The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 8.0 – Night Ops

3D night vision kill 8 14 17 - YouTube
7.9

‘As if we had a choice.’ I mused to myself as dawn tickled its way up my hammock pegs.

The haze of sleep dissipated slowly.

I wanted to lay there and sway forever in the sticky morn. My wish would not be granted.

Cooks boisterous tankroll of a gait disturbed my contented malaise.

“Senhor Baird! Senhor baird…come to the surveillance tent…come on…”

“Wuhh…” I shook my head.

I felt a strong hairy hand grip my wrist.

“Get up…get up! I have something to show you…”

I hung my feet over the edge of my suspended bunk.

“Dr. Cook…it’s too early to be this excited…”

I barely registered a look of incredulous rage.

“I would not risk your bitching for nothing….bichano…fucking Americans..”

I rolled my eyes and reached a hand down to examine my shoes.

“I already look. Comone on get dressed lez go!”

I groaned.

‘What the hell could be this important.’

I hardly saw any other fool stirring in the legion like camp.

My boot ensconced feet contacted a slightly sinking earth and I was off to our gizmo tent.

Cook had outpaced me by a country mile and was leaning over a console. As I stepped closer I noted Graham’s figure stooped over something in the black-white glow of night vision. It was HAG-I footage.

I leaned over Cooks shoulder to get a better look.

So what…Hoyt is bein a freak again..what else is new…” I muttered in disgust.

Cook’s face wheeled about and faced me; so few inches distant that I could bite his nose. These tents were cramped.

“Look closer…”

I did. An action which caused me to get just as excited as Cook.

Graham was leaning over a body.

Not the body of a pig or a peccary or any kind of wildlife…but the body of man…a decidely non native man with an arrow protruding from his chest.

I gasped audibly.

“I told you…this explain everything…about why Commander Lobo let him go alone in the Jungle…”

It was still too early for me to understand.

“Don’t you see…we are so unmolested…”

“Well…I mean uncle Jethro ain’t here…”

“Ugh…you Americans with your jokes…look….Senhor Baird…the fact that we have not had to deal with anyone for a week is not absolutely outre…but given the current climate…it is unusual…and there…” he said tapping the screen…”there is the reason why…there are simply no one to bother us…”

Cook was really worked up. His English never slipped this bad.

“Do you get it…he is killing people..”

I got it. I got it loud and clear. This was highly illegal…on multiple levels…and Thornton would skin us alive…it would be worse than Court Martials…Thornton would..Thornton….

I wheeled round and headed off towards Schmidt’s hammock.

Senhor Baird!”

I ignored Cook’s protestations.

No this was real…this was real alright…


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