by Joe Nobody
Bishop didn’t want to discuss it. Answering the question with merely a nod, he approached Butter and proclaimed, “Terri is joining us today. Your bodyguard duties have just been extended.”
“Yes, sir,” the operator responded anxiously. “Was she mean about it, sir?”
“You have no concept, son. No concept whatsoever.”
Bishop asked the deputies to let the team unload almost a mile from the dam so that anyone who happened to be watching from the southern side wouldn’t notice them deploy.
Grim took point, as usual. Next came Bishop, followed by Terri and Butter. Kevin, with his long-range rifle, brought up the rear.
If Bishop had been suspicious at all, they would have crossed before first light. As it were, Grim played it as safe as possible given the open terrain, staying off the roadway and hugging the water line.
It wasn’t any big deal crossing into the foreign land. The landscape didn’t change, nor did the vegetation. Other than a roadside sign that declared the speed limit in kilometers rather than miles per hour, the team didn’t notice any difference. “Stay close to the water’s edge, but give us some room to move if the locals aren’t welcoming,” Bishop had instructed Grim the night before as they studied a map.
The shoreline was mainly arid, with one rock-strewn gully after another. The undulations weren’t canyons, but more than big ditches, and the going was slow. After two miles, Terri needed a break.
“Miss Terri’s leg is cramping,” Butter reported over the radio.
“Take 10 on the other side of that next ridge,” Bishop ordered into his microphone.
When the team had found a good spot to take a breather, Bishop went with Kevin to set up a lookout. After identifying just the right overlook, he returned to check on his wife.
As he approached, the look on Terri’s face indicated she was prepared for the “I told you so,” speech, but it didn’t come. “You okay?” he asked with genuine sincerity.
“Yes. I’m just out of shape. I'm not used to carrying this much gear. I guess I should have stayed back on the boat. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I agreed with your coming along. That means you’re now part of the team, just like Grim or Butter. Any of us could be having a bad day. It happens. Drink lots of water, and if you want, I’ll take some of your load.”
“No,” she said with a defiant scowl. “I can do it. I’ve got this.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, moving off to relieve Kevin without another word.
It was actually 20 minutes before the Texan ordered everyone to move out, but no one protested the extra rest. Less than 300 meters later, Grim signaled he had contact. With a series of brisk hand motions, the point man indicated there were two people ahead; they carried no visible weapons, and they were near the shoreline.
After making sure everyone had gone to ground in a strategic spot, the Texan hustled forward to see for himself. Going prone next to Grim, Bishop adjusted his carbine’s optic to study the locals.
“I imagine the people around this lake didn’t suffer nearly as much malnutrition as those folks inland. For sure, they had better access to water and food,” the Texan noted. He spied two boys, the oldest no more than 14 or 15 years old. Both had what appeared to be very expensive fishing poles, complete with shiny, new-looking bobbers drifting on the reservoir’s surface.
“I have to say that equipment looks a little out of place,” Bishop observed.
“I wonder if they’re biting today,” Grim whispered, suddenly mesmerized by the thought of getting a line wet himself.
Bishop, sensing his friend’s distraction, decided to play along, “I don’t see a stringer, but it could be in the water. Sounds like you are more interested in baiting a hook than walking point.”
Grim retorted, “Well, it has been a while since I landed a big one, but it can wait. What’s the call, boss?”
Bishop frowned, “Notice the fishing tackle? Those look just like the fancy, stainless steel reels we have on our rental boat. I wonder where those young men acquired such expensive equipment.”
“You’re not thinking those two are part of the crew that ambushed the convoy?”
Shrugging, Bishop said, “There’s no way to know. Hell, you and I have both seen child warriors in several parts of the world. Why should our post-apocalyptic environment be any different than Africa or the Middle East? I want to have a chat with those fishermen, but I don’t want to freak them out. Any ideas?”
“Terri?” Grim suggested with hesitation. “We can cover her approach. A woman wouldn’t be as frightening.”
Bishop’s first flash was to reject the idea, his mind justifying that it was too risky for Terri to make contact with the unknowns. Then honesty reared its unwelcome head, the Texan realizing that his initial reaction had more to do with his wife being right about joining the team than there being any true danger. Finally, professionalism won out. They had a job to do, and Terri was the best tool.
“I want you, Butter, and Kevin on a three-vector spread covering her approach from every possible angle. Do it,” he barked, clearly still uncomfortable with exposing his wife.
“We’re on it,” Grim answered without further comment, immediately moving to execute Bishop’s order.
Bishop gave his people plenty of time to get into position before explaining to his wife the exact route she was to take and how it was all going to go down. “If either of them pulls a weapon, you go prone and stay that way – there will be a wall of lead flying over your head. If they run, let them go. If they appear hostile in any way, shape, or form, hurry like hell back the exact path you took in. I’ll be within 50 yards of you at all times. Got it?”
“You’re really uptight about this, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am … but we would take the same precautions no matter who was encountering strangers.”
She seemed to accept the explanation, and without another word, handed Bishop her rifle and headed for the two boys. “Terri,” Bishop whispered, “I love you.”
Stopping, she pivoted and returned to him. “Am I allowed to kiss the team leader?”
“Only you.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she giggled and then gave him a peck on the cheek. “See you in a bit.”
“Do you have your pistol?”
“Of course,” she smirked as she made her way through the rocks.
“See you in a bit.”
As Terri wove her way toward the shoreline, she found it difficult not to look for the guys. Not once did she hear Bishop, see Grim, or detect any of the other SAINT members. It was discomforting in a way.
Despite all of her bravado, Terri was nervous about the encounter. The last 100 steps passed quickly as she practiced her Spanish greeting over and over again. The distance closed, and before she knew it, she was standing 20 feet behind the two boys on a slight rise.
“Hello, there,” she called out in the foreign tongue. “Are the fish biting?”
Both of the youth were startled by the sound of her voice, panic flashing in their eyes. For a moment, Terri was sure they were going to run.
“Don’t be afraid,” she cooed softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“What do you want?” asked the oldest.
“Just to talk. I was passing by, enjoying the serene water and wildflowers, and spotted you fishing. I thought I would come over and say hello.”
The two kids exchanged a look that could only be described as “disbelieving.” The older of the pair then scanned the area behind the strange woman who had magically appeared. He didn’t see any threat.
“So … are the fish biting?” she asked again, trying to settle the obviously jittery kids.
“We’ve caught a couple of little ones,” the younger of the two reported.
“Yeah? What kind?”
“They are sunfish,” answered the older, still-skeptical boy. “Where did you come from? You’re a gringo, right?”
“Yes, I ro
amed over this way from Texas. I’ve never been to Mexico before.”
Again, the older boy surveyed the area around the woman from Texas, a look of skepticism evident in his expression. “By yourself?”
Terri didn’t want to lie but knew the truth would cause both of them to flee. “Why do you ask that? Is it dangerous around here? I haven’t seen anybody else for hours.”
“Yes, Señorita, it is very dangerous here. You should go back to Tejas – right now,” warned one of the youth.
“You didn’t seem to be very worried about things before I wandered over here. Why is it dangerous for me and not for you?”
It was clear from both of their faces that Terri was being naive or stupid, or perhaps both. “There are bad men that come through here all the time,” the younger stated. “They won’t bother us because we’re too small…. But you are older … and pretty … and a girl.”
The larger lad’s eyes opened wide, almost as if he expected mentioning the devil would summon the demons. “Shut up,” he barked at his friend. “You talk too much.”
Terri decided to change the subject, letting out a low wolf whistle. “Ni-i-ice fishing poles. Where did you get those?” she asked, nodding at the high-end equipment with her head.
“Our uncle gave them to us,” stated the older boy with pride.
“Wow, your uncle must like both of you very much. Those look like very expensive reels.”
“My mom thinks he got them off the ghost boat,” the little one stated.
“Ghost boat?”
The older boy shrugged, “That’s what the people in our village call it. There was a big boat stuck on the shore this morning. There weren’t any people onboard, and everyone started calling it a ghost boat.”
“Where is this boat?” Terri inquired. “One of my friends from Texas is missing her boat.”
The little one pointed to the south. “It’s still there. Keep walking that direction, and you’ll see it. But watch out for the bad men. They take older people like you, and we never see them again.”
Trying to look frightened, Terri lowered her voice to a near whisper, “Where do they take them?”
“We have to go,” snapped the older fisherman. “Come on,” he continued, grabbing his smaller friend by the arm. “We should go home – right now.”
“Wait,” Terri implored, trying to get them to stay and talk. “Please, don’t leave!”
Her pleading didn’t do any good. Grabbing their fish and tackle, the two kids scampered south, both of them checking over their shoulders to make sure Terri wasn’t going to follow.
Helpless, she stood and watched until they had disappeared a few minutes later. She started to turn and jumped with fright when she nearly bumped into her husband.
“You scared the shit out of me!” she inhaled.
“I’ve been standing here since they left,” he shrugged, handing back her rifle. “What did you learn?”
It took Terri two minutes to repeat the conversation, her frustration at not uncovering more information obvious in her tone.
“It’s looking more and more like Hannah’s boat was used in the ambush,” the Texan stated. He then turned and began waving in the rest of the team.
As each of the remaining men rose from their hides, Terri was stunned at how close they all were. “How in the hell did you manage to…,” she began, but then dropped the question. “What now?”
“I want to look at that boat,” Bishop replied. “But first, let’s grab some quick chow before we head out.”
Each of the SAINT members took turns at sentry duty while the others gulped down a few bites. Terri welcomed the chance to gather her second wind.
With a nod from the team’s leader, Grim was moving out, soon followed by the rest of guys. It was less than 15 minutes later when the point man radioed that he was looking at the houseboat.
“Seems empty, boss,” Grim reported. “I see zero activity either onboard or in the vicinity.”
“Grim, Butter, form up and give me a 300-meter sweep all around,” Bishop ordered. “Let’s make sure somebody’s not set a mousetrap using a big hunk of tempting boat-cheese. Kevin, find the high ground and give them some cover.”
Bishop then turned to his wife and said, “Read between the lines for me. What was your impression of the two fishermen?”
She had to ponder the question before answering. “They were scared. That’s for sure.”
“Did they steal the fishing equipment?”
“No. Despite the language difference, I’m pretty sure they did not.”
“Movement!” came Kevin’s excited voice over the radio. “I have 8-10 unknowns, armed, bearing 170 degrees from my position. They are headed toward Bishop.”
“Shit!” Bishop barked at his wife. “Move … that way.… Now!”
Terri took a moment to react, quickly scanning the direction her husband was pointing. A second later, they were hustling straight east, away from the shoreline and toward the area where she sensed Grim and Butter had been scouting.
“Give me more, Kevin,” Bishop broadcast as he followed Terri.
“Variety of ages and weapons,” Kevin’s now-calm voice expounded. “One of the two boys who was fishing is with them. Irregular formation. They’re not trying to stalk or hide whatsoever. My call, sir, is that they’re more frightened than aggressive.”
Bishop didn’t respond for a moment, his mind creating a map of everyone’s position and direction of movement. “Grim, prepare to flank them, but do not … repeat … do not engage unless they hit us first.”
“Roger that,” came the ex-contractor’s acknowledgement.
The couple approached a drainage gully that suited Bishop. “This will do,” he motioned Terri to move hastily behind two of the larger rocks scattered throughout the area. “Take cover right there. Get that weapon loaded and charged.”
Bishop watched as his wife went prone behind the two rocks. With a practiced motion, she pulled the M4’s charging handle to chamber a round and then tilted the carbine to make sure the weapon had functioned properly. A flash of pride pulsed through the Texan’s core. She would fight like hell if necessary, and any man would be a fool not to respect her capabilities.
“Okay. Ready. Are we going to have to kill the boy’s uncle?” she asked, glancing up as a shadow of sadness passed behind her eyes.
Bishop frowned, “I sure as hell hope not.” Then with his eyes boring in the direction of the locals, the Texan keyed his mic, “Update, Kevin.”
“They appear to be heading toward the spot where Terri spoke to the boys. No change in posture.”
“Are we sure they’re alone?” Bishop asked.
Kevin’s voice almost sounded like the question was insulting, “I’ve performed two detailed sweeps, sir. No other contacts.”
Bishop took a knee beside his wife, his eyes still scanning in the direction of the threat. “So your two friends ran back to their little town and told everyone that a woman from Texas was down by the lake, asking questions about the ghost boat. Are the pitchforks and torches to shoo you away, protect you, or kill you?”
Before she could speculate, Kevin’s nervous voice sounded over the airwaves, “Movement! Pickup truck, two in the cab, two in the bed. Armed. Going slow. 120 degrees, 1,100 meters, my position. Looks like they’re heading for the first group.”
“Shit!” Bishop snapped, adding yet another moving piece to his mental chessboard. His first thought was that someone was trying to spring another ambush, this time with his team in the kill zone. Problem was no one on either side was in the right position to pull off such a maneuver.
“Reinforcements?” Terri asked, now frowning in concern.
“Unknown,” Bishop answered honestly. “One thing for certain is that this little piece of luxury real estate has suddenly gotten very popular. Me, I’m a country boy and like wide-open spaces. There are too many damn people around here. I think we should egress our asses right back across the river … may
be come back during the offseason.”
“Group one has seen group two’s dust cloud,” came Kevin’s voice. “Looks like group one is preparing an ambush.”
Bishop gave his wife a look that said, “What the hell?” and then pressed his radio’s button, “Grim, you and Butter well out of the way?”
“Yes, sir. We’re in a good spot.”
Kevin again, “Group two appears to be looking for something, sir. The two men in the bed have binoculars and keep scanning the desert. They also have AKs or SKS weapons.”
“The bad guys my little friends were talking about?” Terri offered.
“We need to see this for ourselves. Let’s move forward to Kevin’s perch,” Bishop decided.
The couple advanced with caution, Bishop telling his wife that even with Kevin’s super-sharp eye, it was possible that someone had entered the area without their knowledge. A few minutes later, they joined the team’s long-distance shooter.
Kevin knew what Bishop wanted without a word, handing over his sniper rifle with its massive scope. Not wasting a second, the Texan began scanning the terrain.
It was easy to find the small rooster tail of dust produced by the slow-moving pickup’s wheels. Just as Kevin had reported, there were two men in the bed with large optics, scanning the surrounding desert as if they were looking for game or trespassers or some other target. Whoever was driving clearly wasn’t in a hurry, the fairly new model Dodge rolling along as if it were passing through a school zone.
Finding the angler’s friends was far more difficult, but eventually, Bishop zeroed in on the larger party of locals. Again, just as Kevin had reported, they had gone to ground on both sides of what appeared to be a path or trail, their faces and weapons facing toward the approaching pickup.
“They were pretty freaked out when they saw the dust cloud,” Kevin said, trying to anticipate his boss’s questions. “There were a lot of waving arms, and everyone was rushing around for a minute.”
“So they’re scared of the men in the truck?” Terri asked.
“I don’t think the fisherman’s group can see the truck just yet,” Bishop answered. “I think they saw the dust trail and aren’t taking any chances. We would do the same thing.”