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the grin off of his face.

Gunny didn’t think, didn’t consider consequences, didn’t act presidential. His mind snapped to Amina and Urwa, the Tajiki women who had been killed by the Taliban because they had dared help the Americans. Now these women had paid the price because they dared to help. He wouldn’t be meek, he wouldn’t let this one slide, he would go down swinging with Griz. They had known it would probably come to this and now it was time to make them pay as much as they could. Shaytan had his blade in hand and was running for Casey as Griz kept killing the tribe. He leaped on the dais before anyone had time to react and Casey threw his arms up across his face. Gunny dove for him just as Lucinda shoved her voodoo stick between them, knocking his knife aim off. He heard screams and shouts behind him as he plowed into Casey, sent him sprawling backward onto his throne. It shattered under their thrashing fury, bleached and broken bones skittered away. Gunny lost the knife in the fall and drove his thumbs into Casey’s eyes. He’d kill him with his bare hands. He wrapped his fingers around his jawbone and dug them in, trying to rip it from his face. Lucinda jumped on his back, knocking the breath out of him and knocking his hands loose. He tried to find Casey’s eyes again, tried to finish blinding him but a hard knock to the back of his head dazed him. Lucinda raised her leg bone club again and swung, this time with the intent to splatter the contents of his head all over the floor. Gunny twisted and she missed, hitting Casey right between the eyes. He stopped struggling and Gunny elbowed her hard in the ribs, hoping he heard them break. She flew off and he jumped to his feet. The first of the voodoo skull warriors came running up the steps, gripping his gold-plated cartel AK-47 like a club. He couldn’t risk shooting it, he might hit the boss. Gunny didn’t have those concerns. He grabbed a bone from the dais, met him with a snapped off femur and drove it up into his kidney when he swung the gun. Gunny stripped it from his hands and immediately had his finger on the trigger. People were yelling and running for the stage, running to help Casey. When they heard the bark of the automatic and saw bodies tumbling to the ground, they ran the other way. Gunny emptied the magazine into Lucinda’s voodoo guards, sent bullets churning through muscle and organs and bones. Men screamed and ran and Gunny leaped off the dais to snatch up another cartel gun.

The dining tables with the roasted human flesh were tilted over and people were scrambling to get out of the way of an enraged bear of a man with a carving knife in each hand. Gunny spun in place, sending more bullets into fleeing raiders. The light towers on the bands stage tumbled over as they ran for their lives and Gunny aimed a burst their way. The guitarist sucked and the singer liked to add lib cannibal references to every song. He’d ruined House of the Rising Sun with his lines about eating children. He emptied another magazine but the bullets would start coming his way soon. Raiders would be back with pistols and shotguns from their encampments. Gunny grabbed another gold-plated carbine, tossed it to Griz then snatched up one from the quivering fingers of a voodoo man with a blown open chest. He turned towards the stage to finish off Casey but he was gone, disappeared into the chaos. Griz kept killing, his anger and pent up rage finally releasing and he had no concern for himself. The battle fury was in full swing. The voodoo guards didn’t carry spare mags, they never thought they would need them in their own camp, among their own people. Griz flung the empty AK at a man trying to crawl out from under the over turned tables and heard a satisfying yelp of pain.

“Let’s go!” Gunny yelled at him, “They’re coming!”

Both men ran over the pile of broken bones from Casey’s throne and disappeared through the long curtains as the first of the gun shots started ripping through the black, fluttering hangings. They caught a glimpse of Casey as they sprang off the back of the stage, trying to avoid the cables and cases. His face was bloodied and he was still unconscious as the two women tried to drag him to safety. Gunny fired the last of his bullets, caught Edmunds in the chest and sent her sprawling backward over a table stacked with plates and plasticware. Her scream was gurgled and Gunny knew it was a kill shot. It gave him a grim satisfaction even though the next round aimed at Casey’s bloody face was only a click. The gun was empty. He had to finish this and ran at him, ignoring the sounds of stomping feet and shouting men clambering on the stage. He spun the AK, grabbed the barrel and ignored the burn. He was going to smash him, crush his head with a single mighty blow. He didn’t think about his safety. His escape. His life. He only needed to kill Casey. Check him off the list. Lucinda screamed and let him fall as she tried to run, thinking he was aiming for her. Griz grabbed his arm and drug him away, never breaking stride, and Gunny jerked after him, half off balance.

“NO TIME!” Griz yelled as angry men with guns spitting lead tore through the curtains. They both crouched and ran as bullets zinged by them, spanged off concrete and bricks as they disappeared into the shadows of the buildings.

The camp was in chaos. Men and women ran either away from the fight or towards it. Screams of the dying and the rattle of gunshots mixed with

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