Authors: Steven Konkoly
He waited several moments for a response.
“Outstanding, Liberty One! Reinforcements en route,” replied Eli.
“What? Negative. Gelder Pond Lane is blocked by a tactical vehicle. My entire convoy is out of action,” he said.
“Roger. Clearing inner checkpoint with explosives. Reinforcements ETA three minutes. Give ’em hell! Out.”
Fields gawked at the radio as everyone abandoned the vehicle.
“What the fuck is he talking about?” said Fields.
“Don’t you get it, Harry?” said his driver.
“Get what?”
“He set us up! We’re on our own!”
“No. I saw Brown’s notebook. The count is right. Four tactical vehicles. They all left.”
The deep sound of a powerful diesel engine reached their ears.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” he said, crouching behind the door. “We need to get away from this heap as fast as—”
Tracers tore through the door, ripping through the driver’s body and spraying Fields’ face with blood. He tumbled out of the SUV as bullets slapped into the hood and shattered the windshield, crawling on all fours through the brush. Projectiles and tracers snapped overhead, followed by piercing screams, as the vehicle gunner cut down the rest of his men. Fields slithered into a muddy ditch and pressed himself flat, hoping they might have escaped undetected.
He started to lift his head up to take a quick look when a deafening blast, followed by a sharp concussive wave, shook the ground and echoed off the trees. For a moment, he thought they had fired a grenade or some kind of shoulder-fired rocket at him. A second explosion left him covered in dirt and debris, his ears ringing. He curled up in a fetal position, fully expecting the next one to land on him.
***
Corporal Merrick aligned the laser with the man crawling through the bushes and started to apply pressure to the trigger. He was a breath away from dispatching the last of Eli Russell’s attack force when the man dropped out of sight.
Shit.
The twenty-two-year-old gung-ho Marine in him said pull the trigger and bury the fucker in hot steel, but the combat-experienced noncommissioned officer told him to give it a few seconds. He eased the laser to the top of the ditch and waited. His patience was rewarded when he detected movement a few inches below the green beam. Before he could adjust his aim, a brilliant explosion appeared through his port-side ballistic screen, followed by a sharp blast that rattled the turret.
“What’s happening out there?” Keeler asked.
“Explosion south of the road. Vicinity of the flaming car. Looks like a car bomb,” said Merrick.
“Copy. Mop ’em up so we can get off this road,” Keeler said.
Merrick said, “I got one left playing hide and seek.”
“Hit him with a grenade if you have to,” said Keeler.
“Don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he said, centering the laser on the top of his target’s head.
A second explosion pelted the turret’s armor and ballistic glass with debris and shrapnel. Merrick instinctively ducked, though his life had already been spared by a combination of chance and probability—less than 5% of his body had been exposed to the fragments thanks to the turret’s design. He gripped the sides of the turret hatch to stabilize himself as the Matvee rocked violently on its suspension. A muted voice sounded in his right ear.
“You okay up there?” asked Keeler.
Merrick slipped out of the gunner’s belt and dropped into the Matvee. Dirt and small branches poured through the hatch with him.
“I’m fine!” he yelled, barely able to hear himself. “SUV blew up! I think all the cars are rigged!”
Keeler turned in the front passenger seat to face him. “We’re heading back to the OP. Cover our six.”
“There’s still one out there,” said Merrick.
“We’ll pick him up later,” he said, turning to the driver. “Get us back to the OP.”
Chapter 36
EVENT +21 Days
Limerick, Maine
Alex’s ROTAC chirped twice and displayed “Dagger,” the call sign given to the FOB’s perimeter security team.
“Captain Fletcher,” he answered.
“Sir, the OP situated on Old Middle Road just engaged four vehicles approaching from the west. Two vehicles confirmed destroyed. The other two swerved into the forest just beyond the two-hundred-fifty-foot marker. Guardian Four-Zero is in the process of mopping up the survivors.”
“Do you require assistance? I can be there in five,” said Alex, hoping Taylor waffled on the decision.
He was looking for any excuse to head back. Logically, he knew Taylor had enough firepower at the compound to repel any attack thrown at them by Eli, but Kate’s words had stuck with him:
He’s up to something.
“Negative. I have a night-vision-equipped, two-forty team watching the opposite approach. We can handle anything that approaches from either direction.”
“Copy,” said Alex. “Advise if the situation changes.”
“Affirmative. Sounds like Keeler’s gunner is chewing them—whoa! Jesus!” yelled Staff Sergeant Taylor, momentarily ceasing his transmission.
“Staff Sergeant?”
“Stand by, sir.”
Stand by? What the fuck?
“Slow us down, Lianez,” he said, retransmitting. “Taylor. What the fuck is going on?”
“Taking a report from Guardian Four-Zero. Wait one,” said Taylor.
“Pull us over,” said Alex, switching to Guardian’s tactical frequency. “Guardian Two-Zero. This is Guardian Actual. Lakeside was attacked. We’ll wait here for Dagger’s status report. Watch your sectors.”
“This is Two-Zero. Copy.”
Through the oversized side mirror, Alex watched Sergeant Copeland’s Matvee nestle in several yards behind them. He raised the ROTAC to his face.
“Taylor, you’re making me nervous. Do I need to turn around?”
“Negative. Keeler reported two explosions in the forest. No friendly injuries. Sounds like a repeat of the airport.”
Alex shook his head.
Four explosives-laden vehicles?
What was Eli hoping to accomplish?
“How many men did Keeler report in the forest before the explosions?”
“His gunner reported seven kills. They left one alive—crawled into a ditch near one of the explosions. If he isn’t gone, he’s pretty fucked up,” said Taylor.
“It’s not enough to get through,” muttered Alex.
“Say again, sir?”
“Something’s not right. I’m bringing Guardian One-Zero back to the FOB. Advise Keeler and all Dagger units of the change. ETA five mikes.”
“Copy, sir. One vehicle returning. Redeploying LP/OPs. Will advise Dagger and Guardian Four-Zero,” said Taylor.
“Taylor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get my family into the basement.”
“I’m not sure Mrs. Fletcher will comply, sir. She relieved the Marine I had watching the remote sensors.”
“I don’t care if you have to drag them down the stairs and sit on them. I want them out of the line of fire,” he said, lowering the ROTAC.
Kate was right. Eli
was
up to something. Throwing explosives-laden cars and armed inmates at the airport accomplished nothing beyond momentarily tightening a few RRZ sphincters. With spies in the Sanford area, Eli knew what his militia faced at the airport, and he’d sent them anyway. Nothing added up so far, and Alex couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Eli had bigger plans for FOB Lakeside. He wasn’t taking any chances with his family.
“Take us back to the FOB.”
***
A second, distant burst of automatic gunfire filled the steeple, followed by an urgent transmission in his headset from Harry Fields.
“This is Liberty One. Abort mission. Tactical vehicles sighted in road. They knocked out two of our vehicles before we could reach the intersection. Cancel reinforcements. We’re gonna try to get out of here on foot.”
More tactical vehicles?
This changed things. Brown had been confident about the vehicle count. Four total. Now he had mobile threats in two directions. He’d have to sacrifice the rest of his men to buy some time.
“Outstanding, Liberty One! Reinforcements en route,” replied Eli.
“What? Negative. Gelder Pond Lane is blocked by a tactical vehicle. My entire convoy is out of action,” he said.
“Roger. Clearing inner checkpoint with explosives. Reinforcements ETA three minutes. Give ’em hell! Out,” he replied, turning to Jim Hunt and grabbing the barely visible squad leader by the shoulders.
“Son of a bitch, Harry broke through! They left their guard down, and now we’re gonna fuck them up. Take your vehicles west on Old Middle Road and link up with Liberty One.”
“Hot damn!” said Hunt, scrambling for the trapdoor near the back wall. “You sure you don’t need our help here?”
“Negative. We got the easy part,” said Eli, removing his backpack. “Not much can go wrong. Pay attention to the radio. Once we’re done here, I’ll be headed in your direction. Don’t want to get fragged.”
“We’ll be ready for you,” said Hunt, disappearing through the steeple floor.
Eli rifled through his backpack, pulling a handheld radio from a zippered internal pouch. He pressed the power button and checked the bright orange LED as another burst of staccato gunfire echoed through the quiet, rural town of Limerick. Verifying the radio was set to “Preset 1,” he pushed transmit and waited. The windows rattled, followed by a deep, reverberating boom.
Perfect.
He quickly selected “Preset 2” and hit transmit. Nothing. He pressed it again. Silence. “Preset 3” yielded the same disappointing stillness.
No worries.
McCulver had warned him that substantial damage to the car might disable the bomb, and Fields reported two out of the four cars out of commission. He calmly cycled to “Preset 4” and was immediately rewarded with a steeple-shaking detonation. Eli carefully changed the channel to “Preset 8” and gingerly set the radio on the windowsill facing south. McCulver had skipped three channels as a safety precaution against prematurely detonating the grand finale.
“Time for the real show,” Eli mumbled, focusing his night-vision scope on the furthest visible point along Route 5.
Chapter 37
EVENT +21 Days
Limerick, Maine
Alex leaned forward against the five-point harness and scanned the approaching intersection. His eyes flickered between the structures racing by, searching windows, parking lots and driveways for signs of human activity. Brake light reflections, cigarette glows, car door lights, flickering curtains—anything that could signify a hidden threat. He sensed the Matvee easing into a shallow left turn after the gazebo marking the center of town.
“Keep your speed,” he said. “One more intersection, gents.”
A small hill rose behind the gazebo, crowned by a stand of trees. A steeple peeked over the broken canopy of branches, drifting right and quickly disappearing behind them. When the road straightened, a second church appeared directly ahead, marking the next intersection.
“Route 5 coming up on the right. Stay left and watch for inbound.”
Racing into the Y-shaped junction at seventy miles per hour, he spotted a faint glimmer of light in the steeple. Before he could warn the driver, his ROTAC illuminated, drawing his attention to the center console. When he looked up again, they were halfway through the intersection.
“This is Dagger. Hostile vehicles inbound from the east. I say aga—”
***
Eli’s index finger twitched over the transmit button while his other hand pressed the night-vision scope into his face
.
The timing had to be perfect. McCulver told him to expect a half-second delay between transmitting the signal and the detonation, which had to build into the equation based on the approach speed. Kevin helped him work out a chart to calculate the speed, but the tactical vehicle was moving too fast for him to put it to use. If he took his eyes off the scope, he might miss his chance. The attack was a one-shot deal. They had buried two charges along the north side of the road, separated by thirty feet.
Eli raised the handheld radio next to his face and held his breath, finger pressed against the textured rubber button as the armored car raced through the intersection. At the last moment, Eli panicked, not trusting himself to time the detonation correctly. Instead of waiting to target the vehicle with the more powerful of the two IEDs, he pressed the button early and ducked.
The blasts shattered every window in the steeple, splintering the wooden window frame with hissing asphalt fragments. Donning the backpack, he took a quick look out of the missing window with his scope. A thick cloud of dust billowed through the town, rendering the green image useless. Unable to make an immediate assessment of the situation, he swung his rifle into the ready position and descended the ladder.
“Viper team, where are you?” he said, unable to locate them in the haze.
“Over here,” someone croaked, the voice muffled.
“Where is here?” he demanded. “Speak up!”
“By the front windows, all the way to the right!”
“What the fuck are you doing there?” he said, running down the center aisle, still unable to see them through the veil of dust.
“We wanted to see the explosion,” one of the men mumbled. “I think Ronnie’s dead.”
Eli followed his voice to the rightmost front window of the church, where he found the two of them in a heap on the glass-covered floor. Triggering his rifle light, he confirmed the man’s suspicion. Ronnie had a three-inch piece of jagged metal protruding from his scalped forehead. Joe didn’t look much better; his face and neck were shredded by glass fragments that had miraculously missed his jugular artery. He kneeled in front of him.
“Did you see the explosion?” asked Eli, slipping his razor-edged KA-BAR out of the sheath attached to his belt.
“Fucking thing flipped right off the road,” rasped Joe. “You did it, man. Help me up.”
In a blur of hands, he grabbed Joe’s long, knotted hair and yanked his head forward, jamming the seven-inch blade into his neck. Joe’s body went slack immediately, his spinal cord severed near the base of his skull.