Grace Under Fire: Book Two In The Locker Nine Series

by Franklin Horton

  Grace and Tom chose to avoid contact, travelling on past the group. The hoped to do so without being noticed but that was unlikely. They were painfully aware that the sound of crunching gravel beneath Tom’s tracks and the whir of the electric drive motors would probably travel in the darkness.

  For a short distance, a paved road paralleled the trail. Grace led Tom in that direction, explaining that it might allow them to travel quieter. Though the sound of the electric motors still cut through the night, there would be less crunching gravel. When they paused again to listen, the conversation around the fire was gone.

  “Shit,” Tom whispered.

  The men in the shadows of firelight were either listening quietly or were coming toward Tom and Grace.

  "Keep going!" Grace hissed. "Follow the road."

  Tom was hesitant to leave Grace but this was her show, her territory. He went on while she slipped her night vision monocular from her Go Bag and raised it to her eye. She powered it on and waited for it to fire up. She hit the button that turned on the infrared spotlight.

  With the spotlight on she didn't have to rely on starlight alone. It gave her a pretty good picture for a distance of around two hundred feet. It was a piece of crap device, but it still gave her an advantage over those that didn’t have crappy night vision.

  She trained her night vision in the general direction of the campfire. She picked up a cluster of men on the other side of the creek but way closer than she was comfortable with. There were three huddled together, talking among themselves. They held long guns but they were not raised toward her. They appeared to be assessing the threat and just watching to see that it moved on. They showed no signs of aggression. Grace hoped that continued to be their attitude.

  She was tempted to call out to the men and explain that they were just passing through but something told her not to. Best not to engage. Perhaps best not to let them know she was a young girl. Grace ran to catch up with Tom, then explained what she'd seen.

  "Let's just keep walking and stay on guard,” he said. “I’d keep that night vision up though. If the area is still populated, I don’t want to walk up on someone. Getting startled when everyone is carrying guns could be a bad experience."

  Grace did exactly that, constantly scanning with the night vision, and watching for threats. In another mile they left the last residence of the community behind and entered the forest again. Not long after that Tom's chair started to beep.

  He cursed, then pushed a button to silence the warning.

  "What's that?" Grace asked.

  "Low battery warning. Twenty percent power remaining."

  "What should we do?"

  “Maybe somewhere in the next mile we find a place to hole up for the night. Find some place where I can get my chair off the trail. If there's any hidden campsites that catch a little sunlight that would be perfect. Then I could start the chair recharging as soon as the sun hits us in the morning."

  "I think I know a place."

  In less than fifteen minutes they entered an off-trail campsite.

  "It's not as secluded as I'd like, but it's the most accessible and it has access to water,” Grace said. “It's at least partially obscured from the trail. If I have to leave you here tomorrow to recharge your batteries, maybe we can throw some brush over the chair and make it less visible in case anyone goes by."

  Utilizing gear from both of their Go Bags they were able to improvise a decent shelter. They used paracord to stretch an eight foot by ten foot backpacking tarp over a flat spot. Grace also had a folded square of Tyvek house wrap that she laid out beneath them. The house wrap was waterproof and would keep them from absorbing moisture from the ground.

  They each had bivy sacks in their Go Bags. Grace’s was a bright orange commercial product. Tom's was an olive drab military version. While not as warm as a sleeping bag, they served as a sleeping shell that would hold in body heat and hopefully allow them to get some sleep.

  “Make sure you rehydrate,” Tom said as they each settled into their sleeping gear. “We didn’t drink as much today as we probably should have.”

  “If you could see me, you would know that I’m making a face at you right now,” she replied.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not a rookie. I’ve done this all my life. I have a water bottle beside me and I’m drinking from it every few minutes.”

  “I don’t doubt you,” Tom said. “I know you’re capable. It’s the buddy system though. In the military, checking your buddy’s gear helps keep people alive. That’s just the way I’m used to doing it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just get a little sensitive sometimes about guys telling me what to do.”

  “I’ll try to be more aware of that when I say things to you,” he said.

  “You better,” she said, finally laying down, her head on her pack. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”

  In the dark, neither of them could see that her comment had put a smile on their faces.

  “I appreciate you coming back for me,” Tom said.

  “You’d have done the same for me,” Grace said.

  “That’s the buddy system,” Tom pointed out.

  “Give me a break,” Grace sighed. “I’m going to sleep.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Arthur Bridges’ Compound

  The cabin Kevin built as his personal bug-out dwelling at the compound was a one-room log structure built from a kit. There was a storage loft, a wood stove, and a gravity-fed sink. The toilet was out back. Kevin hadn’t had any time to settle in yet so his gear was still stacked around the room, along with the other gear he’d stored there since building the cabin.

  Kevin was methodically laying gear out on his bed, as he always did when preparing for an operation. He did fewer of them anymore, but he still went through the same routine. Robert and Arthur watched. Feeling tired from her injuries and the exertion of the day, Sonyea had gone to bed already.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Arthur asked.

  “It’s the only way to get good intel,” Kevin replied.

  “You know they probably have thermal, just like we do,” Robert said. “If they do, you won’t get far.”

  Kevin pulled a gallon-sized plastic jug from a tote. He smiled at Robert. “You’ll see.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few minute later in his underwear, his body smeared from head-to-toe with…something.

  “What the hell is that?’ Arthur asked.

  “Thermal block,” Kevin replied. “It will prevent me from registering on thermal.”

  “Really?” Robert asked.

  “Really,” Kevin replied. “Although it does hold in a lot of your body heat, so in hot conditions it’s nearly impossible to use. It works like the IR-blocking paint they use on artillery.”

  Kevin slipped on a camo uniform and a pair of tall boots. He strapped on a battle belt full of gear and dropped a plate carrier covered in pouches over his head. He slid a handgun into the Safariland holster on the belt.

  “You a .45 man, huh?” Arthur asked, noting the 1911-style pistol.

  “Colt Delta Elite in 10mm.” Kevin went on to pull an odd-looking rifle from a hard case.

  Robert shook his head. “Just when you impress me with your pistol selection, you go and pull out that ugly rifle.”

  “The Tavor?” Kevin asked.

  Robert nodded. “I think they’re hideous.”

  “Yeah, but have you ever shot one?”

  “Couldn’t bring myself to do it,” Robert chuckled.

  “They’ll make a believer out of you. That’s an X95 with integral suppressor in 9mm. Handles like a Ferrari even in full-auto.”

  Robert nodded with new interest. “I might have to try one.”

  Kevin pulled a bump helmet from another case and secured flip down optics to it.

  “What generation is that night vision?” Arthur asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “T
his isn’t available anywhere,” Kevin said. “A defense contractor I did some work for gave me this set to try out. I’m right-eye dominant so the right eye is night vision, the left is thermal. The brain blends the images. You can hit a button to change either eye to thermal, to night vision, or just to clear.”

  “That’s impressive,” Arthur said.

  When Kevin finished kitting up, he double-checked his gear.

  “Make sure and coordinate with the perimeter security,” Arthur said. “Don’t want any mistaken identity when you return.”

  “Already done,” Kevin said. “We established a re-entry point and protocol already. We’re good.”

  “Then just be careful,” Robert said. “These guys aren’t playing around.”

  Kevin looked at him seriously. “Neither am I. The assault on this compound is personal for me. I do not like people screwing with me.”

  *

  Kevin slipped out of the compound’s perimeter. The guards on duty indicated where they thought snipers might be located. They were scanning with thermal but had reason to believe the snipers might be hiding beneath protective blankets. Inevitably something poked out of the blanket and got picked up by a scope if you waited long enough. That hadn’t happened yet.

  “If I have an opportunity to take one of those guys out, I’ll do it,” Kevin said. “However, my priority is recon. I can’t collect intelligence if they’re shooting at me.”

  The guard nodded and indicated he’d keep a weapon trained on the suspected sniper positions until Kevin was clear of them. After that, he was on his own.

  Kevin hand-railed the main route into the compound. It was a remote gravel road and the only way into the compound on state-maintained roads. Kevin assumed that whoever was engaging them had a base established somewhere along that road. Along his path, he found several other men in concealed positions. This far back from the compound they were not taking measures against thermal detection and he spotted them easily. He gave them a wide berth and tried to not make any sound, which was difficult in the dense forest. He had to scan the ground with his night vision and chose each step carefully.

  He didn’t have to go but a quarter-mile before he found what he was looking for. On national forest property there were a lot of places to pull over and camp. At the first one he came to, there was an assortment of vehicles clustered together. He was pleased to find they were not military vehicles. They were pickups and Jeeps, along with several campers. There was an RV with a quiet generator going and lights on inside.

  Kevin wanted to get closer but there were men gathered outside the RV. He couldn’t tell if it was a meeting or just a social gathering. The blinds in the RV were open and he positioned himself to see inside. He raised the Tavor. It had a night vision-compatible holographic sight but there was also a flip-down 3x magnifier. He turned off the enhancements on his goggles, lowered the magnifier, and took in the scene inside the RV.

  There were around a half-dozen men inside. Several had bottles of beer in their hands. It almost looked like a deer camp with everyone settled in for a night of drinking and telling lies. One overweight man wore a flannel shirt and a vest. Most were wearing hunting clothes in camouflage patterns. It was a confusing situation. No command structure was apparent from what Kevin was seeing. It didn’t seem like a militarized group, although at least one of the men was wearing what looked like military camo.

  Kevin pushed a button on his 3x magnifier and it began recording the scene to a memory card. When he’d managed to get every face on camera, Kevin shut things down. He could have easily opened fire through the window and done some damage but he wanted to talk with Arthur first. He needed to know if anyone recognized any of these men.

  The fact that he didn’t want to open fire on the RV did not mean he was totally intent on not drawing blood on this operation. On his return trip, he crossed paths with the second line of sentries, who were not taking any measures to hide themselves since they were situated some distance back from the compound.

  Kevin removed the SOG Seal Team Elite from his battle belt. It was razor sharp. He took a position behind a wide tree and waited until the sentry wandered near him. He slapped a hand over the man’s mouth and raked the blade across his throat. Kevin held on until the fight left him, then let the man sag to the ground.

  A short distance from there, he did the same to another man and left him sprawled in the road. The last two human obstacles that Kevin was aware of were the two sniper positions that seemed to be concealed beneath thermal-blocking blankets. He worked his way into a position where he had a shot at both targets.

  He fired a short burst from his Tavor into one of them, then immediately swung and did the same with the other suspected target. With the subsonic rounds, the only noise was the mechanical operation of the bolt moving rapidly within the weapon. A flurry of kicking dislodged the blanket from the first target and revealed the mortally wounded man beneath. Kevin flipped the selector switch to single-shot and finished him with a head shot. Warm blood spread beneath the man, visible as a growing redness in the thermal picture of Kevin’s goggles.

  He returned to the second target and found the man had crawled from beneath his blanket, trying to work his way into the bushes. Warm splashes of red behind him indicated he was hit. He put a round at the base of the man’s skull and he pitched forward.

  Kevin was certain that Arthur’s perimeter team was watching him. Hopefully they understood what he was doing and didn’t open fire on him. Kevin went to each body and examined the scene. He found a wallet on each man and took them, shoving them into a dump pouch on his belt.

  One man was shooting a Ruger Precision Rifle with a thermal scope. The other had a Savage with the same scope. Kevin took both rifles and the spare magazines. No use letting good gear stay in the hands of men trying to kill you.

  He slung the rifles over his back and made his way to his re-entry point. The perimeter security was expecting him.

  “Good work over there,” the guard said.

  Kevin nodded. “You guys be safe,” he said, then headed back toward his cabin.

  The guard touched a button to trigger his microphone. “Rabbit back in the hat.”

  “Acknowledged,” came the response.

  *

  Arthur and Robert were having a drink when Kevin showed up at Arthur’s house. They’d been anxious to hear what he saw but wanted to give him time to wind down. Each man processed combat differently. They wanted to give him time to do it in his own way.

  “Care for a drink?” Arthur asked.

  “Sure,” Kevin said.

  “Gift from Robert,” Arthur said, pouring two fingers of Four Roses Bourbon into a glass.

  Kevin went to a nearby table and opened a laptop. While it booted, he spread out two ID cards on the table. Arthur joined Robert at the table and handed Kevin his drink.

  “Capital Police Officer?” Robert said. “Where the hell did you get those?”

  “Off the two snipers I killed tonight,” Kevin replied.

  Arthur and Robert regarded him seriously. With the laptop up and running, Kevin slipped a memory card into a reader and began playing a video.

  “Either of you recognize any of these men?” he asked.

  They stared at the video playing on the screen.

  “I’ll be damned,” Arthur said. He pointed at the screen. “The man in the flannel shirt. That’s Congressman Honaker.”

  “I’ve heard of him but I don’t recognize him,” Kevin said.

  “I did some work at his house in Washington years ago,” Arthur said. “We used to talk about preparedness and what was going to happen with the country. He knew I was fond of his home territory and dreamed of moving to his district one day.”

  “He must have pegged you as a survivalist,” Kevin said. “Somehow he kept an eye on you over the years.”

  “Wouldn’t he be eligible for better quarters in DC?” Arthur asked. “Don’t they have accommodations for congress?”
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  “They do,” Kevin said. “Depending on what the situation is, there are military bases and even private hotels set up to care for the needs of congressmen and their families. It would be like being in prison though. You would have to clear every move you made with the military. It would suck.”

  “So he built his own team to capture a better place,” Robert said.

  “Even lousy congressmen have access to intel on their states,” Kevin said. “He probably has a good idea about your capabilities.”

  “So the question is whether he has any more team than what he brought with him,” Arthur said. “If that’s all he’s got, then we might be able to take them.”

  “Hard to know,” Kevin said. “We could possibly take out the men he brought with him as long as there’s no real operators in the bunch. If he’s got backup, air support, or access to heavy ordinance, we could be in trouble.”

  “What are you going to do?” Robert asked.

  Arthur sighed. “For tonight, I’m going to have me another drink. Tomorrow, I think I’m going to get the congressman on the radio and have a powwow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jewell Ridge, VA

  “It looks like you’re riding the Tour de France with some bizarre team of alien clown space marines,” Barb quipped.

  Conor was kitting up for his ride and Barb, as usual, had something to say about it.

  Instead of a normal bicycling helmet, Conor wore an OPS-Core FAST helmet, a type of combat helmet he’d gotten from a friend in the Special Operations community. On the front he wore a PVS-14 night vision device, certain that the bulbous device probably contributed to his alien appearance. The high-grade optic allowed him to easily ride his bike in the dark and navigate the mountain roads. Military troops regularly drove vehicles using this optic so he figured it would be simple enough on the slower speeds of a bicycle.