Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Book 4): Walking In The Shadow Of Death (27 page)

31.

Sean moved them farther into the
thick woods. As before, they moved the inner limbs of a large pine tree, making
shelter beneath of it. Once inside the thick cover of the pine boughs, Brad got
a false sense of security. The thick bed of needles and soft earth padded the
ground under his bed roll. They made an early camp, trying to rest up for what
would make out to be another long night.

Brad had the first watch. His pack
was pressed against the trunk of the tree. He was leaning against it with his
poncho liner around his legs. Sean was behind him with Brooks just to his left.
His two friends were in similar positions, sleeping soundly in the shelter of
the tree. It wasn’t much of a watch, as there was little Brad could see, but
the longer they sat the noisier the surrounding woods became.

He picked up on the subtle sounds
of wind in the trees. Looking up he could see the gentle sway of the limbs far
above him. Birds chirped in the distance, and the branches of trees clacked
together. He heard the crashing of dry leaves. The sound at first startled him,
but concentrating and ducking his head Brad was able to locate the source of
the noise. A pair of red foxes were jumping and wrestling in the thick leaves.
He adjusted his position for a better view and allowed the pair to entertain
him. The sight of the wild life relaxed him; he knew that the foxes wouldn’t
let their guard down in the presence of danger.

Brooks lifted his head and looked
at his watch. Brad watched him sleepily dig through his pack for a bottle of
water and drink thirstily. He looked to Brad and pointed at his watch,
indicating that he was taking the watch. Brad nodded and looked back ahead
towards the pair of foxes. He pulled his fleece skull cap down over his eyes
and rested his head against the tree. Pulling in his knees and wrapping himself
tightly in the poncho liner, he relaxed to the sounds of the wind. It was hard
to imagine it was the end of the world here in the lively forest. He closed his
eyes and easily found sleep.

He woke to the sounds of Brooks and
Sean crawling out of the cover of the tree. It was nearly dusk, the blue sky
having transformed into shades of orange and purple. Brad saw that the others
had left their large packs, so he stuffed his bedding into the top of his
rucksack and followed them out into the open. Sean and Brooks were positioned
just feet apart laying still and listening to the surrounds. When they were
convinced they were still alone in the forest, Sean got to his feet and moved
back towards the tree.

Brooks joined them but kept his
face towards the open woods as he listened. Sean pulled his map from his pocket
and turned it over to the clean white back. With a black felt tip pen he
quickly sketched out the encampment and sheltered cove from memory. Then he
drew a line representing the valley and the roads, and finally added a dashed
line representing the path they had taken to get to this point. He sat the
finished sketch on the ground in front of him.

“How are you all doing on juice for
your NVGs?” he asked them quietly.

“I have plenty,” Brad whispered
back. Brooks nodded his head in agreement.

“Good, we’re doing some night
hunting, you’ll need them,” Sean said.

Sean told them to pack light, only
their weapons and essential gear. They would be doing a movement to contact tonight.
His plan was to take out the night guards; he wanted to let the raiders know
they were no longer alone, and that the primals should be the least of their
concerns. He wanted the camp’s defenses in disarray. He wanted them on the
defensive and locked down or all dead by the time his men arrived on the
following night.

“But won’t that make them harder to
attack, losing the surprise I mean?” Brad asked.

Sean looked at Brad, then at Brooks
who grinned. “We aren’t attacking anyone.”

Brad gave him a puzzled look. “I
don’t understand.”

Brooks put his finger on the map.
“We don’t have to attack. We hold the high ground, we can toy with them for
days if that’s what it takes. Why risk our people for a frontal attack against
a dug-in force? And besides, we have friends on the ground,” he said, smiling.

Sean nodded. “Either way the
raiders will not leave this cove.”

Brad still looked at them with a
confused expression. Sean smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry
brother, you’ll catch up as it all comes together. Let’s move back to the
cliffs.”

Sean led them back to their hide at
the edge of the cliffs above the village. The fires were all but out now, just
a trail of smoke as the ring of tires and bodies cooled. The sun had completely
fallen now, leaving the camp in darkness. Brad looked around. Even with the
full moon his team was completely hidden in the tall grass on the incline above
the cliff’s face. Looking out into the cove he could see dim navigation lights
on the vessels anchored and tied together. Below, people were still moving
about. He saw a set of guards walking the perimeter, and another man was
standing at a high spot atop the berm wall.

Brad searched the street front and
the surrounding buildings. A few had small leaks of light coming through thick
drapes. Most though had been completely blacked out. He saw a row of aged and
rusted shipping containers. There were people sitting on the ground in front of
them around a small fire. Brad focused on the group, watching their movements.
He saw a woman venture out of the container, holding an infant child. She
walked near the fire and a man stood, handing her a container he had filled
from a larger pot on the fire.

Brad watched as the roving guards
made their way past the containers. He could hear them shouting, kicking dirt
and gravel on the fire as they rushed the prisoners into the containers. One of
the prisoners appeared to argue with them. This man was grabbed by his shirt
collar and pulled to the ground as the others were locked into the container.
The defiant prisoner made to stand but was quickly struck in the head with the
stock of a rifle, then dragged across the gravel to a large ship’s mast where
his hands were bound to it. Brad watched as the guards laughed, leaving the
beaten prisoner unconscious and tied to the pole.

“I think we found volunteers for
tonight’s activities,” Sean whispered.

Brad looked up from his scope and
realized Sean and Brooks had watched the same scene unfold. “What do you need
me to do?” Brad whispered with a hint of anger in his voice.

“Just stay put and observe, Brooks
and I will do the dirty work tonight. We are going to have to get in close so
don’t expect us back for a while,” Sean whispered.

“I can do that,” Brad answered, not
turning to look.

“If things go south on us, and I
mean really sideway, fire off a mag then pop this and move out,” Sean
whispered, putting the last remaining flare in Brad’s hand. “We should be back
here before dawn. If not, wait for us at the hide. If we don’t make it there by
late afternoon, meet up with the others and fall back to the barricade.”

“Then what?” Brad asked.

“Whatever you want, ‘cause you’ll
be in charge if you don’t see us by then,” Sean chuckled.

“You sure about this plan, Chief?”

Sean nodded and shot Brad a thumbs
up. He looked to Brooks who had his goggles down over his eyes. Sean made the
motion of a man walking with his fingers and Brooks began crawling in the
direction of the valley road, moving parallel to the cliff face. “Remember
Brad, only use the flare if all hell breaks loose, controlled chaos is still in
our favor,” Sean whispered as he turned and crawled after Brooks.

Brad sat still, watching the others
fade from his view. He was alone on the incline now. He looked around, trying
to find a better position, something with more cover. Just to the left of him
the ground was more broken and elevated. He could see where a tree had come
down and fallen into the clearing, its large root ball upheaved and exposed.
Brad slowly crept for the space. The trunk was weathered and stripped of bark,
the vegetation long gone. He found a spot where he could rest in cover yet
still have an expansive view of the encampment.

Brad flipped up the night vision
from his eyes to allow them to adjust to the moonlight. He checked his rifle’s
optics and powered up the scope. After doing a quick scan of his surroundings,
he shut off the device and let the barrel of his rifle rest against the tree
trunk. Brad removed his assault pack and let it rest on the ground behind him.
He settled in, pushing his back against the trunk, getting into a body position
where he could make minimal movements but still have an expansive view.

As his eyes adjusted he could see
more activity in the camp. More men moved around in the dark without the aid of
lights. A guard quietly paced the pier that led out to the moored boat. Brad
watched as more men walked towards a makeshift latrine. One man held rifles and
lit a cigarette as another entered the latrine. Even though they were amateurs,
Brad was impressed at their organization. Being sailors probably helped, they
would already be used to splitting work and performing various watches. Being
commercial sailors they‘d probably had military experience as well.

Brad watched the man come out of
the latrine. He took the rifles from the first man and lit a cigarette of his
own, using his partner’s. The now empty-handed man turned and walked into the
latrine. Brad watched the second man sling one of the rifles over his back and
put another over his shoulder. He then walked farther away before leaning
against an old battered fiberglass boat. He reached into his pocket, searching
for something. Brad saw him pull out a white folded paper.

A distant
crack
filled the
air. Not as loud as an unsuppressed gunshot, but louder than a slamming door.
Brad quickly scanned the area then back to the man by the fiberglass boat. The
man had slumped over, still leaning against the boat, the paper fallen from his
hands. The first man walked from the latrine and looked around. Seeing his friend
against the boats, he threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated expression
as he walked towards him, smiling. The man moved three paces, then another
crack.
Brad watched as the guard’s leg lifted to move forward. The man froze then
collapsed heavily to the ground.

Once it started, things happened
fast. Brad scanned the surroundings, trying to keep pace with his shooters.
Crack.
He looked left and right, and saw the pair still roving the perimeter, another
still pacing the pier. Brad turned and looked far to his right with his
binoculars where the guard had been atop the berm. He was gone now. Brad
searched again. He could see the second guard still standing below the barrier
on the inside.
Crack.
The barrier guard fell forward, hitting the hard
ground. Brad looked back to the top of the berm and saw that the top guard was
in fact down, he had fallen and rolled down the barrier near the smoldering
ring of burnt tires.

Brad turned back, searching for the
roving guards. They had paused and were looking around, having finally taken
notice of the suppressed gunshots. The guards lifted their heads, intently
listening but hearing nothing. They seemed to joke and one of them pointed off
to the center of the camp where they had bound the prisoner. They stepped off,
walking towards the mast at a brisk pace. As they neared, a guard stopped and
picked up a rock, tossing it at the man. Brad watched the bound man struggle
and kick his feet towards them.

In the silence of the night, he
could just make out their voices. Not the words but the exchange of angry
tones. One of the guards picked up another stone and threw it at the prisoner,
this time causing the bound man to cry out. The guards laughed, one handing the
other his rifle as he reached down to gather another stone.
Crack.
Brad
watched as a round tore through the chest of the guard holding the rifles; he
fell sideways, spinning as he dropped at the feet of the bound man. The second
guard dropped the stones and jumped back to his feet.

He looked down at his dead comrade,
the weapons within reach of the bound prisoner. The guard took a hasty step
forward, reaching for a rifle.
Crack.
The guard’s neck exploded,
spraying the prisoner with a mist of fluids. The prisoner covered his face with
his free hand then slowly lowered it, searching in all directions. He used his
feet to grab and drag a dead guard closer to himself. Brad watched as he dug a
knife from the guard’s pocket and cut his bindings. With his hands free, he
stood looking in all directions. He lifted a rifle from the dead guard, then
took another in his free hand.

He crouched and ran towards the
shipping containers. He dropped the rifles at his feet, lifted a metal latch
and swung the door open with a metallic screech. The man stooped to retrieve
the rifles then disappeared inside. After a tense moment the man came back into
the moonlight with a second man by his side. They stepped out and ran back
towards the ship’s mast. The prisoner showed the new man the bodies of the
guards, then held up a finger and pointed to the hillsides.

A light shone across the rocky
beach as a door opened on one of the wooden buildings that ran along the
street. Brad couldn’t see the front of the building from his vantage point, but
knew something was happening by the way the prisoners crouched down and took
cover behind the mast. Someone called out but the men stayed hidden behind the
mast. There was more shouting and the man that had been patrolling the pier
took notice. The pier guard started moving in the direction of the building.

The prisoners on the ground slowly
stood with the rifles in their arms, just as the man from the building
hurriedly walked into Brad’s view. He was pointing and yelling, still trying to
figure out what was happening. When he saw the bodies of the fallen guards he
froze and attempted to pull a holstered pistol. It was too late. The raider’s
forward movement towards the prisoner had taken him out of the blind spot
provided by the building and back into the SEALs’ line of sight.
Crack.
The man froze and fell into the dirt. This time the shot did not go unnoticed;
the man from the pier lifted his rifle to fire on the prisoners.
Crack. T
he
pier guard spun around, firing a blind, unsuppressed shot off into the gravel
as he dropped.