“You said we were free to go if we came outside without our weapons, amigo. We are not going to be your prisoners!”
“You will be free to go, if you do as I say! But first I have to come aboard in order to clear the vessel before I release you. I gave you my word, and I will stand by it!”
Keith fully intended to do what he said, but he had to have the men restrained in order to secure the vessel and transfer them off to their own boat. The one doing the talking caught the two pairs of cuffs when he threw them up, and the second he did, all hell broke loose.
Keith flinched instinctively as a rifle shot rang out from the woods. He didn’t know who fired or why for a split second, until Greg yelled, “GRENADE!” Keith saw one of the two guys on the deck turn and scream something in Spanish, while the one he’d been talking to leapt over the side and splashed into the water in front of his boat. Keith jumped in right behind him, hitting the water just as the explosion went off above them on deck. The momentum of his plunge carried him underwater for a few seconds, but then he broke through the surface, his ears ringing as he scanned the water around him, looking for the one who jumped. Keith saw the man swimming for the bow of his patrol boat, and he quickly reached up and grabbed one gunwale to steady himself as he drew his pistol from the holster at his side and brought it out of the water in front of him, in line with the man’s head.
“Touch this boat and I’ll shoot you in the face!” Keith yelled. “I want you to turn around and swim for the shore over there:” Keith nodded towards the dark woodline, where he could see Bart and Greg wading out into view, their weapons at ready.
“Are you okay, son?” Bart yelled.
“I’m fine! Where did that come from? Did you get the other guy?”
“They’re both down,” Greg yelled back. “The third guy was coming out of the shadows from the other side of the pilothouse. I picked him up in my scope and saw the grenade he was getting ready to toss into your boat. He must have found it with Eric’s stuff down below. When I shot him, he dropped it, and the other guy on deck tried to get to it in time. He didn’t make it!”
Keith pulled himself back aboard his boat, rattled by the close call. He saw that the Mexican man had reached the shallows, and was now wading ashore, covered by Greg’s rifle and Bart’s shotgun. Keith holstered his pistol and glanced up at the Miss Anita. There was no telling what kind of damage the grenade blast and shrapnel did to the vessel, but at least it didn’t appear to be on fire. The heavy steel construction could take a lot of punishment, so he could hope for the best.
He saw Shauna, Megan, Vicky and Andrew step out of the dark forest as well as he pulled the boat up to where Greg and Bart had the prisoner at gunpoint and tossed Greg another pair of handcuffs. Keith could have just as soon shot the guy as look at him after such an abject betrayal, but he thought it might be worthwhile to hold him for interrogation and find out where in the hell he and his amigos had come from and why. That would have to wait for later though, as there was far more pressing business to attend to first.
“Shauna, will you go with me and help me with Joe? We’ll get him over here first and then go aboard the Miss Anita and get what we need.
Shauna, of course, agreed and climbed aboard. Then Keith steered back out to the entrance cut and pulled alongside the boat to which they’d moved Joe. Becca’s voice was frantic when she reached for Keith’s line and put it around a cleat.
“He’s not responding at all, Keith!”
Keith and Shauna scrambled into the boat to find Diane holding Joe close to her as she sobbed. He knelt down beside them and put his fingers against the fallen man’s carotid artery, feeling for a pulse, and finding nothing.
Sixteen
“HOW MANY JOHN BOATS and pirogues do you have?” Eric asked Sam, when he agreed that revenge against that gunboat crew would be sweet indeed.
“Right here nearby, there’s two 16-foot John boats and two pirogues. One boat has a Johnson 25 on it and the other one’s got a Mercury 9.9.”
Eric had seen how the local Cajun fishermen used the small, flat-bottomed pirogues in conjunction with their John boats, which they often called “bateaus” in these parts. The pirogues were sort of like canoes, only smaller; most of them suitable only for one person. They could be poled or paddled, and the flat bottom made them extremely shallow draft. The fishermen would sometimes carry them across the bows of their John boats, athwartship, and switch to them to access the small lakes and sloughs where the larger boat couldn’t go. And while they weren’t as seaworthy as a canoe or certainly the kayak he’d made his Florida landfall in, Eric knew that one of them would be perfect for what he had in mind to do with it. The John boats were essential too, and with them, he knew he could move enough people to where they needed to be in order to pull off this new plan that suddenly came to mind upon chatting with Sam. The only missing piece was the bait, and he hoped that Sam and the others could help him out with that.
“I won’t lie to you and say there is no risk,” Eric said. “Whoever chooses to do this, if anyone does, is certainly going to be putting their life on the line. There’s no way of knowing what the reaction of that boat crew will be. The gunner may open fire as soon as they see something on the river, and if they do, whoever is in that pirogue will be cut to shreds by .50-caliber bullets, and I will too. It’s a risk I’m willing to take though, because I’m gambling that they won’t shoot if we play it right. They are men in a combat zone, and like all men, they can let their guard down in the right circumstances.”
“I think it’ll work,” Hal said, as he and his uncle and several of the others from the camp listened to Eric lay out his idea. “They see a pretty woman alone out there in the middle of nowhere, I can’t see them just shooting her on sight.”
“You don’t know what they’ll do,” another man who Eric now knew was Lenny said. “Would you want your wife to be the one to find out?”
“If she wants to do it, that’s up to her to decide. But I think someone younger and prettier would be better.”
Eric smiled when he saw Hal glance over his shoulder to make sure his wife wasn’t in earshot when he said that. He didn’t know about Hal’s wife, but before Eric suggested his plan, he had noticed a few nice-looking women and girls in the group, which gave him the idea. A couple of the girls looked a bit younger than Megan and probably hadn’t even graduated high school yet. He’d already ruled both of them out for this role, even if the folks in the camp suggested it. But there were three or four other young women that he assumed were the wives or sisters of some of the men, and if any of them were willing, they would be suitable. Eric was determined to stay out of the selection process though, because this was a volunteer operation only, if it became an operation at all.
“I’ll do it!” One of those same women he’d noticed spoke up.
“Now, wait just a minute, Cindy!” The man next to her said. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I know that somebody has to do something, Steven!” Cindy said. “This man is right! We can’t just hide out here in the woods from now on! This is no kind of life! And we know what those men are capable of—and what they’ve already done. Don’t forget about that poor old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, that we found shot to death in their own home!”
“It doesn’t have to be you, though!”
“Why not? We could all be attacked and killed tomorrow! What’s the sense in putting up with this? I’m ready to do something to change it. Starting right now!”
“I’ll do it if she can’t!” One of the teen girls said.
“No way, Debbie!” A man who Eric surmised was the girl’s father shouted her down, much to Eric’s relief.
“Look, I’ve got this!” Cindy said again, before turning to Eric. “You just tell me what to do and how to act. I can play that role as well as anyone. I think your plan is brilliant. I can totally see it working!”
“But....”
“But nothing, Steven!
I get to make my own decision on this. If you want to be one of the rifle guys covering us, then come with us!”
Sam Necaise stood and addressed the group. “Folks, I think Eric’s plan is a good one, and that it very well could work. But everyone needs to understand that getting involved in anything like this is dangerous. I’ve decided that I want to join Eric and do something about it, but there’s no pressure on anyone who doesn’t, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of it you’d rather not get involved. The only thing I ask is that those of you under 18 must abide by your parents’ wishes. The rest of you are capable of making your own decisions. But everyone can’t go on this particular mission. It’ll be Eric, Jonathan and me, and whoever is selected to be the ‘bait,’ so to speak, and at the most, four additional shooters for back up. That’ll be a full load for the two boats, if we tow the pirogue we’re gonna need to set the trap. I don’t want anybody going that doesn’t want to be there or isn’t prepared to be gone as long as it takes to get this done. I also want everybody going to understand that if something goes wrong, they may not be coming back from this. Maybe none of us....”
With that, Sam left them to talk it out among themselves while he sat down with Eric and Jonathan to look at Eric’s map.
“They have to have a base of operations somewhere,” Eric said, “and we know it’s not at the post at Simmesport.”
“It could even be on the other side of the locks, somewhere on the Mississippi,” Sam said.
“Yes, but I doubt the gunboat is going back and forth through the locks on any kind of regular basis. They’d have to have someone to open and close them, and apparently, no one is stationed there. I’m thinking they must have a camp somewhere north of Simmesport, along the lower Red River that comes in there, or one of these dead lakes or side channels off of it.” Eric traced the possibilities on the map with his finger. “But regardless of that, our best bet for taking that boat is to do it as far down the Atchafalaya as we think they are patrolling, so that we hit them when they’re likely far from any help. I know you said you’ve heard them all the way down here a few times, but not every day. I’d say we should look at the area around this first sharp bend south of the Simmesport Bridge. That way they won’t see the pirogue in the river until they round the bend, and when they do, they’ll be close enough to clearly see the person in it. I think they’ll be less likely to open fire if they can see that it’s a woman and not a likely threat.”
“That looks good to me,” Sam said. “There’s plenty of thick woods on both sides of the river there. As long as we get there in the dark, we shouldn’t have any problem pulling the John boats up out of sight and picking some good spots to shoot from.”
Eric was stoked. This meeting had worked out far better than he’d dared hope. Now that he had the manpower, he wanted that gunboat, and he was determined to get it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to easily get more belt-linked ammo for it, but if there were at least a few boxes aboard for that M2, it would give them the ability to dominate the river once they were back in St. Martin Parish, at least against any threat they’d seen on the water so far.
When he and Sam had finished working out the logistics, they learned that the others had made their decision regarding who was going, and who was staying. Cindy Delacroix, the young lady who’d volunteered despite the objections of her husband, had gotten her way, and Eric was pleased at this development. Cindy was in her late twenties and perfect for the role; her long brunette hair and shapely figure made her unmistakably a woman at first glance, and a sexy one at that. If that gunboat was crewed by red-blooded men, they would be curious enough when they saw her to want a closer look more than they would want target practice for the M2. At least that’s what Eric hoped, because he would be right there with her, even if he wasn’t actually aboard the pirogue. He would bear as much risk as she would, especially since this would be a daytime operation, but daytime was when the patrols were happening, so it was the only option.
Eric wanted to make sure everyone on the eight person-team that included himself and Jonathan, understood what they were supposed to do and when. To that end, he separated the volunteers from the rest of the group and following Sam, they made their way down to the river, where Eric laid it out in detail. Questions were asked and answered, and then Eric checked the weapons, sighting systems and ammo each of the shooters planned to carry and reiterated the importance of making every shot count.
“And make damned sure you don’t shoot me!” Eric said. “If you do this right, it shouldn’t even be an issue, but if for some reason they don’t all go down in the initial onslaught, then I may have to get up close and personal with them. Don’t confuse me with the crew!”
Eric also made sure everyone on the team understood that the wait could be a long one. He told them to prepare for up to three days of camping out at the ambush site, waiting on the gunboat crew to show. Eric hoped it wouldn’t take that long, because he and Jonathan were already overdue to return to the Miss Anita, and he knew Shauna, Keith and the others must be getting anxious. Still, if he could capture this gunboat, it would make up in part for the loss of Ronnie’s personal boat and the failure to secure military help. That and the addition of Sam and his volunteers would turn the trip here into a major success.
After the planning and preparation was done, Eric and Jonathan focused on getting some rest after spending so much of the previous day and night on the go. When darkness fell again, they were replenished and well-fed, and Sam and the rest of the team were anxious to move out. Even so, they waited until almost midnight, just to be on the safe side, and were at their preselected river bend a half hour later. The crew then split into two halves, as already arranged, with Jonathan and two of the guys from the camp taking one John boat to the east bank of the river and Sam and the other two shooters hiding theirs in the woods on the west side. Cindy’s husband, Steven, was in Sam’s crew, so Cindy and Eric also took the west side, hauling the pirogue up into the woods beside the John boat.
They slept some more, as best they could, considering their growing anticipation, and when dawn came, all eyes and ears were focused on listening for the return of the gunboat. The long morning dragged into noon with nothing but the sounds of birdcalls and squirrel chatter, leading to grumbling among the younger men, including Steven.
“I think we’re just wasting our time,” he said. “They may never come this far downriver again.”
“They’ll come,” Sam said. “It just may not be today.”
“Sitting here, just waiting sucks though.”
“It’s no different than any other kind of hunting is it?” Cindy asked. “You used to spend all day sitting in a stupid deer stand even back when it wasn’t necessary.”
Steven was about to reply when Eric suddenly stood and shushed everyone to silence. “Listen!” He whispered.
They all got still, and the sound Eric heard became more distinct. It was the sound of a motorboat on the river, and the sound was coming from the north! Eric moved down to the riverbank until he could see Jonathan, who waved back, indicating he and the guys over there had heard it too and were getting ready.
“It’s time to go,” Eric said to Cindy, when he returned to where the boats were hidden and grabbed the bow of the pirogue.
Cindy and Steven embraced and kissed, and then she grabbed her paddle and followed as Eric slid the small wooden pirogue into the water. He was pleased to see that no one hesitated now that it was clear the gunboat was coming. Sam took charge of the shooters on his side, directing the two young men to their positions as he took up his near the spot where they’d all been waiting. Cindy climbed into the pirogue as Eric held it steady for her. It was narrow and tippy, even with one person aboard, but once she sat on the bottom, her back braced against the middle thwart, the danger of capsize was minimal. Eric was already barefoot, and now he peeled off his shirt and waded into the water with a hand still on the bow until they reached deep enough water to swim. He’d left his rifle
and most of his gear on the bank with Sam, taking only the Glock in a strong side belt holster from which he could draw it quickly, and the big custom Bowie knife that his old buddy Drew had made for him years ago.
The current in the river here was minimal, but to account for it, Eric had placed most of the shooters a bit downstream, while Sam and Jonathan were directly opposite each other near the two hidden John boats. Eric instructed Cindy to paddle upstream as far as she could while the gunboat was still out of sight, so that when it came time to turn and drift, they would be in a good crossfire position by the time the gunboat crew pulled alongside. Cindy knew how to handle a pirogue, and a minute later she was perfectly positioned mid-river when Eric was certain the approaching boat was just around the bend.
“Okay, let it fall off,” he said, as he grabbed the gunwale again in the middle, adjacent to where she was seated. As the boat turned in the current, only Eric’s head and the one hand holding the boat was above the opaque, muddy water. From the point of view of the gunboat crew, it would appear that Cindy was alone on the river in the pirogue. Eric wanted her to come across as helpless and desperate, but most importantly, harmless, in order to lure them in for a closer look. When the approaching boat rounded the bend, he estimated it was running at 10 to 12 knots. But seconds later he heard the helmsman cut power and saw the bow settle hard and one of the crewmen take up his battle station behind the gun turret.
“Just stay calm and be cool!” Eric whispered, as the boat came directly at them now, with the menacing barrel of the machine gun leveled on the frail pirogue. “Give them a friendly wave.”
Eric saw that she did, but at this point, he could no longer keep an eye on the approaching boat directly. To avoid being seen behind the low hull of the pirogue, he had to lower his head into the water until only his nose was above the surface. Whatever happened next would be determined by how Cindy handled things and the disposition of that boat crew. Before he had ducked out of sight, Eric had noted at least one other man on board besides the helmsman and the gunner, but he knew there could well be a couple more, as there was an enclosed pilothouse, the windows of which he couldn’t see into due to the glare.
Feral Nation - Defiance (Feral Nation Series Book 8) Page 16
