Awakening

[The Stig]

As the boat glided into the inlet off the river Miller knew the Floyd Brothers were going to make their move on him. They had continued their pretense of making a delivery as they anchored the boat slightly offshore. The silence of the cove was startling after hearing the rumbling engine for so long.

He sprawled casually across a seat at the rear of the boat as the two brothers spoke in hushed tones in the cabin.

“Hey, come’ere” one of them called out.

Miller stood, knapsack in hand and cautiously began walking forward.

“Is there a problem?” he asked casually.

Tom Floyd smiled his greasy, toothless smile and there was a strange glint in his eyes. “Yea mac, there is a problem. You’ve got our money. Now hand it over,” he commanded.

Miller noticed the small pistol in David’s hand and the knife in Tom’s as they gestured for him to hand over the knapsack.

Calmly Miller replied, “Boys, we don’t need any trouble here. Let’s just sail on back and part company”.

The other men were standing just outside the small cabin area of the boat while Miller was still in the open rear seating area. Tom stepped forward, knife at the ready, and said in an evil low tone, “mister, you isn’t going back. Now give me the money”. What Tom failed to notice was that had stepped in front of his pistol-wielding brother in the process.

Miller, almost carelessly but suddenly, tossed the knapsack to Tom. Trying to catch the knapsack one handed, while retaining the knife in his other hand, caused him to catch the cloth bag awkwardly. For a brief second he fumbled with the lopsided bag and nearly dropped the knife. Miller didn’t hesitate and, dropping his shoulder, shoved the man backwards as hard as he could.

His timing was perfect and the older brother crashed backwards into the younger, his knife dropping harmlessly to the deck of the boat. David exclaimed “hey” as his brother landed against him. The exclamation was nearly drowned out by the report of the automatic pistol discharging a round into Tom Floyd’s back. The surprise and inertia of his brother crashing into him caused him to involuntarily fire the gun.

David moved backwards to untangle himself from his brothers lifeless body as Miller rose to his feet and scrambled to the side of the boat, just slightly out of view of the younger Floyd brother who was now fully in the small hallway that lead to the cabins. Recovering quickly, David confidently stepped forward knowing Miller had nowhere to hide.

He was right, as he swung outside the hallway Miller was meekly standing there, arms at his side. David raised his small pistol and aimed square at Miller’s chest. “Ya sonofabitch. I’m gonna fuck you up” has all he could spit out in his rage.

“By all means” taunted Miller.

As he pulled the trigger he was surprised when nothing happened. Like in the movies, when the badguy runs out of bullets and keeps pulling the trigger, David Floyd again fruitlessly pulled the trigger. He didn’t realize that firing his pistol while the barrel was directly against his brothers body knocked it out of battery. Unless he racked the slide to chamber another round it would never fire. Almost instinctually he glanced down at his weapon. It would be the last mistake he’d make.

Miller expertly lunged forward, using one hand to guide Floyd’s gun hand to the side and the other to strike the younger brother squarely on the jaw. The pistol clattered to the deck as Floyd was knocked backwards and fell. Miller pounced on top of him and using the all weight of his body he could muster, crushed the other man’s trachea with his forearm. He held pressure against the neck and windpipe until the younger brother quit squirming.

While it wasn’t part of his original plan, it looked like Miller’s group just acquired three boats.

[The Stig]

Flames still licked at the remains of the farmhouse as Caddy and his emergency medic dealt with two injured men. They had been drug far away from the inferno of the farmhouse so the medic could attend to them without fear of a burning house collapsing on them.

As Rick unsteadily wobbled around the corner, still shaken from his experience in the field, he came upon the team medic working feverishly over a wounded man.

Caddy had most of the team searching the outer buildings and securing the area while a designated man communicated with the helicopter that was coming to take the two men to more advanced medical care.

The wounded man, stripped to the waist had a small wound in his upper chest. The ugly purple edges of the upturned skin gave way to a dull gray patch with small smears of blood. Rick was struck by how little blood there was but the gurgling sound of raspy air, wet with liquids, was unmistakable. Rick realized the man had been the one he saw being shot and then drug back behind the vehicles during the fight.

Caddy knelt beside the man and calmly told the man he would survive and help was on the way. For a hard fighting warrior, Caddy truly cared for his men and hated to see them suffer. “Gibbons, stay strong son” advised Caddy as he placed a cool wet cloth across his lips. “The helo’s on the way”.

“Yes sir” mumbled the man. The Fentanyl lollipop in his mouth was already delivering it’s dose of pain killers, easing the mans pan. “Sorry Cappy…….” was all he could mutter.

“You did fine son” Caddy replied as he carefully took his man’s pulse. “Just relax,” he said, as a father would console a son who had just lost the homecoming football game.

“Looks like Gibbons took one to the upper chest. No exit wound that I can tell,” announced the medic as he dug through his bag of supplies. Rick watched him pull a yellowish film from a pouch and after wiping the excess blood from the wound area he expertly slapped it into place. He double-checked to ensure the chest seal had fully covered the wound area. Using a couple pieces of tape to further secure it he triple checked the man’s body for any other hidden wounds. As far as he could tell there were none.

“Let’s keep him still until the bird gets here, then we can carry him over” directed the team medic.

“How far out is the bird?” yelled Caddy to the man coordinating the arrival of the chopper. After a short delay the man held up all ten fingers.

Turning back to his man Caddy continued on, “Ok Gibbons. You are good to go now. Bird will be here pronto. Just hold on son”. Caddy had lost men before, and they always took a horrible toll on his conscious.

Sensing a break in the situation he asked about the other wounded man who was sitting a couple yards away.

“He’ll be fine for the most part. Horrible scar though. Took a round through the meat of his thigh ripping open a wicked gash. He bled like a stuck pig so after putting on a tourniquet, I packed the wound with quick clot gauze, placed a pressure dressing over it and an Israeli compression bandage over that. I marked the tourniquet time and other info on his wound tag”.

Rick glanced over to see the white laminated placard hanging from the man’s chest. They had all been trained in emergency combat medical care and been issued full individual first aid kits. Aperture Consulting was one of the more cutting edge contracting firms that wanted to give their men the best tools possible. The placard had basic information so those who would tend to him next would have the information they needed.

The medic continued, “he’s may have nerve damage but mostly he should be fine”.

Turning their attention back to Gibbons, the medic noticed his shortness of breath and him grasping at his chest despite being in a narcotic fueled haze.

“Aw damn” exclaimed the medic. “He’s got a tension pneumothorax.” He immediately fished around in his bag looking for something.

Caddy noticed Rick’s confused look and volunteered, “air in the chest wall collapses the lung. It won’t re-inflate”.

The medic drew out a stout looking needle from his bag and probed Gibbon’s chest looking for his second rib. “Caddy, put that lollipop back in his mouth” he directed. Finding the spot he wanted, he rubbed an alcohol pad on the area. Rick stood transfixed, having never seen anything like this before.

The medic pressed the needle deep into the man’s chest. Even over the commotion going on around them, Rick clearly heard the whoosh of air leaving the man’s chest. Giving it a second to ensure Gibbon’s breathing returned to normal he then removed the needle and jammed it deep into the ground. Using some tape he secured the catheter that remained in Gibbon’s chest to ensure it wouldn’t become dislodged.

“Rick” the medic suddenly commanded, “go check out Charlie’s wound dressing. Make sure there’s no blood seeping through it. If there is call me. If not, let him suck some water from a bandage and talk to him. He’s coherent”.

Turning to Caddy, “That kid was in combat? He looks like a deer just before the semi-truck turns it into highway hamburger. I sent him over to Charlie so he wouldn’t barf on me”.

Caddy glanced over at Rick and then back to the medic. “Yea, I don’t know about him at all….”

The distinctive sound of helicopter rotors boomed over the horizon as the medievac chopper moved towards their positions.

The medic instantly sprung into action. “Ok, Caddy, cover up his chest with a jacket or something. Once the bird lands we’re going to carry Gibbon’s over. Get some other guys to help.” Caddy responded immediately, being a smart enough solder to know the medic was in charge of the scene despite Caddy’s rank.

“Rick” the medic yelled over. “We’re taking Gibbons first. Be right behind us with Charlie. He’ll need help to walk.”

Soon the chopper was moving into a hover in the clearing behind what once was a farmhouse. All the men worked together to help their friends move towards more advanced medical care. Like a scene out of Viet Nam, Gibbons was carried in a poncho liner by six men and carefully slid into the floor of the bird. Rick, despite his nausea soon led Charlie into the back of the bird.

All the men cleared the area as the engines strained to return the helicopter to its unstable dance across the sky. Rick wondered how more of the choppers didn’t crash to the ground as they defied physics.

As soon as the helo cleared out the medic was on the radio giving the in-flight medics a rundown on the two men and the medical attention they had received thus far.

All of the men, Caddy included, starting feeling the letdown as the crisis ebbed to a conclusion. The medic, gloves and jacket covered in blood, began picking up his bags and gear. The other men milled about as they completed their duties. Rick finally regrouped with his men and began, somewhat shakily, to find out what happened when they stormed the barn.

“Alright everybody” Caddy bellowed. “Let’s get back to the ranch and figure out what the fuck went wrong”.

[The Stig]

Dink and DeMetrie had only met once before, and that was only for a few brief minutes. But they were similar men of similar natures. While Dink was more likely to crack a joke they were cut from the same cloth when it came to tactics and being vicious. Dink was not a military man, he was just a good ole boy who knew how to handle himself.

“So Captain” Dink said as he leaned back in a chair, “what sorta message are we going to send?” The candlelight that illuminated the room danced across the ceiling.

Barnes, Lowry and Reynolds kept in the background as they cleaned weapons and loaded magazines. Reverend Barnes had been loading ammunition to augment the stockpiles they had been able to accumulate. It was tedious work, but Lowry and Reynolds had tutored him on the various shortcuts to speed up the process.

The addition of Barnes to the mix really helped the team. He was able to do the more time consuming tasks like load ammunition so the rest of the team could plan, rest and eat. He actually relished the role.

The ammunition-loading role was more vital than he realized. While they had a healthy stock of factory loaded ammunition, if their situation dragged on, or they needed to supply other team members the stockpile would dwindle quickly.

DeMetrie was acutely aware that while they had decent supplies now, that situation wouldn’t last forever.

“We don’t want to get drawn into a conventional fight. We don’t have the manpower or resources. So we keep up the ambushes and bombings,” stated the Captain.

“I like sneaky” replied Dink.

“One of Sergeant Lowry’s many fans passed on that the contractors are expecting a plane load of supplies and equipment at the airport tomorrow. You know much about the airport?”

Smiling Dink replied, “Good layout, nice tree line and hillside to provide cover. All the hangers and buildings are clustered together. Really only one road in and out”.

Dabbing up some water he had spilled, DeMetrie frowned. “Almost too good to be true. And we’re not going to have enough time for proper recon. Might be risky”

Lowry finally spoke without looking up from the rifle he was cleaning. “Captain, we know when the plane lands. We could stage a diversion. Now that Dink’s here we can split up two and two and still get the job done.”

Reynolds nodded in agreement.

DeMetrie really didn’t like the idea of splitting his forces. They weren’t much of a force anyway, and couldn’t afford diluting their strength. But hitting a supply airplane would make a big splash.

Never one to dally too long DeMetrie made his decision. “Ok, we plan this down to the nub. No winging it. Mr. Barnes you better join in the party too”.

Barnes, somewhat surprised to be included, eagerly joined the table as the men began to plan their mission.

It was well into the night before DeMetrie was satisfied with their plan. “Ok, get some rack time” he directed to his men. After Barnes, Lowry and Reynolds Dink and the Captain remained behind in silence. Each man lost in his thoughts. DeMetrie went over the plan for the hundredth time, looking for any flaw or oversight that could endanger his men. Dink wondered what Maggie was doing and if she understood his absence.

“Tell you what Captain” Dink said, finally breaking the silence. “This is a hellofa mess we’re in”.

All Mike DeMetrie could do was agree. The odds were against them pulling off their next attack, let alone surviving a prolonged conflict with the contractors. Part of him prayed Miller secured transportation so they could all head off to Wyoming and forget this mess.

****

Rick laid in his bunk at the high-school across the square from the Shelton City Hall. He could just barely see over the sandbags that lined the tall windows. Caddy had them put in place when the attack against the contracts began in earnest. We watched the trees sway in the light breeze and lights dance across the moonlight square.

He desperately tried to fall asleep but his mind was spinning. Every time he tried to sleep the eyes of the man he had killed invaded his thoughts. Before long several hours had passed as he lay staring out the tiny crack in the window. Those eyes haunted him.

He was lost after he got back from a tour of duty in the Middle East. He never experienced combat, always being behind the wire in more of a service role. Despite his lack of direct combat experience, Werner had decided to take a chance on the young man. It was clear to all involved that he just wasn’t cut out for this line of work.

It was Caddy that saved his life. Werner was fully prepared to ship him off to a work camp in the swamp to be held for an indefinite time. Since Donovan had opened them the camps had swelled as people were sent there for crimes real and imagined. He used the free labor to begin stockpiling various goods that may be needed if the conflict in the north spilled over into the Southern Zone.

All throughout history there have been examples of people, given a small amount of power over those who can’t defend themselves, running amok and abusing the responsibility. Those lording over the camps were no different. It didn’t take long before “residents” were disappearing or severally injured. It wasn’t uncommon for work parties to go out into a swamp and come back missing several people. In short, the camps were spiraling out of control.

Much like the incident with the contractors, word of the camps was starting to spread through the countryside. First it was a whisper of strange happenings. Then rumors flowed of how friends and acquaintances had disappeared. Before long people were taking it for granted that the camps existed and you did not want to find yourself an inhabitant of one.

Caddy, the soldier’s solider, went to bat for Rick. While it was obvious this wasn’t the right line of work for the kid, there was no sense throwing away someone that might be useful in other ways. He convinced Werner to allow Rick to simply walk away and be a potential asset down the road.

The truth was, Caddy just couldn’t bring himself to sentence the kid to death. When it came to fighting there was no warrior fiercer than Caddy. You did not want to be his enemy. The reality was Rick was not the enemy. He was a kid looking for where he fit into life. It was not unlike Caddy when he joined the Marines all those years ago.

The minutes turned to hours as Rick played the shooting at the farm over and over in his mind. Every second. Every detail. Occasionally he was sure he smelled the field and heard the crackle of the firing consuming the farmhouse. Like a never ending tape the scene played though his mind. If those men had just stopped running. Or run a different direction. Or if his weapon had malfunctioned. There were a hundred different things that would have prevented Rick from having to take the life of men he had never met.

He finally took solace that he was flying out of town on the supply plane the next day and he wouldn’t have to be in that situation ever again.


****

A dense gray mist descended over the entire county rendering the landscape into a patchwork of gray as light was blocked from reaching earth. The mist and fog added an eerie dimension to everything as visibility would be lost or gained within seconds.

Greg sat on the front porch of the farmhouse, drinking coffee, as his daughter got ready to walk over to the farm office to begin her daily routine.

“Doesn’t look good,” he said as he sat down in a chair to spend a couple minutes with him. She had a busy day ahead of her but always made time so she wouldn’t take her father for granted. Time was starting to run out for the old man and she didn’t want to miss a second of it.

“No, this isn’t good at all” she agreed.

Sipping his coffee and looking off towards nothing in particular he said, “DeMetrie won’t call it off. If anything, this helps him.” DeMetrie had made a quick visit prior to the men leaving for their mission to attack the contractors. He always made sure Greg and Clarissa knew where just in case people came snooping around. A suitable cover story had been hatched long ago.

‘Dad, how is this going to play out? Those men are taking big risks, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it”. Clarissa Donner wasn’t one to turn tail and run, but at the same time she knew that sometimes coming back for a fight on a different day was better than never coming back at all.

His answer surprised her. “Sweetie. Men are going to die. No two ways about it. But what Donovan is doing isn’t right. Sometimes you have to do what’s right even if it don’t make sense.”

She walked over, kissed his forehead and walked to work with a terrible foreboding about what would transpire that day.

[The Stig]

It was well into the morning as the pilot circled above the single runway of Shelton’s airport. He had flown in from Florida with a load of supplies and would leave with some documents and a passenger. Donovan had people coordinating supply flights to augment what the contracting firms could do for themselves. Some of the flights were military, and many of the smaller ones were other contracted firms. He was spending a lot of Federal assistance money that he had deftly convinced President Alan he needed to make sure his area was a secure as possible on the program.

Glancing out the window he saw a break in the stubborn fog and decided that it was worth taking a chance to land. He radioed the tower regarding his intentions and began maneuvering the plane into a crosswind approach to the airport.
The twin engine Piper Navajo responded as he eased the throttle back to begin losing altitude. The aircraft had all the advanced navigation equipment one could imagine along with a small cargo door. This made it ideal for ferrying in miscellaneous equipment to some of the smaller and more remote areas. Today’s delivery was mostly first aid supplies and radios.

Expertly transitioning back and forth between the instruments and the outside world the pilot began the turn to the downwind portion of his approach. If luck held, and the gap in the fog didn’t close up he’d be on the ground in a few minutes.

****

One of Aperture Consulting’s M35 six wheeled trucks slowed as it approached a series of turns in a road eight miles to the east of Shelton. Werner had purchased several of the trucks to move large amounts of men or material and they augmented their fleet of SUV’s and pickup trucks nicely.

The driver, his assistant and the small team of contractors following behind in an SUV was heading out to the north east corner of the county to take a load of ammunition and other sundry supplies to the small outpost Werner had established there. He had placed the base there to help manage the collection of small towns in the area and act as a forward staging area for operations. He dispatched the truck to deliver the food and ammo they would need for prolonged operations against any troublemakers.

The road was just one of the millions of small, lane and a half sized roads that crossed the south like ribbons. For the next quarter mile the truck would slow as it maneuvered the turns and then finally cross a one-lane bridge before hitting a long straight away. The contractors were fully aware the turns were a perfect spot for an ambush. The misty fog didn’t help their anxiety.

As the truck would slow for a turn the tailing SUV would slow accordingly to avoid becoming too bunched up. All of the eyes in both vehicles, short of the drivers, were scanning the adjacent roadway for any signs of trouble.

****

Just after the Navajo had turned to the final approach the fog closed back in. Cursing the pilot moved the throttles forward, raised the nose and calmly announced a missed approach over the radio.

As he climbed out over the field he though to himself he’d give it another fifteen minutes then he’d divert.

The fact was he was dieing to use the restroom.

****

The driver of the duce and a half truck breathed a sigh of relief as he worked his way through the gears after negotiating the last stretch of curves before the bridge. The contractors were keenly aware of the attacks against them and fully expected something to happen in the turns while they were moving so slowly.

Turning to his assistant the driver commented that they were almost home free as he aimed the front wheels of the truck at the small bridge. In a couple more seconds he could jam the accelerator, as much as the old truck could accelerate, and get out of the area.

Had the driver not turned his head at that instant, and distracted the assistant, they stood a slight chance of seeing the two small black boxes about a quarter of the way across the bridge deck. While remote, they may have been able to slam on the brakes and avoid crossing the small light beam that one box shot across the bridge deck towards the other box, containing a reflector.

This simple arrangement, stolen from a residential garage door safety system, served to seal their doom. As the wheels of the big truck broke the light beam a small electrical signal was transmitted along a wire that ran beneath the bridge.

The Captain had authorized the use of some of the C4 explosives they had stolen from the military when they left so many months ago. They had been hording it and using other improvised explosives in their other attacks to conserve what they had of the military grade materials. As the electrical charge reached the detonator it served to explode the C4 explosives, which were nestled between several residential propane tanks, common to millions of barbecue grills across the country.

The explosion was deafening and clearly heard in the outskirts of Shelton. As the bridge deck simply vaporized the large truck was hurtled nearly ten feet into the air before slamming back down, on it’s side, in the shallow creek bed. Truck parts and contents were sent flying in all directions, some as far as several miles.

Traveling behind the truck, just coming out of the last turn, the SUV slammed on its brakes and pulled off the side of the road to avoid being stuck in the open. As the occupants threw open the doors a hail of gunfire slammed into the truck from the opposite side of the road. The driver had broken to the right and fortuitously chosen the side away from Reynolds and Lowry. Had he swerved left they would have been nearly on top of the men and stood no chance of exiting the vehicle.

The SUV provided some cover as the occupants on the far side spilled out. The man in the backseat was able to crawl across the seat and crash out, nearly on top of another contractor, in his hurry to find cover. The driver, however, trapped by some gear that hung up on the steering wheel never stood a chance. Reynolds cleanly shot him, through the door, with enough rounds to ensure he’d hit his target.

One of the other contractors made the mistake of leaning too far from the end of the vehicle in an attempt to locate Reynolds and Lowry. Lowry, who was positioned more towards the curves quickly dispatched him.

Even over the gunfire and ringing from the explosion, Reynolds could clearly hear one of the men screaming frantically into his radio for help. He smiled knowing that forces, only eight miles away in Shelton, would converge on their location. Their instructions were to draw in as many other contractors as possible and so far the plan was going smoothly.

[The Stig]

The pilot of the Navajo was once again on final approach as the mercurial fog presented him another opening. Instead of flying a formal pattern approach, he immediately dove towards the airport at the first sign of an opening. He wasn’t going to miss his chance again and it wasn’t like there were other recreational flyers boring holes in the sky.

As he bled off airspeed the plane continued to sink closer and closer to the ground. Making sure he didn’t allow his aircraft to enter an aerodynamic stall he monitored the instruments closely as the end of the runway got larger and large in the windscreen.

Glancing up towards the far end of the runway to ensure he was still lined up he sensed it was time to flare the aircraft. His five thousand hours of experience guided him as he eased the yoke back and cut the throttle slightly. He felt the wheels make contact and chirp as the plane momentarily shuttered.

He announced over the radio he was leaving the active runway heading towards the hanger area. Through the windshield he could see several men maneuvering a pickup truck, ostensibly to offload his cargo. Using his toes to work the brakes he deftly worked the throttles to smoothly propel the plane forward. Soon he saw the lone man, with a large duffle bag and several backpacks, standing, somewhat forlornly, near the side of the truck. Clearly that was to be his passenger.

Taxiing up to a spot near the truck he shut down the engines and secured the plane. After several hours in the air he awkwardly maneuvered himself out of the pilots seat and opened the cargo doors.

“Is this Air America?” said one of the men on the ground.

“I wish. This is more like Air Istanbul”. They all laughed politely at the bad joke. “All the stuff you guys need is in those bags” he said pointing backwards as he climbed down. “You guys grab them. I need the head before I wet my pants.”

The passenger hung back awaiting his ride out of town.

****

As Rick waited for Air Istanbul to whisk him off to a new beginning, Reynolds and Lowry worked to keep the two contractors pinned down until their cavalry arrived. Their plan was to break contact at the first sign of the reinforcements and haul ass out of the area.

It didn’t take long before another SUV came screaming through the curves, nearly tipping over in some curves, to help support the trapped contractors. Lowry, who had the cleanest shot calmly placed round after round through the windshield until the truck nearly flipped over. Engine racing it slammed back down on both wheels, which only served to cause the engine to die. Several contractors attempted to stagger out of the truck but they were fully exposed. While Reynolds kept the two original contractors busy Lowry slowly and calmly shot the others.

Before the last shot rang out the sounds of more engines penetrated the mist. The time had come for Reynolds and Lowry to exit stage left. Reynolds gave the signal and Lowry quickly disappeared into the underbrush.

Throwing one of their coveted smoke grenades towards the first SUV Reynolds in turn slid off the side of the embankment and began making his way through the underbrush heading off towards the motorbike they had hidden a short distance away.

As Lowry made his way through the underbrush he was surprised when a group of contractors suddenly appeared in a small clearing. What he and Reynolds didn’t know where that several more trucks of contractors were behind the first rescue truck Lowry had perforated. One load of contractors started working behind the roadways in an attempt to trap anybody who might be exiting the area.

Spotting the men, who were in the process of raising their rifles to fire, Lowry dove behind a large fallen tree. He hit the ground milliseconds before rounds started thumping the tree and ground around him.

****

“Please put your trays and seatbacks in the full, upright position” the pilot said across the intercom. He had invited his passenger to enjoy the flight from the front seat. They’d have a couple hours flying time and the pilot could use the company.

Rick smiled back as the pilot smoothly pushed the throttles forward and the engines roared to full power in response. He could feel the plane lurch forward and begin to accelerate down the runway and freedom from this dismal town begin inching closer and closer.

The pilot monitored his instruments as the plane picked up speed. At the ready, in the event he needed to abandon the takeoff, he waited until they reached the required speed to gently pullback on the yoke to start the process of climbing into the air.
The pilot said, “Here we go” as he began pulling the yoke towards him. As the control surfaces moved in concert, the airflow changed creating the lift to begin pulling the aircraft away from the concrete runway. The nose of the aircraft rose as the entire airplane tilted upwards and the nose-wheel broke contact with the runway. Seconds later the oleos of the main gears extended to their limits as the plane transitioned into full flight.

At that exact instant the side windshield suddenly cracked and spidered as automobile glass might when hit by a rock. The pilot exclaimed as more holes began appearing and Rick felt something whooshing past him like angry hornets.

“What the fuck!” the pilot called out as he pushed the throttles forward to their stops.

“Are you hit?” asked Rick.

Sweat had already beaded on his forehead as the pilot yelled out. “My leg. Something hit my leg”

Confusion reigned as the pilot struggled to guide the aircraft into the air while his leg screamed in agony. Suddenly red lights appeared on the instrument panels as the right side engine suddenly coughed and died. This only magnified the pilot’s workload as the plane both lost thrust and quickly became unbalanced due to the huge dead weight of the shattered engine.

“Do something,” yelled out Rick as the pilot, already turning pale from the blood loss, struggled with the controls.

“Tower, this is Whisky five niner”….he was able to gasp into the microphone before suddenly grunting and slumping forward. Rick could hear the pinging of something impacting the side of the aircraft. He could only assume they were bullets and the pilot had been hit again. This assumption was confirmed when the cockpit was filled with a fine red mist and we was covered in bits and pieces of the skull and brain matter of what used to be the pilot’s head.

The aircraft, with one engine dead, and barely enough airspeed to stay aloft, was now completely out of control. Rick instinctually pulled back on the yoke as hard as he could which only served to worsen the situation.

The plane, cockpit and engine in tatters, slammed back into the ground, nose first, in a crumpled heap of shattered metal and aluminum. Instantly bursting into flame, the aircraft soon began consuming itself.

[The Stig]

Lowry was stuck. The four contractors were closing in and he was running out of options. The decision to move back to the motorbike separately wasn’t tactically wise and he was about to pay for their poor choice.

Reynolds, only fifty yards away through the thick underbrush, had already started moving towards Lowry’s position when he heard the gunfire from a new direction. But he had problems of his own to contend with. While he tried to move through the thick tangle of trees, bushes, vines and thorns, the contractors from the roadway realized they had withdrawn and begin pursuing him. Every step he took towards Lowry was a step closer six contractors came to him.

Knowing the risks he pressed on towards his buddy. He and Lowry had survived all sorts of Middle Eastern hellholes and ambushes. He wasn’t going to leave his friend behind.

Reynolds, had just cleared into a small opening about twenty five yards from the tree offering Lowry his scant cover. He had to dive backwards and to the side to avoid the hail of rifle rounds from several of the contractors that were closing on Lowry’s position.

“Hold on Lowry” he yelled into his radio microphone. He knew the situation was bad, and the contractors from the roadway were nearly on top of him. He tried to find some way to break cover and put rounds towards the contractors near Lowry. If he could do that they might get out of this yet.

As rounds whizzed past him he heard his radio key. As he was staining to find a way to shoot back at the contractors he heard Lowry’s voice, calm and flat, “Reynolds. I’ll cover you. Go. Now. It’s an order”.

It took his brain a second to process what his Sergeant was telling him. He was shaken from his confusion as he heard Lowry’s rifle open up and a loud scream coming from his direction. The rounds stopped hitting around him.

Reynolds, knowing that his friend was providing him an escape quickly vaulted to his feet. Glancing back quickly he saw Lowry, kneeling behind the tree, exchanging rounds with the contractors who were nearly on top of him. Even the contractor that was shooting at him had turned his attention towards Lowry.

Knowing that he had a fraction of a second he sprinted forward with every ounce of energy he could muster. The contractors from the road were seconds from being able to see him. Ignoring thorns that tore at his skin, and vines that threatened to trip him, he pushed on to cover the short distance to the motorbike that served as his means of escape.

He heard the rifle fire die down in the background as he frantically pulled the bike up from underneath the leaf-covered tarp used to hide it. Jumping on he kicked the starter and prayed it would fire the first time.

The small engine sprung to life and he wasted no time as he lurched forward. Despite being only twenty yards ahead of the contractors they had drifted off line towards the scene of the gun battle with Lowry giving Reynolds the time he needed to escape.

Soon he had covered enough ground that he could start carefully navigating down some lonely country roads. Ever vigilant for a truckload of contractors, or a roadblock he pressed on back towards their compound. It would be several hours before he got back to The Farm.

Sam Reynolds was a hardened combat veteran, but the Corporal that looked oddly like Cuba Gooding Junior couldn’t help but have tears in his eyes.

****

After effecting their escape from the hillside near the Shelton airport Dink and Captain DeMetrie covered the ground towards their equally hidden motorcycle. Their escape had been far easier. Between the confusion over Reynolds & Lowry’s diversionary attack, and the suddenness of their own, the few contractors at the airport stood no chance of finding them, let alone engaging them.

“Damnit” said Dink as the quickly and carefully navigated through the woods. “I burnt the hell out of my hand on that suppressor”

Their plan had been simple. They laid in wait on the hill just to the side of the lone runway at Shelton’s airport. Using suppressed rifles to conceal their location both men poured as many rifle rounds as possible into the aircraft just as it was taking off. DeMetrie focused on the engine while Dink aimed what he could at the cockpit area. Their choice of vantage point was a good one and they were more or less directly across from the point where the aircraft was rotating for takeoff.

Hitting a moving target isn’t all that easy. To compensate, both men used the fully automatic selection on their rifles to launch as many projectiles as possible in the small window allotted to them. Their rifles had been perched atop backpacks to steady them an a small stack of magazines stood at the ready to increase the firepower at their disposal. They weren't even sure they could bring down the aircraft, but felt it was worth the try for such a high value target.

Soon they got back to their cached escape vehicle. They began the long journey back to the farm to swap war stories with Lowry and Reynolds.

****

“What the hell happened?” demanded Greg Donner from Captain DeMetrie. The Captain had just dropped the bombshell on the Donners about what happened to Lowry. He wasn’t over it either, but he assumed his command face and carried on in the way he had so many times before. It never got any easier.
Clarrisa Donner sat in stunned silence, face ashen with remorse. She knew there was danger and she knew the risks they were taking. Reality often hits like a freight train and this case was no different.

“It would appear that the opposition got on scene faster than we anticipated. According to Reynolds, they got separated and they backfilled on Lowry” said the Captain. While his voice was even and flat, his heart was nearly broken. This was the second of his Sergeants he had lost in this backwoods intergovernmental pissing match.

The room was dimly light. The group had once again assembled in the upstairs room of the Donner house it what had become part conference center, part command center and part refuge. Candles lit the room and the light flickered oddly across everyone’s face.

Greg finally broke the silence. “We have to get more people involved in this deal. You guys can’t carry the brunt of this forever.”

“Miller will be back tomorrow,” said DeMetrie. “Then we’ll figure out the next step here. We can’t just go door to door asking people if they want to join a resistance”.

“As long as you know what you are doing, “ grumbled the old man. He knew there was little they could do but didn’t like the situation at all.

“If yall don’t mind me saying so,” interjected Dink, “we have a bigger problem here”.

All eyes in the room turned to the ex-sheriff’s deputy turned freedom fighter.

“They are going to identify Lowry’s body. Once they do, it’s a matter of time before they connect him to Green Acres here”. The statement hung in the air as everybody contemplated the ramifications.

“Dinks right” Greg agreed. “Between military and electronic records, and the information they gathered when they came to the farm it won’t take them long to point back in this direction.”

“How long do we have” asked DeMetrie.

“Best I recon, couple days. Tops” hypothesized Dink. “If we are lucky’.

DeMetrie sprung to action. “Donners, you prepare supplies you’d need to take with you to evacuate the farm. Travel light. It’s you two only. Sorry, but the other employees are on their own. You’ll leave with us”.

“What” said Clarrisa. “Leave the farm?” She knew it was an eventuality but hearing the words turned her blood cold.

DeMetrie was not to be side tracked from his orders after all those years in the military had conditioned him to give orders not work in a committee. “Mr. Barnes is going to move in for a while. He’ll serve as watch and assist with a trip to our compound if the need arises. Reynolds will prepare our gear and transport to get us to what Miller has arranged.”

“Greg, make sure you destroy what you need to destroy and bring any cash, papers or equipment you can’t live without. Keep it light”. Greg nodded his understanding. “Have it ready no later than tomorrow morning. Use the phone and someone will come pick it up and pre-stage it at our place.”

“Clarissa, Barnes will be here tonight. You cook up a cover story to explain his presence if anybody asks. Once Miller returns and we know where we’re going I’ll deal with the logistics.”

Continuing in his smooth but not rushed cadence, “we need an early warning system so we know if vehicles roll down that drive way. We’d at least have some warning then. Who wants it?” Greg again nodded.

“Mr. Roberts and I will put together some diversions to try to keep our friends busy the next couple of days. That might buy us some time.” As was his custom, DeMetrie looked in the eyes of everyone in the room to ensure they heard his direction and had no questions.

“Captain,” came the heavily accented interjection from Dink Roberts. “There is one other thing yall should consider.”

“Yes?”

“We could always hit them, hit them hard and do it before they expect anything”. Despite the obvious risks involved, Dink beamed from ear to ear.

“Mr. Roberts” said the battle hardened Captain. “I like the way you think”.

[The Stig]

Across the country the political situation continued to spiral out of control. Crutchfield’s forces capitalized on their victory at the battle of Franklin by driving westward and essentially capturing nearly all of the state of Ohio and Western Pennsylvania. This placed the Federal forces, still aligned with President Alan, in Eastern Pennsylvania and West Virginia in grave danger. Crutchfield could now attack into eastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey without fear of exposing their flank.

And that’s just what the treasonous Generals from the North East did. Within days they thrust into the area in three main columns. The fighting was fiercer than before when battles were fought between mismatched troops and without proper support from aircraft or artillery. There it was more like a rolling bar-fight. In the east, the fighting took on the feel of the Russian plains in the 1940’s where larger formations advanced under the watchful eye of aircraft and following a thunderous pounding from the ground shaking artillery. Battles were bigger, more intense and consumed more lives.

Crutchfield played his cards well. While he knew he couldn’t afford large slugging matches for long, he played on President Alan’s apparent obsession with protecting the Washington DC area. This allowed him to both gain ground and tie down large numbers of the President’s resources in a confined area.

The same commander that had engineered the breakout at Franklin was working on a new plan. This one was more bold and on a grander scale than his previous operation. With Crutchfield’s blessing he was putting the details together for a thrust to push into Kentucky and Tennessee. This would serve to further encircle the mass of President Alan’s combat forces that had pulled back from their original positions into the Virginia’s and Maryland.

Augmenting his men with troops from the captured areas that came over to the Crutchfield side, the commander would have just enough forces to make the push, assuming the rest of the President’s combat troops stayed pinned down in the east.

And Crutchfield had another card to play. Since the battlelines were being drawn along political ideologies, a great many of the politicians from the Chicago area were pledging their support for his movement. Should this drive to the south be successful, they would cast their lot in with Jackson Crutchfield and lend whatever men and material they could muster from their areas. The key to his success was gaining ground, and more importantly, manpower.

It was important that this southern drive be successful for yet other reasons. Interests not friendly to America had pledged naval assets to Crutchfield’s cause should he gain enough ground. A navy was one thing he was not able to acquire when he turned on his country, as there just weren’t any naval assets in his sphere of influence. The situation was different there and no naval units of significance had pledged support to Crutchfield. The one area where President Alan had shown some resolve was ensuring that ships of the US Navy were far away from the North Eastern states once this trouble started brewing.

Should his move to drive a stake in the heart of the eastern US be successful, other interests would move to ensure his states were not blockaded and supplies could continue to flow into the area.

The time for President Alan to act, and act boldly was now. If he failed to act, and Crutchfield’s latest plan succeeded, the state of the union might forever be in jeopardy.


****
Barnes and Reynolds quietly cleaned and assembled gear. The Captain had called from the house indicating they might have another operation soon and the gear and weapons had to be readied.

Reynolds had lost friends before. He’d seen men die and held them in his arms as life slipped out of them. But losing Lowry, after losing a different Sergeant earlier was a big blow. Reynolds struggled when he first arrived in country when the unit was in the Middle East. He couldn’t adjust, couldn’t find a rhythm and wasn’t screwed on straight. Both Sergeant’s took the time to help him get unstuck. They saw the potential in him as a solider and helped him get through the rough learning phase of combat.

Now, they were both gone.

Reynold’s pushed that to the back of his mind while he maliciously cleaned rifles and loaded magazines. For his part, Reverend Barnes tried to strike up a conversation with battle weary Corporal but soon realized it wasn’t in the cards.

They quietly assembled the gear as they awaited the return of their Captain.

****

As the evening wore into early morning the group was exhausted. They had planned and schemed all evening to work out the details of both a possible evacuation and quick strike on the contractors. Clarissa said little except with the occasional suggestion. DeMetrie and Dink did most of the planning with assistance from Greg.

Despite the odd group assembled, they worked together fairly well. As dawn was breaking they finally came to the realization there wasn’t much left to do. Miller would be back and as soon as he arrived they’d launch the operation.

What Clarissa didn’t grasp was what DeMetrie and Dink had in mind had the potential to turn into a last stand rather than a decisive victory. All three men in the room fully recognized that four men against much larger numbers was a tall order. Surprise and experience notwithstanding the odds were against them all returning.

Sergeant Lowry’s loss wasn’t likely to be the last one before this mess was over.

****

It turned out be a very busy day for the contractors in the employment of Aperture Consulting. By late afternoon the operational tempo had reached a near manic pace.

The first incident was an attack on a roadblock just outside Lumberton. Several armed men fired on contractors as they were stopping cars and inspecting the passengers. Nobody was hurt, with the exception of the paintjob of an SUV. Before the contractors could regroup and pursue the men they vanished into the thick woods.

At nearly the same time another small explosion took place near the gas station DeMetrie’s men had destroyed. The attack was another hit-and-run and by the time contractors patrolling in the area arrived on scene none of the attackers could be found, save some motorcycle tracks in the mud.

In the far North Eastern corner there was a combined attack. A small attack hit the forward base that Werner had established with some harassing gunfire. Once again the attackers melted into the woods. Just outside of one of the various small towns in the area, however, there was a major firefight as some contractors raided another farm. Just as they were approaching the house attackers appeared from the distant woods and engaged them in battle.

It was a futile attempt, however, as the attackers fielded low grade, outdated weapons against modern military models in the hands of experienced men. One of the attackers died when his HighPoint pistol failed as he prepared to shoot a contractor. As the man glanced down to figure out why his pistol wouldn’t fire, the contractor calmly shot the man to death.

All told, four attackers died and the contractors found signs that others had escaped.

At lunch someone tossed a firebomb in one of the trucks parked just down the street from Shelton’s City Hall, the central headquarters of the entire county. The few witnesses either saw nothing or gave wildly conflicting accounts of what took place. The only casualty: one burned out truck.

Another patrol of contractors was hit by well-aimed rifle fire as they drove down a backcountry road on the way to investigate anonymous reports of a weapons cache in the extreme southern end of the county. The contractors, as they were well trained to do, immediately left their vehicle to seek cover. As they did, a wall of gunshots collapsed on them. In the brief three-minute fight, all four contractors were killed.

A short while later a drunken man attempted to run a checkpoint some contractors had established just outside Shelton. When contractors cornered him, he attempted to open fire with the aim only double vision can provide. A hail of bullets pummeled his car and rendered both it and the driver inoperable.

Things seemed to subside somewhat after an improvised explosive demolished a small building outside Lumberton that contractors were using to store some equipment. Like many of the other attacks, the perpetrators disappeared long before the contractors could respond.

[The Stig]

The tired and dirty group of men reassembled at the farm. The mean wearily trudged into the building and began stowing their gear after a long day of racing around the country to various locations.

They just wanted to rest and eat a meal. Captain Mike DeMetrie had other plans.

“Ok boys. Take ten minutes, but then we have to start gearing up for the main show tonight. It will be dark soon”. Reynolds groaned but complied, the result of years of military order. Dink made a wisecrack but too complied.

“Mr. Barnes” said the Captain. “Did you ready the equipment?”

“Yes sir” he said eagerly. “All of the fresh packs are assembled in the main room, ready for you guys to inspect. Want to make sure I did them right.”

“And you loaded all of the magazines?” continued the questioning. For what they had planned, DeMetrie didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

”Captain” interjected Dink has he massaged his bare feet. “What about Miller?”

The Captain, attending to his own personal needs, looked over. “If he gets back in time he’s going. We’ll need the manpower. If not, we have to give it a go without him. We can’t delay this.”

Dink agreed. He hoped Miller would get back in time. In addition to the extra manpower, it would be nice to ride out in a blaze of glory with a friend.

“Dinner is almost ready,” said Barnes. “It’s not much, but Clarissa brought over a few things to make it a little better.”

“You know, for a Reverend, you are turning into a hellofa supply sergeant,” quipped Dink.

Smiling the Captain restored order. “You’ve got ten to chow, hit the head, and refresh your mess. Then we gear up, review the plan, and roll”.

All of the men, Dink included, replied with a crisp “yes sir”. Mike DeMetrie was the sort of leader than men naturally responded to.

****

Werner and Caddy were having a long day of their own as they inspected the scene of the four dead contractors.

“It appears the attackers were stationed here and there,” said the contractor pointing to a spot across the road. “These guys knew what they were doing,” he continued. “Well placed shots, no wasted ammunition, perfectly executed ambush.”

Caddy knelt beside one of the young men. He tenderly collected some personal items and prepared to write the letter to his next of kin that would shatter their lives. He didn’t have to do that, but it was a carryover from his military days.

Both men were tired, hungry and mad. The attacks happened so quickly, and far enough apart that many of the contractors spent time chasing attackers that weren’t there. For each incident there would be a hurried response, frantic communications back and forth between Caddy and the field commanders, decisions made in a dynamic environment and people dispatched to respond. Many of the men were frustrated.

They spent the day chasing their tails.

“You think all these attacks are related?” asked Werner as the two men gathered by the side of the road and watched bodies being loaded into the back of trucks.

“We’ve got big problems Werner. Those attacks yesterday were by pros. And today wasn’t a mistake. Coordinated effort or random event…who gives a shit. People are fighting back.”

“Well tell me something I don’t know,” said Werner angrily.

Caddy ignored the snipe and continued on. “Other than speeding things up, you shouldn’t deviate from our plan. We’ve got the information Donovan gave us about people’s calls and purchases. We’ve got a good list of people to press. Keep on that course.”

Donovan wasn’t a name Werner wanted to hear. The Senator had already called in an irate tirade about all the attacks. Werner wasn’t sure how the Senator already knew what was going on, but he took the full force of the verbal assault without responding.

“Listen Caddy,” Werner continued. “This has been your plan. Your teams have been the ones taking losses. Your rope is even shorter than mine”. With that he turned and stormed off.

At times like this Caddy tended to ignore Werner and let him blow off steam. He turned back to the men and continued to help them process the scene.

It was several minutes later, on the drive back to Shelton, when Caddy’s voice came across the radio. After the procedural call and refrain to verify everybody was who they said they were Caddy gave him several more details about the ambush scene. He also reminded Werner of the night raid they had planned for the Northeastern corner of the county. Werner slowly calmed down as they discussed business.

Before signing off, Caddy asked, “I have the team ready to transport the prisoner. Did you make the arrangements for the travel?”

“Affirmative” came the terse reply.

****

“Dad, what have we gotten ourselves into?” wondered Clarissa Barnes as she and her father sat in front of a roaring fire. Even with the farm’s exemption, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep the power on at all times. So they’d gotten into the habit of using candles for light and the fireplace for heat and some cooking. Some nights it was almost like being thrust back into pioneer days.

Greg merely grunted to note that he heard her comment.

“I mean we’re doing the right thing. I’m glad we can help. But are we really ready to put everything on the line? We don’t even know these men,” she said into the flames as she contemplated her coffee mug.

“What’s worrying you sweetheart? You’ve been on board the whole time,” asked Greg.

She paused for a while. Clarissa wasn’t one to spout off without collecting her thoughts. “Well Dad, when this all started it seemed more like an adventure. Some guys were hiding out in our back woods and fighting evil. Let’s play freedom fighters! Now, we may have to leave the farm, that poor Sergeant Lowry is dead, and there’s a good chance more men are going to die. I don’t know……” she trailed off., “is it going to be worth it?”

The fire crackled as a log burned in two and thousands of little sparks went up the chimney. Greg leaned further back into his tired and worn chair and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly he was thrust back into a different time and different land. Despite the warmth of the room he was gripped by the bone aching chills he last felt while fighting in a frozen wasteland around a worthless reservoir in North Korea. It was funny how various things would trigger memories even after all these years.

“Sweetheart,” he started off slowly. “There was a time a million years ago when I thought the same thing. I knew we were doing good, but when I looked around at the mangled bodies of buddies, or thought about the nameless kids that came and went, I’d have to wonder.”

She sat quietly. Despite neither of them being young anymore she hung on his every word, just as she had done while she sat on his knee as a child.

“There was this kid. Good kid, big and strong with blonde hair. The kind who played football and dated the prom queen. From Iowa I think. Everybody liked that kid. He was a good solider.”
Taking a long sip from his coffee, he could almost smell the stench of the battlefield. “We were on a patrol when it happened. The Chinese jumped us. There must have been a thousand of them. Everywhere you turned you saw those little bastards. Guns nearly melted we shot so much ammo that day.”

He stopped to take a drink. He feet hurt the way they used to after a long day wearing combat boots. The sounds of gunfire and men screaming echoed through the recesses of his mind.

“So an hour into it a couple of guys are trapped. The Chinese know it and are bearing down on them. Everybody’s scrambling and yelling and before anybody can do anything this kid runs thirty yards, through the open, to get to the men. Along the way he’s shooting and tossing grenades like mad.” Greg could almost feel the pinging of rounds hitting the dirt around him.

”While this big, dumb kid is fighting the rest of the guys get off their asses and run up to join him. It was just enough to break up the Chinese so the trapped men could get pulled back to the main cluster of our unit. Saved their lives.”

As the tears started to well up in his eyes, Greg continued. “Of course, the kid was hit several times. While he’s laying there dying, guts spilling out into the dirt, I asked him why he did it. Why’d he run into certain death to save those guys?”

There was a long pause. Almost enough where Clarissa wanted to prompt her father to keep talking, but she knew enough to just let the story unfold.

Greg felt the kid’s blood spill through his fingers as he frantically tried to apply the pressure bandages and stem the flow. The feeling was so strong he looked down at his hands to ensure they were dry.

“All the kid says as he’s gasping and choking is ‘sometimes you just do right, even if it hurts.’”

The fire crackled and tears streamed down Greg’s face. He’d never told that story to his daughter. Like many men who’d seen combat, he never told any real stories of substance. But it was a long time since he’d thought about being trapped in that foxhole, certain he was going to die, and how his big dumb savior from Iowa saved his life.

****

[The Stig]

The duo sat in silence for a long time. Greg lost in days gone by, his daughter trying to dig deep and find the courage to continue this bizarre fight. For the first time in a long time, she thought about her dead husband.

As the fire died down and the embers began to glow, Greg dozed off while Clarissa contemplated the situation. She was startled when the phone rang and quickly moved to answer it to avoid waking her father. The phone didn’t ring much these days, and Miller had made it clear that it was likely tapped.

It was a short conversation. Anybody listening in, and they likely were, wouldn’t need much detective work to figure out what the conversation was about. But the caller was excited and the information was critical.

Hanging up the phone she ran upstairs to the small utility room that Greg had originally built to be a sewing room. Getting into the boxes stacked in the corner she dug out the small field phone. Hooking it up to the two wire leads hidden under the carpet she cranked it a few times and waited for the answer.

Once she got it she relayed the news the excited caller had shared with her. She couldn't believe it and shook with excitement.

****

The Farm was suddenly a beehive of activity. DeMetrie, Dink and Reynolds were about to leave on their mission. Miller had just returned and they were hurriedly bringing him up to speed on their plan. Barnes was scurrying around helping them with their gear.

Then the field-phone from the house rang.

When Captain DeMetrie returned from the office area his face was a mixture of excitement and anguish.

“Listen up” was his short directive. As usual it got the attention of all the men in the room. “Lowry is alive. They have him at the jail in Shelton.”

The news was like a bolt of lightening as all of the men were instantly focused.

“Turns out Miller’s source at City hall tipped us off. They are moving him, possibly in the morning, to the coast.”

The room fell silent as all of the men began silently plotting how they’d rescue their friend.

Dink, was the first to speak. “The jail in Shelton is attached to the back of City Hall. I’m assuming these contractors set up camp their like their predecessors?”

Miller nodded in the affirmative.

“I’m just a dumb country-boy, but I don’t see why we couldn’t modify our plan slightly and use it as a distraction. I know that jail. Me and Miller can slip in, grab our man and get out of dodge.”

Miller was the first to speak up, “That means your distraction force has just been cut in half from four men. That’s a tall order”.

DeMetrie didn’t miss a beat. “I think with our can-do attitude and some force multipliers we can make it work.”

“By all means Captain. Let’s make it happen,” said Miller.

With that all five men got to work hurriedly putting together a plan. They only had a few hours to figure out a game plan, finish loading up gear, travel to Shelton and get in place. Their only chance to was strike before morning. Even then it was a long shot to pull something like this off.

But they had no choice. It wasn’t like they could leave their friend behind.


****

The city of Shelton’s town hall was like a thousand other city halls across the country. It was a large building in the middle of downtown that commanded an entire block. Most of the ground surrounding it was open and there was a small playground to one corner of the building. The jail was a one-story building that occupied the back corner of the city hall complex.

Behind it was another open area, large enough for a helicopter to land, while to the one side, across a large open park area, was the high-school building. It was at this building that Captain DeMetrie and his men lived on their first trip into town. Several smaller buildings were scattered around the complex.

When Werner and Aperture Consulting took over the complex, he housed most of his men in the city hall buildings. He turned offices into bunk areas and living quarters. A few men were quartered in the jail area, but the vast majority were in the three story part of the building that comprised city hall.

As more and more contractors flooded the area they were housed at the school building, which was still equipped to house men thanks to DeMetrie’s efforts. The entirety of the center of downtown Shelton was transformed into a pseudo command complex. The presence of the contractor’s vehicles parked all around the grounds along with some prepared firing stations, replete with sandbags, added to the overall aura.

Due to the increased attacks on the contractors, Werner had posted men on guard duty around the building. There were teams of two men each scattered around the grounds, ostensibly to keep citizens from vandalizing cars or creating a ruckus. That the men stat behind the prepared, and sandbagged, emplacements, belied that they were ready for an attack, if need be.

The team was lucky. It was a near moonless night that added additional darkness to provide the men some aspect of concealment. Flying in the face of traditional doctrine, Caddy instructed the exterior of the City Hall complex to be kept fairly dark at nighttime. He preferred to have the same advantage of concealment, as any would-be attackers.

Their plan was relatively simple. Reynolds and DeMetrie would take up separate positions in some buildings around City Hall. Using suppressed weapons and night vision equipment they would eliminate any guards. Then using some of their homebrewed technology they’d make a scene large enough to draw out a large contingent of contractors. From that point they’d engage further.

The hope was this would create enough of a diversion for the two men to slip inside and retrieve Lowry. Dink still had keys to the jail from his days as a County Sheriff, but if the locks had been changed they might need to get creative to gain access to their friends.

Creativity was never a problem for Miller and Dink.

****

Miller and Dink moved quietly and quickly into position behind a building across the street from the backside of the City Hall complex. Their assignment was to cross the open ground behind the building and enter the jail area through a service entrance behind some electrical equipment. The service entrance led to a janitorial space, which if their luck held, was normally empty.

As they got ready to radio DeMetrie, Dink poked his head around the building to get the lay of the land. He turned back to Miller with a huge smile on his face. “I guess they were planning to take Lowry out in style” he said while jerking his thumb in the direction of City Hall.

Miller was surprised to see the helicopter parked in the open area. The landing lights surrounding it were on a very dim setting, which provided just enough light to make out the copter.

“I think I have something for that” said Miller.

“Don’t scratch the paint. I hear their insurance plan is awful,” came back the joking reply.

Miller traveled with a suppressed AR-15 that he had used since the beginning of this mess. They had shortened the barrel using some of the farm’s equipment, and rethreaded it to allow for use of a sound suppressor. This made for a more easily manageable weapon for the ambushes and attacks the men had been perpetrating.

Dink chose to travel light. He had borrowed the suppressed Browning HighPower pistol Miller and Barnes had retrieved from Ron Little. He carried nothing else but a small pouch. He didn’t know what condition Lowry would be in, nor did they know the situation at the jail so he preferred to have more of a plainclothes appearance than be decked out in fatigues.

Miller quietly said, “lets do this” to his friend.

Keying his radio he simply said, “go when ready”.

****

DeMetrie was stationed on the third story roof of a building that housed a sewing machine store and was across from the front of the City Hall building. He was closer to Miller and Dink’s starting point, which was to his right and prepared to eliminate the two guards that would most likely see them as they approached the building.

Reynolds was stationed inside the ground level of a building off to DeMetries left, and on the side of the building opposite where Miller and Dink would enter. The intention was clear; they hoped to draw contractors away from the side of the building where Miller and Dink would be working.

DeMetrie looked through the electronic sight atop his fully automatic M4 rifle. It was the same rifle he borrowed from the Army when he and his men decided this was a more noble force. With his night vision goggles he saw the area in front of him awash in a greenish tinted light, as if it were high noon on Venus.

He quietly inhaled and then released half of the air in his lungs. As he had done so many times in the past, he centered the dot of his electronic sight on the man’s chest and slowly pressed the trigger.

[The Stig]

The rifle shot was barely audible as DeMetrie was using some specially loaded subsonic rounds he had Barnes make for just such a purpose. Even with a suppressor, a rifle can still be heard as the bullet creates a sonic boom and the distinctive crack sound. In many cases, the crack is very hard to follow so the shooter can remain hidden. It’s almost distracting, especially if the sound echoes.

But in this case they wanted stealth. They had to eliminate as many guards as possible to allow Miller and Dink to cross the open area and get into the building. Then they’d switch over to normal rounds and begin making enough racket to wake the dead.

His first target grunted, grabbed his chest and fell over. This, obviously, alarmed his partner. However, the combination of tiredness, confusion and fear caused the man to make a deadly mistake. Instead of reacting he desperately looked around to see who was attacking them. Soon he too fell to the ground.

Reynolds was busy doing the same on his side of the building. Over the course of ten seconds all of the external guards were eliminated, one after another.

Captain DeMetrie spoke into his radio, “go”.

****

Nudging his friend, Miller and Dink began moving quickly across the open area towards city hall. They both hoped that DeMetrie and Reynolds had removed all the opposition.

They quickly crossed the street and made a slight detour to their left to go by the helicopter. DeMetrie watched them from his perch and silently commanded them to hurry up as they paused near it.

Soon enough, however, they were behind the electrical equipment and out of sight.

Miller whispered into his radio, “hit it”.

****

When DeMetrie and his men decided to join Miller’s cause, they grabbed as much useful equipment they could haul. Since then they had hoarded as much of the difficult to replace items as possible. DeMetrie reluctantly doled out things like explosives, if and only if, there was no other way to solve a problem. Fortunately, his men were quite creative.

In this case, however, DeMetrie was more concerned with getting Lowry out than maintaining their stock of fighting weapons.

When he heard Miller’s command to begin the distraction phase he quickly pulled the pin on two grenades and threw them as far as possible towards the City Hall building. After their fuses expired they detonated with a thunderous explosion and DeMetrie could hear little bits of fragments hitting the stone façade of the building. As soon as they went off, he hurled three smoke grenades off the roof and across the street in various places in the yard around the City Hall building.

As DeMetries grenades exploded Reynolds was preparing to do the same. He only threw one explosive grenades, followed in rapid succession by several smoke grenades. He also pushed the button of a residential garage door opener. This sent a small electrical signal to an explosive planted in a building several doors down from the one that housed Reynolds’s perch.

The explosive blew out the storefront sending purses and women’s clothes flying into the street. It was a very small amount; just enough to demolish the interior of the building but not so much that it wrecked the entire building. But it was loud.

****

The noise of DeMetries grenades exploding and blowing out windows knocked the contractors from their slumber. Most of the men had combat experience and rolled out of their beds and directly into fighting mode. A couple men were dazed but it didn’t take long for them to figure out they were under attack.

Werner jumped from his couch, grabbing for his boots as several windows shattered and rounds pinged against the stonewalls. Reynolds had fired off a few rounds just to continue the distraction from his side of the building. By the time he had them laced, Caddy came running into his office, rifle at the ready.

“What the hell is this?” exclaimed the normally unflappable warrior. “All of the outside posts are not reporting back in”.

Werner replied, “Get the men organized. Don’t let them trickle out of the building in dribs and drabs. We’ll go out in teams and deal with what we find”

“I’ll take the west side, you get some men and handle the south. Have some of the men stay behind in reserve and the men from the school building start to work their way over”.

Werner nodded in agreement. While technically he was the boss, at times like this he and Caddy took more of a co-leadership role.

****

Miller and Dink quickly made entrance into the building as the explosion of the grenades echoed off the surrounding buildings. Within seconds they were inside the darkened janitorial space. They maneuvered in the dimly lit room, careful to avoid knocking over the various mops, buckets and other cleaning supplies.

When they decided to make entry further into the building was entirely up to them. Without saying anything both men felt it better to wait until their was far more commotion before going any further. They wouldn’t have to wait long.