* * * *
Forcing myself to go to bed early, Ringo barked just outside the tent. I awoke in a panic, thinking I had slept in and missed the window.
My watch read 2:17 a.m. No going back to sleep now, I thought.
“It’s just me, Ringo,” I heard Vlad saying outside the tent. “Let’s get you up on the four-wheeler, Lance,” he called out, “and I’m driving. Tom will be around in a few minutes on his machine, and we will head down to the river together.” We disengaged the headlights, opting for small flashlights to show the way.
Our camp was bustling, with all being sure to keep the noise level to a minimum.
“Where are Jake and Mike?” I asked.
“They took off with Mel about a half hour ago. They should be in position soon.”
My leg was hurting again, and the bumpy road did not help. I opted not to take a pill until it was over. If there was going to be anyone shooting towards my boys, I wanted to have a clear head. I was happy to have Vlad and Tom along and knew I would have to trust their shooting as well.
Joy, Nancy, David, Lonnie, Steve, Sheila and Tammy waited at the edge of the property, where we would all be headed back to soon.
Jim and Mark monitored the radio for any outgoing messages from the other side of the river.
As we bounced down the bumpy, washed-out road, my leg was on fire. I wondered how Vlad felt, remembering my experience as a Chiropractor with a group of amputees, both legs and arms, who nearly all described phantom pain where the limb used to be. He wasn’t making any noise, though gritting his teeth, as I was, so I thought it best not to ask.
By the time we reached the river, my leg was feeling better. Oddly, it was so numb that the pain level came down from an 8-10 just an hour ago to a steady 4. I was thankful, knowing it would be bad again soon enough.
Vlad and I positioned ourselves, with Tom’s help and wearing our night-vision goggles, behind two large pine trees, where we had an expansive view of the river, 100 yards in each direction.
Easily finding the fireworks Mel had not even tried to hide, Tom was instructed by Mel not to move or reposition them in any way.
“Just start on the left and move to the right, lighting each, with ten seconds in between each block,” he told him, “and only when it is time.
“It’s a solid five minutes of craziness,” he added, “but that’s it, so wait until you see the kids ready to cross the river before you start.”
“Thirty minutes, boys,” I told them, looking at my watch that read 3:32 a.m.
Mike and Jake were in position, having navigated around the entire camp, with Mel 20 yards behind, setting up the new fireworks.
The body of the soldier from the day before lay undisturbed.
“They didn’t try too hard to find their comrade,” whispered Jake, with no response from Mike.
“You OK?” Jake asked him.
Mike’s eyes were fixed ahead, in a trance-like state, as he slowly nodded his head up and down.
Jake was a planner by nature, and his military background only added to the trait. He looked at his watch, already 3:39, and was getting anxious, not totally knowing what they would do in exactly 21 minutes.
He waited another ten minutes, watching Mike help Mel check each firework bundle, thinking he surely would want to get on the same page with the plan.
“OK, Mike,” Jake whispered. “Can we make a plan here?”
“Sure,” Mike replied, looking through the trees at the kid’s tent.
“Give me five minutes to get up to the camp, and then light the fireworks, Mel, one after the other. Jake, if you can get positioned close to the kids’ tent before Mel lights them off, then just grab the twins as they come out to see what’s going on. Then both of you head straight for the river crossing, and don’t forget to go in just above the catch rope.”
“What about you?” asked Mel.
“I’ll see you boys back at camp later,” replied Mike. “And tell Katie I have her hat.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-three
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Jake and Mike slowly crept towards the camp, careful not to break twigs as they quietly moved closer.
Jake crouched down near the same bush Mike had used for cover when he rescued Javi.
Mike disappeared in between the tents, as Jake checked his watch.
He made sure they had all synced watches on both sides of the river, mostly thanks to Mel’s stash.
Jake read “3:58,” mouthing the words…“3:59,” followed by a long pause before hearing the first “Whoosh!” of a high-altitude firework arcing above the trees, with a single “Boom!” at the end. Two more in succession got the tents in camp stirring.
Jake had eyes on his tent, drowning out the increasing noise and smoke around him. He heard the first sound of the tent zipper cautiously opening when the first wave of Screaming Serpents was flown into the air, with a high-pitched whistling scream that could be heard for miles.
As Mel predicted, chaos ensued throughout the camp. Flashlights inside tents, and now outside, shone in all directions.
Mike, with his night-vision goggles, had the advantage against the guards, knowing that, even if they had the same equipment, they would likely not have a clue as to where they were located. He also left his rifle across the river, in trade for a pistol and six-inch skinning knife, better suited for close-quarter combat.
He had eyes on three of the four men, all running around and yelling at the others. “Get back in the tents!” they hollered at the terrified men and women running around.
Mike had his eye on one coming right towards him. Just a little closer, he thought. Only two more steps. He smiled, with his face not more than three feet from the guards. The anger turned to terror on the man’s face, as Mike took him swiftly with his blade across the throat, and the single scream was blocked out by the continuing barrage of explosions above.
Three more to go, Mike thought to himself, compromising his position to stalk each one.
The second guard was easier, with a short rope pulled tightly around his neck as he fumbled into the trees, trying to flee, in a drunken stupor.
Mike had eyes on the third man and wondered if one of them was the man with the hat Katie had talked about. He was still missing the last one, sure he had not miscounted.
Jake watched the kids pile out of the tent and counted seven in all. He had no choice but to call out Hudson’s and Jax’s names. They seemed scared at first in the midst of all the noise, and with Jake’s face painted and covered in camouflage from head to toe.
They recognized his voice, and he told them he could only take the two of them for now.
Hudson and Jax wanted to help the others in their tent, turning around as the others asked where they were going, but reluctantly followed Jake into the trees.
The third soldier ran fast past Mike, shooting into the trees after Jake and the boys.
Mel returned fire with two shots, once the boys and Jake were behind him.
Running full out, the four ran to the river’s edge, only stopping along the way to catch their breath. After the nearly three miles, the boys were exhausted as the adrenaline dumped out of their small bodies.
The soldier followed, and I saw him across the bank as our guys, and my boys, started to cross the river.
“Light them up!” I told Tom, not realizing he was way ahead of me.
The flurry of fireworks lit up the sky, illuminating the river as I saw my boys edging across, holding the catch rope. I wasn’t sure how many others were coming, but I couldn’t let the one in my sites fire on my boys and new friends.
My leg ached badly, and I wondered if I was getting an infection. I trained my rifle on the man across the river. My thermal rifle scope showed a figure but I could not tell for sure if it was Mike or not.
“Lord?” I asked. “What should I do?”
My answer came immediately and without question. The man shot twice towards the
river, towards my little boys and my friends risking their lives for them.
I aimed for center chest and squeezed the trigger. “Boom! Boom!” I heard, watching the man drop.
“I am still a threat,” yelled Vlad, as I realized he had fired the other round.
I was impressed with the care Mel and Jake took in getting my boys back across the river in the dark of night while being fired upon.
I asked myself if I would do the same for their children, realizing immediately that I would without question. They both now had children, even if only for a few days, and somehow I knew I would have the chance to return the favor sooner than later.
“It’s Families First!” I yelled into the darkness, like some kind of crazed man. “It’s Families First!” I repeated, now drowned out by the remaining Screaming Serpents.
Moments later, my two little guys were hugging me, and their only concern was for my leg.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” called out Tom and Vlad. Tom drove a machine with Hudson and me while Mel drove Vlad with Jax back to camp and a crowd of people cheering at 5 in the morning.
Only Jake held back, waiting for Mike.
* * * *
Smoke filled the camp, and Mike wondered it there would be a fire started by the debris falling from the sky in every direction. He was still missing one guard and it made him anxious. The picture in his mind he had carried since yesterday was the removal of all four soldiers, with an immediate regime change, and that meant taking out all of these guards.
Did the last guard leave camp earlier? he thought, still wondering who the man in the hat was.
Pausing, frozen in place, he took stock of the camp and remained still amongst the chaos. The shrieking sounds, paired with thick black smoke, surrounded him, filling his ears and nostrils. It was his element, a place he could feel comfortable, like your average person would feel watching a light-hearted holiday movie at home, wrapped in a blanket in front of a toasty fire.
A woman’s scream came from a tent 20 yards away, as a woman scrambled out, screaming “That’s it! No more, you filthy bastard!”
Mike, at a run, met her just as she was scrambling out of the tent. She was taken aback by his appearance, with camouflage on his face and body.
“Does the bastard wear a hat?” asked Mike. “Like a Paul Hogan one?”
“Yes!” she cried. “That’s him!”
Mike smiled, knowing he had found his last man. This should be fun, he thought.
Without a thought for retaliation, Mike quickly zipped the tent back up. Grabbing the tent from the bottom, he began to walk, ripping the stakes out of the ground and bouncing the man inside over rocks and branches.
The man inside swore and hollered for him to stop.
Mike headed down the steep embankment towards the river, easing his struggle dragging the 180-pound man through the woods and picking up speed. At the river’s edge, he pulled the tent into a calm, waist-deep pool, not wanting to lose him in the rushing river. He had made a promise to Katie about the man who killed her parents and he intended to keep it.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-four
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Nate, no longer hearing the guards barking orders, took inventory of the camp and its residents. “I think we are safe now,” he said, gathering as many as possible near the center.
“I believe our captives are now dead or prisoners of war. Today we will take stock of our injured and supplies and try to move forward once again, like we used to. I am truly sorry for what happened here, and especially for the women. We will do everything in our power to make sure it never happens again.”
* * * *
Mike smiled broadly in the darkness lit only by the moon and stars, as he spun the man with the hat inside the tent—first left three rolls, then right. What if he finds his gun inside and shoots you? Mike could almost hear Sheila saying.
“Then it becomes more interesting,” he said aloud, now increasing the rollercoaster of twists and turns, getting screams and now choking sounds, as water rushed through small rips and tears in the tent after being dragged across the woods.
“So, I hear you like to hurt women and bargain for little girls…” said Mike, pausing just long enough for the man to hear.
“Let me go, or you’re a dead man!” he screamed back.
“Wrong answer,” replied Mike coldly, resuming the shaking and now dunking the entire tent under the water for ten seconds at a time.
Nate’s group could hear the commotion but not anything that was being said. “Every adult, look for weapons in all the tents!” he called out. “If they come back, we have to make a stand.”
Most adults fanned out, scouring the camp for anything that could help their cause.
The excitement of the last man was wearing off for Mike, and his arms were getting tired. “OK, this is it!” called out Mike, holding the tent on top of the water. “But I have to know, why do you always wear the hat?”
He received no response.
Mike pulled the remaining material out of the water and onto the bank. Locating an end zipper, he carefully worked it open, as a child might wind a jack-in-the-box after seeing what happens several times over.
He searched with his flashlight inside to find the man slumped in the corner, along with two sleeping bags with only one out of its case, a rifle with shoulder strap, and a small cooler with its contents strewn about the tent floor.
“Where’s the hat?” he asked loudly. “Hey, buddy! Where’s your hat?”
The man was silent.
Barely able to reach the rifle, Mike used it to poke the drowned man hard enough to spot a fake. Three pokes in, and the man fell to the side, with the hat clutched loosely in his hands.
“Yep, that’s the one I need,” called out Mike, using the rifle to hook the leather hatband, with six realistic-looking crocodile teeth sewn in, and pull it toward him.
“Drop your weapon!” came the call from behind him.
Mike smiled, recognizing Nate’s voice with the same tremble he had when he was driving the trailers across the barricade.
“Put down the gun, Nate. It’s Mike and I don’t want to have to kill you, too. I’m going to turn around slowly, and I will not be dropping any weapons. If you fire on me, it had better be a perfect shot.”
There was a pause…and only the sound of the river could be heard.
“Lower your weapons, everyone!” came the call from Nate, as his people all made their way towards him. “It’s Mike, and I don’t think he’s going to hurt us.”
“That’s true,” Mike agreed, turning slowly. “I don’t hurt men I like, and you’re a hell of a lot more likeable than the Keeper guy.”
“Thank you, I think, Mike…I mean, sir,” replied a nervous Nate. “I’m sorry about your kids,” he added. “They just took them and didn’t give us a choice.”
Mike stared into the blank eyes of ghostlike women and their husbands who would never be the same, along with the children who witnessed the injustices firsthand.
“I know, Nate, and they’re done—your captors, I mean… Take this,” Mike continued, handing the AK-47 to Nate. “You’ll find three more around camp if you all fan out at daylight. There should be one more down by the river, as I’m sure my guys took care of that last guard. You will need these in the coming days, assuming there is still ammo lying around for them.
“Do you know where the road crosses the river, Nate?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“OK,” Mike said, “that’s where the last rifle should be, and I want to meet with you and any of your top people there this afternoon at 3 to discuss future plans. Do you have a watch that works?... Never mind, grab one off of one of the soldiers. I’m sure they work.”
“What about the hat?” asked Nate, pointing down towards it and annoying Mike just a bit. “Can we have it back?”
“Absolutely,” replied Mike, making an obvious gesture to hold it out in front of him. “
I was going to give it to someone, but I’ll trade it straight up for five AKs…”
“We will see your group at 3 down by the river,” Nate replied, turning back towards his camp.
“And Mike!” Nate called over his shoulder. “Thank you for saving us and for the weapons.”
Mike headed down to the river, crossing to find Jake waiting. Stepping around the soldier’s body, he spoke. “It looks like you got the boys back safe.”
“We did just that,” replied Jake. “And you?”
Next World Series (Vol. 3): Families First [Second Wind] Page 29
