ZINGA OBSERVED the target board with a pair of binoculars, Reeves had advanced from a tyro; he was getting better with more accurate hits compared with the inert results back in the Mojave Desert to be the best of the other shooters—but yet he failed to make it in the slate as the first choice hit-man in the New Orleans mission. One of Zinga's men, Kujo was also vied in practising his crossbow; he was hitting sharply on target too.

Reeves's rifle was fitted with a silencer—dotting the target on the board, his mind was in the zone, visualizing that each tautological shot that he took was aiming for the head of every each of the Jamaicans present at the lake. He has to improve his target accuracy as a safety precaution—to any case of them turning hostile on him and his team.

Reeves Jensen sensed the thankless Li Chi had set these hired killers on him despite he had saved the triad member Wu Leong from being massacred on the rooftop chopper attacks in Tombscradle—Oswald-Wu Leong was then voted by the Council of 13 to take out the president; where the mission failed.

He overheard Zinga calling out. "Jensen, enough—conserve your ammo!"

Nearby, True Bob was under the regular shady tree spot, he saw Zinga and Kujo stepping into back to their cabin—to bong some nuggs and get their afternoon highs. Reeves was wrapping up his rifle gear, he heard Bob's bird whistle—and looked up at the half-Cherokee nodding at him ...

The both of them militate in secret by sneaking out of the guarded camp without security permission. They left to explore the surrounding at the lake.

**

Reeves and Two Bob ran uphill among trees and bushes—they leapt over fallen tree trunks and scaled the boulder terrains in the forest edge near the lake. They wanted to go further deep into the woods where a few days ago, while Bob was gathering medicinal herbs, he spotted several hoof tracks of a game at the rivulet—it has been awhile they all had real sumptuous red meat other than their regular diet of wild birds, rabbits and the fishes from the lake...

They both lie on their bellies and waited patiently behind some bushes that faced a creek; Reeves whispered to him, "Bob, you sure it will come?" swatting at swarming flying bugs. True Bob grinned back, "Who knows, maybe it would—but once we bag it, I have got a perfect recipe for it," the optimistic Bob replied encouragingly while smacking his lips.

Minutes later, they heard branches breaking up ahead across the other side of the stream and a cow moose walked to the watercourse—Bob and Reeves were wide-eyed, sparkling grins to each other. Reeves pointed his sniper rifle and adjust the scope to lock the head of the majestic beast in the frame; his finger was on the trigger—Two Bob was observing Reeves and was anticipating the kill...

A moose calf came running up and started suckling the mother cow, Reeves slowly lowered his rifle, "Fuck, I can't." True Bob was in a state of incredulity and tapped him to hurry...

"Take the shot, Reeves." The two quarry creatures' outstretched necks peered up to the distinct voices; sensed danger before they ran away...

"Why did you not shoot, man? What is the matter with you?" Reeves stood up and replied quietly. "It has got a calf that is still suckling."

"So what, you are now compassionate over some Bambi? Damn you, Reeves, we will never get a chance like that again!" He burst into latent anger.

Reeves walked away, pointing at some wild turkeys toms feeding on berries from a juniper tree. "Let's stick to the regular menu. Bob."

Two Bob was still thwarted and he followed him, kicking anything that came at sight—if it was not for his bad eyesight, Bob would have brought along a rifle and would have taken the shot himself.

**

Troy and Joe were swimming in tepid water near the dock where the parked three floatplanes were on the lake—they both noticed the hunting duo afar, returning to the lake with their kill.

"Since we will be here for a while, I wanna look up for ways to repair one of these planes and then learn to fly it," Troy made a suggestion and that got Joe laughing and excited. "Scandalous! That is a great idea, we might make it to Canada, fuck yeah! I spent all my life in Wesleyan U and then years behind in T.C. prison bars—and damn, I've never been on a plane before—I am with you bro, we will both fly this shit around!"

"Same here never got on a plane before," Troy said in return—knowing that since the Medusa virus, there has been a great slump in the travelling industry with the lack of commercial pilots.

Something then caught his attention while he looked over Joe's shoulder.

"Joe, what is happening over there?"

Both of them glanced at True Bob and Reeves engaging in an argument with the Jamaicans on the shore...

*

Zinga and his boys—Busta, Kujo and Vishon have surrounded Reeves and True Bob; there was a shouting contest with Zinga bellowing out...

"You listen dis here Jensen, you don't wander off anywhere without my permission!"

The whities' action to disappear was an insult to his tenure status given to him by Hajja as the head of the team's security.

"I don't have to ask your permission for anything here," Reeves roared back in dissent; and the Jamaican named Busta who was Zinga's number two also yelled out...

"We are in charge of security, and you better listen to us, Mon!"

The plucky Reeves ignored him and stared straight at Zinga and thrall at him—he needed to abate the control of the bullying by the Jamaicans since their arrival at the lake...

"Fuck off, we can take care of ourselves—I clearly told the Preacher that we don't need the four of you wet-nurses with us here!"

Zinga felt belittled. "Motherfucker, you do what we say around here!" Zinga drew out his pistol but Reeves was quick to point his rifle barrel at Zinga's face—the magnitude of his action made the rest of the rambunctious Jamaicans to draw their weapons out for a standoff...

Reeves made it crystal clear to them all...

"This is my mission here to execute the Snake-woman—you better get to know your place if you wanna be part of it—and fucking stop harassing everyone here, you hear me?" The derided Zinga challenged him vehemently

"You dare shoot me, you white nancy-fuck?"

"That is what I am training every day for—to put a bullet into anyone who gets in my path. If you are not happy by the way things are going here, you can pack your gear and head back to Hajja—we don't need you in the mission, is that clear, monkey Mon?"

"Motherfucker!" Zinga removed his pistol's safety and his inimical men pursued readily for a deuce. Zinga was now howling back at the adamant Reeves...

"We will see now who will leave dis place alive—di four of us or the two of you?" True Bob's jaw dropped speechless; he was only one armed with a bowing knife, and Kujo's crossbow was squared to his chest.

"Don't count on it, Zinga—it is 4 on 4 now!"

The Jamaicans heard a voice from behind them. Troy and Joe were dripping wet, pointing their guns at the back of the Jamaicans. The one of the named Kujo with the crossbow turned, and Joe placed his pistol barrel at the back of Kujo's tresses of dreadlocked hair...

"Hey Spooky, turn back once again and I will blam-blam you, Mon!"

Zinga lowered his weapon in secede but his hateful eyes were still locked on Reeves; he said something in Jamaican Patois and all his men stood down. They left in seethe back to their cabin with Joe gloating with laughter at their earshot...

"It is a good thing we came on time and saved your day, Reeves—guess what, I nearly pulled the trigger just now!"

Reeves was still exasperated hot when he turned to discover that the bragging Joe was standing butt naked holding a gun.

He yelled at the red-haired Wesleyan...

"Go put your pants on, you fucking idiot—day by day, you are getting to be a bigger goof-ass!" Reeves picked up the two dead turkey birds from the sand and stormed into the main lake-house.