Chapter 5: My Heart

"Ladies." I waggled my eyebrows at them.

"I thought you'd sworn off sex." Wendy said.

"Me too," commented Kim.

"Yeah, what's the deal here anyway?" Rachael questioned.

"I do admit," I admitted, "I was wondering when you decided."

"Decided we were all wives and not just me?" asked Wendy.

"Yes." I agreed.

"We can't talk to them," Kim put forward. She gestured towards the native camp.

"They can't talk to us." Rache said by way of explanation.

Wendy said, "Besides, they're more of a 'on your knees, head in the dirt, stick that ass in the air, bitch, ' bunch."

"They tried that on us once..."

I was on my feet, pulling on pants and shirt, while I was trying to tie my shoes and checking if I had enough loaded magazines. Naturally, I made a mess of it ... tied both shoes together, had both legs in one pant leg, couldn't find my zipper because it was behind, and dropping magazines and cartridges left and right. I tried one step anyway and ended up in a tangled heap. "AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"

'He's so cute when he gets all protective, ' thought Kim.

'Look at him, ' agreed Wendy. 'Total klutz, but he's gonna settle somebody's hash.'

'Yeah, ' laughed Rachael. 'If he ever gets untangled.'

'Shall we help?' asked Wendy.

'I dunno, ' Kim argued. 'Watching him trying to inchworm his way to the door is kinda fun.'

'His face is turning pretty red ... Oh, look ... his head is through the armhole ... with his arm.' Rachael commented.

'It's his right arm ... well, hand ... but that's the left sleeve ... his left arm is through the neck hole ... poor baby.' Wendy thought.

'Men!' Kim exclaimed. 'Can't even dress themselves.'

'Wow, he's really stuck ... wanna pants him?' asked Rache, maliciously.

'We should get his hand and head out of that sleeve, ' Wendy suggested. 'He's turning blue. I don't think he can breathe.'

I finally got my hand free of the sleeve and fumbled around with the pants pockets until I found my stiletto, pushed the button and cut the sleeve, nicking my chin a good one in the process. I ripped off the shirt and tried to stand. That ain't gonna work ... but I can breathe. I pitched the knife away, hitting the man, with the silencer, in the throat as he was crawling in the door ... where did he come from?

Reacting far faster than I could have Wendy pulled him into the hut. You ask why she could react faster. My legs are still in one leg of my ass to the front pants ... my shoes still tied together ... and I'm still a little blue in the face ... but I'm getting better.

Wendy picked up the weapon ... a Ruger .22 with a stainless steel "can".

'Fall down, ' she thought to us all. She fired four shots out the smoke hole. "pfft" "pfft" "pfft" "pfft" A silenced 22 isn't silent. It's quieter than a champaign cork but it's an out of place noise in the night when we were.

'See if you can push him up.' she gestured at the dead guy.

We have a dying fire burning inside and the light casts indistinct shadows on the parachute walls of the hut. A single 'chute would be easy. But we have an inner liner. Still, if you're outside and the shadow on the wall is between you and the fire it's a fair representation of the shadow casters location.

I crawled over and pushed him up from underneath with my legs. I'm sure it looked like he was standing up. His head gained another hole and a matching hole appeared in the hut wall. I dropped him.

'There's two more out there. Wait.'

15 minutes later we heard a chuckle, "I think that finishes that."

The reply was a second 'pfft', a thud. "You might be right ... now."

'Now there's one.' Wendy thought, 'his mind is a turmoil. He's coming to check.'

Whoever the third man was, he was no woodsman. He clumped over to the door of the hut and started to crawl in ... silenced Ruger first. He looked up and Wendy shot him in the eye. Our maniacal CIA agent.