The Heart of War: Book Seven of the What's Left of My World Series

by C. A. Rudolph

  Her eyes boggled at the lineup of mil-spec rifles, carbines and pistols now strewn amidst myriad examples of tactical gear. A bare-bones bolt-action rifle with a predominantly thicker barrel than others in its company stood out from the rest. It had a matched suppressor, a unique scope with a sunshade, and touted a fully adjustable folding stock. “I’m familiar with most of these, but that one looks alien to me.”

  After a function check, Jade set her M4 down and reached for the mystery rifle. “That makes two of us.” She examined the receiver’s markings. “Nemesis Arms LMR, Park City, Kentucky. Hmm…6.5 Creedmoor. Nice addition, Butch.” Pushing out her lower lip, she admired the rifle before handing it to Lauren. “That has to be the lightest precision rifle I’ve ever held in six-five, and it’s a takedown. Sexy Cerakote, too.”

  Lauren went through the motions with it. “It’s definitely bare bones, but it balances well. Weighs a lot less than the M40 I trained with.”

  Jade tilted her head. “You…trained with an M40?”

  “Mm-hmm. Qualified with one. An M40A6.”

  “Qualified at what level and distance?”

  “Sharpshooter. Five hundred meters,” Lauren boasted, deprived of sounding conceited. “Not officially though, by any means; and I muffed expert by a hair. Sanchez, my instructor, has never failed to let me live it down.”

  Jade smiled, not expecting any of these answers nor the direction in which the exchange was going. “Not bad. 7.62 is pretty much the industry standard, and its trajectory is fairly straightforward to learn. I’m not saying you’re among them, but even amateurish shooters can learn to nail distance targets with practice. The Creedmoor was developed specifically to rival the magic bullet in long-range competitions. The projectiles are longer, the muzzle velocity is a tad higher, and the round has a big-time higher ballistic coefficient. Wind drift is next to nothing. I’ve seen virgin shooters send multiple shots through targets at distance without punching new holes.”

  Lauren’s brows drew in. “It’s that accurate?”

  “A .22 rimfire can be crazy accurate at distance, subject to the gun and the person behind the trigger.” Removing her holstered Glock, Jade slipped the canvas belt from her belt loops and switched it with a nylon inner belt shrouded in looped fabric. Securing it, she wrapped a rigid combat belt around her waist, the hook fabric on its inner side mating with the inner belt’s looped material.

  Mounted to the combat belt’s MOLLE webbing was a holster for her sidearm on her right, stacked magazine pouches for both rifle and pistol on her left, and a dump pouch on the back. A pair of Mechanix M-Pact gloves hung from a carabiner near the cobra buckle.

  After securing the buckle, Jade adjusted the belt for a better fit to her shrinking waistline, removed the loaded magazine and chambered round from her Glock, and switched holsters. She dug out a minimalist Crye Precision plate carrier, black in color, from the other duffel. “The plates inside are polyethylene, not steel. They’re half the weight, offer the same ballistic protection, and they’re buoyant. If you find yourself going for an unexpected swim, they’ll keep your head above water instead of drowning you.” Jade slipped into the carrier, snapped it secure, then raised her M4, ducking under the two-point sling. “Most importantly, they’re not rigid. Rounds won’t spall, glance upward into your neck, and make you dead.”

  “Good to know.” Lauren looked the other woman over in gentle admiration. Jade reminded her of one of the fictional female army combat characters paralleling a G.I. Joe, though less animated and truer to life, or perhaps a fictitious female movie character, such as Alice from the Resident Evil flicks. Jade’s eye-catching features were worthy of her recently added tactical adornments, and those enhancements went a long way to making her appear flat-out intimidating.

  Lauren couldn’t help but be impressed, though she held back from openly admitting it.

  “So,” Jade said, “you’re on. Give me the rundown on how this Gauntlet works.”

  “Right. Are you familiar with the origin of the phrase ‘running the gauntlet’?”

  Jade sent a nod. “I believe I am.”

  “Okay. The unit’s Gauntlet is similar, but different. Enemy targets are lined up not just on either side, but on all sides, forcing the shooter to rotate and pivot throughout the course. There are fifteen targets marked with sequential numbering, and each one must be struck twice to count as a kill. You’re allotted thirty rounds and four magazines, but you won’t know how many rounds are in each one. That’s why Jae asked for them; the guys load them at random. Before you begin, they’ll check your weapons, load your mags and your belt, and cycle your first rounds.”

  “I see. Sounds…stimulating.”

  Lauren blushed a little. “It’s a lot like playing cards; unless you’re a pro, it’s impossible to predict what you’ll be dealt or who plays what. At least, that’s how it was explained to me initially.”

  Jade felt a slight internal giggle coming on. She was a professional—or at one time used to be.

  “The target sequence also changes with each run,” Lauren went on. “But the constants, by definition, remain constant. One rifle and one pistol, two magazines for each, thirty rounds split between them, fifteen targets, two shots per target. Shoot in sequential order, fifteen being your last. It’s pretty straightforward, but the intent is to keep you on your toes.”

  “Yeah, so I’m gathering,” said Jade. “I think I got it. At the very least, this’ll keep me from making an ass out of myself in front of all those fine young cannibals over there.”

  Lauren leered over her shoulder at Woo Tang, Will and the others. “They’re good guys, and they mean well, for the most part. I’m sure if anything, they’ll offer encouragement, in some form or another.”

  “Yeah, you’re forgetting I’m new here. I’ve been in situations like this before. What they want is for me to wander around in there like a lost puppy dog and make all the mistakes they made their first times.” Jade leaned closer to Lauren’s ear. “But what I prefer instead is to assassinate it and wipe those smug looks off their faces.”

  Lauren backed away and gauged the look Jade was sending. It was conspiratorial, but playful, and there were no signs of malice. She could feel that Jade meant well and didn’t see the harm in having a little fun.

  Lauren could only find one reason to disagree. “Okay, do that, but let me give you some background before you go too far or say something you shouldn’t. The original Gauntlet was the brainchild of Dave Graham, the unit’s CO. He designed and built it himself within a forty-yard, linear, in-ground tactical range at Point Blank Weapons Training Center, the facility where Dad and I used to train. For a while, it was deemed one of the most dynamic tactical ranges of its time, almost as legendary as its designer. He’s…highly regarded by his men and by me.”

  Sincerity etched Jade’s features, but she withheld saying anything, opting to secure the Marauder and gesture away with a nod. The pair started off, and as they drew closer to Woo Tang and the group, the chattering lessened in volume and eventually silenced.

  Jade handed her rifle and pistol off, allowing the men to insert magazines and chamber rounds while another slipped two reserve magazines into appropriate pouches on her belt’s left side.

  Her weapons returned to her, Woo Tang said, “Jade Hensley, the Gauntlet is yours. You may assume the starting position at your leisure.”

  Jade blew a puff of air into her bangs. “Sure. Let’s give it a whirl.” She nudged Lauren with an elbow. “Here goes nothing.”

  Lauren nudged her back. “Stop. You got this.”

  A brass whistle between his lips, Woo Tang held aloft an analog stopwatch. “On my signal, you may begin your run, but not before.”

  Jade stood semirigid, one foot in front of the other. She held her rifle in a ready position, barrel angled outward, down and away. She waited, and as the seconds passed, every bit of merriment in her expression dissolved and an untamed ferocity emerged.

  “Shooter read
y?” Woo Tang asked.

  Jade lowered her chin just enough to convey affirmation and, a few seconds after, heard the whistle. She sprang from the starting position, hotfooting it into the Gauntlet. She raised her rifle and fired almost immediately, engaging target number one and striking it center mass with two rounds as the steel resonated the hits. Pivoting one hundred eighty degrees, she locked on target number two and let fly with two more rounds, completing her second kill. She engaged and cancelled a third silhouette with poise, then moved on to the fourth.

  Jade fired, and her rifle’s bolt locked backward, indicating an empty magazine before her follow-up attempt. She dumped it, transitioned to her sidearm and fired, scoring a head shot as the steel target pinged a clean hit.

  Jade swung to engage target number five, only to find that her pistol’s slide was also locked back—an indication that only a single round had been loaded into her first magazine. She shook her head, angry at herself for not having realized this by the weight of the gun when she drew it. But it was too late for that; she had to keep moving.

  Jade was down to one magazine for her rifle now, one for her pistol, but both weapons were empty, and that clusterfuck needed to be addressed on the double. She went to a knee, scooted behind cover, and sent the empty Glock magazine to the grass while palming a fresh one, but as she released it from its scabbard, she could feel that her spare hadn’t been loaded with a single round.

  “Assholes!” Jade holstered her rendered-useless sidearm and tossed the empty magazine away as if skipping a stone. As it tumbled through the field grass, she reloaded her rifle in a flash and smiled, knowing that all the remaining rounds needed to complete the course were in one place. And with no transitions or reloads to worry about, she would be a spirited menace, an embedded thorn in the flesh.

  Jade exploded to her feet and went to work, finishing off target number five. She flew through the course from there, accurately drilling each subsequent target with grace and intensity, looking ahead and spotting the next two targets while concurrently double tapping the present one. By target fourteen, Jade had already thought up a special finish for the crowd of onlookers.

  Her final target in view, Jade aligned her sights and locked on to her target. She then casually looked away, turning her head to send a closed-lip smile toward the starting point before squeezing the trigger and firing the double-tap, two resounding pings reporting the kill.

  Straightening, she strolled back to the entry to stares, gawks and held-open jaws. Jade simply leaned her rifle against her shoulder and grinned at the group of young soldiers. “Nice try, boys. Better luck next time.”

  “You looked a little pissed out there,” Lauren said when Jade got near. “Did they try to trip you up?”

  “Yeah, they tried.”

  “Just like you thought they would.”

  Jade nodded, brow furrowed. “Intentions aren’t hard to gauge if you know what to look for, Lauren. Like I said, this isn’t my first time being the new girl.”

  “Also, it is evident that this was not your first time running those weapons,” Woo Tang added, a brow raised. “Impressive run, Jade Hensley.”

  “Seconded,” Lauren said. “And new girl or not, you just presented those guys a new challenge.”

  Jade shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s a challenge I’ll dominate.”

  Lauren looked intrigued, an unvoiced query on the tip of her tongue.

  “Positive attitude coupled with a superior state of mind makes all the difference,” Jade stated. “Once you’ve made up your mind that nothing can stop you, nothing will.”

  As Woo Tang readied to append his own response, Will Sharp approached, clipboard in hand. “What was her time, Chief?”

  Woo Tang checked his stopwatch, then provided the figure.

  Will scribbled the numbers along with some added remarks. “Holy shit. Are you sure that’s right?”

  Woo Tang regarded him askance. “Will Sharp—have you ever known my timing to be off?”

  “No, Chief. Never. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that…her—Miss Hensley’s time. It’s good, real good.”

  “How good?” Lauren inquired, moving in beside Will to view the clipboard.

  Will’s eyes danced. “Damn good.” He nearly chuckled. “Enough to break a few previously set records.”

  “Records?” Jade probed. “I didn’t know we were keeping score.”

  “We always keep score,” Lauren clarified, turning to Will. “Whose records did she break?”

  “The young soldier looked sheepish. “I’ll give you two guesses…and the first one doesn’t count.”

  Lauren backed away slightly, appearing fully entertained. “Uh-oh. Mr. high and mighty isn’t going to like this.”

  Woo Tang rolled his eyes and expelled a sigh. “I take it this incident stands to cause controversy when Richie learns of it…”

  “That’s an understatement and a half, Chief,” Will mused.

  Jade sent all in present company a look of puzzlement. “Guys? Sorry, I’m a little lost here…should I feel bad about this? And who’s Richie?”

  Lauren went to explain, but in that moment, a voice bellowed from behind the line of vehicles.

  “Hey, you bunch of dicks! So glad to see everyone having tons of fun without me! Dicks!”

  “Corporal Hastings, good morning,” Will Sharp called with a snide grin. “We’ve been expecting you for a while. Shall I have the men prepare the range for you?”

  “Eat shit, Will! Same goes for the rest of you!” Richie barked. “I don’t know which one of you did it, but I will find out who, and when I do, I’m kicking somebody’s ass today!” He trudged up the short embankment between two parked JLTVs and onto the field, looking as if he’d recently been involved in an accident. His untied bootlaces dragged in the grass, and his uniform was in full disarray. His hair was uncombed, his left eye bruised, and his nose appeared out of place, possibly fractured. “Come on, don’t be a wuss! Own up to it and take your punishment like a man! Which one of you is the wiseass? Or should I say wiseasses?”

  “What happened to your face, Corporal?” one of the soldiers asked. “You really look like hell.”

  Richie seethed. “Shut your fat face, Private! Don’t pretend like you don’t know!”

  The soldier held back laughter. “I’m seriously not pretending.”

  “Bullshit! Maybe your ass is the one I’ll start kicking! Then I’ll just move my way down the line!”

  “Tone it down, Corporal, if you would, please,” Woo Tang intervened. “Every one of these men have been with me since sunup.”

  “Fine. Sure…okay…whatever, Chief. Cover for them like you always do. See if I care!” Richie hollered. “You dicks want so much to know what happened to my face? I’ll tell you what happened to my face! My nightstand happened to it! I tripped over my own feet when I got out of my rack because some wiseass tied my bootlaces together while I was sleeping.”

  Laughter erupted in whispers throughout the group.

  “You idiots think that’s funny?” Richie yelped. “Laugh it up, then! I broke my damn nose! I could have been seriously injured because of what you did! I promise when I find out which of you is responsible, I’m sending you to the brig for a month! Right after I kick your ass!”

  Jade sniggered and whispered into Lauren’s ear, “Annnd would this be the legendary Richie?”

  Lauren nodded, lips pressed into a coy grin. “Do you feel bad about breaking his record?”

  “Nope. Not one damn bit.”

  Chapter 12

  DHS remote bivouac, designation Sierra

  George Washington National Forest

  Wednesday, January 12th

  August Carter skimmed the bullet points listed upon the stapled pages of a recently appended addendum to his orders. Having already read the addendum in its entirety once before, the objectives were amply clear. This time, he concentrated on each word with a firm stare through squinted eyes while reading aloud an
d forming a theory on the author’s identity. “Forward from this point, ultimate objectives are to be achieved by means of fierce and deliberate escalation of action.” He grew quiet for a few moments. “Every effort will be made to seek and detain youthful prisoners…age preference: twelve and under. Gender preference: female. Final judgment to be left to individual field agent’s discretion, subject to team leader approval.”

  August’s eyes became slits as he read further, and upon finishing, he tossed the sheets onto his dashboard, where they ruffled over the defroster’s breath. “This is outrageous,” he grumbled, glowering. “They’ve absolutely lost their minds on this one.”

  To his right, Agent Gil Norris sat casually, blowing on and sipping his coffee. “Maybe they have. Maybe we all have, but can you imagine a quicker way to snag an enemy’s attention?”

  “Snag their attention?” August pointed at the fluttering paperwork. “Have you even read this?”

  “Of course.” Gil nodded. “Every word of it.”

  “And did any of those words strike you in the same manner they’re striking me?”

  “I don’t know, August. Tell me how they’re striking you, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

  August sighed. “They strike me as being unorthodox at best. Outlandish and downright twisted at worst.”

  Gil rested the cup against his lips before going in for a follow-up sip. “You forgot barbaric. Come on, man. What haven’t we done since the onset that couldn’t in some way be defined by any of those adjectives? To me, it looks as though HQ has finally realized our efforts at diplomacy haven’t done shit to get our point across. Sure took them long enough.”

  “Right. And that ineffectiveness demands this level of escalation?” August griped his interrogative.

  “It would appear so.” Gil’s lips met his cup. The coffee burned, but he didn’t mind it.

  August turned away, resting his elbow on the door, his chin on his bent wrist. “I never thought I’d see the day.”