They continued to pick their way through the jungle, gradually moving farther and farther away from the blistering gunfire.
Valentine stopped, motioned for Briggs to continue around to the Chinese’s rear. Briggs nodded and disappeared.
Valentine tried to catch his breath. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
He thought of that night on the beach. How the moon had sparkled in her eyes as he had leaned in to kiss her for the first time. The warmth of her breath. The taste of her lips.
He peered through the thermal scope of his sniper rifle, zeroed in on the glowing figure of one of his enemies. His hands were now as steady as a monolith.
The rifle coughed. The glowing figure collapsed.
Valentine found four more targets. He killed them with surgical precision.
The Chinese were in total chaos when Briggs charged in from the flank, his submachine gun lighting up the night. The rest of Valentine’s team moved in, and the battle was over.
Valentine put away his sniper rifle and stepped forward towards the carnage.