I see images that I will never forget. A soldier is gutted by a peccary’s tusks. The wild pig lifts him off his feet and runs around in circles, while the impaled man’s arms and legs flail in the air. A guard hacks at a jaguar with an ax. The big cat dodges, and then leaps forward and catches the man’s head in its jaws. The ax clatters to the ground as the guard pushes with his hands against the jaguar’s neck, trying to extricate himself. The cat bites down, there’s a crunching sound, and the soldier goes limp.

I hurdle two dead bodies and reach the prison’s front door. It’s chained and locked. I punch it and kick it and beat on it with the club, but it doesn’t give an inch.

Then I step back and do the most difficult thing there is to do on a battlefield—I force myself back under control. Eko taught me how to use mind over matter on the Outer Banks, but to do so now I have to shut out all this mayhem. And that takes a colossal act of will.

I close my eyes and visualize bursting through darkness into light. When the image in my mind is real enough, I jump off my right foot and kick with my left. The sole of my foot explodes into the door, and the chains snap like Christmas ribbons.

I’m inside.

88

88