Arjen continued to fight with the man that had hit him, both tussling to gain control of the gun they gripped. Their deathly fight and wild movements had rounds firing off in random directions.
I didn’t wait around for the man near me to regain control of his gun. I took a firm grip of the one scraped up heel that was barely clinging to my foot and slung it with all my might at his head.
The hard hit stunned him enough for me to stand and hit him again, sending the heel of the shoe into his temple. The lick had drawn blood and pissed him off enough that he slung wild punches at me that I was thankfully quick enough to dodge.
One of his heavy handed punches would put me on my ass, so I was ducking and dodging like my life depended on it. The sight of blood pouring out of the side of his head caused a devious smirk to crease my lips.
The next few blows had him woozy enough for me to tangle my leg with his and we went down, thankfully with me falling on top of him. Half atop his chest, I spun my body so that I had a hand and a foot aimed at his head. With the heel placed at his temple, I held it in place and used the back of the bloody heel of my foot to hammer the heel into the side of his head.
The man fought me with flailing arms and erratic kicks, but the trauma to his head had his motor functions sluggish. In his weakened state, I stood and used more strength to stomp the heel deeper into his head.
The moment I felt something give, was when I knew his skull was starting to cave. Blood squirted and gushed from the hole I was determined to drill in his head.
The mess I was making had called Arjen’s attention. He had shot and killed the man he was fighting and was watching me with a wide eyed expression fixed on his face like the devil was set loose to rain hell on earth.
Determination had fueled my blood and I didn’t stop my attack until I had the length of the heel as deep as it would go into the man’s skull. The first thing I did was find HB and take up a position to return fire.
Arjen took a quick scan of the area, searching for more gunmen as the sound of gunfire popping off continued around the property. His gaze dropped to the man I had hammered my heel into. The muscles in his body continued to convulse as blood continue to flow from his damaged head.
“Damn. You really fucked him up,” he said before eyeing me with a proud glint flashing in his gaze.
He put a finger to his ear, listing to something his men were telling him as we hunched low near the back end of his jeep.
“You remember how to get into the armory?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“I need you to get to it and take out what we may not be able to see. They have a way to block us from night vision and from detecting their heat signatures,” he said.
He handed me an extra magazine.
“Reload love. You only have one round left.”
I dropped and reloaded with ease, not questioning his count.
“When I tell you to go, run for the house, we’ll cover you.” He was talking while letting off rounds in the direction of muzzle flashes.
I turned, staying low, and readied myself to run to the house.
Once inside the house, I would be able to get to the armory of weapons Arjen had in the basement, spot the enemy using the security monitors and sensors, and help take out what they couldn’t see.
“Go now, Mecca!” Arjen shouted. His voice carried above the broken drumbeats of constant gun blasts. With my sights set on the front door, I took off like a bat out of hell, my finger kissing HB’s trigger, ready to release hot led if necessary.
Breaths getting away from me, I crouched low and twisted the doorknob with the strength of a linebacker. The air of danger behind me was like a person chasing me with a gun aimed at my back, but I knew it was my mind readying me for what may have strayed my way.
I tumbled into the living room, leaving the door open. There was no need to close it because anyone that wasn’t Arjen or his men were getting their brains blown out. I ran in the direction of the armory-security room, my hip bumping the couch in my haste and making me grunt.
When I turned the sharp corner into the small nook that would lead me down to the room, the air in my lungs released on a loud suffocating gasp. I had shoved HB down the back of my pants, assuming I was safe inside the house.
Standing in front of the door that led down to the security room was a graying, thin man dressed head to toe in black tactical gear. He stood as tall as Arjen, but was gangly like a starved dog. His haggard face with its sunken jaws was oddly familiar.
The nine-millimeter he aimed at my head was gripped tight by his boney fingers. His exploring eyes and sadistic smirk revealed part of the evil that lurked within him.
I didn’t need my danger senses to know that this man was pure evil, the kind that made me a saint when I was far from one. He was the kind of evil that tortured kids and small animals.
“Turn around,” he hissed between rotten and broken teeth. His voice was cast low, but the sound was like glass raking over my skin.
He had a deep and vicious scar across his throat like he was hung before and died, but even Death had turned him away. He was clearly blind in one eye, the sight reminding me of the original Terminator after he had surgically removed his prosthetic eye and revealed the cybernetic one.