The Jared Chronicles | Book 4 | The Devil's Bastion, page 7
part #4 of The Jared Chronicles Series
“The quick debrief I got made it seem like the night shift dropped the ball, but that doesn’t really matter right now, Colonel. I have a team, and we are headed out to attempt a retrieval of the vehicle at the very least,” Josh advised, trying to speak the colonel’s language.
Carnegie swallowed hard, barely controlling his rage. “Go get my fucking truck, and when you get back, we are going to have a talk with the troops. Someone is going to burn for this delay.”
Josh gave a slight tilt of his head; he had no doubt someone would pay dearly for the failure to pass critical information on or to act on a deteriorating situation. “Want me to get with you when we get back, or brief in the morning?”
“I’ll be waiting right here,” Carnegie snarled. “Get that truck, and if there are bodies, recover the gear and get your ass back here.”
As advertised, thought Josh. The colonel had a one-track mind when it came to operations. Josh had heard the rumors from men who’d served under him before the solar flare, but now the colonel was off the hook.
Outside the hangar, the Humvee idled on the tarmac, awaiting Josh’s arrival. He strode to the front passenger side and jumped in. “Head to 5 and go south,” Josh ordered.
The guards at the front gate slid the barrier back, allowing the Humvee passage to the outside world. The driver, a soldier named Chris, mashed the gas as he turned onto the road outside the gate. The roadways near the base were not littered with abandoned vehicles, so Chris was able to make good time in getting to Highway 5. Once he entered the highway, Flores, who was manning the turret, would be their eyes, searching from his slightly elevated position, trying to locate the Ford truck in the waning light of the fading day.
Within thirty minutes, Flores called down from above, “Off to the left, other side, northbound lanes.”
Chris slowed, then turned into the dusty center median and drove across to the northbound lanes. Chris pulled the Humvee through a gap between several vehicles, approaching the Ford truck from the front.
“Stay alert up there,” Josh admonished, his own rifle held at the ready or as ready as a rifle could be held inside the cramped confines of a Humvee.
The sun was losing control to the night quickly as the Humvee stopped twenty yards from the stricken truck.
“Holy fuck, man, they’re all dead,” came Flores’s frightened voice from aloft.
“Steady, man. Hammer anything you see out there,” Josh said, trying to calm the man.
At ten yards, Josh called for a halt and stepped from the Humvee, rifle up and scanning. The Humvee’s headlamps clearly illuminated the downed soldiers along with the truck and all the holes in its body.
“Goddamn it,” Josh cursed into the darkness.
“What the hell?” Flores murmured from above.
“Set up security while Chris and I figure out what we have here,” Josh barked to the gape-mouthed soldiers.
Flores remained in the turret while two other soldiers climbed begrudgingly out of the safety of the armored vehicle and moved a short distance off to cover their flanks. Josh and Chris moved forward until they could clear the inside of the truck. The men’s gear was gone along with three sets of footwear, which didn’t surprise Josh all that much. Any group of fighters short on supplies would take items they deemed valuable, and shoes fell well within that definition.
Josh found the key in the truck’s ignition, turned to the run position, although the truck wasn’t running. Josh grabbed the corpse in the driver’s seat and pulled the soldier out, letting him drop on the pavement next to the truck with a sickening thud. Stepping over the soldier, Josh reached into the truck and turned the ignition to the off position before turning it back in an attempt to start the old truck. His efforts were met with nothing more than the click of the key in the ignition. Glancing down, Josh realized the knob for the headlights was in the on position, yet no light streamed from the headlamps. Pointlessly, he worked the knob several times with as much success as he’d been rewarded with during his ignition endeavors.
“Fucking battery’s dead,” Josh announced to no one in particular. Bringing a spare battery or a set of jumper cables hadn’t crossed his mind before leaving the base. A thought struck Josh, and he dropped under the old truck. Sliding farther under the truck, Josh banged on the fuel tank before squirming back out and getting to his feet.
“Dead battery and out of fuel. Must have sat here running until it ran out; then the headlights drained the battery.”
Chris bobbed his head as Josh diagnosed the truck’s issues, but pursed his lips at the thought of whoever did this leaving the vehicle running while they stripped gear off the dead, which would have taken a little time. Furthermore, why hadn’t the ambushers taken the truck? Chris wondered to himself.
Josh must have been coming to a similar conclusion as he stood studying the scene. “Something here doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah, why would they take the gear, then leave the truck?” Chris agreed, adding his two cents.
Josh knew who had been out and who was supposed to be returning to base, and all the men involved in the grisly mess here were guys who should have been heading north, back to base. At face value, it appeared the men had dropped off the two fresh observers and were bringing back the two soldiers who’d been out on post for the last forty-eight hours when they were ambushed and killed. Problem was, the men from the OP weren’t answering their radio either.
Josh’s brain was working furiously to make some rational sense of the few pieces of solid information he had, but nothing was panning out for him. They’d take the key out of the Ford truck, head out to the OP, and see what they could see. On the way back, they would stop and tow the old Ford back to base. That was the best course of action Josh could think of considering the hand he’d been dealt. Worst-case scenario was he would gather information to relay to what would amount to be a very cranky senior officer back at the base in Stockton.
Josh grabbed the key from the ignition, pocketing the object before heading back toward the truck. “Everyone back in the Humvee,” Josh called out to the two men on security detail.
A moment later the Humvee lumbered south, down the west-side shoulder of the highway, with Josh reminding Flores to shoot anything that moved. Nothing moved as they bumped along the uneven shoulder, dodging the occasional car whose driver had possessed the presence of mind to get his or her vehicle out of the traffic lanes when the solar flare disabled it.
In the darkness, Chris was compelled to creep along as they neared the area where they’d need to leave the paved road and head into the hills. None of them had seen the area in the dark, and they didn’t want to miss the turnoff. After a stressful ten minutes of searching for the turnoff, Flores spotted it, calling down to Chris and Josh. Josh had Chris drive with the nighttime lights, making their progress that much slower due to the radically reduced visibility when using their nighttime or tactical lights.
The last thing Josh wanted at this point was to run afoul of a bunch of overzealous locals out looking to spill the blood of him and his compadres. An hour after leaving the dead soldiers at the Ford truck, Josh and the other four soldiers arrived in the area of the OP. The team disembarked and followed Josh up the slope toward the finger Josh had established as an OP to gather information on John and the rest of his group.
Josh made several radio calls to the men in the OP without receiving an answer. Walking up on any soldier unannounced was a dangerous business, and Josh was trying to avoid it if he could. In the end they had no choice but to walk right into the OP, which they found empty. Josh used hand signals to place the men in a perimeter while he thought about just what in the hell was going on with all the dead and missing men.
Josh pulled out his set of NVG, donned them, and stared out across the great expanse between himself and the Thackers’ ranch. He could barely make out the dark outline of the barn, but details were out of the question. There were no lights below, and he hadn’t seen a thing to indicate anyone was even still living at the ranch. He flipped the goggles up and couldn’t see a thing for a few minutes, his night vision having been destroyed by the bright green image displayed in the goggles’ tubes.
Part of Josh wanted to move down to the ranch and get a closer look, but being saddled with four common soldiers and not four elite warriors stayed his feet from moving downhill. Instead, he flipped the goggles down and led the men back to the Humvee, where they all climbed aboard, got the big armored vehicle turned around, and started the slow drive back down to Highway 5.
Getting back to the truck, rigging a tow strap, then dragging the beast back to base took far longer than Josh would have guessed possible. By the time they arrived at the front gate, it was nearly 0400 hours. Chris dropped Josh at the hangar; then he and the rest of the team continued toward the motor pool with the old Ford in tow.
Josh walked through an empty hangar and an equally deserted outer office area before reaching Carnegie’s office, where he found the colonel alone, in a mostly dark office lit only by a small candle. The generator was off for the evening and would only be started if there was an emergency, so even the colonel was relegated to candlelight. The flickering light across Carnegie’s leathery face did nothing but age the man by a decade. For some reason the old bastard still shaved every single day, while Josh sported a thick beard, with no time to waste on personal hygiene at those levels.
“Let’s hear it,” Carnegie growled, his eyes telling Josh the man was tired and probably had run out of patience hours before Josh’s return.
“Shit show out there. Found the truck out of gas and the battery dead. Five guys whacked, all of ’em the returning party sans the guys they inserted. Bodies were stripped of gear but not clothes, except for three of ’em were missing their shoes.”
“Where are they now?”
Josh shrugged. “You said leave ’em out there.”
Carnegie grunted his approval, then tossed his chin up slightly, indicating Josh continue.
“I took the key, left everything there, and drove up to the OP. We walked in and nothing, no guys, no gear, no nothing. Five KIA and two MIA,” Josh finished.
“The ranch?” Carnegie pressed, a frown creasing his weathered face.
“Unknown. Couldn’t see too much with the goggles, and I wasn’t about to take those fucking cherries on a sneak and peek with John and that SEAL down there.”
Carnegie seemed almost to bite through his lower lip before getting to his feet. “Get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow—hell, Talley, you have a shitload of big days coming.”
Chapter 7
Jared and John walked all day after sleeping in the creek bed, reaching the general area of the Thacker ranch by the time the sun set. They’d given the area where they’d killed the soldiers a wide berth, walking for several miles to the west before cutting south where they could approach the ranch with little worry of being contacted by any of Carnegie’s men who might be snooping about looking for missing buddies.
The trek through the hills and canyons was grueling work. Sometimes, the terrain was arranged in gently rolling hills covered in grass and for the most part wide open, while other times, Jared and John found themselves facing deep canyons they were forced to bypass by walking up to a mile out of their way in order to get past the obstacle. Much of the trip, they were either sliding down steep embankments, or scratching and clawing their way up the opposite side.
Rather than attempt a dangerous nighttime re-entry into the ranch, both Jared and John spent the night in a thicket on the side of a hill overlooking the Thackers’ ranch to the southwest. Jared took the first watch; they’d keep one of them awake at all times in light of what they’d done to the soldiers on the OP and at the truck. John wasn’t convinced his staging of the truck and bodies was foolproof, so he and Jared would remain on heightened alert.
Other than being tired and a little cold, the night passed without incident. John kicked Jared’s feet as darkness was replaced with the grayness of early morning, waking him from a deep slumber. Jared licked the inside of his mouth, tasting the fact he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a few days. Gum, he needed gum the next time they were out foraging for goods. He’d never really considered picking any up until now. A good piece of gum would serve as a great substitute for brushing his teeth while in the field.
Jared began moving his body out of the sleeping bag amidst a chorus of dissent from his lassitudinous muscles that threatened to leave him there for another day while they rested, recovering from the pummeling they’d been put through. Jared fought the urge to rest, wriggling out of the sleeping bag. On his knees, he pulled his pack close, searching it for food. Food that would reverse the effects of his calorically impoverished body. That and water and he would be made new again—well newish.
Finished eating, Jared and John picked their way out of the thorny patch of bushes, making their way toward the ranch. John’s plan was to catch the road, then walk straight up the driveway instead of coming in from one of the surrounding fields. After Jared’s shot two days prior, everyone at the ranch might be a little trigger-happy, and John didn’t want any accidents.
Devon was in the loft of the barn and spotted Jared and John before they ever started up the long driveway. By the time they reached the ranch house, the entire group was gathered and waiting, their faces telling John it had been a good idea to approach during daylight. As the men stepped into the front yard, John tossed Devon a head nod, acknowledging the teen’s presence as overwatch. Devon returned the nod with a tentative wave before returning to his post.
Inside the house, Stephani scrunched her nose at the two men. “You guys smell ripe.”
“Really, Steph?” Jared sighed.
She frowned pensively, realizing the error of making a comment like that, not knowing what the two had just been through. As she took closer stock of the men’s clothing, she saw the bloodstains on the front of their trousers and wondered just what in the hell had happened out there in those hills.
“Sorry, I mean you guys are ripe, but what happened?” Stephani adjusted, still not fully backing off her first assessment of the two.
Inside the ranch house, Margie whipped up some chow for the two returning men while John and Jared relayed what they’d found, been forced into, and how they’d tried to remedy the issue with a staged crime scene. Begrudgingly, John informed everyone they shouldn’t rely on his tampered evidence scene too terribly much, since he didn’t expect it to hold water.
Essie made her way over to Jared and sat next to him on the couch, where he’d dropped like a sandbag upon entering the house. She reached out and unsnapped Jared’s body armor as John briefed everyone. Jared took the cue and hefted the heavy gear off his shoulders, dropping it on the floor in front of him.
Essie crawled up close to Jared and whispered in his ear, “Is your gun dirty?”
Jared turned an inquisitive eye on the little girl and nodded. “It is,” he whispered back with a soft chuckle.
“I’ll clean it for you,” Essie informed him.
Jared shook his head with a drawn-lipped smile. “Nope, you always clean your own weapon, remember? I taught you that, Bart taught me that, and someday, you’ll pass that bit of information on to someone else.”
Essie’s tiny shoulders drooped slightly as the corners of her mouth followed suit.
Jared leaned in. “Tell ya what—you can help me when we’re done here,” he finished with a wink.
This seemed to agree with the eight-year-old, who settled back to listen to the end of John’s portion of the debrief. As the food came, both Jared and John stopped talking and nearly inhaled the nourishment. When their plates were wiped clean, Jared got to his feet.
“We need to come up with a plan to either leave the ranch or defend it. A storm’s coming either way, folks,” Jared proclaimed.
Rip bobbed his head enthusiastically at Jared. “I’ve spent some time evaluating this place, and I think we could mount a pretty good defense here.”
John staggered more than got to his feet, holding up a hand. “Enough talk for now. Jared and I need to sleep for a few hours. We’ve been going nonstop for, like, three days. Let’s table this until later this afternoon or evening.”
No one in the room protested as Jared headed out the back, followed closely by Essie and then John. No one spoke as the men cleaned their rifles on the back porch, both in deep thoughts of concentration about what was headed their way. John’s mind raced in a purely tactical sense as he scrubbed the rifle’s parts free of carbon.
Jared was bothered by a feeling they were missing something in all that had transpired over the last seventy-two hours. The feeling wasn’t something he could grab onto, but more of a fleeting breath blown gently across the surface of his mind, telling him to look deeper at their situation. As he grappled with reeling in the elusive feeling, Jared handed Essie his empty bolt carrier along with a rag and a brush. The carrier already was bathed in CLP (Clean-Lubricate-Protect) gun cleaner, so Essie got right to work.
If it were up to Jared, he would have moved everyone from the ranch, leaving Carnegie nothing. As it was, the Thackers refused to leave their ranch, with Quinten having made it clear in the past he would stay and fight to the death if need be in order to protect what was rightfully his. Since fleeing was off the table as an option, Jared wondered what savagery John was formulating as he sat next to Jared.
“What are you thinking?” Jared finally asked tiredly.
John scrunched his nose without looking up. “That it would be easier if everyone agreed we should just avoid a fight with Carnegie,” John rasped, the fatigue taking a toll on not only his body, but his voice too.
“I think everyone agrees with that; they just won’t leave, which makes their agreement null and void,” Jared added as he set the bolt down to pick up his upper receiver.
The three worked again in silence, finishing the cleaning before reassembling the rifles. Jared thanked Essie and went inside to one of the back bedrooms, where he collapsed into bed and immediately succumbed to sleep.
