Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (67 page)

“I had no idea you were so devious,” McCann said to Sam as they carried out the traps and lethally sharpened spears in two quivers. The knee-high sword ferns gleamed a brilliant green all around them.

“It’s survival, that’s all,” Sam explained, setting the first trap. He then pointed out into the forest. “You see how the deer have created this natural highway through the woods? The invaders will follow this opening to avoid making unnecessary noise. We need to set up bow traps along this perimeter and camouflage them under the natural brush along the path.

“Watch how I set one of these up, and then you can help me with the rest.” Sam began pounding several sticks into the ground, which he then laid a bow across. He extended the string behind the bow at full pull and pounded several more sticks into the ground at that position. Then he took a stick tied to a string and pounded it into the ground across the deer path. “This is the tripwire,” he said, pounding in a few more sticks into the ground, around which he looped the string. He tied the other end of the tripwire to a tiny stick, then pulled the bowstring back, setting it behind the fulcrum stick and securing everything with the tripwire stick.

Sam leaned backward on his knees and held his hands up in warning.

“Okay, pay attention. This thing is lethal once you place the spear inside of the device. It’s under a lot of pressure. The arrow will lean upward at a slight angle. There’s a notch here at the end of the spear, see?” He showed McCann where the bowstring would slide smoothly inside the crevice. “Do not walk in front of the trap—for any reason—after loading the spear. We’ll set these up after Rick finishes the final touches on his reapers.”

McCann thought these bow traps were damned impressive alone, but he had no idea of what Rick had planned. “What the heck is a reaper?” he asked, and Sam did something McCann never expected to hear from him. It scared him.

Sam giggled low and devious, then said, “You think I’ve got tricks up my sleeve—Rick’s a twisted, freaky fucker. He’s designed this thing—I can’t tell you; I’ll have him explain it to you. This thing is something you have to see for yourself. Anyway, no one ventures this direction, unless of course they have a death wish to be impaled or shot—or both.”

McCann cleared his dry throat. “Yeah. That’s for sure.”

They made their way through the forest to where Rick was perched atop their Jeep. He had hooked something over a branch and pushed it back to conceal it under the evergreen brush.

“That should do it. Last one,” Rick said to them as they approached. The temperature was warm enough to cause Rick to break a sweat work, and McCann thought Rick looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His army T-shirt was drenched through as he finished the final touches on his equipment while McCann surveyed the contraption to try to figure out what it was.

“Explain to McCann how these damn things work, Rick,” Sam said.

“Sure, just a second.” Rick wiped the sweat from his eyes with his forearm. “The scheme really isn’t that hard if you just put a few different concepts together into one project. It helped that I used to be an RC—remote control—airplane enthusiast and a gun nut.

“For the remote control functions of the gun, I used a 2.4 gigahertz RC radio system consisting of a transmitter and a receiver. The new 2.4 systems lock on to a single transmitter/receiver like a cell phone. That helps keep other radio transmissions from interfering and makes it just a little harder for the system to be hijacked. The transmitter is the controller you would fly the RC airplane with, and the receiver would normally be mounted on an airplane. The receiver takes the signals from the controller, then sends the commands to each of the servos that operate the different control surfaces of the airplane.

“I made a mounting bracket that attaches to a tree branch and hangs from underneath. The mount for the gun hangs underneath on an aluminum dual-axis mount to allow it to move on the yaw and pitch control axes. That gives the operator full range of motion of the gun with a simple joystick on a controller. There are two servos connected to the mounting bracket—one for each axis, and each axis uses the control arms that would normally move the flight control surfaces to move the gun mount underneath.

“When the operator pulls back with the controller, the barrel goes up; when he pushes forward, it goes down, left and it goes left, right and it goes right. I had to use the beefiest servos available to get it stout enough to move the way I wanted it to and to be reliable under stress, but it was worth the search.

“The weapon mounted underneath the contraption is a stripped-down M4 carbine that uses the flat-top rail on the upper receiver to mount to the control mechanism where there would normally be a sight, optic, or the old school carry handle–sight combo mounted. In the interest of saving weight, I stripped it of its stock and only have the buffer tube in place on the rear, removed the forward hand guards, and sawed the triangular front sight off, leaving only the gas block, gas tube, and a lightweight pencil profile barrel out front—no muzzle device. I also mounted a solenoid from an RC airplane alongside the magazine well to actuate the trigger that also receives input from the transmitter via the receiver. This particular M4 just happens to have a class three lower receiver with the full autofire control group installed, and is loaded with a hundred-round Beta Mag dual drum setup. I figured a hundred rounds would be plenty, since by that point this thing is liable to have shaken itself apart from the pounding of the recoil action.

“For aiming, the primary system is a camera mounted on the gun mount that transmits live video feeds to a monitor colocated with the RC transmitter. Since the camera can’t actually sight in the exact path of the bullets, the Beta Mag is loaded every third round with a tracer so that the path of the bullets can actually be seen by the camera and adjusted accordingly. The tracers also work as a backup aiming system in the event of camera failure; as long as the RC transmitter operator has his eyes on the gun, he can direct the fire visually with the tracers.

“The whole setup is powered by an onsite battery pack, trickle charged via a small solar panel mounted near the top of the tree. The way I see it, the hundred rounds of ammo will be expended long before the battery, so the trickle charger is really to keep the battery topped off and ready for use—not for replenishment of a drained battery.”

McCann consumed every detail, and imagined the invaders running for cover in all directions from these things. After a dead second of quiet, in awe, McCann said, “You are both tricky dudes.”

“Damn straight. It’s something I’m proud of,” Rick said, smiling.

“The two of you scare the hell out of me. You’re a crazy team,” McCann said. He’s always known these two guys had skills, but now he was impressed in a scared-shitless kind of way. “I think I know more now than I should,” McCann admitted, brushing down the bristling hairs on the back of his neck.

Rick laughed. “Yes, this is a bit above your pay grade, I’m afraid.”

There was a sudden rustling in the woods about sixty feet from their position to the south, and McCann nearly pissed his pants. He drew his Colt automatically, but the sudden jerk affected his shoulder wound and had him crouching in pain. Sam was down to the ground, bow ready, and Rick had jumped down from the Jeep to hide behind the tree he’d been working on earlier. He held his M1A pressed firmly against his cheek while looking through the Leupold scope. “Deer,” Rick whispered after a moment.

“Christ, that scared the hell out of me,” McCann admitted.

Sam stood cautiously and whispered, “Can’t be too careful. Now it’s time to turn the hunters into the hunted.”

“It’s not as easy as you think,” Dutch tried to explain in a soft encouraging voice to Lucy, Macy, Bang, and some of the prepper children. Macy didn’t think he was aware of her and Bang’s level of skill, but they would show him soon enough, and even so, maybe Dutch had something to teach them. Lucy, Hunter, Kade, Bethany, and Addy stood beside them, listening intently to the instructions.

Dutch’s dogs and Sheriff hung out nearby; Elsa lolled in the sparse growth of the forest floor, while Frank and Sheriff panted at their sides, acting as if they too were a part of the instructions.

“You have to launch the arrow a bit higher to account for wind and drop,” he continued. “It curves as it hits the target. See? Watch, let me demonstrate it for you.”

He aimed for one of the targets thirty yards away, set opposite the fence line, and began to instruct through his motions. “Elbow straight back along your line of sight, straight and level. Don’t let it slop down. Bowstring just to the right of your lip center. Aim, breathe out, hold, and release.” He let the arrow fly. Macy watched the red tail wiggle about in the first few milliseconds as the arrow took flight and struck the target on the ring edge, left of center.

“Now you try,” he instructed them. Macy and Bang both lifted their bows fluidly, with expert skill, and sent their arrows straight into the gold center. Lucy and the others had yet to get their bows into position as the two arrows landed with soft
thunks
one a split second after the other. Dutch stopped in his tracks. “I think I’ve just been had!” he said, and both Macy and Bang giggled. “Why didn’t you say so? Hell,
you
teach them; I’ve got other stuff to do,” Macy raised her eyebrows at Lucy with a smirk as Dutch headed back to camp.

“He’s not really grouchy,” Lucy explained, waving Dutch off. “Now, can you show me how to do that?”

“Sure, but he’s the one who taught me,” Macy said, pointing at Bang.

“Seriously?” Lucy asked, surprised. “That’s awesome.”

“Okay, traps and surveillance are set. Our location is secure, for now,” Dalton said to them after Rick had explained the situation.

Clarisse handed him a pain pill and a cup of water to chase it down with. He wasn’t exactly mobile, but sitting up in bed, he’d called the meeting in his room. If he walked more than ten feet he’d become lightheaded, nauseated, and have to sit down again, so it worked better to have them come to him. They were all scattered around, gawking at his wounds, standing or sitting.

“We’ve worked out a few different contingency escape routes, just in case,” Dutch said.

The men looked to Dalton for orders. They depended on him and he wasn’t fit for battle. Not like this. It scared the hell out of him that he was so weak and at such a critical time. The only thing he could do was talk them through things. For now, at least, that would have to do.

“Any signals?” he asked Rick, who looked like hell himself, dark circles around his eyes. The man was pale, and Dalton had seen that look on his face before. It was a look of suppressed rage just below the surface.

Years ago in the desert, they’d lost one of their own in the worst of ways. He was a lousy soldier, but he was
their
lousy soldier and he’d gotten himself captured, the dumbass. After torturing him, the enemy had finally beheaded him, and they sent a horrific video of the entire ghastly ordeal to them.

Rick had tried in vain to locate their comrade’s position before the inevitable. They’d used every shred of intel, but nothing surfaced in time. It was a devastating blow. They’d finally identified one of the assailants in the video, but not before having to watch the torture repeatedly. It turned out to be a woman jihadist.

It was an ironic discovery. The dead soldier was one of them, but he wasn’t exactly the best family man. If fact, he was quite a deplorable father. They’d spent weeks afterward tracking down all six of his kids by various mothers to relay the dreaded news; turns out they didn’t really seem to care if the man was alive or dead. The look on Rick’s face back then wasn’t anything compared to what Dalton saw now.

“A few scattered clicks came through last night. They could be fucking with us, but more than likely it was interference. Dutch and I both tried to detect any Morse code from it, but the string was too random. We think it’s more likely white noise,” Rick said, his voice gravely and broken.

“Okay, still, anything unusual we want to watch like hawks.” Dalton looked to Reuben. “Trucks loaded and pointed in the right directions?”

“Affirmative. Extra caches also secured and ready for any contingency.”

“Graham, are you on board with all of this? I know some of it’s new to you, but on a signal, everyone’s got his job. And you guys know yours, I hear.”

“Yes, we’re all on board. My crew seemed to find their place and fit in right away,” Graham said.

“Glad to hear it. Dutch told me how Bang took over archery training. I would love to have seen that.” Dalton began to laugh and had to hold onto his shoulder when the laughter caused him pain. They all broke into much-needed chuckles.

“If he wasn’t such a modest little guy, it wouldn’t have been so damn comical, but he’s so tiny; I just couldn’t believe it. These kids certainly pull their own weight in the defense department,” Dutch said.

“Yeah.” Graham agreed. “Bang came to me like that. His mother had taught him well. She was amazing; kept herself alive long enough to hand him off to me. She waited until my father died; she watched me. I don’t know how she did it, frankly. Her name was Hyun-Ok. I’ll never forget her look of resolute courage.” Graham looked up at Clarisse, who smiled at him.

“Never underestimate a mother’s love,” she said.

“She could have taken his life. Many did that,” Dalton said.

“That’s not an option for some mothers,” Clarisse said, and Dalton saw her smile at Tala, who sat next to Graham with her hand on her swollen belly. They all knew what Clarisse meant; nothing else needed saying.

“It wasn’t an option for her. That kid has saved my ass, and fed me more than once,” Graham admitted. Dalton could tell with an ache in his heart for his own sons how Graham felt for the boy. Bang was as much Graham’s own son as Hunter and Kade were Dalton’s.

“Okay, well. I’m hoping to get out of this damn bed by tomorrow—if Doc here clears me, that is,” Dalton said, smiling up at Clarisse.

She looked at him and affirmed his hopes. “I think that’s possible, but you have to take it easy. These things take time. Your strength won’t be back to one hundred percent for weeks.”

“We may not have that much time. Any questions? No? Hey, Rick, do you have operators for the reapers?” Dalton said.

“Actually, yes. You’ll be surprised who aced the test, but yes. We have five operators ready to go.”

“All right, I’ll see you guys in the morning. Stay vigilant,” he said to dismiss everyone, and they filtered out of the room. Then Dalton turned to McCann and said, “Hey, can you hang here for a second?”

“Sure.”

“Can’t thank you enough. Sam told me what went down . . . what he saw from his perspective. That goddamned bear just wouldn’t quit. Last thing I remember, I was pulling out my pistol and seeing the bear turn on someone else, but it wasn’t one of us. I fired on the bear, not realizing it was attacking the enemy. What the hell happened? That’s where I blacked out.”

McCann swallowed his guilt over Steven’s death before he could speak. “Nothing we did to distract the bear did a damn thing. I don’t know how many shots we pumped into him before those frigging bastards showed up. They were firing on us. There was a bear attacking you. It was messed up,” McCann said.

“That, my friend, is what we call a clusterfuck,” Dalton explained.

McCann let out a sad chuckle. “Yeah, it was all that. Everyone was shooting, and I hit a big rock with the back of my boot against the brick wall and Steven was in front of me. Everything slowed down all of a sudden; I looked at the chaos and saw you trying to stab the bear, and you were sliding down the wall. I stopped shooting, picked up the rock, and jumped out of cover of the brick wall and launched it as hard as I could at the bear’s head. Steven jumped in front of me because I was completely exposed, and . . . he recoiled backward over me. I knew what happened immediately.” He looked down, shaking his head as he remembered the nightmare. “It’s my fault he died. He was trying to cover me. I screwed up and he died. I should have warned him to him.”

Dalton waited a moment for McCann’s angst to die down. “McCann, in a clusterfuck, there is no time to explain. I’ve been there, when time slows down and you know whatever decision you make in the next split second will set off a chain reaction. No one but you blames you for Steven’s death. It was
those
fuckers, and believe me, redemption is coming. You saved my life, man. You saved my sons from being completely orphaned. I owe you.” Dalton shook McCann’s hand.

“Thanks, Dalton. All the same, can Rick or someone else show me the hand signals you guys use so I can at least know how to communicate if this ever happens again?”

“Sure,” Dalton said. “Ask Rick. I’m sure he’ll show you. Hell, Sam taught us different hand signals and I think we use a combination of the two now, but honestly, from what Sam described, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Clarisse came back into the room, and both men turned to look at her. “Visiting time is over, guys. Dalton needs to sleep now,” she said, and McCann headed for the door.

“Hey, McCann. Swing by tomorrow. I need to look at that arm again,” Clarisse said as the young man waved and disappeared from sight.

“You are so mean,” Dalton teased.

“You’re tired. I can tell,” Clarisse said as she readied a shot full of fluid and inserted it into Dalton’s IV tube.

“Hey, what the hell was that?” he said and grabbed her around the thigh. “Don’t put me to sleep now.”

“You are such a baby, and a terrible patient.”

“I seem to remember you being quite a naughty doctor recently,” Dalton said, pulling her down to lip level.