Free Pandora 2: Death is not an Option by Richard McCrohan Page B

loud, “I got this.” She brought her rifle to her shoulder, sighted down the barrel, and, letting out her breath slowly, took the shot.
    On the porch, Paul and Frank carried Del’s body, placing it next to Rich Foley. They all gathered around, shedding silent tears for their fallen comrades. Mike said to Manny as he surveyed the carnage, “Hey, Travis says he saw another building down the beach. It was dark, but as the moon shone, he noticed it through the palms. Take Travis and Jamal, and go check it out. I want to take a head count of the bad guys.”
    Mike grabbed the two soldiers, and the three trotted cautiously down the path to the darkly painted building.
    Bouchard felt a sharp, stinging pain in the small of his back. Reaching back, he tried to feel what was wrong. All he could feelwas the soaking-wet shirt. He stumbled a bit, and he looked over his shoulder. He could see Tommy running hell-bent at the water’s edge. As he turned back and tried to increase his pace, his legs suddenly stopped working. His lower half felt numb, and he collapsed, falling on his face in the shallow water. Picking his head up by propping himself on his elbows, he tried to rise again. From his waist down, he had absolutely no feeling. He couldn’t move his legs. Hell, he couldn’t even feel them. Tommy came running up to him. Breathing hard, he looked on with contempt at his helpless nemesis. Bouchard looked up at him and said incredulously, “I can’t feel my legs. I can’t get up.”
    Tommy looked down and could see the hole in the small of his back. Smiling he thought,
Nice shot, Carol
.
    Bouchard kept trying to head back toward shore, but his arms kept sinking in the soft, wet sand. Every time he pushed his elbow down to drag himself forward, he sunk up to midbicep in the soft bottom. Every time that happened, the incoming tide washed over his head. When the tide went out, Bouchard picked his head up, spitting and coughing seawater, and screamed, “You fuck, help me. I’m drowning here!”
    Carol came up to Tommy’s side. He glanced at her, smiled, and said, “Thanks for the help.”
    They stood and watched Bouchard as he coughed and gasped and struggled to drag his half-paralyzed body to shore. When it finally looked as though Bouchard was starting to make some progress, he looked up triumphantly to Tommy and Carol. A sneer formed on his wet, sandy face. As he lifted his right arm to gain more distance, Tommy stepped forward and, putting the toe of his boot in Bouchard’s armpit, shoved, tipping him over onto his back. As his eyes opened wide in shock, a wave came rushing in, washing over hisbody completely. Even as the tide ebbed, his head and body were still underwater. Only his wildly waving arms rose above the surf.
    Tommy bent over, wearing a grim and unfriendly smile, and stared into Bouchard’s wide eyes. As they locked gazes, Bouchard knew immediately that it was over. He opened his mouth, and his shoulders bucked a few times. Tommy stood there and watched the light go out of his eyes. When that was done, he stood up straight and looked at Carol, and then they both turned and trudged back toward the compound. As satisfying as that was, he knew it wouldn’t bring back Vince.
    As Mike, Jamal, and Travis crept up to the building, the door, which was slightly ajar, flew open and with a bang bounced off the opposite wall. A slight man came running out, waving his arms and yelling wildly. He had a hammer in his hand. Seeing the three, he ran at them, screaming in Spanish. Mike raised his M15 to his hip and fired off a burst. It caught the dark-haired man in the chest and knocked him back into the moving door. He hit the door’s edge with his back and came flying forward again. The three, avenging spirits all, opened fire and tore him to pieces. The small man spasmodically danced around and then fell in a heap at the open doorway.
    “Another fucking maniac,” said Jamal.
    They carefully entered the small building