“You don’t think it was the La Chacal and her bandido thugs already?” Rick mused. “She couldn’t have known we were coming … could she?”
“The way things have been playing out, it wouldn’t surprise me if we were double humped and La Chacal knew we were coming even before we know we were coming. HQ seems to have more holes in it than mom’s fancy brass strainer. That is why we have to play this as unpredictable as La Chacal plays her games.”
“She is one crafty, she-devil of a redbone marauder if there ever was one. I have never seen anyone who is always four or five steps ahead of chiefs.” Rick said as be began to climb a thirty-foot cliff with Barrett.
“Right now there is no way of knowing who is behind us but I would bet my tail fur it is them.” Barrett replied as he jumped the last 8 feet of the cliff with easy and peered back into the raining twilight.
Unseen by the two coontail brothers, a figure stood about two miles off on a towering spire of red Navaho sandstone. His face was hid under a black cowboy hat and the bulk of an thermal imaging scope. He could see the two brothers heat glowing like a naval flare shot agains a black sky in the middle of the Indian Ocean. There was no where for these boys to hide!
The figure lowered the optics to reveal hard yellow eyes and a face not even a mother would want to love. The left side of his face sported three deep ugly scars that ran clean through the back of his left ear along his cheek and out to tip of his elongated nose. He smiled at the futility of the two fleeing brothers attempt at stealth.
This would be easy. He turned and gave a sharp but deep whistle. He was calling his pack out for the hunt.
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Insert: Prologue
Utah Blaine and Dave are sitting in the back of an old southwest Santa Fe Bar, the air dark and cool. A ceiling fan spins slowly, hung from the exposed log beam running the length of the room. Dave seats with his legs kicked up on the spare chair across from him. Leaning all the way back, balancing on the rear legs. His body language screams that he is enjoying what he is doing. Utah on the other hand is hunched over his drink, but ignoring it. A large scowl across his brow as he ignores the whole room and faces Dave across the table. Both are wearing work jeans and t-shirts, Utah has a pair of cowboy boots and straw hat on while Dave is wearing an expensive pair of high-top basketball shoes, and baseball cap. The late afternoon sun filters through the aged but tinted windows casting beams of light randomly through the bar.
“We need to end this quick and get back to our unit.” Utah says under his breath and through gritted teeth.
“Let’s nurse this a little longer, I think we can get a few more names from these guys. That will improve our standing with our handler, even get us out of that “Chicken Shit” unit we are in. “ Dave stated casually back.
Utah rolled his shoulders back and brought up his drink, taking a sip. He wanted to argue more with Dave, but he had been right on everything so far. Admittedly sleeping in the hotel, hanging out at the resort ranch and eating gourmet food was better than the slop on base, and way better beds.
Utah nodded his approval, and relaxed a little.
Dave smiled broadly at him and settled the chair on to the wooden floor.
Six more ugly hunched figures appeared in a large semicircle, moving out from hiding places behind rocks or low bushes, unseen till they emerged from their hiding places. Spread out over almost a mile of inhospitable land they understood the rules of travel and cover in this unforgiving land. Being separate and independent but with a common goal, they were hard targets at best, but better predators. They slipped once again into the dark shadows covering the land, and disappeared. The cloud cover, dark and heavy hide the moon and stars that would normally light up the desert floor like a giant night light. Now it was almost pitch black, causing the normal desert night life to stay hidden. Only the meanest of the hunters were out now.
Thirty-five minutes’ elapsed then total darkness covered the land, and the rain began to fall again, a bitter cold breeze whipped down from the north driving the temperature down 20 degrees.
Barett stopped and pulled out a dark gray hooded jacket and slipped it on. Rick did the same as they stood at the base of another red and light brown sandstone rock pile. The darkness making it seem black and alive.
“I think we are putting off the inevitable, it may be best to find a good place to make a stand, and be prepared, instead of waiting for it to happen.” Barett Stated as he scanned the land where they had just come from. Even with his advanced hearing and sight the land gave up nothing to him.
Rick stood next to him for a long quiet minute then replied.
“Ok then, where?’”
“I was hoping it would be at the water’s edge with a boat for our retreat, right now open high ground with a descendible cliff is our next best location.”
“Yep, that could work, if there are not too many guys.”
“This bluff on the map is perhaps a mile away, it slopes up to a rock cliff then plummets down to a dry wash that may have water in it now. It’s a back door we will need.”
“Ok, lets double time it.”
Rick and Barett dumped more camp gear and then took off at a fast run, dodging and weaving through the strewn sandstone boulder field. Their boots sucking and pulling in the sand and rock trail. Dark Shadows trailed them at under a ½ mile.
Rick crested the bluff staying low and quiet in the dark, Barett followed. Their breathing was heavy, as steam billowed from their noses.
Barett found some rocks that gave good protection and set up the Daniel Defense AR-10 and looked back through his night scope, scanning the dark land.
Two dark shadows 800 yards out stopped and waited.
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Two dark shadows 800 yards out stopped and waited. They knew that most good shooters couldn’t make a 600 yard shot without giving up their position. They held back just beyond the safe range, assessing their options, waiting for the time to rush in.
Two more figures moved up to their north and waited, moving back to hide in the shadows.
“That’s four I can see.” Rick said as he looked through his range finding binoculars.
“Two to the left in the Northwest quadrant out at around 1,200 yards. That makes six, if they are who we think they are, there is at least one more. Check our wind and humidity. I think I can get the first four shots off.” Barrett replied.
Rick pulled another small instrument from his wet bag and looked through the small optic.
“87% humidity, 15 mph. wind southwest to northeast. Behind us.”
Barrett worked the dials on the scope then settled back in, for five minutes he watched the Tangos sit and wait. He slowly squeezed the trigger at the farthest target, 1,250 yards out according to his calculations. The rifle made a “whoop” but no loud crack. He moved to the second target and fired again, another whoop from the rifle. The Surpressor was top of the line, and was covered in a heavy duty canvass wrap to hide its heat signature. He moved to the third target from the left and placed the crosshairs in what he assumed was the center of his chest, and pulled the trigger. Then to the forth target, it started to move. He squeezed the trigger again, knowing it was a bad shot.
He was running hot loads, full metal jacket with a steel core, they would punch right thru light body armor or a car door.
Rick spoke from next to him in a low voice.
“Three tangos down, forth tango wounded.”
Barett Swung the gun around for the other two, but they had disappeared into the darkness.
“Time to move back.”
They retreated back and to the right behind some low rocks then set up again.
He looked back through the scope at the forth target, hoping to finish the kill. The darkness and rain made looking for blood or boot prints impossible. Nothing moved out there now, the wind moving through the canyons made the only noise. Rick sat quiet for a long five minutes before speaking.
“I’ve lost the additional two tangos. What happens next might be fast and close.”
Barrett just watched through his scope in the moonlight expanse of a dessert void of compassion and life. The wet and cold came through the ground and stiffened his muscles. Tensing then releasing those muscles, he tried to maintain some flexibility. It became a waiting game now and all participants knew it. Barrett and Rick had thrown down the gauntlet by taking the first shots, revenge would now be part of the equation. The clock in his head counted down thirty minutes from his first shot, the maximum time he had allowed before making any moves. Any longer than that and reinforcements could arrive, and they needed to move before that. He had just made up his mind to move out when he heard the high pitched wild yell echo across the canyons. The yell was animalistic and bloodthirsty, a frightening sound that was repeated from different angles as it bounced across the sandstone surfaces of the land. Barrett and Rick both knew it was designed to set them on edge and run. Hoping to make them make bad decisions out of fear and adrenaline, they both laid still, waiting. Two more times the yell echoed out across the land, repeated by others then dying out.
Barrett whispers under his breath.
“When they come, let’s fire then rush them. Double back to the right then go left and retreat off the bluff.”
“Deal “Rick gave a thumbs up then flattened himself against the sandstone floor of bluff.
They only waited a few more seconds before a low howling that increased to a frenzied pitch. The sound felt like it was coming from every direction. Rick and Barrett held still knowing it was intended to make them bolt upright, and become easy targets. The howling increased then the bullets started flying, lead bouncing off the rocks all around them. Barrett followed the flash from the closest to him and placed two rounds in the general direction.
Rick opened up with his shotgun and lit up the whole bluff top with the fire from the buckshot rounds. In the dark it almost looked like a flame thrower, eight feet of light coming from the barrel.
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The gun fire was intense, the bullets skipping and bouncing off the rocks around them. Barett beaded up again on another series of flashes and shot twice, the flashes suddenly stopping. The dessert went quiet, the echoes fading away off the Redstone walls. The pounding of soft padded bare feet on rock caught Barrett’s sensitive ears, someone had made it around them and was coming up quick and fast from behind. Too late and to close to shoot the gun he swung it like a club up and around behind him. The assailant’s curved machete glanced off the rifle and struck the ground next to Barrett’s head, the force was enough to leave a straight line in the stone. Eight inches of deflection was all that saved his head from being loped off. Keeping his right hand on the rifle he struck at the dark figures eyes, at the same time throwing a knee to the groin. His left hand found soft tissue and he gouged and clawed at it, his knee struck several times as they rolled across the rock, and up against stacked stones. The clatter of rock against rock broke the silence.
Barett thrust out his left hand again and found what he thought was throat and grasp it hard and yanked back, then forward, twisting as he came back. He could feel cartilage snapping in his powerful grip. His assailants body went limp. Barett rolled it to the side and belly crawled over to Rick as he finished bashing in the head of another assailant, with his shotgun butt.
“Think there is more?”
“At least one more, the leader.” Rick replied as he started patting down the body.
“What’s that smell, did they shit their pants already.”
“I’d normally say yes to this, but it’s more than that. These guys were high on something, Peyote or Meth. They smell of chemicals and blood, mixed with wood smoke and something I’ve never smelled before.”
“It’s nasty, whatever it is, makes me want to puke.” Barett whispered to Rick.
He reached over and grabbed the machete on the ground and with one swift stroke lobbed off the head of the first guy he killed then repeated that on Ricks guy.
“What was that for?” Rick asked as he scanned the horizon front and back.
“Just in Case. It’s good to be sure.”
“You read too much Science Fiction.”
“We are Hy-Bred animals, living in a post-apocalyptic world, with cyborg soldiers in the enemy ranks. Humor me on this one.”
“Good point, it seems like chopping off heads works for most monsters.”
“Except for the Headless horse man of the Ichabod Crane Story.”
“Always an exception to the rule. “Rick muttered under his breath, as he patted the body down.
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Rick and Barrett finished the search of the two dead assailants and belly crawled to the back of the bluff and hide behind some rocks.
“What did you get?” Barett whispered.
“Not much, old revolver, .38 special, and a .243 rifle that’s seen better days, some knifes and this vial of yellow crystal stuff. How about you.”
“Some money, silver pesos. Old 30.06 rifle with 12 rounds and a small vial of yellow crystal stuff, plus a box of cigarettes. and the machete. Best weapon he had, No ID, no photos.”
“Let’s booby trap the guns and keep the yellow shit, just in case it has some link to what’s going on,”
“Great Idea. Do we hunt down the leader, or let him come to us?” Barett questioned, almost to himself.
“We need to end this soon and move even faster than before to catch those guys at the meeting and take your shot. I’m sure these guys were told to kill us or slow us down. They have done the later. Let’s finish this.” Rick Stated.
Barrett nodded in agreement, and placed a grenade under the guns with some string set to blow the whole pile into bits. They crawled from the top of the mesa and down the back side, into the dark shallow rocky canyons below. Running and dodging around the rocks they scrambled to put a little distance between them and the grenade.
The rain started up in torrents just as they scrambled down the back rock face, water pouring off the face and down on them. If there was a dry spot anywhere on him Barett couldn’t tell where it was at. Cold and wet they stopped at the base of the bluff and looked back up, sweeping the ridges with scopes and binoculars. The rain blurred everything, blending sky with rock and dirt.
“Crap Sandwich” Barett Exclaimed.
Rick let out a long string of Korean profanity and put his binoculars away.
“Let’s just get moving and hope to outrun this guy, ditch everything we don’t need and run!”
Barett and Rick jump up, running down the slope, zigzagging in a random pattern. Ditching extra equipment as they run.
“I’m down to just the gun, ammo and water, plus the gear in my pockets.” Barett says to Rick.
Rick looks up as he jumps over several loose rocks to a sandy patch on the canyon floor.
Just before his mouth opens to reply the rocks next to his head explode in a spray of lead and rock chips. A second shot buzzes past Baretts head as he ducks instinctively at the sound. What seems like several seconds pass before the report of the gunshot hits their ear’. Hiding down behind large boulders Rick and Barett stare at each other in disbelief.
“What the F…?” Barett says.
“That seemed like a long shot. In the dark and rain. Way too close.” Rick agrees.
“We need to find this shooter and eliminate him. Counter Sniper ambush is what we need to do, before we get killed.”
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