Chapter 1

I think before I get into the story about how I became involved in voodoo I should tell you a little about myself. My name is Brian Jenkins. When I graduated high school I was 5’ 8 “tall and weighed 165. I did not play football but I did play baseball, third base to be exact. I was good just small. I once heard my coach talking to a scout from a college. He referred to me as a “good little player”. Nobody was going to waste a scholarship on me.

Now don’t get me wrong. I was strong as an ox. My dad had me working out since I was 10 years old. Not with weights but on the bars. Pull-ups, chin-ups, and sit-ups then on to practicing a form of fighting that he had been taught in the Marines. I went to college but quit my freshman year to join the Marines. I was not a very good student and I knew a baseball career was not in my future so why waste Dad’s money?

I was built for the Marines. I did 25 chin-ups my first day while I watched most struggle to do 6. I was assigned a 0317 mos, military occupational specialty, out of basic training and went to Camp Lejeune to Recon school. I did very well there then on to jump school then Halo (high altitude low opening) training. Then I was assigned to a recon unit.

We did a couple of missions in Colombia near the Venezuelan border. That was where all my training came in handy. I killed my first man, a Colombian guerilla. I got a few more confirmed kills on my second tour. Then I was sent back to the States and more schooling. Now I am a Marine Raider, the Special Forces of the Marine Corps. I was assigned to a Raider unit and sent to Italy. It was not long before we got a mission.

It seems a couple of young girls from Sweden thought it was a good idea to backpack around the beautiful country of Miger in East Africa. Where are the parents of these kids? I mean who thinks it’s okay for two blonde 19 year olds to hike around a shithole country like Miger?

It was not long before they were kidnapped and held for ransom. Sweden had no presence in Miger, not even a consulate. So they asked for help from the U.S. Our drones located them in a Mumbo compound. The Mumbos are one of the two tribes in Miger. They are very warlike and cruel. They lost a civil war a few years ago and the peace is fragile to say the least. It is suspected that they are gathering a war chest to try and overthrow the present government. So who do you call when you need something done and done right? The fucking Marines, that’s who!

My team bailed out at 35,000 feet. It was 1 am and the idea was that the Mumbos would be asleep. When we entered the compound they were and the plan was to let them sleep. We dispatched the gate guards with crossbows then went to the shack where we believed they kept the girls. No problems so far.

I was first thru the door and saw the girls tied to the floor. Each had a man with his cock in her. Using what I call my personal defense weapon, a Native American tomahawk, I hit the first man I came to in the back of the neck. The second man tried to stand but only got to his knees before my tomahawk struck him in the throat. Neither had made a sound. But the girls were screaming to wake the dead!

I tried to calm them but I guess they could not speak English. Finally I got my hand over the mouth of one while my Lieutenant got his hand over the other girl’s mouth. They calmed down enough to realize we were there to rescue them. We got them up and they pulled on their shorts! They were hiking in shorts and tee shirts! They did have nice boots. In minutes we were out the gate and on the way to the LZ (landing zone) where the chopper would take us to the Base there in Miger. That is when all hell broke loose! I was following my staff sergeant when I started to hear gun fire. We were running as fast as the girls could run and we did make it to the LZ. What the hell?!