The dawn in Nura Valley was terrifyingly silent.
Hakeem had already checked his watch for the fifth ti, the gilded Rolex's hands glimring with a bloody hue in the morning light.
This watch was stolen.
When he seized the gold mine back then, the original owner offered this gold watch, pleading for his life.
The result, of course, was no rcy.
Hakeem shot him in the head and took the watch.
To soone like him,
killing the other party and still getting the watch, why would he accept their plea?
He thought the mine owner was a fool.
Such a simple question, and he couldn't figure it out.
Killed him, both the mine and the gold Rolex beca his.
It was already five in the morning, and the distant horizon began to pale.
Dawn was approaching.
But the convoy loaded with arms had yet to arrive.
He kicked a stone underfoot, raising a plu of red dust.
"Damn Aricans! They promised to be here before sunrise!"
He suddenly had a bad feeling, couldn't help but look around the valley and glanced at his Rolex once more.
Every tick of the Rolex second hand made the veins on his temple twitch in sync.
Five twenty-seven - long past the agreed delivery ti.
"Boss, there seems to be movent in the northern dunes!"
A sentry suddenly pointed towards the valley entrance.
Hakeem abruptly grabbed the Zeiss 20x50 military binoculars hanging around his neck.
In the lens, a few desert lizards scurried across the sand in panic, as suspicious plus of dust rose on the distant horizon.
He rubbed his index finger on the focus wheel trying to enlarge the image, but froze suddenly - a dim red flash appeared among the dust, it was sothing other than the dust from transport convoys.
"Machine gun group, get ready!"
As he dropped the binoculars, a sharp whistling sound suddenly ca from the cliff on the east side of the valley.
It was like nails scraping glass, tearing a fissure in the sound waves in the dry air.
Hiss— Hiss—
"82mm mortar!"
Hakeem's lieutenant, Omar, turned pale.
This forr governnt artillery lieutenant was all too familiar with such a sound of death.
As he lunged forward trying to push Hakeem down, the first shell had already fallen with a deathly kiss.
Boom—
An orange-red fireball erupted among the vehicles in the valley, a pickup truck mounted with a heavy machine gun was lifted ten ters into the air, the explosion ignited the ammunition boxes in the truck bed, causing tens of thousands of bullets to detonate in a chain reaction, forming a tal storm.
Militants within twenty ters of the blast center were instantly shredded by the steel rain, while those farther away clutched their bleeding ears and rolled on the ground.
"Three o'clock direction!"
Hakeem hid behind the tire of a nearby truck as cover.
He saw several PKM general-purpose machine guns suddenly rise up from behind the northern ridge, the muzzle flashes forming a flickering line of death in the pre-dawn gloom.
Tat-tat-tat-tat—
Tat-tat-tat-tat—
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat—
7.62×54mmR steel core bullets pierced the flimsy pickup doors like a hot knife through butter.
A soldier who had just jumped into the driver's seat suddenly had his upper body explode, spinal bones mixed with flesh sticking to the dashboard.
A bullet-induced stone splinter cut open Hakeem's right ear, warm blood flowed down his neck into his collar.
"RPG! Take out those machine gun positions! Heavy machine gunners, suppress their firing points! We're ambushed!"
He roared as he grabbed the rocket launcher operator next to him, only to see three twisted shrapnel lodged in the chest of this eighteen-year-old boy, blood frothing at his mouth.
The second wave of mortars whistled in at this ti.
This ti, it was precisely calculated crossfire—they fell in a triangular shape at the mouth of the valley, completely sealing the retreat route.
Hakeem watched helplessly as his lead vehicle was flipped by the shockwave, the burning tire rolling over thirty ters, crushing a crawling injured man.
"Allah!"
Omar suddenly pointed to the northern cliff. A three-ter-long black flag was rising there, a blood-red sword emblem unfurling in the morning breeze.
Beneath the flag stood a man wearing a silver monocle, firing an AK74 assault rifle at the survivors in the valley.
"Markuer!"
After recognizing the person, Hakeem ground his molars in rage.
Now everything seed crystal clear: the supposed Arican arms deal was a trap, the "Shepherd" must have struck a dirty deal with Markuer.
Of course, he didn't know that what he saw that night wasn't the real "Shepherd"; the real Shepherd's body was buried under a pile of sand beside so deserted highway in Northern Darfur, likely starting to rot already.
He pulled out a signal gun and fired a green flare.
This was the agreed withdrawal signal.
The green flare shot into the sky.
The seven still-operational pickups imdiately ford a wedge formation, the DShK heavy machine guns on top began to roar.
12.7×108mm large-caliber bullets smashed the north cliff, sending rocks flying, silencing two exposed machine gun positions.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hakeem jumped into the lead vehicle, yelling at the driver: "Break through to the east side!"
Like a wounded beast, the convoy charged towards the only escape route.
Just as they reached the valley entrance, the third pickup was suddenly hit by an RPG, sending the entire rear axle flying.
The out-of-control vehicle swerved and crashed into the mountain wall, the explosion from the fuel tank engulfed the ghastly screams of three injured n in the backseat.
"Maintain distance!"
Omar half-exposed his body out of the car window, frantically spraying bullets from an AKM assault rifle to both sides.
The bullet rain felled two enemies on the roadside attempting an RPG ambush, but didn't notice the flash in the rock crevice three hundred ters away.
Bang—
A 7.62mm sniper bullet pierced through his left eye, the brain matter sprayed from the back of his head painted an abstract artwork on the car window.
When the corpse collapsed, its finger was still on the trigger, and a volley of bullets hit the ground at Hakeem's feet.
"Faster! Faster!"
Hakeem scread as he kicked Omar's corpse away, holding his gun and firing wildly outside.
Three ard pickup trucks suddenly erged from behind a sand dune two hundred ters away, and the KORD heavy machine gun on the roof began to shower bullets.
Clearly, Markur ca prepared this ti and brought quite a few of his n.
In the past, both sides were evenly matched and were unwilling to provoke each other, though both had always wanted to annex each other's territory and gold mines but were held in check.
This ti, he was careless, leaving the camp to co here for the transaction, giving Markur the opportunity.
Ding ding dang dang—
The hood of the leading car was instantly riddled with bullet holes, and steam from the burst radiator mixed with engine oil splattered onto the windshield.
The driver frantically turned the steering wheel to dodge, the rear wheel crushing onto a dium-sized stone.
Bang—
The car bounced up like it hit a spring, took a giant leap and landed heavily, then lost control and crashed into the roadside sand dune.
Hakeem jumped out of the car just before the crash, falling into a sand pit.
He spat out sand from his mouth and saw his convoy already in tatters—two cars ablaze, two pinned down in crossfire, and only the remaining four trying to evade pursuit in a zigzag pattern.
"Boss! Over here!"
The last pickup had already turned around and returned to the crash site, the machine gunner inside reaching out his blood-soaked right hand, wanting him to get on the truck bed and continue escaping.
Just as Hakeem was about to get up and leap onto the truck bed, a 23mm high-explosive shell whisked past his ear, slicing the machine gunner standing five ters away on the truck bed in half.
"ZU-23!"
Hakeem turned to see a twin-barrel anti-aircraft gun stationed at the valley exit, adjusting its aim slowly as they moved.
This weapon, originally ant to deal with helicopters, could easily turn armored vehicles into sieves when fired horizontally.
He quickly flipped onto the truck bed, pounding on the back window of the cab shouting, "Drive faster! Hurry!"
The engine roared, the truck's hood smoked, and the driver floored the gas pedal.
The last two pickups finally broke free, rushing out of the valley amidst a rain of bullets, frantically fleeing southwest.
In the truck bed, Hakeem shakily pulled out a satellite phone.
He wanted to alert the troops left at the camp to bloodbath Markur's lair, letting that vile bastard know...
No signal...
He adjusted the direction of the antenna.
Still no signal...
Upon closer inspection, he nearly cried.
Turned out the phone was hit by a shrapnel.
Though it could still be turned on, this piece of shrapnel likely damaged the antenna, making connection impossible.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!"
He cursed while irrationally kicking the truck bed.
Today was really the unluckiest day!
Dang dang dang—
The rear of the truck sparked, and gunfire rang out behind.
Soone was pursuing him!
Hakeem's scalp tingled as he cautiously peeked back.
Not far from the dirt road behind appeared a convoy of ard pickups in hot pursuit, roughly seven or eight of them, the machine guns on the roofs spewing tongues of fire that were glaring in the morning mist.
Markur Abdul's monocle reflected the rising sun.
He stood in the back seat of the lead vehicle, grabbing the roll cage with his left hand, right hand raising his AK74U assault rifle, firing into the air, grinning like a Mad Dog revealing his white teeth.
"Allah is great! Catch that pig!"
Their modified pickups traversed the rugged terrain effortlessly, and each burst from those varied heavy machine guns mounted on the trucks kicked up clouds of dust beside Hakeem's vehicle.
The thirty-kiloter chase turned the desert into a shambles.
Hakeem's convoy kept losing mbers, and after more than half an hour, only the last three pickups remained.
Markur's side also lost two vehicles, but he didn't care.
As long as he took down Hakeem, the gold mines and arsenal of the "Justice and Peace" organization would all be his.
"Up ahead is Deadly Bend!"
The guide in the front passenger seat suddenly shouted.
Markur squinted his eyes — up ahead, five hundred ters away, the dry riverbed suddenly made an almost right-angle turn, the outside a ten-ter deep cliff.
Hakeem's lead car had already started turning.
Markur grinned maliciously, grabbed the walkie-talkie: "All vehicles, focus fire on the lead car!"
Dozens of machine guns growled simultaneously.
Hakeem's pickup had its rear tire shot out, the vehicle losing control at high speed, flipping over until it stuck at the cliff edge bottom-up.
Markur signaled his convoy to stop.
He adjusted the gold-embroidered headscarf, leading over thirty loyal followers gradually approaching the overturned vehicle.
Hakeem, his face bloodied, was trapped in the deford cab, his right leg twisted at a bizarre angle.
"Why..." Hakeem spat blood flecks, "We clearly... agreed to split Darfur evenly..."
Markur crouched down, using his AK74U to tilt Hakeem's chin: "'Shepherd' said, in business splitting evenly is the biggest taboo."
With that, he pulled the trigger.
Pang pang pang—
Gunshots echoed over the desert.
Markur stood up, triumphantly scanning the surroundings.
To the east lay his gold mine, the west gold mine was now entirely his.
Once he absorbed these resources, he might even...
Poof—
Markur suddenly felt a chill in his back.
Confused, he looked down to see a bloody steel core protruding from his chest.
The last sound in his ears was the frantic shouts of his followers and the pieceal gunfire, but all of it quickly drifted away.
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