The Hound picked up his pace. It would be nice to catch this target just before dark. Then, he could set up camp and have his way with her all night before dispatching her in the early daylight. He knew how to drag things out and enjoy the fear the targets always had. He had done it before. The memories were good; the memories were really good. He had to be careful that they didn't distract him from following the trail.
The trail showed she had turned toward the small stream in the valley below. "All the better," he smiled to himself. That would make it easier for him. They always thought that taking to water would lose him, but it never did. His enhanced nose took care of that. Her trail was easy to follow, and he made good time as he approached the stream.
He had been on the trail for more than four hours when he lost it. He stopped and sniffed. The faint odor of perfume was gone, as was the sweet scent of fear. He had lost the target's scent. That had never happened to him before. He would have to track conventionally. He closed his left eye because it was beginning to get dark, and he wanted clear vision. He kept moving. In a few yards, he came to the stream. The water was shallow, and he could see a single mark that indicated she had gone downstream. He stepped into the stream. Now, he got a whiff of his target again, and he relaxed. She was just ahead.
In a few minutes, the smell became stronger, and the water grew deeper. Soon, he could see her on the left bank. She was sitting with her back to him, all hunched over. It looked like she had gotten herself soaking wet and very muddy. The water was cloudy, probably from her falling in the stream, he told himself. He slowed his pace and moved quietly toward her anticipating the fun he would have. He left his rifle slung across his back, his pistol in its holster, and extended his hands. They were all he would need for this one.
He was within two paces of her when a muddy, gray apparition rose up out of the water to his left and swung a rock at his head. He felt the impact and all went black.
When Peggy found the clay, the plan came to her. She took off her clothes, filled them with leaves, sticks, and mud, and placed them so that to anyone coming down the stream it would appear as if she was just sitting dejectedly.
Despite the cold, for it was about 40 degrees, she stood naked except for her shoes and smeared the clay as thickly as she could over all of her body. It was difficult to smear it into and thickly over her hair and over her face and head, but she knew it was necessary. The process left the stream quite muddy. She found a softball-sized rock that she could grip well with both hands and sat down in the water against the stream bank. She dug out a section of the bank so her head and shoulders fit perfectly into the depression, and then smeared clay all over her face and the edges of the hole for her head and shoulders. When she was done, she didn't think anything was detectable except her eyes. She had even been careful to smear a thin layer of clay over her eyelids.
She had been sitting in position holding the rock under the water for almost 30 minutes, fighting harder than she could ever remember just to keep from shivering, when she heard him. She closed her eyes and waited, listening with the one ear not filled with clay. When he was close, she opened one eye and saw that his attention was focused on the dummy she had made. His hands were stretched out toward the dummy as she rose from the water and, using all her strength, smacked him in the forehead with the rock. He went down against the bank, but she kept pounding the rock into his skull until she was positive he was dead. She was surprised there wasn't a dog with the man. She knew by the uniform that this was a government man sent to kill her.
She threw up. The spasms racked her until she thought her ribs would break. It took her about 15 minutes to recover enough to stand. Shivering, and chilled to the bone, she washed herself off in the stream as best she could. Then, she emptied her clothes of the mud, sticks, and leaves, and washed them out in the stream. After wringing her clothes out, she put them on and began rubbing herself all over to get warm. Her mind was just as numb as her body.
She thought about taking his pack and rifle, but she figured the government might have tracking devices somewhere in his stuff. Besides, she didn't know how to use a gun. When it occurred to her that others might come after her too, she decided it was time to leave. She started wading downstream in the creek figuring that walking in the water might delay any other trackers who might be after her. She knew she had to get somewhere warm as quickly as possible and she knew she needed fire, but she had no way to make one.
After careful consideration, she decided it was worth it to go back the few steps necessary and see whether the tracker she had killed had any matches in his pack. She thought that it was remotely possible that something like an RFID chip might be installed in the matches, or the matchbox, but she calculated it was well worth the risk. Without fire, she believed she would die before morning.
With effort, she turned the dead tracker over and opened his backpack. She got the dry heaves and had to wait a few minutes until they passed. After rummaging around in the backpack, she found a cheap plastic cigarette lighter. She quickly pushed it into her pocket and started back down stream. She thought about taking the knife from his side, but she was afraid that it might be chipped.
After about an hour and a half of walking, always in the stream and mostly by moonlight, she noticed a deep hollow in the rocks above the stream. She was freezing and shivering almost non-stop. She felt almost sick. Therefore, she decided she would stop in that hollow and build a fire for the night. She just hoped that she could get a fire started.
She remembered from the one episode of Dual Survival that she had watched on TV that she needed a bundle of dry, fine plant material to start the fire. It was mid-summer, and she didn't see any dead grass in the vicinity. She remembered that one of the actors on the show had mentioned using dry bark to start a fire. She looked around and found a dead tree where the bark looked dry. She peeled some off and put it in her still damp pocket all wadded into a ball so the center would stay dry. At least she hoped it would. Then, she looked around for a rock that she might be able to break and produce a sharp edge that she could use to shred the bark.
Sometimes she thought the only thing she had ever learned in geology lab was how to break a rock. The instructor was always asking them to knock a piece from this rock, or that rock. In the process, she had learned which rocks broke with sharp edges. When she found the one she wanted, she also picked up a larger rock to break it with. She did not remember the names of either of the rocks she picked up, she just knew that one of them would produce a sharp edge.
After climbing the slope to the hollow, and collecting some firewood along the way, she snuggled into the back of the hollow as far out of the wind she could get. She then, after several tries, knocked a sharp chip from the smaller rock and shredded the bark from her pocket with the flake. Carefully copying the way she'd seen the guys on Dual Survival do it, she lit the nest of shredded bark that she had made with the lighter and blew on it. It caught quickly and burned well. She was surprised. She had a small fire going in a few minutes. She waited patiently until she could add some larger pieces of wood to the fire.
She knew a relatively big fire would be detectable for quite some distance if it could be seen, but she needed one for warmth. She built the fire as far back into the hollow as she could and still leave room for her to be between the fire and the rock wall. She also, just as she remembered the guys on Dual Survival talking about, stacked some larger rocks on the side of the fire away from her to reflect more heat from the fire in her direction. In about 20 minutes she had a pretty good pile, one high enough to hide most of the fire from anyone who might be walking along the stream.
In about an hour, she was warm and cried herself to sleep. She woke once in the night and thought she heard a helicopter off in the distance. When the sound quit, she put some more wood on the fire and fell back asleep, exhausted.
Washington, D.C.
"With a rock. Just a fucking rock?” The president paused and turned in his chair fo
r effect. "You have to be fucking kidding me! You mean to tell me that a 36-year-old computer programmer who has never even been on a camping trip in her life and, to our knowledge has never even fired a gun, managed to take out our top ground hound striker with nothing but a fucking rock?"
"Yes Mr. President," the man in the carefully tailored suit replied.
"So tell me just how much did we spend on this ground hound?"
"Mr. President, Sir, I believe it was in the neighborhood of 32 million dollars."
"Let me be sure that I understand this. An unarmed, 5'4", 115 pound woman with no hunting, fishing, shooting, martial arts, police, or military experience took out our armed, bio-enhanced, 6'5", 200 pound, military-trained, psychopathic killer ground hound?"
"Yes Mr. President, Sir. That is correct."
"So what are you going to do about this?"
"Mr. President, we have three more hounds on the ground and they should eliminate the target by noon today. She is in a very remote area. There will be no witnesses."
"For your sake, it needs to happen just as you say it will. You are excused.” The president gritted his teeth as the secretary of the Department of Interior Security quickly left the oval office.
Chapter 5: DRONES DOWN
"Determination to win is more important than having the right weapon.” John Debrouillard
Wyoming
I saw the flashes as the drones fired. Toni saw them the same time I did. She was holding a small black box in her hands and quickly pushed a button on the box. I heard a small explosion in the very back of the truck. As I watched, it blew through the truck bed cover and a huge cloud of glitter flew hundreds of feet into the air behind us.
One by one, the missiles detonated in the air, distracted by the chaff thrown up out of the back of the truck.
Doc cheered, and drove faster. "Hey, Jonas' stuff worked!"
"What if they send more missiles?” I asked.
"We mounted five of those babies in the truck bed. We have four left," Toni replied. "I hope that will be enough because that's all we had room for."
Doc said, "Since no one has used this tactic before, at least the best of our knowledge, I doubt that they will be able to mount more than one more missile attack before we can go to ground."
"What are you going to do? Drive this truck into a rabbit hole?" I asked.
"You might say that," Doc laughed.
"I hope those guys haven't figured out exactly what happened. If they have, they can simply fire off one missile at a time, and when the chaff shots are gone, so will we be," Toni said.
We traveled about 15 miles before I saw five more drones approaching from the rear. Toni was watching forward and left. I was watching rear and right. We weren't sure which direction the attack might come from. "More drones approaching from the rear; five of them," I told Toni.
"Oh, shit!” Doc said.
"I echo that," I said.
Toni said, "Me too."
I saw a flash as one of the drones fired. "Here comes another one," I said.
Toni waited until the missile was closer this time before touching off another round of chaff. Like the others, the missile exploded in the air. I watched as another drone moved slightly ahead of the others and fired its missile just as the previous drone turned away. Toni sent another round of chaff skyward and that missile exploded as well.
"Three missiles were now pointed at us and who had only two chaff shots left. Do you think we can make it to the rabbit hole before we get roasted, as our new friend so perceptively suggested?” Toni asked.
"I don't think so," Doc replied grimly. I noticed the speedometer was pegged at 180 mph and Doc was fiercely concentrating on his driving. I was past scared.
DIS Drone Base No. 3, Oklahoma
The supervisor watched as the five missiles fired simultaneously. He felt gratified that the escaped terrorist and his accomplices would soon be dead. He was as surprised as everyone else in the room when the chaff erupted into the air from the back of the truck. He watched in disbelief as the missiles, one after another, exploded harmlessly in the air. Those missiles were supposed to be chaff-proof. He saw what happened, but he still didn't believe it. This group of terrorists had some incredible technical capabilities.
Quickly he called for five more drones. He didn't see how these terrorists would have any more of that 'magic chaff', but just to be sure, he only called for a single missile launch when the next five drones were in place. The result was the same as before. Once the missile came close, something exploded in the back of the truck and threw a glittering cloud into the air. Again, the missile blew up harmlessly in the air. "Damn," he thought. "How much of that stuff was in the bed of that truck, anyway?” He immediately got his boss on the phone to request more drones.
Wyoming, Approaching the Rabbit Hole
"Here comes another one," I said, still looking out of the back window. Toni waited until what seemed like the last possible second and then sent a cloud of glittering chaff into the air. The missile exploded so close to us that the explosion rocked the truck and Doc nearly lost control.
"Watch it," he said. "That was too close."
"And here comes another one," I said.
This time Toni sent the chaff into the air a little sooner and, even though we felt the explosion, it wasn't as bad. "That was the last chaff shot," Toni said. "And there is one more drone following us."
"I am sorry I dragged you guys into this," I said.
Toni turned her head and looked at me. "We were in this before you ever came along. It's not your fault, if that makes you feel any better?"
"Well, it might if we survive this," I smiled. Doc was silent and totally focused on his driving.
"The government doesn't give up easily," I said. "Well, neither do I.” Even though I figured I was about to die, I was just now starting to get mad. I picked up the Ranch Rifle and turned in the rear seat. Using the butt of the rifle, I smashed the rear window. Reversing the gun I aimed at the last drone.
"You must be one hell of a shot with that little rifle?" Toni said.
"Not really," I replied. "But then, I might just get lucky.” I aimed carefully, or at least as carefully as I could, considering the bouncing of the truck, and fired off one round. There was no effect. I figured I missed.
Doc was pushing the truck as fast as it would go. "I hope they hold off a bit," he said. "I think I know a shortcut. Aim at the missile," Doc said.
I did as Doc suggested and aimed at the red nose cone on the missile. As best I could tell the missiles were about four inches in diameter. That meant I was trying to hit a four-inch diameter bull's-eye at over four hundred yards from a truck going about 180 miles an hour down a paved road. That was an impossible shot. But then, I was getting pretty mad and impossible just seemed difficult right now.
I estimated the ballistics of the .223 round, the distance and angle to the drone, and fired another round. This time I hit the drone.
"Wow!” Toni said. "That is incredible shooting."
I fired again. This time I missed. "Doc, slow down a bit if you can."
"You bet." Doc slowed down to about 80 miles an hour. The drone slowed as well and maintained position behind us.
I re-estimated my shot and then relaxed and let my subconscious takeover. This time when I fired the drone exploded.
"Way to go!” Doc shouted.
Toni's mouth fell open. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure. "I think that must be the finest shooting I have ever seen!"
"Let's get the hell out of here," Doc said.
We drove, again at 180 miles an hour, for another 20 minutes. There were no drones following us now, and I think we all relaxed a bit. Doc slowed down as we approached a curve and, without signaling, turned right onto a dirt road on two wheels. The road was rugged and rough but Doc still drove over 80 miles an hour.
"How long before they pick us up again with drones?” I asked.
"I estimate about 30 minute
s," Toni replied.
"Is that enough time?" I asked.
"It should be," Doc said.
After about ten miles, Doc turned onto another dirt road and drove another mile. Then, he turned onto an even rougher road that was not much more than a track. By now he was only driving 15 or 20 miles an hour and was in four-wheel-drive. The track led to a mine opening in the side of the mountain. Doc drove the truck into the opening with no hesitation. He pulled the truck about 100 feet into the old mine and stopped.
DIS Drone Base No. 3, Oklahoma
The supervisor watched the operator's screens as another missile fired from a drone. Again, the glittery cloud exploded from the back of the pickup truck, and the missile exploded prematurely. "Damn! Who are these people?” He shouted. The drone operators in front of him were startled and some even looked up.
"Fire another one," he said, tapping another operator on the shoulder. The drone operator complied. Another missile was launched. Again, a glittering cloud of chaff exploded from the back of a pickup truck, and the missile exploded in the air without damaging the target.
The supervisor kept his cool, although later he wondered how he did, and said, "Don't fire the last missile yet. Let's keep eyes on the target, and wait until we have reinforcements. I have another five drones authorized. Their operators will be here any minute. Then we will blow those terrorists to vapor. The drones who have fired their missiles are also returning to base as quickly as possible to be reloaded and will be back on target, if needed, as soon as they are capable."
"Sir, I think they're shooting at my drone?” The operator with the last live missile said.
Drone Wars 1: The Beginning Page 6
