by Payne, T. L.
The floor was rotted and non-existent in places and it was hot as hell in there. A grime-covered window overlooked the street below. That is where they needed to be. Will carefully walked over to the window, making sure to avoid the holes in the floor. He expected to drop to the floor below at any second and exhaled loudly as he reached the window. He unlocked the window and attempted to ease it open. It didn’t budge. Examining it more closely, he discovered it had been painted closed. Walker reached over and slammed the butt of his M24 into the glass and raked it around the opening to remove shards from the window frame.
With a good cheek-to-stock, Will scanned to his left with both eyes open, looking for Isabella. He inhaled deeply when he spotted her and Fisher behind the massive blade of a road grader. Past them, at a grouping of parked cars, four shooters had taken cover and were firing upon Isabella’s position. Will waited for one of them to step out to take a shot before he held his red dot on the man and sent a round his direction. It missed. Walker. He could make the shot. “Walker…”
“Fontenot, you got eyes on our position?” The voice of Isabella’s squad leader crackled over Will's radio.
He did and it didn’t look good. “You got about twelve to fifteen to the east of you on both sides of the street advancing,” Will said into his radio, barely holding it together. He couldn’t let them get overrun. He had to do something quick.
“Walker, can you take the ones firing on Isabella?” Will asked. “They’re pinned down behind that road grader.”
Walker leaned to his right and peered through his rifle’s scope. He squeezed the trigger, looked back over his shoulder, and shook his head. “I don’t have a shot from this angle.”
Will shut his eyes. There was nothing he could do but pray as Walker concentrated on the six shooters who had the rest of Isabella’s squad pinned down.
“Three down. Two on the move,” Walker reported without taking his eye away from his scope. “They’re retreating behind that steel building to our right.” A second later, rounds peppered the building, with some whizzing by Walker and putting holes in the walls to his left. The enemy knew where they were. That would make things much more difficult.
“Can you see any of the horses?” Jason asked.
“Looks like Alpha Team has them gathered behind that red brick building at our eleven o’clock. They’re safe for now. The enemy is concentrating on the area around our vehicles. They don’t seem concerned about anything but keeping them from moving.”
“What gives you that impression?” Jason asked.
“Smith and the lieutenant took off down that side street and no one gave chase.”
Attempts to raise the lieutenant by radio went unanswered. “Hold your position and take out as many as you can, Fontenot,” crackled Sergeant Brooks on the radio.
As everyone tried to dig in and find sufficient cover, the gunfire died down, except for an occasional shot when someone would move to a new position. “Why don’t they advance and take us. They have to know they have us outnumbered,” Will said.
“Not sure. Maybe they’re as low on ammo as we are,” Walker said.
“They have us outnumbered two to one. How did they get here undetected?” Will asked as he scanned the buildings and parking lots below, counting the enemy combatants.
“The rivers and creeks,” Walker said. “The same way you move up and down the Bayou in Louisiana. We never searched the banks. We were looking on the roadways for vehicles.”
“Shit!” Jason said. “They could move a hell of a lot of men that way.”
“It looks like they did,” Will said, stepping back from the window. Time was ticking. They were pinned down in Arkansas when they should have been in Missouri securing the area around the gold by now. Stephens was going to be pissed. She’d known and warned him that Dempsey’s army was in the area. Had her warnings to the higher-ups fallen on deaf ears. Obviously. The patrols they’d sent out reported not seeing any sign of the rumored army. How was it that the folks from Lake Sylvia were able to find them when the United States Army could not?
Twenty-Two
Stephens
Fort Leonard Wood Army Base
Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri
July
Event + Ten Months
As Team Lonestar pulled through the gate of the Army base at Fort Leonard Wood, Stephens was taken back by the amount of deterioration that had occurred in just ten months since the military had abandoned the post. She was pleased to find it deserted, and thrilled to see the airfield was intact and suitable for landing the enormous cargo plane.
After a search of the base, Stephens and Team Lonestar began their part of the mission to meet up with the Team Razorback at the forward meeting location—the town of Boss, Missouri. The convoy headed toward Fort Leonard Wood's south gate, leaving behind only a four-man team to guard the airfield. Once the plane landed, Stephens prayed Sharp could hold off any attack until she arrived with the gold.
Under a normal state of affairs, Stephens would have found the scenery of southern Missouri spectacularly beautiful, but these circumstances were far from normal, and the motion sickness from the twisting, winding roads had her in a foul mood as the convoy made its way through the Ozark countryside.
At the tiny community of Boss, Missouri, they crossed a bridge over a creek and pulled the convoy to a stop in front of an old post office to wait for Team Razorback, who should have been there already. The troopers of Team Lonestar set up security and began unloading their horses and taking them to the creek for water
As the horses were being watered, the lieutenant was on the satellite phone with headquarters. Team Razorback had been delayed. Team Lonestar was to proceed without them.
Stephens and Team Lonestar saddled up for the ride to Iron County. Stephens was soaked in sweat by the time she climbed into the saddle. She felt sorry for the poor horses having to work so hard in the mid-July heat.
Crack! Pop!
Stephens dismounted her horse and hit the ground as round after round of rifle fire kicked up dirt near her. It sounded as if it were coming from every direction. The platoon sergeant was shouting orders, but she couldn’t hear him over the noise. Peterson grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over toward a vehicle for cover. “Stay down,” he said.
“Where are they coming from?” Stephens asked, pulling her rifle to her cheek.
“The creek,” he shouted.
A second later, they were surrounded. MRAPs and Humvees blocked them in. It was an ambush. They had to have known they were coming. There was no way Dempsey and Region Five’s army could know they’d stop on that stretch of road in the middle of nowhere, Missouri, by chance.
Peterson ran and grabbed the reins of Stephens’ horse before it could get away. He pointed over his shoulder. “Stay low and follow me.” She glanced back at the rest of the platoon returning fire. “Stephens—follow me,” he repeated. She did as instructed and ran towards a red-painted building. Peterson jumped on his horse and pointed. “You’re going take that gravel road until it ends and then pick up an old logging trail heading northeast.”
“What about you and the others?” Stephens asked as she slid her foot into the stirrup and climbed into her saddle.
“We’ll catch up.”
Stephens held on as the horse took off in the direction Peterson had pointed as if it knew where it was going then waited for hours at the rally point for the rest of the platoon. Just as she was thinking she’d been the only survivor, Hogan and Collins came trotting down the old logging road; with them were the four draft horses and two young soldiers.
“Where’s the rest of the platoon?”
“As far as I know, ma’am, we’re all that’s left,” Hogan said, trotting past her.
Stephens slumped in her saddle. She was sick of war and death. She was tired of seeing great men and women die when they’d fought so hard to survive this long.
Will and Isabella? What had become of them and the rest of Team Raz
orback?
How were they going to accomplish the mission now, with so few soldiers and the enemy hot on their heels? How had Dempsey known where they’d be? He must have discovered where the gold was stashed. Why else would he attack them before they retrieved it—that wasn’t smart—and Dempsey wasn’t dumb. There would be no way of knowing until they reached the cave.
At least they still had the draft horses. They could still pull the wagon—if they had one. “We lost the wagon,” she stated to no one in particular.
“Green Team left one for us as a backup about a mile from the cave. It’s older and not as well maintained, but it should haul the gold,” Hogan said.
The Green Team. The team that General Waltrip sent out to scout the area the month before and who’d never returned. They’d lost communications with them before they’d reached the cave. Their intel must have been wrong. The area had to be crawling with Region Five soldiers. Had they known they were coming for the gold? Or was it a random attack?
Hogan led them straight to the wagon located in a barn on a long-abandoned farm. Stephens inspected the wheel hubs. They looked to have been recently greased. Green Team had thought of everything. “Let’s hook up the team and go get that gold,” Hogan said.
It was a hard ride down dusty gravel roads to reach the mouth of the cave. They stopped in front of an old wooden gate secured with a chain and padlock. The gravel road beyond it was barely visible with tall grass having taken it over. Hogan dismounted and used a pair of Channellock hoof nippers from his pack to remove the lock. In minutes, Stephens was staring at the thing they’d come to retrieve.
Hogan cracked open one of the top crates, opened one of the tubes, and poured out a handful of gold coins. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see this.”
Stephens had had her own doubts, but she’d refused to entertain them. Failure was not an option. Too much was at stake.
“Let’s get this shit loaded and get the hell out of here before Region Five shows up—again,” Stephens barked. She held no rank on this team, but it seemed it had fallen on her to make sure the gold made it to Houston.
As they rode, Hogan shared directions to streams where they could water the horses, safe places to hide if they had to hunker down, and trails that would get them where they needed to be. She wasn’t sure she could recall it all if they were attacked again, and with adrenaline pumping, but she’d do her best.
They stopped to water the horses at a pond near the road.
“It’s getting dark. It’s going to be hard to find our way out there when the sun goes down,” Collins said. Stephens studied him. He, like the rest of them, was dressed in civilian clothes—part of going low-key. He wore his baseball cap on backward, but it didn’t seem to fit with his polo shirt and khaki pants. “What’s your specialty, Collins?” she asked him.
“Communications, ma’am.”
“Did the radio survive?”
He shook his head.
“What about the satphone?”
“No, ma’am.”
“That sucks,” Stephens said, exhaling loudly. They would have no communications with Sharp or Team Razorback.
Stephens let down her hair and ran her hands across her scalp. She needed a shower. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so sweaty and grimy. She walked over to the pond and splashed muddy water on her face. That was the best she could do at the moment.
“So, we wait here for the night? We have three days, Hogan. Three days to get this shipment to the base.”
He shrugged one shoulder and took a long pull on his canteen.
After a restless night of no sleep, Stephens was pleasantly surprised they were making better time than she’d imagined, but they still had to make frequent stops to water the horses and give them rest. Just past Salem, Missouri, Hogan stopped in the middle of the road, held a fist in the air, and motioned for everyone to dismount.
“What is it?” Stephens called to him. “Locals, I believe. Get the wagon out of sight.”
The young trooper driving the wagon attempted to pull onto the gravel drive to his left but dropped one of the wheels off into the ditch. As Hogan and Collins set up along the road to cover them, the two privates on the wagon jumped down and attempted to pull the wagon out and down the road out of sight. They pulled on the horses’ reins with all their might, but they were unable to drag the heavily laden wagon from the ditch in time.
The first shot took out the trooper who’d been driving the wagon. The other private attempted to duck behind the wagon for cover, but a round struck him in the head. Stephens yanked on her horse’s reins, spun to her left, and took off for the trees. She dropped down and crouched low, leading her horse behind a clump of trees before taking cover behind a fallen log. She propped her rifle on the log and watch for the enemy. She felt so defeated that she wanted to curl up right there and die. There was no way that the five of them could hold on to the gold against so many. They were outnumbered at least two to one.
They’d come so far and been so close. The loss was unbearable. Latham would now have to find another way to pay for the military supplies the nation desperately needed. She’d failed. Obviously, the other team had also failed. They’d never even made it to the rally point. She pushed thoughts of Will, Isabella, and the others in Team Razorback from her mind.
The firefight continued far longer than Stephens ever imagined it could. She was sure the wagon had been pulled from its stuck position and was well on its way somewhere. This group was too well armed to be just some locals. After the fighting died down, Stephens was anxious to get after them and retrieve the gold.
“I’m going after them,” Stephens yelled, taking off after the fleeing bandits.
She jumped on her horse and tore through the woods toward the road. She rode as fast as she could, but there were just too many side roads they could have turned down. She stopped at each gravel track, hoping for any sign that a heavy wagon had turned there, but saw nothing. She was alone, in the middle of nowhere and now she’d lost them. She’d lost the gold. She dismounted, kicked the gravel, leaned her head against her horse, and wept.
“Stephens.”
“Hogan?”
She hadn’t heard him ride up. How could that have happened?
She stepped away from her horse to find him leading his horse along the grassy area beside the road. Slung over his horse was a man. At first, she thought it was Peterson, but he was too small to be the special forces soldier.
“Who is that?” she asked, approaching them.
“He was with that group that hit us and took the gold.”
Stephens was stunned. She gave Hogan a double-take. She’d underestimated the man. She looked past them to see Collins. They’d both escaped the firefight.
“The privates?” Stephens asked.
Hogan just shook his head.
Stephens swallowed hard. They were good men. Their deaths were a great loss for the country.
“Get him down. Let’s find out what he knows,” Stephens said, pointing to the big oak tree at the edge of the road.
The man they’d strung up in the tree looked to be no older than a boy. His hands were bound with a rope and his feet barely touched the ground. Hogan questioned him for only ten minutes before the kid sang like a canary.
“We were heading to Phelps County Trade Fair in Rolla,” the kid said. “They’ll take Highway 63. They’ll avoid Highway 72. It’s crawling with Nelson’s men. They’ll avoid them.”
Stephens wasn’t concerned about Nelson or his men, whoever they were. She needed to get to Highway 63 and stop these bandits before they reached that trade fair with her gold.
Twenty-Three
Isabella
Pollard, Arkansas
Early morning hours of July 11th
Event + Ten Months
When night had fallen, the gunfire had ceased except for when anyone tried to change positions. The enemy obviously had night vision. Isabella and her squad were pinned do
wn at the side of a building a block from Will and his squad. She learned that he, Jason, and Walker had made it into the second story of one of the buildings, and Walker had managed to pick off several combatants before the enemy had discovered their position. They had relocated twenty yards down the street in a two-story house. Walker was concentrating on gathering intel on their numbers and locating their leaders. No one had heard from the lieutenant or Brad Smith since the fighting began.
A few hours before dawn, Isabella and her squad were briefed on a new plan. They were to try to get to the horses while Will’s squad covered them. A pit formed in Isabella’s stomach. They were going to try to get away on horseback.
“When we reach the horses, we’re going to ride northwest. We’re going to cross the Missouri border and wait for the rest of the platoon before proceeding to Iron County,” Fisher told her.
“What about Will and the others?” Isabella asked.
“They’ll catch up. They will be right behind us,” Fisher said.
Isabella knew that was a lie. How could they? They were outnumbered and would be on foot.
Everyone checked their ammo and secured their gear as they waited for the signal. When Will and his squad began laying down suppressive fire, Isabella’s stomach lurched. The realization that she may never see her husband again was overwhelming. She’d known what they’d signed up for from the beginning, she just hadn’t considered how unbearable it would be.
