Read Reflexive Fire - 01 for Free Online Page A

lit cigarette in his mouth, before disappearing from sight once again.
       “What. The. Fuck.”
       The Jet Ranger III completed an orbit out over the valley before swinging back toward them.  The pilot cautiously eased his way closer to the clearing, careful of the distance between the trees and his rotor blades.  As the bird came in closer, he could make out the words 'Amazon Tours' on the side of the aircraft. 
       “Let's go,” he said, picking up J-Rod.
       “What about Deckard,” he screamed back, over the sound of the rotor blades beating at the jungle around him.
       “If he's going to make it then he'll make it.”
       The truth was that the younger Delta operator had to come first for him.  He hadn't seen Deckard in years but still hoped to hell he'd hurry up and join them. 
       The pilot grimaced as he set one skid down on the ground, the other hovering precariously over the edge of the mountain.  Pat tugged open the side door and dropped J-Rod inside.
       The younger man's eyes went wide as he spotted something over Pat's shoulder.
       Glancing back he saw Deckard running down the path into the opening.  He turned and returned fire with an MP-5 he had gotten from somewhere, or taken off of someone.  Bullets swarmed around him like angry hornets, chopping through the wide palm leaves and turning the small tree trunks into splinters.
       Suddenly Deckard kicked backwards as if struck in the chest with a sledge hammer and disappeared into the tall grass.
       Pat cursed.  Grabbing the AK, he thrust the drug lord's 1911 toward J-Rod.
       “If the pilot makes a move, I want you to splatter him.”
       Taking the pistol, J-Rod nodded his understanding.
       Charging forward, Pat cut loose, sending several bursts down the jungle path as he made his way toward where he had seen Deckard fall.  Through the dense vegetation he could see the silhouettes of several sets of gun-toting cartel gunmen.
       Aiming at the closest asesino taking cover behind a sapling tree, he fired several rounds through it, dropping the man into a sprawl across the trail.  It had to be enough to buy him a few more seconds.
       Coming alongside Deckard, he glanced down, seeing the side of his face covered in blood, the MP5 laying absently alongside him.
       There was nothing he could do for him now.
       Firing another burst to keep the enemy's head down, he prepared to run back to the helicopter when he noticed the receiver of Deckard's MP5 was bent, the steel core of a bullet tunneled into the metal frame.
       “Deckard,” he said thumping him in the eye with a finger.
       Deckard squirmed as if he had just smelled something bad.
       Down range, a cartel shooter attempted to bound forward, Pat catching him in mid stride with several well placed shots.
       “Deckard!  We are leaving right goddamned now!”
       Coughing he rolled over on his stomach and saw the helicopter.
       “Go!”
       Stumbling to his feet, Deckard limped towards the Jet Ranger.
       Bullets snapped over Pat's shoulder, causing him to fire back at a muzzle flash deeper in the jungle brush.
       Realizing it was now or never, the Delta operator emptied what remained of his magazine, crisscrossing the jungle with automatic fire, the AK heating up in his hands until it went dry.
       Throwing the rifle to the ground he turned and ran full speed, catching Deckard halfway to the helicopter and tossing him over his shoulder.  His legs burned like they were full of battery acid, but he refused to slow down, not now, not so close.
       Bending at the knees, he vaulted through the helicopter's open door, him and Deckard landing inside in a confused mess.
       The pilot didn't wait for permission and peeled off under a barrage of gunfire.
       J-Rod struggled, still holding the 1911 to the pilot's head as the exterior world swirled, mountains turning into valley and then into sky as he banked away and took them