Captain Shayne: American Mercenary

By Ernest Pendergraft and Mack C. Carroll

Shayne Mckay is a Mercenary, an ex Captain in the US Army, and a bank robber.

A big man with wide shoulders, strong arms, and the tan handsome face of an outdoorsman.

But he is a lonely man hiding behind a cloak of independence, consumed by a wanderlust yet living well by his talents and skills.

Beneath the harshness, he is a kind man; a just man.

Kiara is Marie's best friend; she is sixteen years old. Kiara is one of the Old Indian's prophecies, and will be the one to give birth to his only son.

Whatever gentleness within him is guarded and deep, and will only be seen by his ladies.

But when those ladies are kidnapped;  

May god have mercy for his enemies, because Captain Shayne will not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mack C. Carroll
• Release date: Jun 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201217822

Ernest Pendergraft

Born in a small town in the Pacific Northwest, I am an avid hunter and fisherman. Although if the truth were told, I haven't been out in years.  Spent four years in the Air Force, stationed at Lowry Air Force Base in Denver, Co. The rest of my career was as a broadcast engineering manager at several different TV stations.

Book preview

Mack C. Carroll

Dedicated to the memory of my son Jake.

Love Dad

Copyright 2020

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any form or any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Chapter One

Three tan Humvees with black tinted windows, crawled along the grimy back streets of the small city. Three soldiers in each; all dressed in combat uniforms, body armor, black leather gloves, and wearing camouflaged faces with dark sunglasses. They all carried large caliber automatic weapons, and wore pistols on their sides.

There was no talking, the hum of the motors the only sound being made as they advanced past poverty-stricken houses and businesses.

Painted graffiti adorned the empty buildings and dark board fences. Potholes pockmarked the once smooth pavement.

Turning left at the next street, they traveled in single file military formation through overgrown empty lots. Abandoned cars, cans, garbage bags, and trash lay scattered around.

Turning right onto the main street got them back into a civilized area again. The main street was a two-lane street going one way; they positioned themselves in the middle of the streets, not allowing traffic to pass.

Crawling along the street; traffic backed up behind them.

Horns began honking as irate drivers were detained by this ostensible unauthorized military procession.

They traveled like this for several blocks, then came to a halt in the middle of the street. Well dressed pedestrians and storefront window shoppers all turned to stare at this strange proceeding.

Two broad-shouldered men from the last Humvee stepped out into the cool December morning sun; then moved to stand in front of the line of cars behind their vehicle.

The soldiers held their weapons in the ready to fire position; aimed at the drivers of the cars that were first in the long line.

Cars came to an abrupt stop, women screamed, and pedestrians scattered looking for the nearest cover; the horns became silent.

A driver stayed in each Humvee, while the four remaining  soldiers exited the vehicles and double-timed into the nearest building; the First National Bank. The combat hardened soldiers seized control the second they entered the front doors.

Grabbing the unarmed security guard by the back of the neck, one soldier threw him into the lobby area.

Everyone on the floor ordered the tall leader. If anyone moves, everyone dies.

Women screamed.

The American sounding soldier repeated what he had said in Spanish.

Everyone fell to the floor, no one doubted his words.

Bank manager yelled the leader.

No one moved.

The tall American leader moved around behind the counter, chasing three tellers out to lay with the rest in the lobby.

One man remained; an older man dressed in an expensive business suit.

The leader reached down and pulled the man up by his tie; choking him in the process.

I don’t have time for your bullshit screamed the lead soldier as he took the butt of his weapon and smashed the man across the face. Blood ran from the man’s nose and mouth to drip onto the front of his clean white shirt.

I need that safe opened now screamed the leader in the man’s ear.

One minute Captain yelled out the timekeeper stationed by the door.

The Captain grabbed the bank manager by the hair and ran him straight to the door of the vault.

He slammed the head of the bank manager into the heavy metal, causing a big lump to appear on the man’s forehead.

Open it or die screamed the Captain, again in the man’s ear.

The bank manager opened the vault as fast as he could.

Inside the vault, the Captain took out two large flexible bags that he had secured under the holster of his sidearm.

Fill them up he ordered the bank manager, then helped himself when the bank manager wasn’t moving fast enough.

Back out in the bank lobby, a soldier was standing over a young woman wearing a short skirt. She was lying face down with her hands on her head, this caused her skirt to rise higher. The soldier put his boot between her bare legs and began to move it up. Tears were streaming down the young woman’s cheeks, falling to the carpet below.

When his bags were filled, the Captain moved out of the vault.

Seeing what was going on, the Captain yelled at the soldier.

Casper, you’re next. Get your ass in there now.

Casper smirked at the Captain and moved his boot as far as it could go; right into the young woman’s crotch.

He left it there for a minute before taking his place inside the vault. He and two other soldiers filled six more bags.

Two minutes Captain yelled the timekeeper, then took his turn in the vault.

Two of the soldiers, after having filled their bags, ran outside, placed them in a Humvee and took the place of the soldiers standing in the street. These soldiers now ran inside to get their bags filled.

Three minutes Captain yelled out the timekeeper.

Wrap it up, yelled the Captain.

Wrap it up now.

All soldiers moved to the door and out to the Humvees, Two large bags filled with money over each of their shoulders.

The two in the street, seeing them come out, opened fire into the motor compartments of several of the front vehicles. Steam escaped from the radiators; disabling them.

They turned to shoot into the windows of the storefronts nearest them.

Women screamed.

The soldiers got back into the Humvees and drove at a slow speed down the street, then sped up and hurried out of the city.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

The Humvees sped down the paved two-lane country road, out into the desert. They ran along in close formation, bumper to bumper, as they sped along.

They slowed down as they came upon the hill, then pulled over to the side of the road as they crested it. This was a planned stop, they would wait here to take care of any law enforcement that trailed them.

The drivers remained with the vehicles as the rest of the soldiers walked back over the top of the hill and stationed themselves in the warm sun behind some of the small bushes that covered the area.

They didn’t have long to wait.

Police cars with lights flashing and sirens blaring were in the lead. The Federale vehicles were close behind.

When the vehicles reached within a hundred yards of their location, the tall American Captain stepped out into the middle of the highway. He opened fire as the rest of his team stepped out beside him.

The bullets hit home as windshields broke, cracked, and shattered. The drivers, not planning on this surprise attack, hit the ditches on either side of the pavement, dust flying up as the cars skidded along. The screeching of tires could be heard as the drivers pulled hard on the steering wheels. Motors revved as cars rolled onto their sides and tops.

Federale officers were thrown from the backs of the pickup trucks and lay dead in the road.

The sound of gunfire ceased; the Captain and his team had done all the shooting, their pursuers never had the chance.

They turned and walked back to the Humvees. The drivers, in the meantime, had stuffed all the bags of money in the back section, making room up front.

On to target two ordered the Captain, and they moved out.

Their next stop was an hour and forty-five minutes away. They took this time to reload their weapons and smoke a cigarette or two.

They were all thinking about that last battle, that had been too easy. The Federales were a force to be reckoned with, most had military training and would operate as a daunting defensive unit; there were many in the organization.

They arrived on schedule at their next destination, a smaller city on the coast.

The weather here was cooler and the smell of the ocean came across as a familiar setting. 

The main street was a two-lane street with traffic moving in both directions.

They paid no attention to the stoplights as they crawled along.

Horns began honking as they cut off anyone in their way. This place was more of a tourist attraction, and that showed by the way people were dressed.

Stopping in front of the bank, the two soldiers in the last Humvee jumped out and positioned themselves to hold up traffic both ways. Weapons at the ready.

Women screamed and pedestrians ran in all directions.

The drivers remained in the Humvees as the Captain and his team got out and double-timed into the bank.

The Captain grabbed the armed security guard as they burst into the bank and shoved him into the lobby.

Nobody moves yelled the Captain everyone down on the floor now.

He repeated this in Spanish.

Customers and tellers did as they were told. The room smelled of fresh paint and new carpet.

One soldier slammed the butt of his weapon against the back of the guards head, knocking him out.

Bank manager yelled out the Captain.

A young man stood from beside a desk. The young man was frightened; his face was white, all the blood had drained away.

Open the safe now the Captain yelled out in Spanish.

The young man opened the safe as fast as he could.

One minute Captain yelled the timekeeper.

The Captain shoved the young man into the vault and threw two large bags at him.

Fill them.

This young man was faster than the last bank manager.

When the Captain walked out of the vault, he saw Casper standing close behind a woman he had against the wall. The woman’s legs were spread and Casper’s hands were nowhere to be seen.

The Captain walked up behind Casper and put the barrel of his automatic weapon against the skull of his soldier.

You have to the count of one to get your mind back in the battle, Casper. I won’t tell you again.

Casper raised his hands above his shoulders, turned and ran for the vault.

The Captain grabbed the crying woman by the arm and pushed her in the direction of the other hostages sitting on the floor.

Two minutes Captain yelled the timekeeper.

The soldiers all took turns getting money from the vault, including the two in the street.

Three minutes Captain yelled the timekeeper.

Wrap it up yelled the Captain.

The soldiers double-timed out of the bank to the three Humvees.

The two soldiers holding back the traffic began firing into the motor compartments of the cars nearest them. Disabling the vehicles where they sat. Then they began firing into the windows of the storefronts, creating fright and confusion. Women screamed, grown men ran.

The Humvees crawled down the main street, then sped up at the edge of town. Traveling back the way they had just come, into the desert.

They traveled for half an hour before they turned off the road and headed through the desert sand, toward a hilltop overlooking the highway.

Sitting on top of the hill, the Captain searched both ways with his binoculars, looking for any vehicles coming after them. There were none.

They waited there for over an hour and saw no signs of anyone pursuing them.

Let’s go the Captain ordered.

They were near the highway again, when they saw the Federales coming their way. A dozen black SUV’s, cars, and pickup trucks were racing toward them.

Drive across the highway and into that gully ordered the Captain.

They drove the Humvees into the gully and the soldiers got out into the heat of the afternoon.

The Captain positioned his team so that four of them were lined up inside the gully facing the Federale vehicles. Two were sent down one side of where the vehicles would come in and three were positioned on the other side forming a U shape; creating a nice little crossfire scenario.

The Federal cars drove by the tracks the Humvees left in the dirt, noticed them, then turned around and hurried back down the highway.

Turning off the road, and following the Humvee tracks, they headed straight for an ambush.

The Captain and his team waited until the vehicles were well within their trap before they opened fire.

When they did, they shot out the tires first, causing the vehicles to plow into the soft sand of the desert, slowing them down.

Next, they shot into the windshields and side windows of the vehicles, killing most of the occupants inside.

As the vehicles were coming to a stop, men began clambering out.

They were shot down as they tried.

The battle was over in a few short minutes.

Soldiers walked among the vehicles, killing all Federales that were laying there wounded or faking their deaths.

The Captain and his team returned to the Humvees, drove out of the gully, and headed back to the highway.

They continued down the road; twilight coming on, the sun already below the horizon.

They had one last stop to make.

It was after midnight when they reached their destination; another small town along the coast.

The town was dark, clouds covered the sky, rain drizzled down; typical coast weather.

They crept along with their lights out as they made their way to the house on the hill. The house belonged to the bank manager in this small town and they had business to conduct with him.

Putting the first Humvee against the security gate, the driver shifted it into low gear and, driving forward, forced the gate open.

The Humvees crawled toward the carport and parked in the dark shadows formed by the tall green bushes and trees.

The soldiers exited their vehicles and moved to the back door; the door was old and not too secure. Why would they need a secure door anyway thought the Captain; they did, after all, have a tall fence and gate around the property.

Using his knife, the Captain disengaged the back door.

It flashed through his mind that they may have a guard dog.

He reacted out of instinct as the black shadow charged him from inside the house. Getting his knife under the shadow, he pulled up, hard and fast; cutting the throat of the huge Doberman Pinscher. The dog fell to the ground outside the kitchen door, trying to breathe through his cut open windpipe.

They moved in silence into the home, they all knew what to do; this wasn’t the first home they had breached.

Finding the correct hallway was easy for them; someone had a night light plugged into an outlet.

Four of the soldiers broke off at the first bedroom.

The Captain, along with the rest, walked on into the master suite.

The first four found a young girl sleeping in her bed. The room, filled with stuffed animals and posters on the wall were a good indication of her age.

In the master bedroom, the Captain moved around to the woman’s side of the bed and stuck the point of his knife near her throat.

The girl in the other bedroom screamed as the soldiers pulled her out of her bed. The woman's eyes shot open, and she tried to raise her head. The point of the knife at her throat and the stranger standing beside her advised her against that.

The man in bed with her opened his eyes to stare right down the barrel of a large caliber weapon.

Grabbing the woman by the hair of her head, the Captain dragged her out of bed; she landed with a thud on the wooden floor. Pulling hard on her hair, the Captain got the woman to her feet, then pushed her out into the lit hallway.

The man was made to put his pants and shirt on, then was shoved out into the hallway with the woman.

The four brought out the girl as well, the front of her pajamas wet where she had peed herself.

The Captain pushed the woman back against the wall, took hold of the front of her nightgown, and pulled down hard. The nightgown ripped to below her knees and the woman was left standing there in little else than her underwear. Taking his knife he cut that at both her legs.

Grabbing the underwear, he pulled hard; the woman stiffened as the underwear came forcefully between her legs, but made no move to resist.

The Captain kicked the insides of her feet, spreading her legs apart.

Tears ran down the woman’s cheeks, she had a good idea of what was to come next. Rape at the very least, torture with a lot of pain, and then death.

The Captain looked her up and down, she was a good looking woman, with dark hair, and a good body. He smiled a sinister smile and laughed.

Please don’t hurt me she whispered as the tears ran.

The Captain put the point of his knife on her soft smooth belly, then moved it scratching the woman's skin enough to bleed. He looked at the bank manager while he did this.

Hurt you? whispered the Captain. I have tortured women like you before. Beyond the point of endurance; pushed them to the edge and brought them back. Then did it all over again.

Things will go my way tonight. My way, or you will know the boundaries I can cross.

The girl in the hallway began screaming and crying.

Shut her up, or kill her. I don’t care which.

The soldier with the gray goatee and hair to match tore the sleeve off the girl's pajama top and tied that around her mouth to gag her.

Please don’t hurt my family whispered the bank manager.

You'll do what I say, when I say.

Yes, anything. Please.

The bank manager was short and round with a clean-shaven face, that face was worried right at this moment.

The Captain grabbed the woman by the hair and began walking through the kitchen to the carport.

Please, begged the woman a blanket for me and my daughter. It’s cold out there.

The Captain looked at the soldier with the gray goatee and nodded his head.

He put the little girl in the last Humvee with two soldiers and a driver; and the woman in the center Humvee with two soldiers and a driver. The girl was crying hard again, after having walked by the dead dog.

The bank manager was in the front Humvee with him and the man with the gray goatee.

They could hear the woman scream as they got inside the lead vehicle.

My wife, the man cried what is to become of my wife?

Nothing she didn’t do on college initiation night replied the Captain.

He wasn’t too worried about the woman being molested, that would make the bank manager more willing to play his game.

The Humvees crawled down the dark wet streets in tight military formation, lights off and bumper to bumper. They pulled into a dark ally two blocks from the bank.

Everyone unloaded and gathered around the center Humvee.

A homeless guy near the dumpster stood and began to question their presence. What business did they have near his owned place?

The driver of the last Humvee knocked the guy against the side of the head with the butt of his gun. The homeless guy fell to the ground and was kicked in the side, ensuring he would not be so argumentative.

Grabbing the woman by the hair, the Captain pulled her out of the vehicle. But she wasn’t acting right, she could barely stand.

The Captain got a small flashlight from his weapons belt, turning it on for a second he shined the dim light in the woman’s face.

Both her eyes were swollen almost shut, the side of her face was bruising, blood dripping from her nose and bottom lip. This woman had been beaten.

Still holding the woman up by the hair, he turned to the soldiers riding in the Humvee with her.

Who gave this order? snarled the Captain. Who gave this order?

Well sir, the soldier named Casper answered, we didn't think....

The Captain drew his pistol, placed it under the soldier’s chin and pulled the trigger.

You didn’t think yelled the Captain as he swung his pistol to the other soldier shooting him in the face.

Get these two stripped down, get them cleaned up as good as possible, then throw them into the dumpster.

Yes, Captain.

Oh but Captain the soldier with the gray goatee spoke up. We are down two men now.

Discipline. If we don’t have discipline, Mister Spain, we have nothing. I know we are down two, I will figure that out. I could care less if they raped and beat every woman they came in contact with. But not on my watch, Mister Spain. Not in the middle of my operation. If she dies, murder will be added to any charges.

Yes Captain, and the gunshots?

The gunshots will go without notice here. And even if they don't, we can handle anything this police force can throw at us. The Federales are still chasing their tails out there in the desert.

Yes, Captain.

But the Captain knew what Mister Spain was talking about. Mister Spain was his most trusted man. He was the Captain’s second in command, if anything happened to the Captain, Mister Spain would assume command and lead the team.

Mister Spain, would you take control of the two ladies please?

Yes, Captain.

He knew the Captain relied on him more than anyone else.

All right, ordered the Captain everyone load up. We all carry double and put two on him. The Captain nodded at the bank manager. Rusty, get loaded up, you will carry the woman too.

Yes, Captain.

Rusty was the other trusted man the Captain had. Rusty had a full red beard and a clean-shaven head. A younger Irish man as tall as the Captain but a lot stockier, the guy had muscles on top of muscles. Rusty would follow his Captain into a burning hell if the Captain asked. Hell, the Captain didn’t even have to say anything, Rusty would do it anyway.

Reaching the back door of the bank, the manager opened it then slipped inside to disarm the alarm system, then led the way to the vault.

The Captain stopped outside the women’s restroom and motioned for Rusty to take her inside.

Mister Spain, he asked, please take care of the wounds on this woman.

Mister Spain smiled and nodded.

Rusty took the bags Mister Spain was carrying and headed to the vault.

We need an exchange, the Captain told the bank manager, turn all of this into American dollars.

But I don’t think I have enough whined the scared bank manager.

Get started ordered the Captain and if you do run short, we’ll all take it out in trade with your wife and daughter.

No, please cried the bank manager, then got to work right away.

It took several hours for the machines to count all of the stolen money, but the bank manager was able to get that accomplished.

Putting his hands together like he was praying the bank manager looked up at the Captain.

Please sir, please don’t hurt us. I don’t have enough money to complete the exchange.

Tears rolled down the managers face.

How much are you short by?

Fifty-two thousand American dollars.

Alright, we’ll consider that as your fee. You do with that what you want. But watch what you say and do, you can be implicated as one of us.

Well, Mister Flores. What have you got for me today? asked Mister Perez, the Directorate General for Force Protection.

He was sitting in his big chair, leaning forward with his arms on his desk. He was interested in what Mister Flores had to say, he had a report to make.

What we know is that a group of nine men, dressed in combat clothing and wearing camouflage paint on their faces robbed two First National Banks. One after the other.

Footage from the security cameras showed four armed men entered the banks, took control and helped themselves to the vault. They were in and out in three minutes. Shots were fired on both occasions, but no casualties were reported. They shot up several vehicles and storefronts outside of the banks, which caused quite a stir among the citizens of both cities.

Tell me about it. They have flooded this office with phone calls for the last month. You do realize that has been over a month now Chief Commissioner?

Yes, sir. After they left both cities, they set up ambushes against fifty of my Army and half a dozen local police.

I know that as well. What news do you have for me as of late?

Something has come up, although I’m not sure it has anything to do with these crimes.

What is that?

We found two male bodies in a dumpster, nude bodies. Both shot through the head. We tried to ID them but their fingerprints were removed years ago.

And you think these bodies were part of that group?

There were reports from the hostages that one of these soldiers was a woman molester, he tried that on two of the women. Both times, this guy was stopped by the one they call Captain. And we have that on security camera footage, as verified.

Maybe something happened, and the leader of this group executed them. It was interesting to find they both had dried semen on their groin areas. They either had sex or raped someone not long before that.

So, is that a lead? Do you know where they may have gone from there?

No, I don't know. This group just vanished. They were combat trained, there is no question about that. All were well disciplined.

We talked to the bank manager there, where we found the bodies, thinking they may have planned to rob this one as well. But it was a dead-end, the manager knew nothing. Another interesting item, although this could be coincidental. The manager’s wife was nowhere to be seen. It is possible she was the one raped by these two. We will be keeping an eye on her.

The Chief Commissioner, Mister Flores, threw several pictures down on the desk.

These were taken from the security cameras in both banks. Not much for us to go on, you can’t see their faces at all with all of that camouflage paint on.

What does that tell you about this group then?

Either soldiers from different Armies gone AWOL, or a group of Mercenaries. We’ve contacted Armies around the world with this information and none are missing any soldiers trained as these are.

So, we are looking at Mercenaries then?

We are looking at Mercenaries.

Chapter Two 

The month was June, sometime in the middle, or maybe the end, he didn’t know; he just knew it was raining again. It always rained here and was hot, but that’s why the countryside was so green; it must have been ninety-some degrees out.

The trees and bushes, thick around him, were colored in all different shades of green, everything was green. And smelled stinky wet. The small animals and insects around him had begun their buzzing, humming, and chirping noises again. Accepting him as another part of the jungle. Off in the distance, two monkeys were screeching at each other, yelling about something or other.

The canopy of trees above him was so dense and sunlight hungry that the sun’s rays could not have gotten through. That is if the sun were out, but it wasn’t, it was raining. The green rain poncho over his back and covering his head had little ventilation and that too, was hot.

The Captain was sitting Indian style on the hillside, with his long legs cramped up beneath him. His knee was going to bother him tomorrow though; his injury always did when there was rain. He had dislocated that knee when a horse threw him; bronco riding in the rodeo, during his teenage years.

He leaned back and made himself comfortable against the big tree.

Interlacing his fingers; he pushed back, popping his knuckles. That felt good. 

In the valley below was the small town he was watching.

He pushed the poncho hood back and took off his hat. Running his left hand through his short-cropped brown hair, he rubbed his stiff neck. The back of his left hand and forearm bore a burn scar from his first battle, that was why he would never wear a ring on that hand.

Crossing his strong arms in front of his muscular chest, he grabbed his elbows and forced his shoulders forward, popping his back into place. He grew up on a ranch, hard work had never been a stranger.

There was a small clearing in front of him; the grass sloped down to meet more bushes below. This was his little sanctuary and the grass in the clearing was green, mixed with the green moss.

He wiped the sweat from the rough stubble of his camouflaged face; painted green to match his surroundings. He had a handsome face, he had been told, with rugged outdoor looks, and ocean green eyes that could look right through a person.

The binoculars he was using were camouflaged in green burlap. They were zoomed in far enough to see the faces of the people and he could almost guess what they had for lunch by the stains on their shirts. The people were still taking care of their business down there, the mud staining their pants and skirts up to the knees. Sometimes they would stand at different ends of the street and yell to each other. He wasn’t able to hear what they said though, not over the sound of the rain drops hitting his poncho.

The rain made the streets a solid clay-colored mud with a muddy wet stream flowing down the middle of each. All streets led to the town center with flat stones paved around, circling a fountain; the clear water now overflowing and spilling out onto these flat cobblestones.

Houses and homes along the streets were small and made of clay, with wooden roofs to keep the rain and sun out. Water poured off each one now. Moss covered a lot of them and some even had small bushes growing upon them. He thought that looked funny.

Toward the river, from the fountain, were open face buildings with wooden roofs and sides; the front being the open side. Inside were the handmade clay stoves and fireplaces where the Native women made their food to sell.

He didn’t know who they sold to anymore, this seemed to be a pretty poor town. Back in the days when they had access to the river, they did a lot of business with the river boats coming and going.

But conditions isolated them now, and that is why he was here; checking the place out.

On the outskirts of town was an area with rows and rows of planted vegetables; this looked to him like a community effort. He recognized corn rows, what looked like potato plants, and what could have been some kind of local onions. He wasn’t a farmer himself; he never had the desire for that kind of work.

The little grass hut village he was staying in now; a days hike down the river from here, had been a good place to be while he was looking the territory over.

The Chief of that little tribe had cooperated with him; after he had several months' food supplies dropped in to them.

He thanked the translator boy assigned to him, by giving him one of the new steel knives.

They fed him and gave him a safe place to sleep, but most of all, allowed him the privacy he needed to formulate his plans. They treated him good. Maybe that was because he had parachuted down near the village; sort of like a god dropping out of the sky, he didn’t know and could care less.

He had called the Mercenaries in, he was going to need them. He worked with them on some of his previous jobs, and knew them and the work they offered him.

And that was why he needed a bigger home base, one that would be easier to defend; if things came to that. This one would be perfect; they laid all the town streets out in a circle. And that could get confusing for some invading force.

He lowered the binoculars; they were giving him a headache staring through them.

Looking out across the valley helped. 

Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes for a minute. Thinking back to several months earlier, he went over the events of the bank robberies in his mind. They had done well, walking away with a little over a million dollars from the two banks. He lost two men, and that was by his own hand; he would have to be a little more selective in the men he chose next time.

They hid the money in the back of a soda truck and had all of that taken to their favorite bank in Brazil. Afterwards, they payed a hefty fee to the driver and bank manager to keep them quiet.

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at the mountains in the distance.

He thought about how this place, this rainforest, must have looked before; but not now, not anymore. The whole side of the mountain was just one big scar, one big rotten looking sore.

They had been in to strip log the place; removing everything, trees and brush alike from an area about the size of the State of New Jersey. The big boys; fat cat foreigners with all the money, had come into this country to strip and rape this place of all of the riches.

The side of the mountain was a blood red muddy mess, dead limbs and debris crisscrossed this way then that across the cleared off area. Left behind slash piles were blackened from some attempted burning.

Mud roads ran up and down the mountainside, all leading back to the main road that crossed along the top.

Temporary roads made by heavy equipment; cats, skidders, and shovels. Roads made to drag the logs back up to load on one of many log trucks brought in.

It appeared to him that they had dragged the logs up to the top on the upper side of the mountain, then pushed or rolled the logs on the bottom half down into the river. The whole bottom of the mountain was now a huge muddy landslide, slipping into the slow-moving water.

This river that was once one of the most beautiful in the country, blue and green with white-capped rapids rushing along, was now just a big brown ribbon.

Most of the lower portion of the mountain had reached the water and deposited layers of silt and mud all along the shore above and below this small town.

That forced the little town to evacuate the homes; down near the river. The mud and muck had backed up, and plugged the streets and doorways of all the buildings.

The rain was still falling. The gray clouds, now lowering themselves around the mountain like they were trying to hide all this ugliness from him.

But he had seen ugliness before; he had been in more than one war; he knew what ugliness was all about.

The darkness of the clouds brought an early end to the day. Rain was still falling, although not as hard, campfires were springing up in different areas in the little town below.

He was sitting in front of the big mahogany tree so he had no concerns of being spotted that night. Well camouflaged in green, and with the branches he cut and placed around him, he blended right in.

There would be no enemies spot him tonight, no enemies at all; especially since he had yet to start this little war.

His only concerns right now were the big snakes; the Green Anaconda. If one spotted him from the limbs of the tree above, he would be a goner. That was why he had his knife out, razor sharp and ready to cut.

Reaching into his pocket, inside the green poncho; he pulled out the food one of the Native women had made for him. A corn type tortilla with cooked meat and vegetable inside; and a dried fig to chew for dessert. He didn’t know what the meat was.

He took another bite and thought about that for a minute; they didn’t have any dogs around the village, not that he had seen. He smiled to himself, maybe that was what was on the menu tonight. But that wasn’t it, dogs didn’t have much of a chance around those small villages, not with the tigers, snakes, and poison dart frogs. This was probably monkey, a little gamey but tasted good, anyway.

Taking another bite of his dinner he looked back out toward the ugly mess that was once a mountain. He had heard stories before, how they had come in armed; shooting and killing everyone and everything that moved.

They massacred everyone that was living in the spot they wanted to log over. Killed them all, then using one of their big caterpillars dug a mass grave and shoved them all inside.

That was one way of taking care of the problem, he guessed.

Closing his eyes he settled back in to get some rest. He had learned a long time ago to shut out his thoughts and sleep with one eye open. Things were less distressing that way.

Daylight greeted him again when he opened his eyes; and the rain had stopped.

The birds were chirping overhead and there were all the appearances of being a fresh new day.

His eyes were the only things moving as he looked around, the rest of him frozen; just another bush up against another big tree.

Sixty yards in front of him were several of the brightest, most colorful birds he had ever seen; Scarlet Macaws. There must have been a dozen of them; they were beautiful; red, yellow, and blue parrots flying from treetop to treetop.

He had to pee. He had to pee bad.

Moving through the trees in front of him was a Jaguar; silent and deadly, she was looking for breakfast. He thought she may go for a parrot, but was looking for bigger, easier game; she moved on out of his sight.

The wetness from the rain the night before soaked his pants clear through.

He had to pee bad, so he did.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught more movement; a bright blue bird they called the Spangled Continga. They were beautiful against the dark green leaves of the trees and bushes, they mixed well with the Red Macaws.

Sensing nothing else around him, he stretched himself out, taking it easy on his bad knee and trying not to make any sounds as the pain of battles past came flooding back.

Breakfast fires were springing up in the little town below; they were starting a new day down there. A peaceful one, they hoped.

He moved his head from left to right, looking for any signs he needed to be aware of; the sun was coming up and beginning to warm the land. Steam rose from the trees, bushes, and grass. The birds were all making their good morning racket; they were alive and letting him know.

His legs had fallen asleep yesterday. He rubbed some feeling back into them.

He stayed in this position looking around until afternoon. He gathered enough information on this little town to know this would be a safe place to wait for the Mercenaries. Then they could fan out from here, looking for the armed forces that would guard the shipments.

The drug cartels used this river to transport their goods; drugs, money, and women to the handlers and suppliers. They really didn’t care about the villagers. And like the loggers, would eliminate any,  that stood in their way; making the rich richer and the innocent dead.

This was his assignment and he would lead the Mercenaries, and any rebel forces he could gather, against these cartels.

Replacing his knife back in the sheath and picking up his binoculars and rifle, he stood; and his legs screamed at him as they got feeling back into them.

He pulled off his poncho then started walking, limping at first, down one of the rocky little stream beds, toward the town below.

The fog and clouds had lifted today, taking the rain along with it.

To his right, on the other side of the muddy river was more green rainforest; but the thing that caught his eye was the waterfall. It looked like someone had stuck a snow-white icicle there in the middle of all this hot humid land. The icicle disappeared behind the green trees.

Walking on down, he made his way to a small hill overlooking the town; the people were still taking care of their business, whatever that was. He would wait here for the young boy.

The boy was going to translate for him while he talked to the leader of this small town. He hoped the boy could be convincing in his translation.

He had spent the last four months planning this operation, using information from satellite imagery and closeup pictures from flyovers. It was vital that he held this town; he hated to take the town by force, but would if he had to.

This town is perfect for a home base. He could strike out in all directions, sending teams to hit the drug traffic transports on land and on water.

But not all of them. He was to let certain ones pass with no action taken. That was the agreement he had made with his new boss and was getting paid well to do it.

The guy had gone by the name of Johnny One. He didn’t like the guy much; the man was way too arrogant. So he increased their fee; made it double for both himself and the Mercenaries. Johnny One had high aspirations of taking over all the drug running in this part of the world, and had the money to do so.

And now with him, the ability to back it up.

He wished the boy would hurry up; he wanted to get this deal done. A drop was coming here in another week and a half; a crate filled with guns, ammunition, RPG’s, and a mortar or two. They would drop a second crate in the town center near the fountain. This would hold food, clothing, and medical supplies for the crew and any civilian that needed help.

Seeing the boy approach and look around for him, he whistled out the night call of the Whippoorwill. The boy looked in his direction and he stepped out to meet him.

After telling the boy what he wanted in their broken English communication, he stepped back into the brush; his combat uniform, rifle, and camouflaged face could be taken wrong. These people weren’t used to seeing strangers, and above all, ones ready to kill. And they were very superstitious about things they didn’t know.

The streets were still solid mud as the boy and an older man came walking up to his position. The old man looked startled when he stepped out of the brush but became more relaxed as the boy translated what he wanted.

No need to fear, he said as he stepped up to the old man.

The young boy translated as he spoke.

I need a place to stay for a while. I will also have several men with me, they will need separate housing. I do not ask you to give me this out of the goodness of your heart. I will give you something in return.

The old man spoke to the boy, the boy translated.

Why do you wish to stay here in our quiet little town? And why are more men coming? Are they like you? Warriors, that come in here to kill us?

I am here to take care of the ones on the river. The ones that are your enemy too.

But they don’t bother us now. Why do we need guards for this?

We are not your guards. We have a job to do and need a place to operate from.

Why do we need you here then?

As I said before, I will pay you for what I need. Consider this as well; if I really want this town, I will take it.

I will find places for you and for your men. The old man had a sudden change of heart. Come with me now and welcome. How long do you wish to stay?

Six, eight months, no more. Two places only, one for me and another for all the men; five total.

They walked down to the fountain center and approached a small house. This was a good choice for his quarters; sitting on the edge of the circle facing the fountain. A low bushy hill on one side and a green overgrown grassy area to the right of that. He could slip out the door and into the bushes to get away for any nighttime operations he may need.

The old man knocked on the door, and he hung back. The  door creaked as an old wrinkled woman opened it. The old man spoke to the woman, who obviously didn’t like what was being said.

Their words grew louder, and the old man got angrier until the old man reached up, grabbed the old woman by the arm and pulled her out of the doorway and out into the street. The old woman cried, shrieking now, as some of the other townspeople moved her on down the street.

The old man spoke to the boy.

This is his now, for as long as he needs this shelter.

He nodded, acknowledging that he understood.

He took the backpack off his shoulders and set it down inside the door; no one would bother that there, not the way he looked.

They walked over to another home; bigger and three blocks away, this would work fine.

Again, the old man chased the occupants out, the women crying as they left.

But that wasn’t the Captain’s problem.

Chapter Three 

He stepped outside his new temporary home, a cup of coffee in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

He leaned back against the door frame.

The smell of hot coffee filled the small house. He loved his coffee in the morning, this was one of the few pleasures he had out here.

Today there was no rain coming down. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and birds were chirping somewhere in the background.

Still hot and humid for this early in the morning, though.

He was wearing a green tee shirt, camo pants, and his combat boots, scuffed from seeing action too many times. His cold shower this morning was just a quick wash off using a water bucket and a piece of rag. He had put on a set of clean clothes; no underwear though, he had learned not to wear them in this kind of humid climate, too much chance for crotch rot.

His shoulder holster, with pistol, hung over his tee shirt; the sweat already beginning to show through as wet spots. The belt holster with pistol and knife, buckled around his waist as well; the weapons he was never without.

Home had been on his mind for the last couple of weeks; the ranch in Arizona and Uncle Chance. He had been missing the old guy.

Uncle Chance had raised him since he was small.

From day one, he had tried to imitate his uncle, dressing like him, walking like him, even trying to talk like him.

Uncle Chance was the one that had talked him into getting a college degree so that he could enter the Army as an Officer. His degree was in Dentistry; not really anything to do with his previous military work. The knowledge came in handy though when he became a Mercenary, knowing the right places to probe inside a potential informers mouth could get confessions quicker.

Lighting another cigarette, he thought about the time he and Uncle Chance had gone to see the old Indian. Uncle Chance and the old Indian had been close at one time. The old Indian taught Uncle Chance how to break the wild horses at some ranch they worked at together.

Then one day the old Indian showed up at their door, and Uncle Chance gave him some property.

Together, they all built a small cabin for the Old Indian to live in.

He hadn’t been back to see his uncle in years.

Maybe about now was high time he did. He would make plans to go, right after this assignment.

They would drop the first crate in today, the one with the food and supplies.

He looked out over the fountain area, streets running in and out of here, drying out now but not for long. Red clay houses circled around.

People moving about, talking to themselves while keeping a close eye on him. They were wondering what he may do.

Across the way on the other side of the fountain, around seventy yards out, was a young naked boy child. Two maybe three years old, he couldn't tell; from the looks of things though, the kid was learning to walk. He would take a couple of steps, fall on his butt; then do the whole process all over again. The way the child moved, he suspected that was what they called a toddler. He didn’t know, he had no children of his own. The mother came out and yelled at the child, then took the baby back inside with her.

The Captain walked over, poured himself another cup of coffee and lit up a cigarette. His knee was bothering him today, he knew that would happen though, after a heavy rain.

He was thinking of a time when he and Uncle Chance had gone to visit the old Indian.

He hadn’t liked to visit at first. There were rattlesnakes all around this guy’s cabin, even up to and inside the place. But the old Indian had a way with these snakes. They didn’t bother him and he didn’t bother them.

He had climbed to the top rail of the horse corral to stay away from them. Uncle Chance ignored them and the old Indian would say things from time to time that seemed to calm them down.

I had a dream about you the other night, Shayne the old Indian had told him.

We are standing by the fire and four horsemen came riding up to us. Three are on tall black horses, dark as night and shining like a falling star. The fourth rides a white horse, strong and powerful. Each one having brought a gift for you.

A gift and a new fire from each. There are four fires to show you the way.

The first horseman carries a Warrior's shield; this is a magic shield. Meant to protect you and your loved ones from immediate danger, but they must be near to get this protection. If you are away, they will be no better off than anyone else. When done, this one rides on putting the fire out. 

The second horseman shoots a bolt of lightening from his bow, and restarts the fire; then offers you a stone knife. This is his own personal weapon and you will use this sacred knife to cut the heart out of your most hated enemies. You will devour their raw hearts in honor of the Great Spirits.

This one too, rides on, putting the fire out.

The third horseman rears his horse high in the air, the sparks from the horse’s hoofs start the fire yet again. He brings to you the hide of knowledge. A puma hide with a hundred years of battles painted onto the tanned side; the pictures describe the strengths and weaknesses of each battle. Once you have learned to decipher the ancient drawings, you will know the secrets to all battles. You will win some and you will lose some, but this will make you a braver more confident warrior.

Again, the rider puts out the fire he started.

The fourth horseman, the one on the great white horse, snaps his fingers to rekindle the fire. He comes to show you the direction. You will cross the great water he says and you will be in grave danger.

There is one that would take you to hell with her, know of this one he says. She is white, like the horse he rides but she is pure evil.

You will find the rest of your life in the rising sun.

The great white horse surged forward, taking the fire along; and they were all gone.

They have set your future out for you, Shayne. You will take the road of a warrior and reach a level of greatness within your own time. But this will all come with a price. Losing your loved ones will come as signs to you; the hunter taking the hunted.

Your own death will come from someone you know well.

The mountain behind the row of houses he was watching was green; with plenty of bushes and trees. The blue sky had white puffy clouds in the distance. One situated itself behind the mountain, just to stress the beauty.

A hawk circled around in the sky, looking for some breakfast.

Feeling good, he took a long draw from his cigarette.

He didn’t have to stand there long before he heard the hum of motor noise from a mid-sized airplane coming in, then roared as they passed overhead.

Townspeople scattered as the plane circled around and flew back over the small area.

Two crates attached to separate parachutes got kicked out the side door of the plane as they flew over this time; these landed in the center, near the fountain.

He stepped away from the house and waved, acknowledging the two crates. But they pissed him off. He had scheduled them to come in two different drops for a reason. The supplies first; the weapons later.

The old man and boy came running up to him.

What is this? What do we do? Are they here to kill us?

No.... part of this is the gift I promised you. Get some men down here to help me unload these things, he spoke with an irritation in his voice.

He got so tired of dealing with these kinds of people. Polytheistic little ignorant morons. He had no patience for religious ideologies, or the practice of rituals aimed at pleasing unseen and unknown masters of the universe. His irritation was still with him when he spoke next.

"Tell those men to take that crate, the one with the skull and crossbones, up