The MA scoffed and stepped forward. “Like you wouldn’t falsify the results to protect your friend.”
Dr. Broussard stiffened and glared back at the man. “Sir, I will have you know that I am a professional. While Dr. McAlester may be a colleague, we are not friends. I seek the truth and only the truth. If the results come back as a match to your victim, then so be it.” He stepped back and his features softened slightly. “Do you really think I would wish to continue working with a murderer? Should the results come back as a match, that is exactly what you are proposing.”
The master at arms rubbed at his chin as the gears in his mind turned. “Would you be opposed to our medical officer observing while you performed the tests?”
“Not at all. In fact, I would welcome his assistance.” Broussard’s features softened and he gave the man a genuine smile. “In fact, you are more than welcome to sit in on the testing as well.”
The MA’s face puckered and he shook his head. “I can think of a dozen other things I’d rather do. Like…watch paint dry.”
Broussard chuckled as he stepped back into the lab. “Bring me the samples and your controls. I’ll be more than happy to test them.”
“Controls?”
“The standards you want them tested against.” He locked eyes with the man. “A sample from the victim, or a sampling of hairs from McAlester’s hair brush. Something I can compare the results to.”
The master at arms nodded. “I’ll have our medical officer bring them. When can you do this?”
“Immediately. Currently, that equipment is not in use, so it’s just a matter of obtaining the samples.”
“I’ll have him bring them at his earliest convenience.” He narrowed his gaze at the researcher. “I want to say thank you for your assistance, but I’m still not sure you’re on the up and up.”
“I guess we’ll find out once the results are in.” Broussard stiffened momentarily. “Do you have Dr. McAlester in custody at the moment?”
He bristled slightly before he shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s only so many places he can hide. It’s just a matter of—”
“Chief!” a uniformed man yelled from the hallway. “We got him!”
The master at arms spun and reached for the door. “Where is he?”
“He killed a machinist in the lower levels.” The man paled visibly. “The guy who reported it said that he was…eating him.”
The master at arms turned and narrowed his gaze at Broussard. “Still think your friend is innocent?”
Simon continued to bark orders, firing salvo after salvo of flaming arrows and spears into the compound. He smiled as he watched fire belch from broken windows and a warm orange glow appeared to take form behind the adobe walls.
He sprayed lighter fluid on the next round of arrows and watched as Clyde lit them aflame. Just as the arrows were drawn back and loosed, something struck him in his left arm, spinning him around and pulling him to his knees.
Simon looked down at his leather biker jacket and screamed as blood poured from the wound, washing his arm in thick, dark liquid. With his right hand he gripped the wound and threw his head back, screaming into the chill night air.
Clyde appeared by his side and began tugging the leather jacket from his body. “What are you doing?!”
Clyde pushed him to the ground and tugged the leather belt from Simon’s jeans. He wrapped it around his arm, just above the wound and cinched it tight as Simon squirmed and screamed.
He rose from Simon’s body then grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him to his feet. “War!” Clyde pointed at the compound, flames rising higher into the night sky.
Simon squeezed his eyes shut as fire radiated up his arm and down to his fingertips. He opened his eyes and scanned the ground. He found what he was looking for and gripped the bottle with his right hand. He took the cap in his teeth and twisted it loose.
Tilting the bottle back, he took several long pulls from the brown liquor before lowering it. He took a long breath and let it out slowly, his muddled mind trying to force the pain away.
He turned back to the bowmen and nodded. “Fire!”
Chapter 27
Hatcher slammed another magazine into the rifle and chambered a round. “We need more firepower on the East wall!” He watched as two more men peeled away from the front line and trotted past him, keeping close to the adobe wall.
An explosion echoed off of the walls of the compound and all eyes momentarily turned to the west. “They’re moving through the alley! Get some men on that West wall!” He grabbed the closest man to him and pushed him toward the western border.
“Simon is out there.”
Hatcher spun to see Big Mike standing beside him. “He can’t be.”
“It was him. He’s leading this group of assholes.” Mike pointed toward the stand of trees where the flaming projectiles were originating. “I saw him myself. Tried to take him out, but…”
“But?”
Mike shrugged. “I have no idea if I hit him or not.”
Hatcher took a moment to catch his breath. “I know we dropped at least one archer. But as soon as he went down, another took his place.” He looked up at Mike. “I can’t tell how many there are out there.”
“Enough.” Mike clenched his jaw then slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle. “We need to end this. Now.”
Hatcher nodded. “I hear ya. But I honest to god have no idea how to do that.”
Mike turned and pointed to the truck. “With that. They’re using wooden spears, rocks and arrows. With that we can drive right through them and if Simon is still standing, we run the son of a bitch over.”
“Then what?” Hatcher asked. “We still have no idea how many Zulus are out there. And whoever took the truck could be driving straight into a suicide mission.”
“Take a look behind you, Hatcher. The
