The Jared Chronicles | Book 4 | The Devil's Bastion, page 37
part #4 of The Jared Chronicles Series
“Why don’t we split up, turn the radios on, and spread out as we move south?” Jared whispered.
John pulled away from the binoculars, chewing the inside of his lip as he mulled Jared’s suggestion over. Jared lacked anything close to sniper training, and he didn’t carry a scoped weapon. These were two very heavy strikes against Jared’s suggested plan of action. The terrain sloped downward toward the reservoir, meaning one of them would have the high ground and one would own the disadvantageous low ground.
John’s lip chewing migrated to the outside of his lower lip as he worked at placing all the pieces of this new puzzle into their proper slots. Jared’s lack of training and experience should have dictated he take the high ground, but John was hesitant to position their only long-range solution in a weakened setting.
“Fuck,” John muttered to himself. “You’re right, but I don’t like it. We need the long gun on the high ground, which means you will have to go downhill, and that puts you directly in Josh’s sights if he’s up here.”
“I know,” Jared assured John. “It has to be that way,” Jared said flatly.
“Okay, here’s how it is going to go,” John said determinedly. “I will wait until you are downrange, and then we move together. We use the radios to coordinate our movement and stay in line with each other. If you’re engaged, get to cover, and do not engage out in the open. You do and you die, bro.”
Jared nodded obediently. “Got it,” he said as a double affirmative.
“If I’m shot at, don’t come charging up the hill. Find cover, and if you can, lay down some suppressive fire. Let me move on this bastard. I have the optics and the range; you don’t.”
Jared pulled his pack on and got to his knees, ready to depart at that very moment. He wanted to get this over with and get back to Shannon and Essie. Had he known Shannon was at that very moment moving north, heading directly at Jared in a pincer movement, he would likely have wet himself on the spot.
“Slow down, honcho,” John reminded Jared. “We need to glass this place really well before you head down the hill.”
Together Jared and John spent thirty minutes inspecting nearly every square inch of the land to their front and sides, finding nothing other than birds and dozens of ground squirrels. Jared stowed his binoculars, gave John a nervous grin, then began working his way down the hill. He hadn’t gone more than ten yards when the radio earpiece crackled in his ear.
“You copy?” John’s voice called out through the tiny speaker.
Jared keyed his own radio mic. “I can hear you.”
With the observation and radio checks complete, Jared continued down the hill, careful to use as much of Mother Nature’s concealment options as possible. When he could, Jared slid on his butt down the oftentimes grassy slope, making his progress during these waterless amusement park slides much quicker. Although it took Jared roughly an hour to come within sight of the reservoir’s edge, Jared wasn’t winded nor had the downhill trek fatigued him like moving the equivalent distance uphill would have. He drank a little water and then steeled himself before making the call to John.
“Ground Squirrel to Eagle, I am in place and ready to move,” Jared said, referencing their perspective positions.
“Nice and slow, dipshit,” came John’s unapproving voice.
Jared got up and began creeping forward, his eyes sweeping the terrain in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree arc.
Chris and the other soldiers dug until it was dark, but hadn’t fashioned a hole large enough for their fallen comrades. Sleeping inside the trailer was out of the question in every man’s mind, so they set out their bedding. They all discussed setting up a watch and, in the end, decided to hell with it. Chris tried starting the Humvee, but for some reason unknown to them all, the vehicle refused to turn over. The group had essentially been neutered, and the emotions that came with the experience were debilitating.
The soldiers built a fire when the sun went down and sat around enjoying the little heat the small flame afforded them. Chris remained quiet for the most part, his mind racing, trying to figure out the best course of action for his future. He’d been on the missions to collect taxes and had seen the conditions the rest of the people in the region were living in, and wanted no part of scraping an existence out like some third-world dirt worshipper; no, Chris was above all that.
“I’m going back to the colonel,” Chris said, breaking the silence.
What followed was a brief attempt to talk Chris out of going back, which he flat out refused. By the end of the conversation, Chris stood as the only man wishing to return to serve the colonel. The rest of the men were so shaken by what had happened to them earlier, they all felt they’d received a new lease on life. The dead men not far from the fire didn’t serve to change their minds either, and Dane for one swore he’d never take part in anything related to Carnegie, Josh, or the government for that matter.
John and Jared were kind enough to leave the men their personal equipment like sleeping bags and canteens, which they were all thankful for when the sun plunged behind the mountains on the west side of the reservoir. One by one, the former soldiers crawled into their sleeping bags and fell asleep. Chris was the last to go, his anger serving as a sort of stimulant, staving off sleep for the first few hours of nightfall.
Although he was angry with the others in his unit, viewing them as traitors, he held his tongue for the most part. Chris knew that if any of these men came in contact with Carnegie or Josh in the future, they were dead men. Chris wasn’t returning to Carnegie because he was frightened of the man, which he was. He was going back because he was a soldier, and that was what soldiers did. Once a man or woman donned the uniform, they were bound by a code of honor that included not abandoning their post, no matter the circumstances.
Chris had joined the military directly after high school, making the military all he’d known as an adult. Chris was vaguely aware of the Military Code of Conduct Article 2, which stated a soldier was not allowed to surrender as long as he or she retained the ability to resist. This could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Chris’s take on this article was he’d not maintained any reasonable means to resist when he’d walked into Buckley’s trap. He’d been outnumbered while Buckley and company had gotten the drop on him. He could explain away his own surrender, but not the rest of the men who’d actually exchanged fire with the enemy before curling up in the fetal position and surrendering.
Every branch of service had a code of conduct or, like the Marines, some sort of general orders. Had they been Marines, the fifth general order would have applied to their leaving their post and fading into the countryside. As Chris stewed over his failure to convince his comrades to go against Buckley’s advice, he realized all he was doing was losing sleep. Chris got to his feet, bent at the waist, holding his hands over the fire for a few seconds, then went to retrieve his sleeping bag from the dead Humvee.
Inside his sleeping bag, Chris realized he wasn’t going to return to the ranch a hero, quite the contrary, he thought. To avoid being shot on sight, Chris would need to do some pretty slick talking to convince Carnegie he was on the up-and-up. As he lay staring at the clear night sky, it occurred to him he might be shot when Josh returned. Josh would view his running out on him in the same light as what the rest of the soldiers intended doing.
Tomorrow he’d have to sort this all out and decide what he was going to do. Dane had the rifle, and Chris doubted Dane would turn it over willingly. Suddenly, Chris was wide awake, his body absolutely still while his eyes darted about the campsite. All the men appeared either asleep or close to it as Chris lay motionless, contemplating how he could relieve Dane of the coveted rifle.
An hour later, Chris began to slowly extricate himself from his sleeping bag. The process was obscenely more difficult than Chris felt the maneuver should have been. The last thing Chris wanted was to be discovered and sent on his way in the middle of the night without the rifle. This ensured he took his time until he lay on the bare, cold ground outside his wrinkled sleeping bag. The rustling of the fabric sounded like thunder in the still night air, causing Chris to take a few minutes to lie quietly, making absolutely sure none of the soldiers were disturbed from their sleep. As Chris lay in the dirt, he thought he could have crawled in and out of a large potato chip sack suffering roughly the same amount of sound associated with the act.
Dane was passed out in his sleeping bag less than five yards from Chris, and in that direction, Chris began to move. At first, Chris remained on his stomach, but as he drew closer, he rose to his hands and knees. With less than five feet to go, Chris drew himself into a crouch and studied how Dane had placed the rifle. Apparently, Dane wasn’t concerned about anyone taking the weapon because he’d only slid it into the sleeping bag next to him, but had failed to wrap a limb around the sling, which would have made taking the rifle far more challenging.
In a single fluid movement, Chris stepped forward, grabbed the front of the rifle’s barrel, and yanked so hard he fell on his butt as he dragged the weapon out of the sleeping bag and away from a shocked and very confused Dane’s control. The sudden movement was enough to wake the entire camp, who all sat up in their sleeping bags and stared at Chris in confusion, wondering where the threat was since he was scrambling to his feet, clutching the rifle.
“Give it back, Chris,” Dane yelled, letting everyone know exactly what was transpiring.
Shouts and curses ensued as the men struggled to remove themselves from their sleeping bags. Chris cycled the charging handle, not knowing if Dane had chambered a round. The glint of a live round caught his attention as it was ejected and fell to the ground.
“Damn it,” Chris cursed, knowing now he was down to four live rounds. He flicked the safety off and leveled the rifle at the group, who were all now on their feet. “Stay back,” Chris warned.
Dane stood in the middle of the group, his face red with anger at having what amounted to his only lifeline taken from him. “Give the rifle back, Chris. We need it, or guys aren’t going to make it.”
“Fuck you, traitors. I hope you guys die out here. We all took an oath, and you pussies know it,” Chris stormed. “If I had a full mag, I’d shoot you all.”
Keeping the rifle aimed at Dane, Chris diverted his eyes, searching for the live round in the dirt. When he didn’t immediately see it, he backed further from the group until he simply disappeared into the darkness. When Chris was sure the others couldn’t see him, he turned and ran.
Chapter 32
Calvin and Raul had three horses saddled and the rest tethered on a long line by the time Shannon returned from the OP. When Shannon saw the three saddled mounts, her face twitched curiously.
“Who’s gonna drive the car?” Shannon queried.
Calvin gestured toward Margie. “She’ll drive with the kids. Just wanted the horses ready in case the car breaks down or we have to go cross-country. I figure if something comes up, we won’t have time to stop and do what has to be done.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Shannon said, under raised brows. Calvin was thinking of things she probably wouldn’t have come up with. This was a testament to the value of their group being made up of people from all walks of life and who viewed almost every situation through different lenses.
“Time to go?” Calvin asked.
“I think so,” Shannon confirmed, knowing Calvin’s question was also a statement.
Their meager food supply was packed inside the VW along with much of the rest of the essentials they’d brought from the ranch. They wouldn’t be leaving anything behind, in the event they were unable to return to the cabins. Margie climbed into the driver’s seat of the little German car and sat waiting expectantly while Shannon and Carlos hugged the children goodbye.
“Be strong, Ess. Take care of them, and keep a watch out for anything that doesn’t look right. Remember what John always says. If it feels wrong, do something about it,” Shannon counseled.
“Don’t worry,” Essie proclaimed, holding up her little .22-caliber rifle. “It’s ready to go.”
Shannon laughed softly, patting Essie on the back before guiding her to the VW. Calvin hauled himself in to the saddle as Essie and Salvador were ushered in to the VW. Cody stood off to the side, staring at his mother, his face a mask of serious intent. Cody’s look of resolve was one of revenge, red hot and boiling inside him, preventing him from even the smallest gesture of kindness, which would have been to tell his mother goodbye with words and either a hug or a peck on the cheek.
It wasn’t that Cody was angry with his mother, quite the opposite. Cody was raging internally, and any act of kindness would have cooled the lava flowing through his veins, fueling his singular focus of killing anyone one wearing a uniform or found with others in uniform. Inversely, Devon stood not far from Cody, his shoulders slack and relaxed, his face one of quiet contemplation. There was no anger, rage, or other emotion indicative of an elevated temperature inside the teen.
Cody’s condition was not lost on Shannon, who wondered if he was going to prove to be a liability once they were out in the hills searching for or actually contacting the soldiers. No one had spoken of who was in charge, but Shannon asserted herself mentally into that position, knowing it would be tenuous at best when it came to dealing with Cody. Shannon was reasonably sure Devon would follow her instructions, as would the rest of the group; Cody, on the other hand, was an unknown.
Shannon, Jared, and John had spoken many times about leadership and all the nuances that accompanied the different types of leadership. Shannon, before the solar flare, had been a schoolteacher and supervised more than twenty children at a time. This took not only leadership skills, but organizational attributes as well. Today, Shannon had organized her group; now it was time to lead them. Shannon was completely honest with herself, there had always been at least one problem child in every class she’d ever taught, so Cody’s presence really shouldn’t be uncharted waters for her.
“Devon,” Shannon called, giving the teen a nod. “Lead the way,” Shannon said by way of adjourning all the standing around.
Devon spun on his heel and struck out across the flat campground in the direction of the creek to the east. Cody was hot on Devon’s heels, not wanting to be out of position should they happen on the soldiers. Devon didn’t bother with stealth as he led the group of seven toward the creek’s edge. At the creek, that all changed as Devon picked his way across, careful not to get his feet wet as he hopped from rock to rock until landing on the eastern shore.
Reaching the far side of the creek, the group was faced with a steep embankment that rose close to fifty feet before its angle lessened. Clawing and struggling their way to the point where the steepness lessened enough for everyone to walk without using their hands to claw their way forward, the group paused to rest, everyone gassed by the time they arrived in the flatter area. They’d only been at it for less than thirty minutes, and the four adults were ready for a nap.
While everyone sat and drank water, Cody squatted, searching the visible landscape through raven-like eyes. Shannon watched Cody for a few moments before suggesting he drink some water. Cody’s response was to look blankly at Shannon for a moment before returning to his search for the soldiers. So, he is going to be that kid, thought Shannon.
Shannon finished drinking, stowed her water bottle, and got to her feet, moving to Cody’s side. “You can be angry, Cody,” Shannon whispered in a low voice. “I don’t give a good Goddamn,” Shannon said, using profanity for the second time that day. “But if you aren’t a functioning part of this group, you’re going to get yourself or one of us killed.” Shannon paused, giving Cody a chance to respond, and when he didn’t, she continued, “I can’t have that; I won’t have that. Focus on what we’re trying to do out here, not some emotional-based need for revenge.”
Cody continued his laser-like focus on the land in front of them for several seconds before turning his head slowly to face Shannon. Tears welled in his eyes as the stress of being so angry and finally coming to terms with the fact he could no longer hide inside some rage façade washed over him.
“I miss my dad, Shannon; I really miss him.” Cody sniffed as the tears began to flow down his face, dropping onto his shirt, leaving dark stains on the fabric.
Shannon swallowed hard, not expecting this response from Cody. “I know, Cody, we all do. You and your mom especially. I just want to make sure we are all on the same page out here so no one else gets hurt.”
Cody bobbed his head as he wiped a sleeved arm across his tear-streaked face, stealing a look at the rest of the group, a little embarrassed by his own lack of self-control. “I won’t do anything crazy, Shannon. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
“Good,” Shannon said softly, the edges of her pretty mouth turning up slightly in a warm smile. “We’ve all lost someone since this thing started, and I’m sure more is to come, but we can’t implode is all I’m saying.” Shannon patted Cody on the shoulder and got up.
“Devon,” Shannon called out quietly, “let’s get going.”
Devon dutifully got to his feet and marched ahead, the group filing along behind him. Devon maneuvered the group for the next two hours until they found themselves in possession of some high ground just south of the park entrance. Devon pulled up prior to the crest of the high ground, lowering himself to a hip and turning his head back to catch Shannon’s eye. Shannon made her way to Devon’s side, where she took a knee.
“What’s up, Dev?” Shannon panted as she tried catching her breath. The hiking they were doing was either up, down, or along the side of a hill and never on level ground.
“If we stay together and that guy Josh or the soldiers see us, they can pin all of us down,” Devon advised.
