Shadow Warriors

by Chris Bostic

“It’s not Call of Duty, Big A,” I retorted. “There’s no easy weapons upgrades or care packages for us.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Austin looked more serious than I had ever seen him before. “But we’ve got a mission to do, and the gear those guys carry can help us.”

  “We could pick them off. It should be easy enough to sneak around.” Mouse tapped her rifle. It hung so low on her shoulder that it seemed like it would drag the ground. The little girl straightened up to her short height. “Me and Big A can do it.”

  “If we do it, we all do it,” Spotted Owl said, and looked over the group.

  “So it’s settled then.” John turned to Spotted Owl. “I vote to attack.”

  “They’ll know we’re coming if we hit one little outpost,” Katelyn’s dad argued.

  John wasn’t dissuaded. “Dad, they’re gonna find out soon enough.”

  “True story. And I’m willing to take that risk,” Spotted Owl said. “I’d rather have a clear line of retreat, and we sure can’t let them get any farther up the highway.”

  “Alright,” my mom agreed. “It’s sure as hell time to shoot back. God knows they started it.”

  I cringed but kept my thoughts to myself. I leaned back on my heels and stared at the sky as Spotted Owl sketched a quick map in the dirt. He circled the bridge, and said, “We need to hit them from all sides. They’ll be sitting tight, probably dug in.” He drew x-shapes all around the circle. “So we need to split up into teams and surround them. When I fire the first shot, everyone needs to open up on ‘em. Got it?”

  Several nodded in agreement. I felt my stomach wrinkle up into a little ball and squeeze bile into the back of my throat. I failed at swallowing the bitter taste initially, and had to resort to a couple long drinks from my dwindling water supply.

  “If anyone surrenders, we take ‘em alive,” my mom said firmly. “We don’t slaughter prisoners.”

  Spotted Owl twisted his head as he looked at her, but held his tongue. After an uncomfortable pause, he said, “We’ll tie up prisoners here, in the shower house…if there are any.”

  “Alright. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can beat the convoy,” John said, rising to his feet. “Let’s roll.”

  Katelyn shared a nervous glance with me. I didn’t have any words of encouragement. It had been one thing to run into Gatlinburg to save her mother, or to cower in the woods as the rockets rained down, but I’d never fired a shot at anything bigger than a deer. And I’d felt bad enough when it fell over—at least until I’d tasted fresh meat for the first time in days.

  “Stay with me,” I said softly, and fell in behind the others.

  Spotted Owl led us back toward the road, but avoided the creek. We moved so slowly I thought a turtle could beat us in a race, but speed obviously wasn’t the concern.

  Not much later, Spotted Owl stopped and held up two fingers. He pointed to the right first, then held up two fingers again and pointed to the left.

  Austin and Mouse were quick to jump forward and take off to the road without a look back. More timidly, Katelyn’s parents went off to the right.

  “You’re with me, okay?” Spotted Owl whispered to my mom, and I almost objected. Before I could open my mouth, the big man pointed at me and Katelyn. “You two stay with John.”

  “Ma?” I said weakly.

  “It’s okay.” She nodded firmly. “Just keep your head down, kiddos.”

  “We will,” I mumbled, and watched as she slipped away through the forest.

  “You’re my problem now,” John whispered with a laugh. “Stick close to me and you’ll go places.”

  “Straight to hell,” I muttered under my breath, but quickly erased the frown to concentrate on following right after John one footstep at a time. The closer we got to the enemy, the more concerned I was about shielding Katelyn.

  Apparently, she didn’t want to be shielded. Every time John stopped to plot his next few footsteps, she snuck up next to me to look.

  My heart thrummed so loudly, I was certain the soldiers could hear it.

  John stopped again, abruptly. The sound of something metal chinking on rock carried through the deathly quiet forest.

  “They’re digging in,” he whispered. “We’re close.”

  I watched with fascination as John dug his fingers into the ground and pulled up a wad of dirt. “Don’t move, sis,” he said, and smeared it all over her pretty face.

  She scrunched up her nose, but bit her tongue. I thought she looked like a child having a parent wipe chocolate off her face, or more like wiped on.

  “You’re next,” John whispered, turning to me.

  “I’ll do it myself,” I said, waving him off.

  He flapped his muddy hand in my face. “C’mon, bud.”

  “No, I got this.”

  What I got was dirt in my mouth, and had to spit to clear it out. Once John finished with his own make-up, he pulled his rifle off his shoulder and motioned for the two of us to do the same.

  “It’s time to get into position.”

  “Where?” Katelyn asked.

  “We’ll just crawl a little closer. We need to be ready for the signal.”

  The signal, I assumed, was the crack of a shot and a soldier toppling over. It wasn’t far from the truth.

  John got us close enough that we could see the shapes of soldiers scurrying across the roadbed on the side of the bridge closest to Cherokee. Spread out shoulder to shoulder, myself in the middle and Katelyn on the far end of the line, John raised his rifle and looked through the scope.

  “There’s two men up on the road. The others must be dug in on the slope.”

  The vagueness didn’t make me feel any better.

  “Looks like they dropped in some sandbags,” John continued. “They’ve got body armor. Nice helmets too, not like the one I tried to give you.” He looked to catch my reaction, but a glum face was all I could offer. John focused back in on his scope. “They’re moving pretty cautious, but I don’t think they have a clue we’re coming. Get your rifles up and pick a target.”

  Target. Seemed like a good way to look at the situation, I thought. Targets weren’t people. In a way, neither were the Federal agents. They were cruel creatures that harassed and killed without mercy. I wasn’t like that.

  My finger resisted touching the trigger guard, but I managed to ease off the safety as I looked with my naked eye at the shape of an enemy soldier. Through the leaves and branches and failing light, the figure seemed more like a shadow. Maybe a bit like those paper outlines that I’d used for target practice at my grandpa’s farm years before.

  Targets, I told myself again. That’s all they are.

  But one of them spoke. Yelling rose from the bridge, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. As the thunder rolled down the valley toward me, the target toppled off the slope into the creek.

  CHAPTER 22

  John opened fire. The blast from his rifle shoved on my eardrum, instantly deafening me. I blinked for a second, expecting the world to stand still like it had when I’d fired on the deer, only to have the sound gradually come back. And it did, but with a shrill ringing that drowned out everything but thumps of more rifle fire.

  John shot again before I could shoulder my weapon. In my haste, it took a while to get lined up with the scope correctly. The lens blackened around the edges as I moved my head. I finally got a clear view, but of nothing but brown. Lying on the dirt, I adjusted my body to try to find the road somewhere among the mass of never-ending forest.

  Two more shots came from John before I finally located the road. A green lump was stretched out on the pavement, not moving. Another soldier, rather target, knocked down.

  I searched for more targets, but still hadn’t gotten my finger close to the trigger.

  A fusillade of bullets whizzed over my head. The burst sounded more like the grumbling, burping sound from the helicopter’s Gatling gun than a normal rifle.

  “Machine gun!” John shouted over the rac
ket. It sounded like he was underwater.

  Limbs fell off the trees above us. I thought I heard a bullet whizz past my good ear. I rolled to look at Katelyn.

  She was trying to peer through her scope, but seemed to be having about as much success as I’d had at finding a target.

  I shouldered my weapon again, and tried to scan the bridge site. Once more, it took a moment to find the roadway. This time I came at it from below, working along the embankment, and caught sight of a helmet poking out of an earthen hole like a prairie dog.

  Its owner looked no older than Austin. But Mouse was a lot older than she seemed, I reminded myself, and settled back in behind the trigger.

  Before I could work up the nerve to shoot, the gunshots tapered off. From across the road, my screeching ears could barely make out Spotted Owl yelling, “Drop your weapons!”

  “Screw you!” someone yelled back.

  “That bridge worth dyin’ for?”

  Gun shots raked the hill where Spotted Owl had called from. While the machine gun blasted away, no one seemed to fire back at it.

  I quit watching the boy in the foxhole, and swung my weapon around, trying to find the machine gun. I had to return fire. For all I knew, Spotted Owl might’ve been hit in the burst. He needed cover fire.

  As I scanned the woods all around the bridge, a dark realization struck me hard as a bullet. My mom was with Spotted Owl. She might’ve been hit.

  My heart clenched up like a rock in my chest. I couldn’t lose my mother too, and only a day apart from my dad. Fueled by rage, I hunkered back behind the rifle scope again.

  A single shot ripped out from well off to my left, and the machine gun fell silent. Austin whooped, “Got him!”

  “Anybody out there? You better drop your weapon!” Spotted Owl called again, relieving me enough that my heart started beating again. But until I knew if my mother was okay, I couldn’t be myself.

  John rose, and I tugged at his jacket.

  “There’s a kid still up there. This side of the bridge, on the left.”

  “Then we go get him.” John raised his voice to shout, “Stand up and show yourself! Lose the gun and step away or you won’t see another day.”

  Katelyn and I followed behind John as he stalked toward the road. When he got close, he rushed forward with rifle trained on the embankment. I jogged behind, praying the soldier would be smart enough to give up.

  When I saw him up close, I was even more certain he was a kid. Somehow I felt older, and definitely more composed, however unlikely—especially considering how I had been an ordinary high schooler a few months before. Being thrown into a firefight and hiding in the hills was a world apart from trying to avoid a bully in the hallways.

  John pointed his rifle at the boy, and gestured for him to climb up onto the road.

  “Don’t shoot me,” he whimpered. When John motioned more forcefully, the kid quieted and complied. Without another sound, he climbed up the slope unsteadily, and cowered on the pavement, close to the lifeless body of his former comrade in arms.

  “He’s the only prisoner,” Spotted Owl announced as he emerged from the woods across the road. To my delight, Mom was right behind him looking perfectly healthy, if a bit pale.

  “Everyone okay?” John called out.

  Several voices replied, though the ringing in my ear prevented me from making out all their owners. I stood on the edge of the road, and watched the woods as the pairs filed back to the bridge. It was easier to do that than concentrate on the sprawled out soldier leaking dark blood onto the pavement.

  “Nice work,” Spotted Owl said when everyone had been accounted for. “We need to make tracks, so grab the gear and let’s get the heck outta here.”

  Austin leapt off the roadway, and skidded down the slope toward a hastily dug pit. I didn’t move, but watched as my brother tried to lift a huge machine gun from a foxhole ringed with sandbags.

  “Damn this thing’s heavy,” he said, straining until I thought he’d give himself a hernia. Mouse scurried over to help him, and together they lifted it from the pit. They barely managed to carry it up the road, and dropped it with a metallic thunk on the asphalt.

  “Thanks for the help,” Austin said, looking at me.

  “I thought someone with a name like Big A could handle it.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Not really,” I mumbled under my breath, not wanting to start a fight.

  Katelyn asked Austin, “What are you gonna do with that?”

  “Duh. Take it with us.”

  I bristled at the way he spoke to her, but Spotted Owl came over to Austin before I could reply with something unkind.

  “Good find.” He bent over and easily picked it up in his meaty paws. “That’s mine now.”

  Skinny Austin seemed to shrink before the big man, and slowly stepped away.

  “Go grab ammo for my new toy,” Spotted Owl told him. Then he turned to address the group. “Take their uniforms and body armor. We might as well gear up like soldiers.”

  I didn’t want any part of touching the bodies. I mustered up enough resolve to pick up the helmet of the dead man on the road, but I wasn’t going to do anything with their clothing. Seeing how many had leaked blood all over their uniforms, I had no desire to start undressing the dead, much less wearing any blood-soaked garments.

  I was somewhat more willing to collect the soldiers’ weapons. I picked up a black assault rifle and hefted it in my hands. It was metallic and tinny sounding, which stood in stark contrast to the finely crafted, wooden-stocked hunting rifle of mine that felt both heavier and better put together.

  “Bring that over here,” Spotted Owl told me.

  As I went to drop the rifle in a growing pile of weapons, Katelyn left me for a moment to help her parents gather up gear.

  Heeding my unspoken thoughts, the group opted to pick up the body armor and helmets only. We’d look enough like soldiers that way, except for one person. As we gathered up the gear in a pile down by the creek, I did a quick headcount. With nine in our group versus seven fallen soldiers and one prisoner, I realized one person wouldn’t be getting any armor. Though I wouldn’t have minded some extra protection, I was fine with that person being me.

  Spotted Owl went through the gear pile, rapidly handing out helmets and heavy vests laden down with steel plates. When he got to Mouse, he paused.

  She looked like a child trying on school clothes in a department store as he held up an armored vest that would drape to her knees. “That’s not gonna work.” He plucked a helmet off the pile, and set it on her head.

  Austin laughed, drawing a sharp rebuke from Mouse.

  “That’s no good either,” Spotted Owl said, and passed it off of to Austin. “Sorry, little Mouse.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, and kept her trademark spunk. “I don’t need that stuff. I’m ten times stealthier without it, and twice as fast.”

  “That you are.”

  It came time for me and Katelyn to get gear. I hung back, but that didn’t prevent Spotted Owl from shoving a heavy vest in my arms.

  “Put this stuff on.” Spotted Owl looked quickly to the sky. I got the impression he wasn’t thinking about the waning daylight when he added, “We’re wasting time.”

  I nodded, not willing to argue. I thought about tossing the gear aside when we took off hiking, but realized that wouldn’t go over well with the group. So I walked to the side to examine my new armor.

  If I’d seen even a speck of spattered blood, I might’ve filled the helmet with vomit. Thankfully, it was clean. Almost new looking, which surprised me. I’d assumed the soldiers’ gear had deteriorated as badly as the roads, the schools, and pretty much every other aspect of society. But deep down I had known better. Those that enforced the laws would have the best gear. The bulk of the country’s budget went to the military, the police, and the spies who kept tabs on the people.

  The body armor was similarly clean looking. I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t b
lood spattered, and quickly realized I must’ve been given the scared kid’s gear.

  “Lucky for me,” I mumbled under my breath, and returned to Katelyn.

  “I look ridiculous in this,” she said, pointing to the oversized helmet on her head.

  “You look, uhm…fine,” I said, momentarily taken aback at seeing her dressed like a solider. Like the enemy.

  “You paused,” she pouted.

  I blinked and cursed under my breath. There was no way Katelyn was the enemy no matter how she was outfitted.

  “Babe, you look gorgeous in anything,” I said, and honestly believed it.

  Her face was hidden in shadows, though her cheeks still shone. Her long brown hair spilled out the back of the helmet, since she’d had to undo her ponytail to get the helmet to fit properly. Still, it hung slightly crooked on her head.

  “There’s a chin strap to tighten it up,” I said. “Let me get that.”

  Like a child with a bicycle helmet, I tried my hardest to adjust the strap without pinching the flesh under her chin. Mission accomplished, I stood back with a grin. “You look good, like ferocious.”

  “I still feel ridiculous,” she said, but offered no further complaints.

  I shrugged my shoulders, now weighted down with what felt like twenty pounds of steel. “It’s gonna be hard to move in this stuff.”

  I noticed the rest of the group had geared up. They’d moved over to the pile of weapons. Austin was really looking the Call of Duty part and a little bulkier as he towered over Mouse.

  “Only a few hand grenades,” Austin told Spotted Owl, who had picked up a pair of baseball-sized objects from the pile of black rifles and ammunition magazines.

  “You and John can hang onto those,” Spotted Owl said, and handed them out first. “Just don’t jack around with ‘em.”

  “Of course not,” John said, and he stooped over to choose an assault rifle and a couple magazines from the pile.

  “I’m gonna miss my trusty old rifle,” he told me as he came to stand next to me and Katelyn.

  “What should we do with those?” I asked. “Leave ‘em here?”

  “Maybe. It’s a lot to carry.”