Ultraviolent: Book Six in The Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  Deciding he should retrieve his horse first, Wayne took a few steps in that direction then stopped in his tracks. Shannon and Ragus had to have heard the chopper too. Wouldn't they be coming this way? What if they got here and decided to engage the trespassers before he got back with his horse? He couldn't take a chance on that. As much as he hated to leave his horse on the road, he headed in the opposite direction, toward Ragus's place.

  He used caution, sneaking through the woods while he was near the compound, but switching to the more easily traveled road once he was out of earshot. He stepped it up to a jogging pace, holding his rifle across the front of his body. He ran for nearly a half-mile before running into Ragus and Shannon coming in his direction. Since he was running downhill, his momentum nearly carried him past the two before he could stop himself.

  "Did you see that chopper?" Ragus asked.

  Breathing too hard to reply with words, Wayne held up two fingers.

  "Two people!" Shannon replied. "Same as before."

  Wayne bobbed his head. "One...female."

  "It has to be the same people," Shannon said.

  Wayne wiped at his forehead with the tail of his shirt. "I was on my way to check on you guys when I heard the chopper. I started to take them on by myself, but I worried that it might lead to a shootout and we need answers more than we need to kill these folks. I want to know who they are and why they're here."

  "Agreed," Shannon said.

  Ragus gestured toward the compound. "So what are we waiting on? Let's go get them."

  Wayne smiled. "Easy there, Ragus. We need to think this out. There's no hurry. The chopper took off and left them here. They also picked the lock on the living quarters so it looks like they intend on staying a while."

  Ragus shook his head. "Conor is not going to be happy about that."

  "Let's go back to your place," Wayne suggested. "We'll get some gear together and come up with a plan."

  Ragus wasn’t excited about that idea. "The more we let them settle in, the harder they might be to dig out."

  "Do you have flex-cuffs on you?" Wayne asked. "A taser? Tear gas? Night vision in case this runs into the night? Do you have your body armor and spare mags?"

  Ragus shook his head, seeing Wayne's point.

  "Wayne is right," Shannon said. "We need to come up with a plan. And speaking of nightvision, we might be better off waiting until dark."

  "Exactly. Now if you guys are in agreement that we should hold off on this until we have a good plan, I need to go get my horse. I left it tied up on the road just past the compound. I'll bring it through the woods and meet you guys at your place."

  "How about we follow you up the ridge and get a look at them?" Ragus asked. "I want to see if it's the same people."

  "Ragus, I get your excitement, but there's no need to take a chance on tipping them off. If they see or hear you, they'll go on alert and they'll be that much harder to get to. We need to let them relax and get comfortable. I'll stay at your place tonight. We can hit them early in the morning, while it's still dark. Conor says that's the best time to launch a raid."

  "What if they have a sentry?" Ragus asked.

  "I hope they do," Wayne replied. "Because that will probably mean the other one is asleep."

  "But what if the sentry is hiding somewhere and we miss them?" Ragus said. "We could walk into a trap."

  "You're overthinking this, Ragus. If we scan the place with nightvision and thermal, we'll probably find a sentry if they have one. Then we deal with them one at a time. We can interrogate them right there at the compound. We figure out who they are and why they're there," Wayne said.

  "What if they won't talk?"

  Wayne gave Ragus a long look but said nothing. He didn't want to go into the details of what he might be forced to do if the prisoners wouldn't talk.

  It was Shannon who put that look into words. "They'll talk, Ragus. We'll see to it."

  Both Ragus and Wayne turned toward her, intrigued and surprised at her use of the word "we." Wayne understood. This was her home too and she took ownership of this problem. A violation of their space was a violation of her space, and she took it personally.

  "If we're done here, I'm going to go get my horse. I shouldn't be more than an hour. Needless to say, don't burn a fire. We'll cook on a stove tonight so we don't send any smoke signals."

  Wayne started his slog back toward the compound, while Ragus and Shannon took a much more leisurely trek back toward their camp. When they reached the mine, they started water boiling on a camping stove and laid out some pasta to cook for dinner. Paired with fresh vegetables and freeze-dried ground beef it would be an excellent dinner. The dogs agreed, sniffing at the pouch of ground beef before it was even opened.

  It didn't take Wayne as long as expected to get back to them, despite the detour through the woods. He tied his horse off, removed the saddle, and watered it. While his horse drank, he dipped into the cool spring water and doused his head. He preferred summer over winter but these sweltering late summer days were tough on a man from the north. It made him glad he hadn’t followed his people further south. They had to be suffering about now, if they'd made it at all.

  Not wanting to allow himself any time to follow the dark road of his thoughts, he stood up and wiped his face. "So, what's for dinner? It smells delicious."

  47

  Conor's Compound

  Jewell Ridge, Virginia

  Ricardo and Valeria knew little about Conor's compound so it took them a while to settle in for the evening. With the living quarters having been closed up for over a week, the interior of the house was stifling and humid. They left the doors and windows open for much of the evening, trying in vain to catch a breeze so faint it barely stirred the leaves.

  For dinner they had MREs. There were better freeze-dried options in their gear, but they hadn't been able to find a stove of any sort since the residents of the compound had moved them all out.

  "Can't we do a campfire?" Valeria asked.

  Ricardo shook his head glumly. "The smell of smoke travels a long way. It's like sending out a beacon that you're here. It's dangerous to sit around a campfire in potentially hostile territory because it makes you an easy target. You don't even need nightvision to shoot someone sitting around a bright campfire."

  Her eyes widened as she considered that possibility for the first time. "Got it."

  "I'm sorry."

  Valeria waved him off. "Don't apologize. I'm just learning this stuff. Your explanations make sense but it's information I never had to know before. This is your world, not mine. I'm learning things that you do without even thinking about them."

  "You're a brave girl, Valeria. My gut told me you were the right person for the job. I hope you're still onboard with working for me, but please let me know if you ever change your mind. You're not under any obligation or contract here. If you're not happy we shake hands and part ways."

  "I'm good. I'm enjoying it. I like the adventure."

  Ricardo smiled. "Tonight won't feel like an adventure. It will probably be pretty boring. The good news is that what we're doing now isn't the kind of thing I normally do."

  "What happens tonight?"

  "We'll need to keep watch."

  She turned this over in her head. "What do I have to do?"

  Ricardo judged that their meals were adequately heated so he slid Valeria's to her and tore into his. They were sitting on the broad front porch of Conor's living quarters, eating at a scarred wooden table that looked like it had been used for everything from rebuilding carburetors to butchering goats.

  "We split the night in half and take turns keeping an eye on things."

  She looked a little wary. "Wouldn't we be better off just locking ourselves in the house for the night?"

  "It's not that easy. It's best not to let anyone get too close. There could be someone out there with a key. Or they could set the house on fire to smoke us out. It's better to keep an active watch so you can react immediat
ely if anyone tries to launch an attack."

  "Okay, I get it. What do I need to do?"

  "I like your rationality," Ricardo said with a smile. "I'll take first watch. You can get in bed early and get some sleep. I'll wake you around 3 AM and you can finish out the night."

  "Does that give you enough sleep?"

  "Thank you for asking, but I usually get about six hours. If I get in bed at three, I'll be fine."

  "If you say so, but I'll probably turn in well before dark. I like a good night's sleep."

  Ricardo hadn't noticed that she'd already finished her chicken enchilada MRE until she tore into the Skittles. "Like the Skittles, huh?"

  She nodded eagerly.

  Ricardo tossed his across the table. "Knock yourself out. I prefer chocolate."

  She didn't argue, snatching the candy off the table before he could change his mind. "So what do I do when I'm on watch?"

  "You should probably sit here on the porch with your nightvision handy. Don't run it all the time because I only have a few spare batteries. Just use it if you need to check out a noise, but understand that this is the mountains—there will always be noises. It might take you a few days to learn which are the normal noises and which aren't."

  "What are normal mountain noises?"

  "There are animals that move here at night, just like at Earl's compound. Deer, bears, raccoons, possums, foxes, and maybe a few other things."

  Her eyes went wide. "That's the normal stuff?"

  Ricardo chuckled at her reaction. "None of those things will hurt you here on the porch. I suspect the fence around this place keeps deer and bear out so that shouldn't be an issue. But keep your rifle handy with a round in the chamber. Don't shoot at anything unless you have absolutely no choice. If you hear something concerning but you can't figure out what it is, just wake me up. I won't get mad."

  "Sounds a little nerve-wracking."

  "You'll be fine," Ricardo assured her. "The tough part is staying awake the whole time. As I said, it's no different than being at Earl's compound."

  "That may be true," she admitted. "I guess it felt safer there because there were more people. I knew they'd deal with any problem that came up. Here, I'll be the one having to deal with the problems."

  "You can do it. You can do anything you set your mind to," he told her. "I know that about you."

  48

  Russell County, Virginia

  Immediately after dinner, Conor stretched out on top of his sleeping bag and drifted off. Neither of them thought there was much need for a watch in this isolated valley, but they maintained one anyway. They knew it was best to never let your guard down in enemy territory. The one time they did, the one time they slacked off, would inevitably be the time that someone ambushed them.

  Barb let Conor sleep about four hours, waking him around 11 PM. He'd been in a deep sleep but he quickly roused to wakefulness, well-accustomed to having to wake up to pull watch.

  Before she fell asleep, Barb studied her watch. "Dad, why don't you wake me up at 2 AM? If you feel up to it, we could ride out of here in darkness. I can get by on three hours of sleep and it might be a safer ride than waiting until daylight."

  Conor’s yawn turned into a nod. "I'm good with that. I'll have coffee waiting on you when I wake you up."

  Like her dad, Barb didn't toss and turn. She found a comfortable spot and fell asleep like someone turned off a switch. She was lost to the world until her father nudged her. She winced and groaned, her bruised ribs aching from laying so long in one position.

  "Sorry, Barb. I forgot."

  She sat up and leaned forward against her raised knees, cradling her ribs. "It's okay. The muscles are just stiff from sleeping. You have any more of those pills?"

  Conor fetched another of the combat pill packs from his gear and they shared it. He handed her a cup of coffee to wash it down with. "I have protein bars too. You want peanut butter-flavored sawdust or maple walnut-flavored sawdust?"

  The coffee had sat long enough that it had cooled to the perfect temperature. Barb drained the plastic cup in a single slug, then returned the cup to Conor. "Maple."

  Conor handed her the protein bar and returned her coffee cup to the saddle bag. He'd already packed all his gear and had their horses saddled. Both bump helmets were hanging over the saddle horns so they could ride out with nightvision.

  Barb tore into her protein bar and bit off a chunk, shoving the rest into her t-shirt pocket while she chewed. She carefully got to her feet, babying her ribs. Conor rolled her sleeping bag up and stowed it while Barb packed up the last of her gear. Like her dad, she always slept fully dressed in the field, down to her boots, so packing up didn't take long.

  When Conor pulled himself into the saddle, Barb couldn't help but laugh at the effort it took him. Their days in the field were catching up with them. They were both sore, battered, and tired. When Barb's turn came, her groan of pain turned into a quiet laugh. Even her beat-up condition was a source of amusement to her.

  They both settled their helmets onto their heads and buckled them in place. They dropped their nightvision into position and adjusted it until everything was as good as it was going to get.

  "Which way?" Barb asked.

  Conor consulted the compass on his watch. "North. We'll intercept Kent's Ridge Road and go through Richlands."

  "Lead the way."

  They rode along the bottom of the isolated valley for nearly a mile before turning up a slope to their left. They followed a logging road through a forest of young timber, then crossed a hill. The logging road wound its way out of the woods and descended to join a paved road. Conor and Barb crossed a bridge over a narrow creek, then turned left toward the town of Richlands.

  The Clinch River cut through the center of town and tonight it bound the community in a dense fog. It limited the sight distances, reducing the benefit of their nightvision. Where they could, they stuck to the shoulder of the road to avoid the noise hooves made on asphalt and concrete. Still, there were stretches in town where there were no soft surfaces and they were forced to clomp across bridges and through parking lots. The sound of their horses was uncomfortably loud there, the level of noise making them feel like they were walking through town banging a spoon on the bottom of a large pot.

  Both riders were on edge, hands on the grips of rifles and safeties off. They knew the sound of their passage had to be waking residents of the fogbound town. Without air conditioning, no one would have their windows closed at this time of year. The terrain, a bowl-shaped valley, only made the situation worse, causing the sound to bounce around off every hard surface. Both were genuinely surprised to reach the far end of town with no conflict.

  Conor flicked his selector back to the Safe position and sighed in relief. "Damn, Barb, I thought going through here at night would be a piece of cake, but I was on edge the entire time. I'd have filled my diaper if a cat had so much as hissed at me."

  "I agree. Daytime is risky but that was downright scary. We were blind in that fog. If people had come for us, we wouldn't have seen them until they were right on us."

  "It should be a little easier from here on out. There are fewer houses and we know the territory a little better."

  "And we should get home by daybreak."

  "You mean by breakfast?"

  Barb laughed. "You and your stomach. You already had breakfast."

  Conor snorted in offense. "That chocolate-covered bark biscuit was not a breakfast. I want four eggs with onions, goat cheese, green peppers, and a giant yellow tomato."

  "Should I call ahead and have Ragus start chopping and dicing?"

  Conor shook his head. "Nope, I'll fix it me own self. I know just how I want it and some things can't be trusted to anyone else."

  49

  Catalyst Security Facility

  Front Royal Virginia

  When Browning showed up at the hangar at 04:00, the pilots had just completed their pre-flight inspection of the chopper. The team Riddle had asse
mbled was loafing around, joking and getting themselves amped up for the mission. Someone was playing heavy metal music from a battery-powered CD player, but they killed it when his vehicle arrived.

  Everyone at the facility was familiar with Browning but they'd never seen him in his combat loadout. He climbed out of the black Suburban looking like someone who'd stepped out of a 1980s issue of Soldier of Fortune magazine. He wore old-school tiger-striped camo that didn't have the padded knees of newer battle dress. His chest rig was worn without plates but loaded down with spare mags, a Gerber Mark II fighting knife, and a variety of grenades. His web gear was frayed but molded to the shape of his body by a decades-old mixture of blood, sweat, and five continents’ worth of dirt. His sidearm was a Springfield 1911 and his rifle an Argentine FAL that he'd picked up in Guatemala. His only accommodation to modernize the rifle was to add an ACOG optic to it.

  The eight-man team lined up in front of the chopper and took Browning in with the same degree of scrutiny that he applied to them. He didn't know these men so he assumed Riddle had chosen wisely. After all, why would he do otherwise? As far as Browning could tell, they all looked capable and appeared to be adequately equipped.

  The team was entirely made up of men under thirty years old. While none of this particular group had any combat experience, Browning didn't know that. Riddle and Null had hand-picked them based on their annual performance evaluations. These were the lowest tier of candidates available to choose from. They were the bottom one percentile, personnel just a few points short of being let go from Catalyst. Riddle had only kept them on because they were warm bodies who could fill a job, as long as it didn't require much in the way of skills or thinking. Riddle decided these were the perfect men to accompany Browning on what would hopefully be his final mission. Why sacrifice useful talent?