Page 79 of Wild Wolf
I kept advancing, stepping over fallen branches, moving with caution. I didn't think Oren was armed, but I wasn't taking any chances.
Another flash of lightning filled the sky, followed by a booming rumble of thunder.
These constant flashes were killing my natural night vision. With the cloud cover, the island had grown pitch black.
At least the mosquitoes went away.
I figured Oren had tried to escape toward the canals where he had probably moored his boat.
The thick foliage reminded me of the jungle. JD and I had plenty of recent jungle adventures.
I whispered over comms, "Almighty, do you have a visual on the suspect?”
"That's a negative, Bravo One. I've lost control of the drone. I don't know if it's the weather or the cell connection."
I shouted into the forest, "Oren, just give yourself up. We're going to catch up with you sooner or later. Might as well make it easy on everyone. Don't cause yourself any more trouble.”
Craggy branches clawed at me as I pushed through the thick underbrush. At times, it was so dense I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of my face. A rat’s nest of hardwoods, vines, grass, and swamp shrubs.
I crouched low and moved through a clump of branches and leaves that blanketed the path.
As I emerged on the other side, the beast struck.
Oren leapt from the brush, swiping at me with those titanium claws like razor blades.
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Oren’s left claw raked across the barrel of my rifle, knocking it toward the ground. I managed to block his right forearm before the claws could do their dirty business.
We tumbled to the ground, the rifle pinned down. The ferocious hydraulic jaws snapped. With Oren on top of me, he cocked his arm back, ready to strike with those demonic scalpels.
I managed to buck him off me. Oren wasn’t a big guy. The costume had given him an inflated ego.
I shouldered the rifle and swung the barrel around, taking aim as Oren charged. "Freeze!”
Oren kept coming, buying into his own hype.
I pulled the trigger, and the rifle hammered against my shoulder.
The bullet rocketed through the air, tearing through the costume.
But Oren kept coming.
My aim had been relatively solid, but the size of the costume was much larger than Oren. The bullet missed him and tore straight through the fabric.
My finger squeezed the trigger again. CLICK.
No bang.
The previous cartridge hadn't fully ejected—a stovepipe blocked the port.
This was not my day when it came to equipment.
There was no time to clear the jam.
Oren pounced, slashing with those sadistic claws.
I shoved the barrel of the rifle forward as he charged, poking where I thought his head would be.
