A Walk in the Woods

Source

Willis Mayfield was out on patrol with two of the other Deepwater men, his buddy Curt Bachmann was back at their quarters sleeping off a hangover. Though they weren't supposed to be drinking when they had the duty at the lodge, Bachmann had managed to smuggle in some booze.

It was a hot and humid day and Mayfield was sweating profusely. He was trying to hang back as he truly believed that the lead guy would be the one to die in an ambush. He wasn't sure because he'd forgotten most of the training he'd received at AIT.¹

As he stumbled over yet another damned root, he heard the guy in front, he couldn't remember his name, might be Jerry, call out, "Hey, Will, I found something, looks like a mine or something!"

As Mayfield quickened his pace, he yelled out, "Don't touch nothin'!"

Chuck Bertram was watching the three men as they clustered around the Claymore he and Avram Stein had planted on the trail the patrol always used. They'd placed it that morning, about an hour before sunrise. Their boss, Jason Howard, had had word from DC around midnight.

The President's Chief of Staff, Bill Aspinall, had been clear what the President wanted. "Make those assholes panic."

Planting mines here and there would do that, detonating one of them would be even better. But Bertram waited, those guys he was watching with his field glasses did have some training, but not much, so they'd probably call someone in authority to have a look. Bertram wanted that guy to be nearby when he detonated the mine.

He keyed his mic, "You got eyes on?"

Stein clicked his mic twice to indicate that he did indeed have the men in the scope of his Barrett.

Sergeant Jack Hollister climbed aboard the small ATV² and headed out to where Mayfield thought he was. Guy was so bad at map reading that he could be anywhere on the property, but knowing the path the patrols always took, despite his best efforts to make them vary their routine, he figured that for once Mayfield knew where he was on the map.

As he pulled up, he saw three men all clustered around something on the ground. What the hell are these morons thinking, no security, they're all bunched up, idiots, he was grumbling to himself.

"One of you clowns should be on overwatch, did any of you pay attention in AIT?" Hollister was pissed and he let it show.

When he got close enough to see what they were looking at, he felt a cold chill travel up his spine.

"Jesus, step back ..."

"Bye now." Bertram muttered as he triggered the Claymore.

He put his field glasses on  the scene, all four men were down, three of them weren't moving at all. The guy who'd ridden in on the ATV was crawling back towards that vehicle, probably to access a radio.

"Avi, let him make the call." he radioed to Stein, who he knew was tracking the man in his scope.

"Copy."

Hollister knew he was dying, his left leg below the knee was gone, his left side was peppered with debris from the mine. Mayfield had shielded him somewhat from the mine's detonation, but not enough to save his life.

He had a first aid kit on the ATV, but he knew that would do him no good. He did want to call in to headquarters and let them know what was going on. Sure he was a mercenary, but he was loyal to the men who paid his salary.

"Base, this is Hollister."

"Base ..." Jesus people, somebody pick up.

"Go ahead boss."

"Patrol's been hit by a ..."

Stein watched through the scope as the man talking on the radio was hit. It was a little far for a head shot with the wind gusting like it was, so he'd aimed for center of mass. As the Barrett fired a .50 caliber round, he had no doubts that the target was finished.

Now to wait.

Burt D'Angelo keyed the mic again, "Jack, come again, say your last."

All he was getting was static, Hollister was still keying his mic. D'Angelo jumped up and went to wake up the boss. Ted Wickford liked to sleep late and never went out on patrols, but he was in charge of security here at the lodge, so D'Angelo had to let him know he was going out to see what games the patrol was playing.

After banging on Wickford's door, he opened it.

"What the f ..."

"I gotta go out, lost contact with the patrol. Hollister went out, said they'd found something, a mine perhaps, but they're not talking over the radio."

Wickford yawned, "Take the QRF³ with you." The he rolled over and went back to sleep.

D'Angelo shook his head, then went to rustle up Bachmann, Michaels, and Dirksen, they were today's QRF.

Bachmann reeked of alcohol, D'Angelo noticed as he shook him. "Curt, get your ass out of bed, the morning patrol is not answering their radio. Need you to go and take a look."

Bachmann sat up, "Why me?"

D'Angelo barked at the man in frustration, "You're the lead of the QRF today, dumbass. Or did you forget?"

Bachmann's eyes lit up, "Oh, shit, that's right. Go wake up Michaels and Dirksen while I get my gear together. Mind if we take the Jeep?"

D'Angelo, on his way back to the radio room, turned and said, "Yeah, go ahead. That's what it's there for."

Jason Howard had his field glasses trained on the lodge, he saw a Jeep with three men aboard leave and head down the trail the morning patrol had followed. He keyed his mic, "You've got a vehicle headed your way, Eagle."

Avram Stein, "Eagle," answered, "Copy."

Within a few minutes a Jeep came into view, three men aboard. He watched as they pulled up to the ATV with the dead man next to it.

Poor bastards.

Bachmann couldn't believe his eyes, Jack Hollister was on his back, his left leg pretty much gone, lots of blood on his torso. "Guys," he barked at Michaels and Dirksen, "eyes out, looks like an ambush here."

As he approached Hollister he saw more bodies around what looked like the aftermath of an explosion. His first thought was, "Ah shit." He didn't have time for a second as his brain registered a flash off to his right, way up on the nearest ridgeline. The bullet hit him in the abdomen a second later.

Michaels and Dirksen heard the report of a rifle seconds after they saw Bachmann stagger, drop to his knees, then fall forward onto his face. Michaels yelled out, "Sniper!"

Then he was covered in Dirksen's blood and brains as another bullet tore the top of Dirksen's head off. Michaels dove behind the Jeep. He scrabbled for cover as he heard a bullet hit the side of the Jeep. He wet himself when he realized that that one had been meant for him.

Wickford walked down to the security office from his quarters. No one was there, the Jeep was gone, as was the ATV. He went over to the radio.

"QRF, QRF, do you read me? This is Base." he heard static on the frequency, then someone screaming obscenities.

"QRF, what the hell is going on, report!"

Senator Hawthorne had been awakened by what sounded like an explosion. Moments later he'd heard the security team's ATV go out. After he dressed, he looked out again, he saw the Jeep go out with three of the security people in it.

Walking out of his suite, he was met by some of the other members of the Dozen.

"What is happening, Franklin?" Estelle Chavez was clutching her robe closed, she hadn't bothered to dress.

"I haven't the foggiest, I'm sure the security people are dealing with a trespasser. Perhaps a hunter has wandered onto the property. Though it's posted, these rustics often ignore the signs."

The Congressman from Massachusetts started to speak, Hawthorne held up a finger.

"Hold that thought, I'm going down to speak with Mr. Wickford."

Hawthorne went down to the security office, no one was there. He wandered into the barracks area, oddly enough it was empty. Perhaps they were dealing with more than just a trespasser. That's when he noticed that the door to the outside was wide open. He went there and poked his head out.

"That's odd, both of the security team's vans are gone as well."

He turned to walk back inside, that's when he saw the body. Panicked he ran back inside and bolted the door. Running upstairs he pulled out his cell phone and pressed one of his speed dial numbers.

It was answered, "Deepwater HQ, Senator, how can we help you?"

Hawthorne took a deep breath, then began to demand a helicopter evacuation from the lodge for himself and eleven others.

"We'll have to make two trips, Senator, our ..."

"Use the biggest helicopter you've got, you know we can pay!"

"Sorry, Sir, it's in for a maintenance overhaul, won't be back for a couple of weeks."

"Then send two helicopters, you idiot."

Dead silence on the other end.

"Hello, hello ..." staring at his phone he realized that there was no signal. What the hell?

Bertram got off his radio, then looked at Howard, "Cell phone service is down, Chief. What's next?"

Howard was watching the lodge, he'd seen the remaining security people flee in their big van. He'd seen the security chief come running back down the trail, only to be shot by Stein. He had chuckled as the Senator from Oregon had come outside, seen the body, then dashed back inside. He set the glasses down.

"Boss said to let 'em sweat for a day or two. Anybody comes out, we shoot, and conveniently miss. Then the phones go back up, and the boss calls them."

"Is he going to offer those bastards a deal?" Bertram fumed.

"Well, they'll think it's a deal, but it isn't really. They confess to high crimes and misdemeanors, they get impeached, then they go away for a very long time. Some Super Max out in Colorado I'm betting, isolated from everyone else, they won't even see their guards. Not much of a deal, but ..."

"Geez Chief, do we have to miss?"

"I'm thinking on that. I'll let you know." The grin on Howard's face made Bertram shiver, the man was dangerous, he wouldn't want him as an enemy."

¹ Advanced Individual Training

² All Terrain Vehicle

³ Quick Reaction Force