I curled up, making myself as small as possible as yells echoed from the living room, together with the sound of feet pounding on floorboards.

Rounds were hitting the tin wall with dull thuds as the weapon burst out of control.

Aaron had already faded into the darkness when Blue got to the door, hollering in panic, and took aim with a short sharp burst.

I heard an anguished gasp, then chilling, drawn-out screams.

His pain was quickly drowned by panicky M-16s opening up through the window between the bookshelves to my right, just blasting away into the night. Their muzzle flashes created arcs of stroboscopic light outside the window, as the mesh screen disintegrated.

Blue was screaming at the top of his voice probably to cease firing, because that was what happened. Panic and confusion ricocheted between them in rapid, high-pitched Spanish. Someone was with Blue at the door, and they shouted at each other as if they were trading on the stock market. Other voices weighed in from just inside the living area.

I stayed curled up to conceal myself behind the water b.u.t.t as Blue moved out into the rain towards Aaron. The rest withdrew inside, still shouting at each other.

I had to act: now was my time. I stepped into the rain after him, keeping to the right of the door to avoid the light, quickly checking through the storeroom for movement. There wasn't any.

Rain fell into my eyes and blurred my vision. Blue's back was just visible in the light spilling from the storeroom, as he advanced on the dark, motionless shape of Aaron on the ground a few metres ahead of him. The M-16 was in his right hand, and the muzzle was trailing down alongside his calf.

I was no more than five paces behind him, and still walking. I didn't want to run and risk slipping. I kept moving, concentrating on the back of his head. He was taller than me. Now nothing else mattered as I entered his zone. He'd sense I was there soon.

I leapt behind him and a bit to his right, jamming my left leg between his, body checking him, at the same time grabbing at his face with my left hand, pulling hard, trying to pull him back over me. I wanted his mouth, but felt mostly nose when the warmth of his shout hit my hand. The weapon fell between us as his hands came up to s.n.a.t.c.h my hand away.

Still pulling hard, I arched him backwards, yanking back his head, presenting his throat. I raised my right hand high above my head, palm open, and swung down hard to chop across his throat. I had no idea where it landed, but he dropped like a stunned pig in an abattoir, taking me with him into the mud.

I kicked myself free, scrambling over the top of him until I lay across his chest, feeling the hard alloy of the magazines between us. My right forearm jammed into his throat and I leant on it with all my weight. He wasn't dead; it hadn't been that good. The chop had got the nerves that run each side of the trachea and f.u.c.ked him up for a while, that was all.

No reaction, no resistance, no last kicks yet. I pressed into him, shaking the rain off as it kept trying to get into my eyes. Looking up, I could see into the storeroom. The others were probably still in the living room, trying to come to terms with the even bigger nightmare they were now facing, waiting for Aaron's body to be dragged back by this f.u.c.k wit who'd let him escape.

I looked down on him, his eyes closed, no kicking or resistance. I eased off and put my ear to his mouth. No sound of breathing. I double-checked by digging the middle and forefinger of my right hand into his neck to feel the carotid pulse.

Nothing.

I rolled off him and felt for Aaron. My hands were soon warm with his blood as I felt up his body for his neck. He, too, was dead. I scrabbled around in the mud for the M-16, then started to remove Blue's chest harness. I rolled him over, unclipping it from his back, then dragged off the neck and shoulder straps. His arms lifted limply in the air as I pulled.

With the harness weighing heavily in one hand and the M-16 in the other, I ran to the back of the house for the cover and light it afforded me, and placed the weapon on the sink. The moths had found shelter out of the rain as well, flitting around the light on the wall between the sink and the shower as I gulped air, knowing I didn't have much time before they came out here to see what was taking their friend so long. f.u.c.k the heli. If anyone was still in it now, he was deaf.

Aaron's blood dripped off my hands as I took out a fresh thirty-round mag and pushed my thumb down into it to make sure it was full. For me it was too full with thirty rounds1 took out the top one and pushed down again to check the spring had a chance to do its job. I pressed the release catch on the right and removed the old magazine, then pushed the fresh one home by sliding it into the rectangular housing, waiting to feel it click home before giving it a shake to make sure it was secure. I c.o.c.ked the weapon: the sound was barely audible above the rain battering the tin roof.

There was a round already in the chamber and it flew out into the mud as it got replaced with a new one from the mag; it wasn't necessary to have done it, it just made me feel better to see a round going into the chamber.

I applied Safe, quickly checking the other three mags in the pouches of the nylon harness. If I was in the s.h.i.t and changing mags I didn't want to slap on a half-empty one. This took precious extra seconds but was always worth the effort.

I put the harness on, straps over my shoulders and neck, the magazine pouches across my chest, and clipped the buckle at the back, continuously grabbing air in an effort to keep my heart rate down, whilst listening for shouts that would tell me they'd discovered Blue.

My panting slowed and I mentally prepared myself. Pulling a magazine from the harness, I held it in my left hand with the curved shape facing away from me so it was ready to be rammed into the magazine housing if this one became empty.

Then I grabbed the stock, wrapping my left hand around the whole lot.

I thumbed the safety, pushing past the first click single rounds and all the way to Automatic, my index finger inside the trigger guard, then moved out into the rain once more, towards the heli to clear the corner in the darkness, and on towards Aaron and Blue. Their bodies were lying as I'd left them, motionless in the mud next to each other as the rain bounced in little pools around them.

Looking into the storeroom and beyond, I couldn't see any movement apart from the blurred images on Luz's screen.

There was more thunder but no lightning as I moved forward, b.u.t.t in the shoulder, weapon up, both eyes open. My breathing calmed down as it became f.u.c.kit time once again.

I stepped up on to the concrete and into the light from the storeroom. I moved inside, avoiding the cot, lifting my feet up high before replacing them to avoid the cans, spilt rice, and other s.h.i.t strewn across the floor. Eyes forward, weapon up.

I could hear them in the kitchen area and began to smell cigarettes. The talking was heated: today had been one big f.u.c.k for all concerned.

There was movement, a chair sc.r.a.ping, boots walking towards the computer room. I froze, both eyes open but blurred by rain, index finger pad on the trigger, waiting, waiting ... I was going to have the upper hand for no more than two seconds. After that, if I didn't get this right, I was history.

The boots appeared. Green Guy. He turned, saw me, his scream cut short as I squeezed. He fell back into the living room.

As if on autopilot I followed him through the doorway, stepping over his body into the smoke-filled room. They were panicking, screaming out at each other, wide eyed, reaching for their weapons.

I moved off to the left, into the corner, both eyes open, squeezing short sharp bursts, aiming into the ma.s.s of movement. The hot empty cases bounced off the wall to the right and then my back before clinking against each other as they hit the floor. I squeezed again ... nothing.

"Stoppage! Stoppage!" I fell to my knees to present a smaller target.

It was as if my world was in slow motion as I tilted the weapon to the left to present the ejection opening. It had no working parts: they were being held to the rear. Looking inside, there were no rounds in the magazine, no rounds in the chamber. My eyes were now fixed on the threat in front.

I hit the release catch and the empty mag hit my leg on its way to the floor.

Two bodies were sprawled, one moving with a weapon, one on his knees trying to get the safety off. I locked on to it. The mist of the propellant was already mixing with the heavy cigarette smoke. The bitterness of cordite clawed at the back of my throat.

I twisted the weapon over to its right and presented the magazine housing. The fresh magazine was still in my left hand; I rammed it into the housing, banged it into position from the mag bottom, and slapped my hand down hard on to the locking lever. The working parts went forward, picking up a round as I got the weapon into the shoulder, brought the barrel to what I was looking at, and fired on my knees.

Another mag and it was all over.

There was silence as I reloaded, apart from the rain hitting the roof and the kettle whistling on the cooker. Two of the bodies were on the floor; one was slumped forward over the table, his face distorted with a dead man's sneer.

I remained on my knees, surveying the carnage. The acrid stench of cordite filled my nostrils. Mixed with the cigarette smoke, it looked as if a dry-ice machine was running, covering the bodies, some with their eyes still open, some not. There wasn't much blood on the floor yet, but it would be there as soon as their bodies gave it up.

I looked around. Everybody I had seen was accounted for, but the bedrooms had to be checked.

Getting to my feet, b.u.t.t in my shoulder, I gave three short bursts through the door to Luz's room then forced my way in, and then the same with Carrie and Aaron's. Both were clear and Luz's window was now closed.

I turned to the kitchen. The floor was covered in a mixture of mud and blood.

I went over to the stove, kicking my way past empty cans that had been shot or pushed on to the floor, and took the kettle off the ring. I poured myself a mug of tea from a tin of sachets on the side. It smelt of berries and I threw in some brown sugar and stirred it as I walked towards the computer room, kicking a weapon out of the way. I dragged the blood-soaked Green Guy away from the door; empty cases c.h.i.n.ked together as his body moved them across the floor. I stepped into the computer room and closed the door behind me.

Seated in a director's chair, I slowly sipped the sweet, scalding liquid while picking out two empty cases that had got caught between my chest and the harness on their way to the floor. My hands were starting to shake a little, as I silently thanked all those years of skill-at-arms training that had made stoppage drills second nature.

Tilting the mug for the last few drops of the brew, I got to my feet and went to Aaron and Carrie's bedroom. I pulled off the harness and changed into an old black cotton sweatshirt with a faded Adidas logo on the front.

It was time to drag Aaron out of the mud. I put the harness back on, gathered up their purple bedsheet, and went to the Land Cruiser with the M-16. I checked that the keys were still inside, lowered the rear seats ready for Carrie, then climbed into the Mazda and fired it up.

The headlights bounced up and down as I b.u.mped through the mud to Aaron. He was heavy to retrieve, but I finally got him into the back of the Mazda and wrapped him up in the sheet. As I tucked one corner over his face, I thanked him quietly.

Closing the tailgate, I left the wagon where it was, then dragged Blue and hid him amongst the tubs before walking back to the house. I turned off the livingroom lights and closed the door before kicking Blue's empty cases under the desk and storeroom shelving. Luz didn't need to see any of that: she had seen enough already today. I knew what happened to kids when they were exposed to that s.h.i.t.

Finally, using a torch from the storeroom shelves to light me, I dragged the cot out into the rain and threw it into the back of the Land Cruiser. It just fitted on the opened lower half of the tailgate. Then I headed for the dead ground and the treeline.

THIRTY-SEVEN.

The wipers pushed away the flood with each stroke, only for it to be instantly replaced, but not before I glimpsed the entry point in the treeline.

The Land Cruiser hit a tree stump and reared up, tilted over to the left, and came back down just as the headlights. .h.i.t on the palm-leaf markers.

I left the lights and engine running, grabbed the torch from the pa.s.senger seat, ran round and dragged out the cot. With a firm grip on one of the legs as it trailed behind me, I broke through the treeline.

"Luz! Where are you? Luz! It's me, it's Nick, call to me!"

I shone the torch in a broad sweep but it only reflected back at me off the wet leaves.

"Luz! It's me, Nick."

"Over here! We're over here! Nick, please, please, Nick!"

I turned to my right and pushed towards her, dragging the cot away from a stand of wait-a-while that wanted to hang on to it. Just a few feet more and the torch beam landed on Luz, soaking wet, kneeling by her mother's head, her hair flat and her shoulders shaking. Carrie was lying beneath her, in pain, covered in leaf litter. Seeing Luz's face in the torchlight, she raised a hand, trying to remove the hair stuck her face.

"It's OK, baby, everything's OK, we can go back to the house now."

I dragged the cot alongside them, and inspected the job I'd done on her leg. It wasn't as good as it should have been: maybe I didn't deserve that first-aid badge after all. Thunder rumbled and cracked above the canopy.

"Where's Daddy? Is Daddy at the house?"

Luz looked at me from the other side of her mother, squinting into the torchlight, her red face wet with rain and tears.

I looked down and busied myself with the dressings, pleased that the weather, distance and canopy would have soaked up the sounds of automatic gunfire. I didn't know what the f.u.c.k to say.

"No, he went to get the police ..."

Carrie coughed and screwed up her pale face, smothering her ;M child into her chest. She looked at me quizzically over her head. I If closed my eyes, put the torchlight on to my face and shook my head.

I?.

Her head fell back and she let out a low cry, her eyes shut tight.

Luz's head jumped up and down as her chest convulsed. She ; tried to steer her mother's thoughts elsewhere, thinking it was ; only physical pain.

"It's OK, Mom, Nick's going to get you back ; to the house. It's OK."

;V.

I'd done as much as I could with the dressings.

"Luz, you've got r to help me get your mum on the cot, OK?" Moving the torch slightly so as not to blind her, I looked at her scared face, nodding ' slowly as rain coursed down it.

"Good. Now get behind your mum's head, and when I say, I want you to lift her from under the armpits. I'll lift her legs at the same time and we'll get her on the cot in one go. Got it?"

I shone the torch above Carrie's head as Luz got into a kneeling position behind her mother's head. Carrie was still thinking of Aaron. That pain was far greater than anything her leg was causing.

"That's right. Now put your arms under her armpits." Carrie raised herself limply to try to help her daughter.

I jammed the torch into the mud. The beam shone up into the canopy and rain splattered on to the front of the lens. On my knees, I slid one arm under the small of her back and the other under her knees.

"OK, Luz, on my count of three are you ready?"

Thunder reverberated over the canopy.

A small but serious voice answered, "Yes, I'm ready."

I looked at what I could see of Carrie's face.

"You know this is going to hurt, don't you?"

She nodded, her eyes closed, taking sharp breaths.

"One, two, three up, up, up."

Her scream filled the night. Luz was startled. Carrie had gone down harder than I'd have wanted, but at least that phase was over. As soon as she landed she started breathing quickly and deeply through gritted teeth as Luz tried to comfort her.

"It's OK, Mom, it's OK ... ssssssh."

I pulled the torch from the mud and placed it on the cot next to Carrie's good leg so that it shone upwards, creating horror-movie shadows on their faces. The hard bits are done."

"It's OK, Mom. Hear that? The hard bits are done."

"Luz, grab your end, just lift it a little and I'll lift this end, OK?".

She jumped to her feet and stood as if to attention, then bent her knees to grip the aluminium handles.

"Ready? One, two, three, up, up, up."

The cot lifted about six inches and I immediately started crashing backwards through the vegetation in the direction Carrie's feet were pointing. More thunder rumbled, swamping Carrie's sobs. Luz still thought it was just pain.

"We'll see Daddy soon. It's OK, Mom."

Carrie couldn't hold back and cried out into the storm.

I kept checking behind me and soon made out the lights of the Land Cruiser penetrating the foliage. Just a few paces later we were out in the open.

The rain was relentless as we lifted Carrie into the back of the vehicle, like a patient into an ambulance, her legs protruding on to the tailgate. 'You need to stay with your mum and hold on to her in case we hit a b.u.mp, OK?"