The rifle swung to my left and I ducked down by reflex. “Why don’t you just stay right there, towelhead,” the survivor announced. He was covering Ayaan who had started to reach for her Kalashnikov. Great, I thought, just what we needed. Geopolitics played small at the worst possible moment.
“You’re with the Department of Homeland Security, right?” I called.
The survivor didn’t turn but he scratched at his unruly stubble with his left hand. “I’m Special Agent Kreutzer of the DHS, yeah, and I’m going to commandeer your vehicle under the emergency provisions of the Patriot Act. You can go ahead and start throwing your weapons over the side, now. You’re not going to need them anymore.”
I breathed deeply. “Listen, my name’s Dekalb. I’m with the United Nations Mobile Inspection and Disarmament Unit. I think we all need to just stand down.”
“I don’t take orders from any mushy-headed one-worlder fucks, thank you very much. Now start obeying my fucking instructions! I’ve got an objective to meet!”
“What’s your objective?” I asked, trying to keep the dialogue open. This guy was going to shoot somebody if I didn’t calm him down.
The agent raised his arms to the heavens as if beseeching a beguiling fate. “To get my hairy white ass out of here! Now disarm, motherfuckers!”
It was the opening Mariam needed. Unbeknownst to me (and, thankfully, to Kreutzer too) the girl sniper had climbed on top of the wheelhouse and lined up the perfect shot. When Kreutzer’s arms lifted and he was no longer aiming directly at anyone on the ship she held her breath and squeezed the trigger on her Dragunov. The top-heavy carbine dropped to clatter on the concrete as Kreutzer grabbed at his right index finger. “Jesus!”, he screamed. “She blew my finger off!” He stared down at his bloodied hand with wide eyes and then looked at me again. “Jesus!”
In a second I was over the rail. I scooped up the weapon he’d dropped, intending to cover him with it while the girls secured the perimeter. Ayaan had a similar idea but it mostly involved clubbing the survivor across the face with the buttstock of her AK-47. He fell to the ground and rolled into a fetal ball.
“Goddamnit, Ayaan, that was unnecessary,” I shouted. “And dangerous, too. What if he had a partner-or a whole platoon of them hiding behind those trees?”
Ayaan nodded thoughtfully. Then she jabbed Kreutzer in the gut with the barrel of her rifle. “This towelhead wants information,futo delo. Is there a platoon of fools like you hiding there?”
“Oh, glory, no, oh Lord I’m the only one here, Jesus protect me in my hour of misery I swear it, I swear it!”
She looked up at me with a smile and a shrug.
I called for the girls to come and bandage the poor asshole’s finger (Mariam hadn’t blown it off at all, merely cut it enough to make him drop his weapon) and start looking for a secure place to set up operations. It looked like Governors Island was ours for the taking. I examined the weapon Kreutzer dropped and put it on safety, then handed it to Ayaan.
“You ever think about upgrading?” I asked her.
She gave the weapon about a second’s worth of examination, sighting down the overloaded receiver and hefting its considerable weight. She pulled out its composite buttstock to full length and then slammed it home again. Then she glanced from the black plastic and electronic doodads of the M4A1 to the varnished cherry wood and solid steel of her rifle. Kreutzer’s weapon looked like a toy.
“Everyone knows about this weapon. Urban warfare version of the M16, yes?” she asked. “It is known to jam at a bad time. The barrel overheats when you fire one full clip.” She tossed it back at me and I staggered as it collided with my arms.“No sale, Dekalb.”
David Wellington - Monster Island
Monster Island
Chapter Four