“Ok, Kelly. I’ll take care of them,” Cory says with resignation and maturity beyond his teen years. It’s saddening for Kelly to see his teen brother feeling the weight of the world on his slim shoulders.
Kelly turns to the grandparents and women in the group. “Put all the kids in the living room tonight for bed. Don’t let them get more than a few feet from you guys. You won’t be able to let each other out of sight. Stay together. Keep watch. If shooting starts, get them to lay flat on the floor. But don’t let them run off. If those men come here, they’ll use the driveway. If we come home using the drive, we’ll flash the headlights three times and then again three more times after five seconds. If anyone and I mean
anyone
comes down that drive and they don’t flash the lights, shoot them,” Kelly tells them.
“Right, unless we’re bringing back wounded, then we’ll use the drive and the headlight signal,” Derek confirms.
“If you get overrun, take the kids and go out through the back of the farm into the woods. You may be able to get to the Reynolds’s farm and salvage a vehicle there to get away,” John tells Doc. The old man nods gravely. He knows they’d never make it, but it’s times like these that a little false hope goes a long way.
Derek hugs Sue and his kids, pinches Isaac’s chubby cheek and mounts up. John shakes Doc’s weathered hand and says good-bye to the women. Derek does the same. They all wait for Reagan to do the same. She doesn’t. John has explained to him that she has an aversion to touch, but Kelly had no idea that it ran so deep that she wouldn’t hug her family goodbye in case it is for the last time. She simply stands in front of her family and says nothing. It’s poignant and strange and very much like something she’d do. She nods at the doc and turns to mount her horse, swinging into the saddle without the aid of a stirrup.
She takes the lead on the trail, breaking into an instant trot that the men simulate. John is next in line followed by Billy and Derek. Kelly anchors the group, just like when they were on any mission. Nobody turns around. Soldiers never turn around. They head into the battle without regrets, without fear, without looking back. There’s only one way to go now and that’s forward. But as they turn the last bend before the woods, Kelly glances back. The only person still standing at the fence is the only one who wouldn’t be able to see their progress anyways.
“We’ll need to make it to that ridge before the sun sets completely,” Reagan tells them, pointing. “It’s tricky getting up and over it because it’s steep. We’ll take a different way back that’s easier, but for the ride there this is the fastest route.” Hannah has braided and twisted Reagan’s hair for her until it is smooth and more manageable, less likely to get in her way.
She is wearing head to toe black to be more ready for a nighttime invasion. The three men wear their camouflage pants and have borrowed black shirts from Derek. Kelly’s is second skin tight across his chest and arms, but he’ll manage. Billy is also wearing a black shirt borrowed from Doc, but he wears his own dirty blue jeans. Sue had applied black mascara and green eye makeup to all of their faces to better camouflage them, even Reagan. They will need all the advantages they can muster.
The sun is setting quickly as they make their way up the steep ridge and come into a wide meadow filled with late summer wildflowers. They stay close to the tree line and follow in Reagan’s wake as she disappears onto a narrow path back into the woods. It’s almost disconcerting riding in the dark as they pick their way another five miles to the Reynolds’s farm. But thanks to their military issue, night vision goggles and the ones that Doc had ordered years ago from a mail order catalog because he thought they were “neat,” they are able to see enough to not run their horses into a tree or off a cliff.
“Everybody stop,” Reagan calls back as quietly as she can. She dismounts and everyone follows suit. They tie their horses to trees the way she’s shown them to do this summer during their lessons. They all join her in a cluster.
“We’re about a half mile or maybe a little more from the farm. You go down this ridge and it’ll open up into a big pasture where they turn out the young heifers. Right, Billy?” she asks the young man.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s our back rounding pasture- it’s where we keep the young heifers that aren’t bred yet. Then you’ll come to fencing you’ll have to go through- it’s not electric, though, not anymore- the big barns, silo and the rest are next.”
“Let’s move in closer. I’ll take the lead now, Reagan. You’ll follow me,” John tells her, and surprisingly she doesn’t argue but nods. Everyone collects their ammo, rifles and everything they need from their horses and saddle bags. It is a quiet time. Nobody speaks. It’s always this way, Kelly reflects. He’s a specially trained soldier, and he’s seen it all. And it’s always like this. Men are quiet and pensive before a battle. The only sounds are the checking and re-checking of weapons, metal against metal, the ripping sound of Velcro from their magazine holders as extra clips are being stashed, the clicking off of gun safeties. This is the first time he’s also factored in the nervous nickering of horses. They feel the human nerves kicking in. There is no chatter of men, no talk of football stats, no discussion of hot chicks. There’s nothing left to say.
John helps Reagan with her weapons check and adjusts her radio headset that they’ll all wear, minus Billy, to communicate with each other unless Derek calls for a radio silent initiative. The headsets are part of the few items they’d salvaged from the Hummer they’d brought to the farm and are helpful with a full on attack like this. The look in his friend’s eyes is that of troubled worry which is directed right at Reagan. There’s a permanent deep frown on his normally cheerful face. Even when they were in firefight together, John had never frowned like this. He is preoccupied with worrying about Reagan. He needs to get his head in the game because thinking of anything other than the mission could get any of them killed, but Kelly sure as hell isn’t about to remind him of this. His friend is also an ace shot and a trained killer like himself. Best to not piss him off too much.
Together they move in and come to the open meadow. John signals everyone to stop. He uses a hand signal to show them to get lower and be cautious. They cross about halfway through the meadow where they can see a massive bonfire which nicely backlights the farmhouse. The barns and outbuildings are all laid out exactly as Billy and the doc have told them they are. There are two extra, unaccounted for small sheds near the house which could also prove useful. Luckily for them, there are no other lights on anywhere around the farm, and the grass is tall in the meadow. Halfway across the field, John calls another halt. They all take a knee.
Kelly sees that Billy’s hands are shaking. He can’t be much over twenty or twenty-one. Kelly calmly places his big hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“Take a deep breath, dude. It’s twenty or so of them against four... and a half of us. Good odds if you ask me,” he says quietly referring to Reagan as the half. She frowns at him. Good, keep everyone calm- even though she doesn’t seem all that nervous.
“Real good odds,” John adds in.
“Alright, Reagan’s gonna need a five minute head start, so we should let her go ahead of us. We can spread out across this field toward our assigned spots so we’re not moving as one big target,” Derek explains. Kelly knows he’s doing this for Reagan and Billy’s benefit. “Then we time it on our watches till she’s had enough time to get up that silo and we move in. Reagan, John’s going with you. He’ll carry your rifle and when you get to the silo, he’ll split for the corn crib,” Derek says.
“Wait, that’s not what we went over back at the farm,” Reagan complains. “I don’t need help carrying this.” She’s referring to her Remington rifle with the bad-ass starlight scope.
“Change of plans. We already went over it when you were saddling your horse. This makes more sense. By the time you climb that silo, your arms are gonna be tired. This’ll save your arms some if you don’t have to lug the rifle across the field, too. We need you to have as steady a shot as you can get.”
She doesn’t argue further but nods begrudgingly. Kelly knows why this plan has come to be. John doesn’t want her to be the first one in. He’s right. There may be a stray stoner somewhere, and she could get into trouble before she even reaches the silo.
“Billy, you’ll head in after two minutes, give John a chance to check the perimeter of the silo. Any questions?” Derek asks.
The young man still seems nervous, but he’ll just have to deal with it on his own now. There’s no more time for helping him work it out. They basically just need him to cover Reagan and make sure nobody climbs that silo ladder to go after her. They basically need him to stay out of their way.
Everyone is silent. Derek puts his hand in the middle of their circle; Kelly and John bump his fist. Time for talking and planning is over, long since come and gone. It’s time to move.
John
It’s so easy for her to sprint with him across the meadow because she doesn’t need to stoop since she’s already that low. Plus, she isn’t big enough to make much noise. He’s carrying his M16, her Remington and a shotgun with a sling, plus his sidearm. On his hip is his dagger, another is strapped to his leg inside his boot. Reagan also keeps a dagger on her leg.
They are ten yards from the dairy barn and silo when John catches movement near the back of the barn and freezes. She has seen it, too, and throws herself down in the tall field grasses.
“Shh, hold still,” John whispers. He observes silently at what he now realizes is a solitary man. The man flicks his cigarette to the ground and swigs out of a bottle, presumably not fruit juice. “Stay low, stay behind me.”
Reagan nods as they stand again in a hunched position and double time it to the dairy barn as the perp disappears around the corner. John unsheathes his dagger. Best to take this one as quietly as possible. Reagan stays behind him, holding all three long guns for him and does as she’s told. When they get to the back of the barn, John sneaks around the corner, staying below the cement block line. The metal, mesh-like wiring on the upper half of the wall will give them both away if they stand. He motions for Reagan to stay put, and he makes a quick job of finding and dispatching the first thug by stabbing him directly in the juggler and again in the center chest from behind. He didn’t even know what was coming. And he is courteous enough to die silently.
He retrieves Reagan and they sprint to the silo. If she thinks anything of the dead man lying beside the barn, she says nothing. They don’t run into any more trouble, and when they get to the silo John checks his watch. Only two minutes have passed. It only gives her three minutes to climb.
“You have to double time it up there, Reagan. I’ll wait till you get up and out of site before I leave you. I’ll stay here and cover you till you’re out of view. Wait until you hear the first shot before you start picking them off, ok? Are you sure you can do this?” John whispers.
“Yes,” she whispers back firmly. She fishes into her front pocket and takes something out. Reagan presses it into his hand. It’s a piece of hard candy, mint flavor. Is she worried about fresh breath right now of all times?
“Sugar, for the adrenaline. It’ll calm your nerves, G.I. Joe,” she whispers. Only she could be a smart aleck right now.
“Thanks... I guess,” he answers baffled. She just shrugs at him. “Got your ear piece in so you can talk to us? Just press your fingers to your throat mike to speak.” He’s already explained this and he knows she remembers everything he’s taught her, but he can’t stop the worry. He readjusts her throat microphone one last time.
John hands her rifle to her. She gives him a thumbs-up and moves fast, climbing inside the cage-enclosed, metal ladder; she’s in hummingbird mode. It’s a strange feeling, leaving her like this, but her hands are steady and she shows no signs of being afraid. She could be killed or they could all be killed. This isn’t like any other battle he’s ever been in. He desperately wants to pull her close, to embrace her, to kiss her for the first and maybe last time.
“Be careful, little one,” he says fatalistically. She gives him two quick bobs of her head and disappears up into the dark. John feels a wave of nausea like he’s never felt before. If it wasn’t for needing to be as silent as possible he would retch his dinner where he stands. When he next looks up, Reagan is already half up the tall silo. She’s one fast climber. Another minute and she’s up and over the top. She doesn’t make even the slightest whisper of sound. Billy sprints up beside John to join Reagan at his position at the bottom of the silo. He’s not nearly as quiet as the rest of them. At least this kid will be watching her back so that nobody can climb up there and get her.
Reagan deposited on the silo, John sprints the other way to double back around the perimeter of the barnyards to get to his position at the corncrib. As he trots by the milking parlor, he sees his brother who backs through the doorway in a low shuffle. And when he’s past the equipment shed, where Kelly is squatted, hiding, he gives him a thumbs-up sign, too. There’s another two dead dudes near Kelly, obviously his handiwork. Their odds just keep getting better.
It’s been predetermined that John will fire first. He sneaks between the corn crib, which smells of last year’s harvest of sweet, aged corn cobs; and the equipment shed, which has a smell that he’s grown used to of axel grease and tractor oil. When he reaches the end, he squats. Make yourself as small a target as you can, first rule of a firefight. The house is only about twenty or so yards from his cover buildings, and the partiers in the front yard are in full swing. After consulting his watch, he counts down the last thirty or so seconds just to be sure everyone is on the same time. He knows they are waiting for his signal to fire first. But if he waits too long after the initial five minutes given for Reagan’s ascent, then they’ll start without him, assuming he has been killed. Always stick to the plan and work as a team, second rule of surviving a firefight. Deep breath.