Buried Flames (30 page)

“Panther Actual and Panther Three are advancing. The rest of us are doubling back.” Brenna and Prue continued looking at one another while they waited for more information to be relayed. Brenna breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t going to leave Paige behind, but what was expressed next wasn’t good news. “You have roughly thirty-five minutes, but we’ll have cut them off before—”

Shots were heard in the background before the connection cut off. Brenna stared in horror at the radio, holding deathly still as they all waited for someone to speak into the mic and tell them they were okay. Nothing happened and Brenna handed the binoculars off to Jason as she held onto the MP5K-N with unsteady hands.

“Fuck,” Prue muttered, which was a typical thing with her from Brenna had witnessed. She had a mouth like a sailor, just as she had the courage of a lion. “We need to spread out. One person to a fight hole. Taible just executed a delaying tactic.”

“What’s that mean?” Brenna asked with a tremor in her tone, wishing like hell one of the men would come back on the radio to advise that they weren’t hurt.

The exchange of gunfire had sounded very loud over the radio. Now they could just make out the sound of distant gunfire far down in the valley toward town. Had they walked into a trap? It seemed surreal that Mason was fighting for his life while Brenna stood surrounded by peace and quiet with barely a breeze to move the ashes on the ground. Her chest tightened with apprehension. She wanted to be by his side, not here undergoing a helplessness unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It was as if a brick sat in her empty stomach and swallowing became rather difficult.

“Owen explained it to me the other day,” Prue transmitted, her voice barely a whisper in Brenna’s ear bud as she scanned the road in front of them. They would now have to communicate with their handheld radios and throat mics, since their positions were at least twenty feet apart and mutually supporting. Visibility was maybe seventy-five feet, due to the trees overhead. It wasn’t nearly enough. “One or two men are left behind to ambush the pursuing enemy and pin them down while the main force advances forward to attack their objective.”

“They want the fishing lodge and all of its resources,” Jason surmised grimly, pointing to the other side of the long gate. “Either that, or they don’t want anyone alive with any classified information Fairfax might have revealed to anyone. Listen, we don’t want to be in plain sight when Taible’s team arrives. If you’re right and he conducted a delay tactic, I figure he might have roughly six or seven men by his side.”

“Checkpoint two, fire on any targets west of our position when you have them in sight,” Prue advised, speaking into the radio as she settled back into her prepared position on the other side of the gate where there was some protection offered by logs lying across the top of her earthen parapet. “Brenna, stay up on the embankment. Your position can cover to your direct front. If they try to flank my position in the creek bed or see anyone move across the creek to my left…let them have it.”

“You really think Taible would just march up to this front entrance as if he was an invited guest?” Brenna refused to think that Mason and the others had taken hits while being under attack. The continuing silence reigning from the radio appeared to be saying something else entirely; however, they could still hear distant echoes far off down the river valley. Why the hell wasn’t Mav or someone else getting on the radio to let everyone know they were okay? “Wouldn’t Taible go in from another avenue of approach?”

“This
is
the easiest and certainly the fastest entry point,” Jason declared ominously, kneeling where he was twenty feet farther up the embankment and twenty-five feet farther west closing the gap between the road and the rock outcropping blocking access to the valley above. He had another outpost fifty feet over his right shoulder. They were using high-powered rifles. Jason seemed frozen in time as he lifted the scope mounted on his weapon up to his mask. He seemed so young to have taken on such a massive responsibility, and yet their own country routinely sent teenagers to war overseas. War didn’t discriminate and neither did survival. “Cover your position and do whatever it takes to protect our people.”

Brenna settled back against the logs lining the top of her foxhole, stunned that the situation had turned so drastically, and not in their favor. This was supposed to have been their safe haven. This had been their sanctuary and while Mason had tried to warn her about the vulnerability having such a place would put them in…she hadn’t wanted to believe people could be that evil.

Brenna finally turned her head and positioned her weapon to fire down the embankment along their most likely line of march. It wasn’t as steep as it was a few yards away and she considered the advantages of staying where she was or moving to a secondary position farther up along the ridge. Her mind was still pondering what was happening to Mason while wondering if he was lying on the ground hurt or worse. She couldn’t slow her heart rate no matter how she breathed through this mask. Nausea had also settled in over what the team must have encountered and the fact that it was about to be delivered right to their doorstep.

Whatever you do, don’t hesitate
. Brenna quickly turned her head, swearing Mason was whispering into her ear. He wasn’t. Was he even still alive?

*

Truman and Dean
had been the ones to forge ahead after Paige, leaving Owen, Tank, Mav, Ann, and Mason to head back to the lodge and try to reach Taible before he and his men reached Lost Summit Lodge to overtake the camp. It was doable, even with the delay tactic that had been set up right at the entrance of Lost Summit. The only thing that was saving their collective asses was the fact that these two sentries left behind weren’t infantry types. They were trained special security operators with a hell of a lot less experience than Mason’s unit.

“One overwatch on the rooftop of the diner,” Mav said with his back against the side of the building that housed the post office. Owen and Ann were on the other side of the street, while Tank was making his way around the back where the community center was located. “I can’t seem to locate the other tango.”

“Those shots didn’t come from overhead, so I’m guessing the grocery store.” Mason didn’t like the time they were wasting and figured Taible had a good ten to fifteen minute lead on them now. At least Henley had stated the bunker was now on lockdown according to her last transmission. Brenna was safe. He had to keep telling himself that so he could focus on the current situation—and that was to get their asses out of this stall tactic so they could roll up Taible’s rear. “You ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Mav muttered, giving the appropriate hand signal to Owen and Ann. They instantly took action and stepped around the corner of the building, immediately laying down suppressive fire and aiming for the tango firing from the grocery store. It wasn’t about hitting their target so much as providing cover. “Go!”

Mason came around the corner, traversing his scope across the roof of the café. The tango pulled back and away the second Mav pulled his trigger and didn’t come back into Mason’s line of sight. Mav continued to litter the targeted area with rounds while they all advanced forward in a bounding overwatch.

“I’m rolling in on Tango One.”

Mason breached the door, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and pushing away any remnants of memories from the past. This wasn’t the time or place and if he stopped…it might very well cost him his life. It didn’t take him long to clear the dining room and start toward the back where the roof access ladder would be, knowing full well Mav was coming around the building from the outside.

Mason quickly switched from his M1A to the 1911, making his way around the counter without overthinking his movements. He allowed his training to take over, dictating his actions in the graceful progress that every Marine was taught during Urban Combat Training. He swept through the small area, as well as the deserted kitchen where Mabel must have taken the majority of the supplies. It appeared as empty as the front of the café.

A distinct sound of metal on metal could be heard in the storage room. Mason was so in his element the noise didn’t even increase his heartbeat. As if in slow motion, he never stopped advancing and turning the corner where the hatch type opening to the roof was standing wide open. There was no need for words or warnings. This tango was trained more for VIP security details. This professional had chosen to stay behind and kill the pursuing enemy who attempted to come through his position for a man with ill intent. His silhouette appeared in the opening of the supply room hatch.

Mason raised his Colt 1911A1 .45 ACP and pulled the trigger, three rounds followed in quick succession. Every bullet hit its intended target—two in the chest and one in the head—the sickening thuds never sounding any more pleasant than the first time he’d killed a man.

“Tango One down!” Mason called out, speaking louder than he would have back in the day due to the mask muffling his words. He’d heard the back door fling open and discerned Mav’s entrance from that of any other. “Clear outside down the back of the grocery.”

Mav held back, allowing Mason to take the lead outside into the falling ash. He quickly switched back to his M1A, depositing his Colt in its holster. They trudged their way through the thick layer of residue, not worrying about leaving any tracks. It had been brought up they might have a run-in with the new faction that had taken up residence in Rat’s old silver mine, but they were the least of their worries now.

Mason wasn’t surprised to find Tank, Owen, and Ann standing outside of Lockton’s grocery store. There appeared to be a flash of teeth behind Tank’s mask, telling Mason and Mav who exactly had eliminated the second tango who remained behind. They met in the middle and immediately formed a formation—column of twos with a ten-meter spread—as they started back on their intended path.

“Lima Sierra Actual, we’re clear. ETA thirty-five minutes.”

Mav was most likely being generous with that assumption. Taible had to have at least a fifteen-minute lead, which meant they had to work double time to reach the checkpoint before all hell broke loose. The objective at this point was to ensure as little casualties as possible, but those at the checkpoint and the outpost above, Jason Wicks, Kirk Parsons, Gage Dorian, and Milton Owain—from what Mav had said earlier—would be in the warpath of Taible and his men.

“Echo Six Sierra, glad to hear it.” Henley’s relief was palpable through the radio, although the strain of what was coming had her revealing information that caused Mason to want to scream out loud. Fear infused him like he’d never experienced, not even when he had thought he was on death’s door. He’d rather face the grim reaper himself than lose Brenna and be left behind to relive the horror every day for the rest of his desolate life. “Brenna, Prue, and Jason are at the checkpoint. Missy is on overwatch at Checkpoint Two. They’ll be waiting for your swift return.”

B
renna was cold.
Really bone-chilling cold that had nothing to do with the temperature. She could hear Mav and Henley’s exchange over the radio channel, but she quickly calculated the time in her head. Taible’s men would arrive in twenty minutes to attack their positions. She and the others would have to hold them off by at least fifteen minutes, which was a lifetime when it came to battles. The only reason they stood even a remote chance was because of their prepared formation. She wasn’t so sure it could be done, but she’d come to understand that fear was a powerful motivator.

Something dark shifted in Brenna’s peripheral vision and she quickly swung the barrel of her rifle to her right. Nothing. Or was there? Adrenaline coursed through her once more. She was acquiring a rather dull, throbbing headache from these rushes of overwhelming emotions and she squinted in pain to try and see through her mask deeper into the woods.

“They’re fine,” Prue whispered, her confident voice coming through loud and clear. Brenna looked her way, but couldn’t make her shape out in the falling residue. “We can do this.”