Chapter 308 The revengeful father
When Peter was knocked unconscious again and stuffed into the trunk of the Raptor, he never imagined that less than three hours had passed since he was kidnapped.
Jack didn't have time to spend a few days with him. The so-called "water-drip torture" he tried only lasted for less than an hour and a half, and the guy was on the verge of collapse.
The dark and quiet environment, coupled with the hints in Jack's expression and language, and just a relatively rough psychological induction, made Peter think that he had been tortured for a whole day.
However, in fact, it was barely past midnight, and this cold night had just begun. As the wheels ran over the ruts that had been frozen not long ago, the mixture of ice slag and muddy water was lifted high.
After receiving the news of "birds returning to nest" from Chris, a convoy that was twice as long as the previous few days appeared again on the simple road leading to the drilling camp.
Corey Lambert was still the first car on the road. When he stopped and left the cab, the off-road vehicles and SUVs of different models that followed him also pulled over and turned off their lights.
Jack used his flashlight to beckon everyone to come closer to him, but was startled when he saw his and Martin Hansen's faces.
"What did you put on your face?"
"This is the face of death that was painted by shamans before tribal warriors fought."
Corey said, pointing to the pile of colorful paint on his face.
"White represents sorrow and mourning, red represents war and energy, black represents bravery and aggression, and yellow represents the determination to fight to the death."
"You still do this?" Jack was a little surprised. The Indian shaman heritage should have been cut off long ago.
The Indians in the Wind River Valley Reservation basically belong to the Eastern Shoshone Tribe and the Northern Arapaho Tribe, but no matter which one of them they are, their civilization inheritance has long been cut off by white people.
Most of them can't even speak their own language, but there are still some who can paint shamans?
"I found the meaning of the colors through Google, and I made up the patterns myself. No one understands these things anymore." Martin Hansen's words made everyone fall into silence.
"Cory said I shouldn't run away from pain, and I thought he was right, so I decided to learn from the Seris people in the East. I heard they had the same skin color as us and may even have the same ancestors."
"I want to learn to be like them, pray to my ancestors, gain courage and strength, and let my enemies repay blood with blood."
"Well, you will definitely do it." The atmosphere was a bit tragic, which made Jack unable to spit out all his bad things, so he simply shut up.
After assigning their respective tasks, Jane and Aaliyah stayed behind while the others drove snowmobiles and sped towards their respective areas of responsibility.
Tribal policemen work in teams of two and are responsible for surrounding the camp from three directions: southeast, west and west. Their mission is to intercept enemies who may escape and provide timely reinforcements in the event of an accident.
The north is the only direction of attack. Chris and Mr. Hunter, one uses a Barrett MRAD and the other uses his own lever shotgun, are responsible for long-range sniping.
Jack, with Braxton and Martin Hansen, was responsible for the frontal attack.
Finally, there is Justine, who sits in the tribal police station. Through the wireless network invaded by the bridge signal, she remotely controls all the electronic equipment in the camp, cutting off the last possibility for the security guards to ask for help from outside.
It was 3 o'clock in the morning, and the night was getting dark. Jack and the others quietly walked around behind the prefabricated house used as a security dormitory, and sent a signal to Chris and the others to get in position.
The security dormitory was now brightly lit and filled with smoke. I don't know if it was because of the high alertness for several days that these guys were so depressed that they were all shouting and making a fuss.
Some gathered to play cards and gamble for money, while others smoked American herbs and got drunk, unaware that the sickle of death had been placed on their necks.
In the real world, infrared imaging cannot penetrate walls, so you cannot see infrared figures through the walls of a room like in the movie.
There is wall-penetrating radar, but this technology, which requires the device to be close to the wall to roughly see a person's outline, cannot allow a sniper to knock down people in the room one by one from a few hundred meters away.
Fortunately, Jack is very experienced. After experiencing the prison crisis, he has mastered the technique of smoking out the rat's hole.
"Do it!" Following his low roar, two completely different gunshots sounded at the same time.
The sound of the Barrett MRAD gun is dull and powerful, and the sound of the Marlin 1895 lever-action rifle is clear and sweet. Both .50 and .45-70 bullets can easily penetrate the two thin iron sheets and the middle thin layer used as the wall of the prefabricated house. Thin insulation.
Along with the exclamations and screams coming from the room, the AR-15 in Braxton's hand sounded at the same time, shattering the window glass on the other side of the prefabricated room.
Amidst the sound of the glass breaking, Jack waved his arms quickly, and four tear gas canisters were accurately thrown in.
It was like a rat hole filled with cigarettes. Within a few minutes, several doors were kicked open one after another, and several figures rushed out with guns in hand and yelling.
There is no obstruction in the open snow. Whether it is an infrared night vision device or a low-light night vision device, two snipers can easily kill their prey.
A few guys who were not high yet and still had a clear head found that there were snipers ambushing them in front. They secretly opened the back door and tried to escape from the back of the house, but were easily shot dead by Jack and the other three who were waiting.
There was no suspense in the battle. In less than ten minutes, all the security guards who fled outside fell into the snow.
"Counting the bodies, there are 4 people behind the house." Jack said on the intercom.
"Five people in front of the house." Before Chris finished speaking in the distance, Martin Hansen beside Braxton couldn't wait to rush out.
"Damn it!" Jack and Braxton quickly followed.
There were at least two other people in the house. Chris and Colin had previously observed through the window and shot through the wall. Although the calibers of their two guns were both capable of hitting dinosaurs, what if it was just a scratch.
Braxton, who cared about his father-in-law, rushed into the prefabricated house immediately. After passing through two rooms, he suddenly froze on the spot. Then when Jack came in, he also said that he was quite frightened.
In a messy room, a corpse had a big hole in its chest and fell in a pool of blood. The one lying on the side was none other than an acquaintance, Serge Meyers.
This guy's leg was supposed to be just scratched by shrapnel, and he was leaning against the hole in the wall to survive, but he was startled when Martin Hansen suddenly rushed in with his face painted colorfully.
Just when he reacted and was about to raise his pistol to fight back, the angry father stepped on his arm.
Martin Hansen directly threw away the rifle in his hand, pulled out an Indian hand ax from his waist, chopped off Serge Meyers' right hand with the axe, then stepped on his chest, and swung it hard with the axe. Down.
Come get some monthly tickets, it's almost the end of the month.