by Lundy, W. J.
They moved close to the rock face and away from the edge to conceal themselves. As Brad neared Sean’s position, he quietly sat the chief’s ruck on the ground and crawled closer to his friend behind the rifle. “Sean, we are ready to move. You sure about this?” he whispered.
“Make it quick, their numbers have already doubled,” Sean answered, ignoring the question.
“How are you going to find us?”
“Trust me, I can track you. Do me a favor and take my bag. I have a feeling I’ll be in a hurry when I leave,” Sean whispered.
“Can do, and just to let you know, Danny booby-trapped the campsite with an M18.”
Sean let out a soft chuckle. “Marines and their party favors. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Good luck, Chief,” Brad whispered.
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it. Now get moving, I’ll be right behind you.”
Brad crawled back towards the rock face and lifted Sean’s bag with his free hand. Before he stepped off, he looked out toward the edge and could see his friend’s outline and the soft glow of the night vision scope’s eyepiece. He silently wished his friend well as he moved out after the others, still feeling uneasy about the plan.
He quickly found the rest of them as they continued to move along the ledge where the game trail eventually turned hard and moved farther up the rock face. Brad pulled an infrared chem light from his pocket; he snapped and mixed the liquids before cutting it open with his knife. He poured some of the liquid out onto a tree branch to mark the entrance to the new trail head. The IR fluid was invisible to the naked eye, but with NVG devices it would glow brightly like invisible ink under a black light. It would show Sean the way they had traveled.
Before moving up the new trail after the others, Brad paused one more time to look back in Sean’s direction. The snow was still coming down in large sticky flakes. The moon was bright tonight. It reminded him of the hunters moons back home, when a full moon in the sky made it possible to walk the forest trails without a flashlight. Everything in the white-painted forest was glowing with a blue hue. Brad searched the distant trail, but there was no sign of Sean. He turned and rushed to catch up with the rest of the team.
Brad came up to the others ahead of him, walking in column on the game trail. The trail had actually widened a bit and twisted up again before starting to level out. When Brad turned to look into the distance he could just make out parts of the night sky and the tops of trees. They must be near the top of whatever high ground they had been climbing. A loud explosion in the distance instinctively made him stop and duck, bending low at the knees.
Parker and Hahn were ahead of him on the trail; they stopped and looked back at him. Brad turned to look back down the trail. They could hear the loud report of an unsuppressed weapon: two quick shots followed by a rapid fire burst. The sound echoed off the trees and up the trail. Hahn stepped back towards Brad and took a knee, aiming back down the path. “That’s his submachine gun, they must’a got inside the rifle and popped the claymore,” Hahn whispered. “It’s your call, Sergeant. You want to go back for him, I’m with you.”
Another long burst of shots followed by the single explosion of a frag grenade echoed over the forest.
Brad looked down the trail before finally answering. “No.” He shook his head. “We stick to the plan. Besides, if we go back now Chief will kick both of our asses.”
“Fair enough, then let’s create some distance. We’ll find a good spot to wait for Chief.”
Brad nodded in agreement as Hahn got back to his feet and moved out on the trail, passing the word to the others as he went.
6.
They followed the game trail through the remainder of the night and into the dawn. Morning came in with a heavy blanket of fog. It was impossible to see more than ten feet in front of them. The Villegases were exhausted from the pressure of being on point. On full alert for hours on end walking a strange trail can take a toll on the mind and body. They had no idea what was in front of them, or behind them. The others began to rotate the point position to help them keep their wits.
Brad had moved up front and was walking the trail alone. He could hear Hahn’s footfalls just behind him. They had tightened up the spacing because of the dense fog. Even though the game trail was well marked, they didn’t want to lose anyone in the woods. The weather had changed with the fog. The temperatures had risen significantly. It was still extremely cold, but no longer below freezing; the snow had become wet and in places there was runoff causing water to pool on the trail. Brad’s desert boots were becoming caked in mud and his toes were wet and painful.
They needed to find a hide. The men had been going non-stop since the predawn contact on the ridge. Brad found a place where the trail ducked into heavy brush and was skirted by high ground; it wasn’t the best site defensively because of the limited lines of sight, but it would have to do. He halted the small column and called the rest of them ahead to his position. He watched as the Villegas brothers moved forward just behind Parker and Hahn. The men looked physically beat. Wet clothing and mud-packed boots made them a sorry sight.
“We’re gonna rest here and wait for Sean,” Brad said to them in a low voice.
Sergeant Hahn removed his pack and set it on the edge of the trail. “You sure Brad? I mean, you know it might be primals following us and not Chief.”
“You know Hahn, right now the only thing I’m sure of is I don’t want to fucking walk anymore. By my watch we have been in the bush for close to twenty-four hours. My feet are rotting in these wet boots. Yeah, we can keep pushing, but where the hell are we going? We don’t know if it’s two miles or two hundred miles to the next town,” Brad answered.
“What about the cabin, the one the boy told us about?” Parker asked.
Brad nodded. “It should be close, but Chief has the map.”
Joseph chuckled. “That wasn’t very smart, was it.”
Daniel gave his brother a disapproving glare. “Alright Brad. This is as good a place as any. Why don’t you all set up on the ridge, my Bro and I will park down here. It’ll give us a nice L-shaped ambush. If Chief is on the run, we will see him. If it’s the other things, we will lay low and let them go by.”
“Thanks Daniel. Okay guys, let’s spread out in this high ground. Go ahead and get comfy, get dry socks on and try to get some chow, get some rest but let’s keep one eye open,” Brad said, not wanting to assign a watch.
“How long?” asked Hahn.
“Let’s give it some time man, not like we have anyplace to be.”
***
Brad had found a position halfway up the hillside. He was tucked in under a large bush. There was evidence everywhere of small game. The spot was nearly void of snow and covered with damp leaves and pine needles. He placed his sack on his low side of the hill, and Sean’s rucksack next to it. He put the heavy insulated blanket on the ground and plopped on top of it.
He looked off far to his right. If he concentrated hard he could just barely make out the position of Parker; Hahn was to his left and a bit higher up the hill. He couldn’t see the Villegases but he knew they would be farther up the trail and in the bush on the opposite side of the path. The brush was thick; he was pretty confident he could dig in and conceal himself if he had to. Yet there were still numerous lanes where he could peek though and see bits of the muddy game trail.
With his ground cover in place, Brad carefully removed his boots and set the open side of them over a couple of long branches he had managed to stick into the ground. He was hoping they would somehow dry out in the moist cold air. He peeled the wet socks from his water-saturated feet, then used a dry towel to swab away the moisture before applying a bit of lotion to his wrinkled skin. After again patting them dry, he rubbed them down with powder before putting on a pair of dry socks. Instantly he felt the relief of the dry fabric. What will we do when we run out of foot powder and lotion? Brad thought to himself.
Brad took a few minutes to sit and li
sten. He was starting to hear the birds chirp and he could hear squirrels rustling though some far off leaves. As a hunter he knew these were all good signs; things tended to go quiet when an apex predator was in the neighborhood. If the wildlife was relaxing, he felt a lot more comfortable.
He searched through his rucksack until he found a stack of foil packets he had stashed in the bottom of his bag. MRE packages were large and bulky, big brown plastic packages with lots of goodies, but most of them were useless or redundant to things he already carried on his kit. So Brad tended to break them down into what was important. Usually nothing more than the main entrée in its foil packet made the cut. The rest of it was just filler and the weight was not worth the investment.
Brad flipped through the stack of foil packets until he found one that was the least unpleasant. He peeled back the top opening the foil container. Good ol’ number nineteen: beef roast with vegetables, he thought. The food was cold and greasy. Brad did have a couple of the self-contained meal heaters but they put off a strong odor, and he didn’t want to take any more risks than they already had. He slowly consumed the meal, telling himself that food is fuel to get past the taste.
When he’d finished, he dug a small hole and buried the waste. As his activity level dropped he began to feel a chill, so he pulled a small blanket-like poncho liner from his pack. The thin liner had a woodland green camouflage color pattern. Brad crossed his legs and cradled his rifle in his lap with the poncho liner draped over his shoulders.
He tried to remain as still as possible. The better part of concealment is not moving; the eye can pick up on motion easier than anything else in nature. Brad sat silently on the ground blanket. Occasionally he would slowly pivot his head from side to side. He had lost visual contact with both Hahn and Parker. They must have dropped down into their own ninja modes and disappeared. Brad got as comfortable as he could and parked his eyes on the muddy trail, watching for any movement.
It wasn’t long until they heard the sounds of a suppressed rifle. It was muffled and way quieter than a loud gun, but they could still clearly make it out. That meant it was close. Brad looked to his left and right and detected movement in the brush. He knew that Parker and Hahn had also heard it and were back on alert.
Quietly and with as little movement as possible, Brad put his boots back on. They were still wet, but far less so than they had been. He heard more shots. It was definitely Sean’s rifle and this last salvo was closer. He was on the move and headed this way. Brad had discussed this possibility with the men. If the enemy came in hot, they would take advantage of their formation and go on the offensive.
The L-shaped position would slow and catch the primals in the cross-fire. Hopefully it would do enough to end the chase. Brad undid the snaps for his magazine carrier and readied his rifle, watching the trail. Two more shots, this time very close and coming from Sean’s suppressed .45 pistol, the pitch of the weapon far quieter than the rifle. Brad lifted his M4 with his own suppressor attached and waited.
He saw Sean come around the corner; he was moving fast with his rifle slung across his back and his MP5 attached to his chest. After a few quick steps he sharply turned, took a knee and took two quick shots before turning to run down the trail again. Sean ran past Brad and was flagged down by the Villegas, who quickly pulled him off the trail and into the tree line. Brad watched back down the trail as two primals came into view.
They were moving faster than the ones they had seen a day earlier. Still not like the ones in the desert, but these guys were pretty quick. Brad let them go past him. The entire point of their ambush was to let as many of them as possible get into their kill zone. They wanted to disorient the primals so that they could take them down quickly without giving away their position. Two more came into view just as he heard suppressed rifles from the Marines’ position engaging the others.
Brad aimed for the one closest to him: a young man dressed in flannels. He had ripped jeans and bare feet. Obviously he wasn’t too concerned with the muddy trail. Brad ended his worries with a quick round through his forehead. Brad watched as the thing’s head snapped back and sprayed red mist onto the primal that was following close behind it. Before Brad could adjust his site picture, Hahn to his left dropped the runner-up.
More came moving down the trial. Now they sensed the proximity of the soldiers and began their screaming and howling. The ambush was holding; the creatures were running past Brad and towards the Marines and Sean further up the trail. This allowed Brad and the other soldiers to kill off the rushing primals from the flank. For the most part they seem to have remained completely undiscovered where they were hiding on the hillside, firing through small lanes in the brush.
Another group of five came crashing up the trail. But unlike the last two groups, instead of running past the dead on the ground and charging at the Marines, one of them, dressed in jeans and a torn T-shirt, howled and stopped in place, the others quickly stopping beside him. The apparent leader looked at the dead on the ground and again put his head back and howled. Brad waited to see what they would do, not wanting to break his cover.
Brad watched as one of the primals went to move forward down the trail towards the Marines. The leader lashed out at him. They looked at the dead on the ground. This was the first time they had ever seemed to take notice of their own fallen. Brad watched intently as the leader knelt on the trail and touched the muddy soil. He lifted his nose as if to smell the air, then got back to his feet.
Brad watched as the Alpha in the T-shirt turned towards his position. The thing seemed to lock eyes with Brad as it put its head back and howled. The others became frenzied and charged up the hill in Brad’s direction. He got to his feet and, with the rifle in his shoulder, took aim as the Alpha primal lunged at him, baring its teeth and screaming. Brad aimed center mass and screamed “Fuck you!” as he pulled the trigger, hitting the leader several times and knocking it off its feet.
Brad saw the mass of them still charging his position, rushing up the hillside. To his left and right Hahn and Parker had also gotten to their feet and were firing and yelling back as they moved in Brad’s direction. One of the primals broke the brush just in front of Brad. Brad fired two quick shots, hitting the thing high in the neck and chest. Wounded, the primal continued its charge and was almost on top of him. Brad swung out with the collapsed buttock of his rifle and caught the thing in the chin, knocking it to the ground.
Quickly Brad shuffled his feet and stomped on the downed primal’s head while he continued to direct his rifle down the hill at the remains of the mass. Another primal exposed itself on his right, but was quickly dispatched by Parker’s rifle. Now fueled with adrenalin, Brad started to move down the hill, closing the distance on the trail. He caught movement on the left. Once identified as primal, Brad let loose with three rapid fire shots, hitting it in the sides before Hahn clipped its head, killing it.
Brad broke out of the heavy underbrush and landed on the trail. There were several dead primals positioned all around him. He looked far to his right, where he saw the Marines and Sean headed in his direction. Parker came out of the brush just behind him followed by Hahn. Brad found what he was looking for on the ground on the far side of the trail.
With its arms flailing about, the Alpha lay bleeding on the ground. It was looking up at Brad with hate in its eyes. Hahn raised his rifle and covered the open end of the trail as Brad approached the Alpha. There were two dark reds spots on the center of its ripped T-shirt. The rounds should have destroyed the thing’s heart; one of the shots must have severed its spine. Brad watched as it struggled on the ground, trying to drag itself closer to Brad, its legs useless.
Brad moved closer with the others slowly gathering behind him. “So what makes you not like the others?” Brad asked the creature in a low voice.
The primal responded to Brad’s query with a low gurgling growl. Blood and foam were forming on the creature’s lips. Daniel had moved up beside Brad. The primal took notice of the Marin
e and looked him in the eyes. “No matter how many times I see these things they still freak me out. This is some shit you can’t get used to, man,” Daniel said.
“Did you see how he stopped looking at me to look at you?” Brad said. “I’m telling you man, something is still clicking inside of this one.”
“Yeah, but they’re still stupid,” Joseph interjected.
“No,” Hahn said, looking back over his shoulder. “Brad is right, this thing somehow halted them on the trail, and he pointed out our position. This one was smart.”
Sean finally came up beside the rest of them. He was covered in grime. His uniform top was ripped and blood ran down his arms; his face was scratched and bleeding. Brad looked up at him. “Hell Chief, you okay?”
“I’ve been better. Come on, suit up guys, we need to get moving.”
“Wait Chief, don’t ya think you need some rest? You look like shit,” Brad said.
“No, we need to get moving again, get off this trail and into the bush. According to the map, the cabin should only be another couple hours. I’ll rest when we get there.”
“You’re bleeding, Chief … Did they scratch you?” Parker said hesitantly.
“No. I messed myself up running through the brush. If you boys really want to help, I need ammo. My 7.62 is dried up. I need nine mil, I burnt though a lot of rounds last night. I was down to half a mag on the MP5 and a couple mags for the sidearm when I found you.”
“I have two boxes of nine in my pack. Let’s beat feet. I’ll help you reload on the trail,” Daniel said.
“What do we do about this?” Brad said, pointing at the Alpha who was still bleeding out.
