Jack Ford - The Killing Grounds - an explosive and gripping thriller for fans of James Patterson

The scraping sound of the cover being dragged off the hole had Cooper, along with the other men, protecting their eyes from the burning light.

‘Out.’ The guard – rich black skin, dressed in a knee-length shirt over heavy cotton pants – wiped away the veil of sweat forming on his upper lip. He sniffed contemptuously. Gestured his head to the prisoners.

Whilst the rest of the detainees fought to scrabble out of the hole, using the rotting corpses as a step to reach the edge and pull themselves out, Cooper waited patiently for an elderly man to climb up at the only point which didn’t require such extreme measures.

Once out, the guard sneered and jeered and jabbed the steel muzzle of his gun aggressively into Cooper’s stomach.

It took more than a minute before Cooper shifted his gaze from the gun to the guard. Lifting his eyes slowly. Staring with cutting derision. Then a wry smile spread across his face.

The guard’s broken English was deep. Guttural. He said, ‘What so funny James Dean?’

It was an anomalous reference from a bygone era as if somehow the guard, like the wild barren landscape Cooper found himself standing in, was frozen in time.

In stark contrast to the guard’s voice was the lilt of Cooper’s soft Missouri accent, scornful in its gentle defiance. ‘I don’t have to explain anything to anybody.’

The guard’s hostility darkened. Angered. Aware that he was somehow being mocked, though ignorant of the fact the reply had been a line from an old James Dean movie.

The butt of the guard’s gun smashed into the side of Cooper’s face.

‘What do you say now Americano?’

He stumbled back and it took a moment for him to recover. Longer than he wanted. But it hurt. Real bad. Shot pain waves through his entire body, setting his jawline on fire. But he was damned if he was going to show it… Never did.

Wiping his mouth and tasting the salty blood trickling from his lips, he locked his stare with the guard’s. Stepped forward. Pushed his stomach onto the muzzle of the gun.

‘Haven’t they ever told you?’

‘Told me what?’

Cooper winked. Whispered. ‘Never take on a crazy guy who’s got nothing left to lose.’

The guard, unnerved and taken aback by Cooper’s apparent fearlessness, took a few seconds to regain his composure. ‘Less of your mouth Americano… Now, move it!’

He pushed Cooper towards the line of barefoot prisoners waiting to walk the scorching six kilometre trek through the rough, hard, brutal terrain, to bring back heavy hessian sacks full of rice which tore mercilessly at the men’s hands, leaving them with painful open sores.

And the sun beat down. Ruthless and fierce and unrelenting, and the guard shouted and fired his gun giving the men no choice but to set off.

*

Ten minutes into the journey and the ground was unforgiving. Sharp stones cut into Cooper’s feet but he knew better than to stop, the guards being crueller than any barren land.

Vehicles made their way dangerously fast down the unmarked rocky track. Like giant clouds of powdered cinnamon, the sands swirled densely, high above the road. A battered truck sped along towards them as Cooper and his fellow prisoners approached a huddled figure clad in a full blue chadri, sat beside the road. Their face was entirely covered with dense material, save the small section around the eyes which was laced with a net grille.

As the empty sheep truck slowed down, coming to a noisy stop, Cooper stared at the driver. Locking eyes. Holding his gaze. And then he knew. This was the moment. The one chance he’d been waiting for.

With arresting speed and a quick glance round, he rotated his body and a caught the gun which was thrown to him by the huddled figure in blue, who now stood up, revealing the weapon concealed underneath their chadri. Cooper aimed the gun at the guard.

To the chants and cries and calls and yells of the other inmates of Mai Edaga, Cooper fired warning shots towards the guard, as his disguised associate jumped in the waiting truck. He fired a few more shots for caution. For himself. For every dead man who never made it… For every dead man that was still there.

‘Cooper…! Come on…! Come on…! Jump in!’

Thomas J. Cooper did just that.

2

‘What kept you?’

Cooper was wired. And he could feel his eyes were wild with adrenalin as the truck sped and raced along the rough sand terrain. He broke into a smile which made him flinch as his parched, inflamed lips cracked further. He licked them in the hope of some relief. There wasn’t any. But damn, it tasted good. Freedom always did.

Levi Walker, a small stocky black man from Connecticut, with a cynical outlook on life, kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Coop, maybe a few thousand miles of sand. That, and the tiny matter of the Eritrean government.’

A woman’s voice came from the back. ‘More like deciding whether or not to bother getting your ass out of trouble… Again.’ Cooper swivelled round in the vehicle’s hard front seat, watching as she busily took off the chadri she’d been wearing. Grinned. Leant his well-built but battered body across the seat. Stretched over to the back where she was sitting. And landed a large kiss on her cheek.

Soft.

Warm.

Everything he hadn’t had for the past few weeks.

He said, ‘It’s good to see you too, Maddie… and you should keep that chadri, it’s a good look on you.’

Levi Walker burst into laughter. ‘Maybe I should take one home for Mrs. Walker. Save me having to look at her sour face across the breakfast table in the mornings.’

Cooper shook his head. He liked Levi. Always did. Always had. And he knew he couldn’t say that about a lot of guys. ‘Who wouldn’t have a sour face if they’d been married to you for the last twenty years? Beats me why Dorothy hasn’t thrown you out a long time ago… Oh shit, we’ve got company.’

Maddie span round and watched as a sheep lorry, driven by the prison guards, drove up behind them on the narrow mountain road, ramming into their tailgate and bucking them forward. She glanced quickly to her left; nothing but a crumbling sheer drop down to the hillside below. ‘Won’t this thing go any faster?’

‘I’ve got my foot right down on the gas! Our only hope is that their truck turns out to be slower than ours.’

Grabbing hold of the Heckler & Koch UMP 40 on the seat next to him, Cooper pulled back the folding stock. Leant his body out of the window. Began to fire at the truck as it continued to ram into them.

He shouted at Levi, ‘Keep it straight!’

‘I can’t! The road’s too bumpy. Too many potholes and any closer to the side, we’re going over!’

Without saying another word, and holding onto the truck’s roof handle, Cooper leant out of the window and began to fire at the truck behind as they veered precariously close to the edge.

The forty calibre shots ricocheted off the hood as Cooper struggled to get a good aim, as his hand shook and the truck bounced around.

‘Give it to me, Tom…! Now!’ Climbing over her seat, Maddie snatched the closed bolt weapon out of Cooper’s hands and pushed across the selector switch to fully automatic. ‘Hold on to me!’ she shouted at him over the sound of the racing engine. ‘And make it tight!’

Without waiting she pushed open the passenger door which swung out over the three hundred foot drop, and as Cooper held onto her waist she leant out over the deadly drop and expertly aimed and held her hand steady and cut out everything around her and closed one eye and aimed at the truck’s tyre…

Bullseye.

The front left wheel exploded into a mix of sound and shreds of rubber, and Maddie watched as the driver of the vehicle fought with the steering wheel as if he were driving a herd of wild horses. And as she pumped a last hail of bullets into the other tyre, the guards’ truck came to a screeching halt, millimetres from going over the edge.