Free The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) by James S. Gardner Page A

Mozambique?” The other men found their leader's words sidesplitting. Rigby never took his eyes off of the man talking.
    “I think you should give us some food.”
    “Quite right. I have a nice side of impala wrapped up in the back. Take what you want,” Rigby said, throwing his hunting knife in the back of the truck. Two of them leaned their AK-47s against the side of the truck and jumped up into the bed. They cut the bindings and started to unroll Sam Mabota's corpse.
    “Be sure to leave some for me,” Rigby yelled as they uncovered Sam's face. They screamed and jumped back. The others ran to help their friends, but when they saw Sam's face, they also started screaming. Rigby struck the leader on the bridge of his nose with his rifle butt knocking him to the ground. He hit him again. A blood geyser erupted from the man's face. He hit the next one in the temple. He caught the third one flush in the mouth. The last man kneeled down and begged for mercy. One bandit tried to run, but his legs appeared boneless and wouldn't support him.
    “ Wat doen jy ?” the one-handed leader asked.
    “For starters, take off your clothes. Be quick about it, or I'll shoot all of you.”
    “What are you going to do with us?” another man asked.
    “I'm gonna watch the lions eat you,” he slurred. “No self-respecting lion would feed on gutless scum like you.” He fired his rifle at their feet. “Start running.”
    “ Asseblief , you cannot take our weapons. Only a demon would leave men out here to die.” The man with one hand tried to stand up, but he wobbled and fell to his knees.
    “What about the women? What chance did you give them? You remember the girl with the crippled foot? I'm giving you better than you gave them.” He threw the men's clothes in the back of his truck. He kept firing until they were out of sight.
    After taking a swig of whiskey he glanced back at Sam's body and smiled. Sam, you should have seen their faces when I told them I wanted to feed them to the lions. I do believe they shit themselves. Only good thing to come out of this cocked-up safari.

Highlands, Zimbabwe
    E xhaustion and whiskey beat him into submission. Just before sundown, Rigby pulled off the road and crawled under his truck to sleep. He covered himself with Sam's woolen blanket and dozed off. He closed his eyes and remembered the day he met Sam. It was at the Selous Scout Regimental recruiting headquarters in Salisbury. An officer sitting behind a desk addressed Sam. I was next in line.“So, Mr. Mabota, you want to join the Selous Scouts? You do know only one man in ten finishes the course. Yet you still wish to volunteer?”
    “Yes, sah, very much so, sah,” Sam answered, clicking his heels together.
    The officer circled around Sam, examining him. “Africans never show their age like the rest of us mortals. It says here you think you're about forty. A bit old for this kind of duty, wouldn't you agree?”
    “Sah, does it say there I finished number one in my class?”
    “Yes, quite right, Mr. Mabota,” he said, twirling a tip of his mustache. “Because of your basic training record, I'm inclined to approve your selection. Your application is accepted. Next,” the officer said.
    “Mr. Croxford, is it?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Well now, Croxford, I must say there's nothing stunning about your basic training record. Your late father had a brilliant military career. But you see, unlike you, he was a disciplined soldier. Because of your father, I'm inclined to approve your application. I'd be surprised if you make it through the first week. Good luck Mr. Croxford, you'll certainly need it.”
    Rigby needed to urinate, but he resisted leaving the warm hollow under his truck. He forgot where he was and banged his head. “Shit,” he uttered. What caused the goose flesh on my arms, he asked himself. He thought he heard something. He strained to hear, but it was quiet. Get a grip, he thought, chiding himself. The sound of leaves