On The Edge: Book Three in The No Direction Home Series

by Mike Sheridan

  “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s a good man. Ever since that day, he’s made amends. He always volunteers first for whatever needs to be done, no matter how dangerous.” Walter smiled. “And he did a good job hauling our first batch of recruits here too, didn’t he? Next time, if he can find people out of their teens, and under the age of seventy, that would be even better.”

  Greta moved closer and rested her head against Walter’s shoulder. “Laura is such a doll, isn’t she? And Simone, Marcie, and Billy are great assets to the camp. They’ve made great headway fixing up the farm.”

  “Yep. Everybody is going to work out fine.”

  Walter checked his watch. From her angle, Greta could see it was 12:30 a.m. “You going to catch any sleep before you leave?”

  Walter shook his head. “I’m too restless for that. How about you? You sleepy yet? I’ll go back to my trailer if you want.”

  “Nope. I’m kinda restless too.” Greta leaned over and dragged herself across Walter’s torso, then kissed him on the lips. “I say we have a little more fun. So long as you promise me it won’t be our last time together.”

  Walter draped his arm around the small of her back and pulled her in closer. “Don’t you worry about that. This soldier knows how to take care of himself. I’ll make damn sure to come back to you in one piece.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Sheriff Rollins sat hunched over the table in his cabin studying Ned Granger’s plan under the light of a kerosene lamp. The attack on Wasson Lodge would commence in two hours’ time, and everybody at the camp was fully prepared, the teams assigned, their leaders scheduled to convene in the council room shortly.

  The main force would hike through the forest, led by himself and Granger. Mary Sadowski would command a Quick Reaction Force of six people, ready to engage the enemy on instruction, while Kit Halpern and one other man would canoe around the headland and up the tiny inlet Halpern had found the other day. Their orders were to get as close to the lodge as possible and act as spotters. Ideally, they would shadow Mason and relay his orders real time, as well as radio in the positions of his men. From Devil’s Point, Walter and his group of five would attack from the south.

  It was an excellent plan, and Rollins had confidence it would succeed. Like Granger, he couldn’t wait to chase Mason out of the area. If they could kill him in the process, that would be even better.

  A burst of gunfire chattered from somewhere close by. It began intermittently, but quickly turned into a fierce barrage of semi-automatic rifle fire. Rollins jumped up from the table and was clipping on his holster when his radio crackled to life.

  “Bravo Base, we got intruders in the forest! Do you read me, over?” a young man yelled. In his haste, he’d forgotten to signal his position.

  Rollins grabbed the radio just as the hand-cranked siren Bert Olvan had picked up the other day sounded the camp alarm. “This is Bravo One. What position are you reporting from, over?” he asked as calmly as he could.

  “Aw…shit! Sorry Sheriff, this is Papa Five,” came the reply over the din of the siren. Papa Five was Camp Benton’s most southerly post on their perimeter, the one nearest to Wasson Lodge, and most vulnerable to attack.

  There was another crackle on the radio. “Bravo Base, this is Papa One. We got shooting over here too,” said a calmer voice. “So far, we’re keeping them at bay, over.”

  Papa One was the perimeter’s northerly post. It appeared Mason was attacking the camp at its two most extreme points. Whether this was a serious attack or he was just probing their defenses was impossible to tell. Rollins hoped it was the latter, and that their own plans needn’t be delayed, or at least not for long.

  “Break—Break! All posts…this is Bravo Two,” Ned Granger’s terse voice came over the channel, signaling for all on the frequency to listen. “Hold your positions along the line. Reinforcements are on their way. Over and out.”

  Rollins shoved his radio into the front pocket of his shorts just as the siren ended. He grabbed his rifle and hustled out of the cabin.

  Outside, the men and women of Camp Benton were likewise rushing about. Though a little frenzied, he was heartened to see they all appeared to know where they were going, and were making their way to their assigned posts around the camp.

  He jogged across the main square and over to the council room, the rally point where he and Granger had prearranged to meet if under attack. By that time, Mary Sadowski would be on her way to Papa Three with her QRF unit, ready to reinforce whichever section of the perimeter required the most help. Henry Perter and one other man would patrol the North Beach shoreline, while Bert Olvan did likewise at South Beach, both on the lookout for any water-based assault.

  Ned Granger had already arrived. Leaning on his cane, he had his radio up to his mouth, barking out orders. “I’ve dispatched extra men to Papa One and Five,” Granger informed Rollins when he reached him outside the council room. “We’ve now got fifteen in total across the entire perimeter.”

  “Will that be enough?” Rollins asked anxiously.

  “Should be. There’s a guard at each post with NV glasses. They’ll cut to ribbons anyone trying to break across. So far it doesn’t look like Mason is trying to overrun our positions. No point in over-committing resources until we see what he’s got planned.”

  Rollins nodded, thankful to have someone in command who’d been under fire before. Unlike him, whose heart was beating fast, the squat figure of Granger personified coolness under pressure. Rollins listened as Granger kept a string of rapid exchanges going with all seven posts around the camp.

  Granger’s radio came to life again. “Bravo Base, this is Bravo Five,” Henry Perter called out urgently over the airwaves. “There’s a motorboat coming in from the north. Looks like it’ll reach us in three or four minutes. Do you read me, over?”

  “Roger that, Bravo Five. Hold firm. Support is on the way,” Granger snapped back. Keeping his finger on the Talk button, he stayed in transmit mode. “Rambler One, head to North Beach on the double. A motorboat is due to land imminently. Do you read me, over?”

  “This is Rambler One. Roger that,” Mary Sadowksi answered back breathlessly. Rollins could hear the sounds of footsteps tromping through the forest, and guessed her six-man squad was already on their way. The QRF’s role was to listen carefully to what was going on during battle and anticipate his or Granger’s commands. “ETA five minutes. Over and out.”

  Granger glanced over at Rollins and gave him a satisfied nod. Sadowski’s team had several sharpshooters, including Jonah and Colleen Murphy. At the range that afternoon, the two had shown superb marksmanship. Still, Rollins was worried. Their perimeter was under attack and a motorboat was due to arrive on their shoreline at any moment. That wasn’t good.

  ***

  The QRF squad jogged single-file down the forest trail, rifles clutched in both hands, muzzles pointing skyward. A few minutes ago, Mary Sadowski had given the order to turn back from their route to the Papa Five post and head double-quick to North Beach instead.

  Jonah Murphy quickened his pace to run alongside Colleen. “I don’t like the look of this,” he panted. “Mason must have a lot of men if they can attack us on so many sides.” Sticking close to Mary earlier, he’d listened in on the reports coming from the posts along the camp perimeter.

  “Splitting up his men weakens his force,” Colleen said tightly, short of breath too. “Question is, which team contains the bulk of his men? That’s the one his main attack will come from.”

  “Unless all of his teams are strong,” Jonah replied worriedly. “Maybe he found a bunch more skangers to help him out tonight.”

  “Since yesterday? I doubt it.”

  Jonah wasn’t so sure. Still, there was no point in arguing about it. He’d learned that arguing with his wife rarely paid off for him. In the midst of battle, it made even less sense.

  Halfway to the beach, the sixty-two-year-old Mary Sadowski began to falter. Carrying her AR-15 and extra magazines
on either side of her tactical belt, Jonah was surprised the sprightly lady had led the charge even this far.

  Ahead of them, the sharp rat-a-tat-tat of rifle fire opened up like a string of firecrackers. The boat had obviously come into range. Almost immediately, a more distant barrage of gunfire peppered back in reply.

  Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Jonah ran ahead of Colleen to the top of the line. “Mary, how about you let me go ahead?” he said, running alongside her. “Hank’s going to need help as soon as possible.”

  “All right,” Mary panted. “Take Colleen and Jim with you. The rest of the squad will be right behind.”

  Still jogging, Jonah hollered back down the line. “Hey, Jimbo! Up here, headerball. We’re going to lead the charge!”

  A moment later, Jim Wharton raced up the path. A little chubby, he was powerfully built and was the camp’s top shooter.

  Jonah, Colleen, and Jim sprinted up the path. A couple of minutes later, they reached the end of the forest and burst out onto the beach where Jonah and Colleen had done their target practice that morning. The moon and the stars were out, and the lake’s stony shoreline was clearly illuminated.

  By now, the shooting had stopped. There was no boat out on the water, nor any sign of Henry Perter.

  Jonah scanned the shoreline looking for any sign of activity. “Where in the name of jaysus is everybody?” he muttered.

  “Jonah…over here!” a loud whisper called out on his left. Jonah spotted a figure waving to him from behind the tree line. He ran over to it and immediately recognized the tall, angular figure of Henry Perter leaning against a tree. Squatting beside him was another Benton man, one Jonah wasn’t familiar with. It was plain to see he was injured. His face was set in a grimace, and he held his left arm out at an awkward angle.

  “Hank, where the hell did that boat get to?” Jonah asked as soon as he reached them. “You chase it away?”

  Perter pointed to the far end of the bay. “It headed around the back of the point.”

  “How many on board?” Colleen asked, catching up.

  “At least six. When Noel got hit we had to pull back. We were too exposed on the beach.”

  Noel nodded, his pale face glistening with sweat.

  “They’ve probably landed by now,” Perter continued. “I’ve radioed it in. Mary and the rest of the team are heading over there now.”

  At that moment, gunfire opened up in the direction Perter had just pointed in. His radio came to life, and all five could hear Mary Sadowski’s tense voice over the airwaves. “Rambler One to Base. Contact on North Beach. A group of six or more men. We got them pinned down, but we need support. There’s only three of us holding them back.”

  Jonah’s heart leapt. By splitting up the group, Mary’s group was now severely exposed. “Come on, Hank,” he urged. “We got to move.”

  Perter turned to his companion. “Noel, are you in good enough shape to come with us?”

  Noel stood up. “Still got my shooting arm,” he replied. “I’m good to go.”

  They took off. Perter keyed his radio and pressed it to his mouth. “North Beach to Base. Got a group of five heading over to Mary now!”

  Staying parallel to the tree line, the five jogged quickly north in the direction of the gunfire. Over on the far side of the camp, the shooting had intensified too. Things were heating up.

  CHAPTER 10

  Nate and his crew crept through the trees, trying to skirt around a group of defenders that had taken up position seventy yards ahead of them. In the pitch dark, he couldn’t make them out, but could see the muzzle flashes from their rifles. Every time he darted from one tree to the next, bullets whizzed viciously around him with alarming accuracy.

  A couple of minutes ago, Matt Cooper had landed the skiff at a tiny cove around the back of the bay. After scrambling ashore, a steep, rocky track had led them into the forest, where they’d scattered as soon as they came under fire.

  “Dammit, they must have NVGs!” Nate called out to Cooper as both men took cover behind adjacent trees. “No way in hell could they have found us so quickly otherwise.” He checked his watch. It was 1:45 a.m. Mason needed him to be in position on the north side of the camp at 2 a.m., in position to attack the camp’s main square. Forced away from the bay they’d originally intended landing at, they were running late.

  “Matt, we need to split the team up,” he whispered urgently. “If we’re not at the square in fifteen minutes, we can kiss goodbye to Mason handing us the lodge.”

  “I’ll stay back with a couple of men and lay down some covering fire,” Cooper whispered back. “You go ahead, see if you can bypass their position.”

  Thirty seconds later, a fierce volley of gunfire opened up from Cooper and the two remaining men. Darting from tree to tree, Nate and three others pulled back from their position, then swung off to the right and jogged quickly away.

  Using the set of earbuds Mason had given him for his two-way radio that morning, he raised him on the channel. “Mason, this is Nate. We’ve landed on the north side of the headland. Heading inland through the forest.”

  “You come up against much resistance yet, over?”

  “Some. We got pinned down as soon as we landed. I had to leave some of my men behind to deal with them, over.”

  “How many of you are heading to the square?”

  “Seven,” Nate lied. His response included the three phantoms who would unfortunately perish in the ensuing firefight.

  “Good. Keep heading inland. Soon as you arrive at the square, contact me again. Over and out.”

  ***

  Things were going well for Mason. Though his own team had yet to break through Camp Benton’s heavily defended perimeter, it was now under severe pressure. It helped that Nate’s team had made contact on the north headland and drawn several defenders over in that direction.

  He still had one more trick up his sleeve. Using the arrow keys on his handset, he changed over to Don Gatto’s frequency and raised him on the channel. “Hey, Gatto, this is Mason. Where are you, over?”

  A moment later, Gatto’s rasping voice flooded into his head through the tiny earbuds. “We’re out on the lake. About a mile offshore and awaiting your signal. Sounds like you started the party without us. That’s not cool.”

  Mason chuckled. “Don’t worry, there’ll still be plenty of beer when you arrive. Matter of fact, why don’t you come over now and join the fun?”

  “Roger that. On our way. Over and out.”

  Mason pulled out his earbuds and slipped the handset back into his pocket. He smiled grimly. So far, everything was going exactly to plan.

  ***

  Shoulders almost touching, Jonah and Colleen raced through the forest with Henry Perter, Jim Wharton, and Noel following close behind. Around the camp, the shooting had intensified, and it appeared they were being attacked on all sides. Jonah could even hear sporadic gunfire as far down as South Beach.

  Ten yards behind, Perter called out to him. “Jonah! Hold up a moment!”

  Jonah and Colleen pulled up and waited for the three others to catch up. “Hurry up, guys!” Jonah said impatiently. “We need to get to Mary right away.”

  “Sure, but if she hears you crashing through the woods like that, she’s liable to shoot you. We need to contact her first, let her know which way we’re coming.” Perter took out his radio again. “Rambler One, this is Bravo Five. What is your position, over?”

  “Bravo Five, this is Rambler One. We’re on the southeast corner of the clear-cut. We got the intruders pinned down but need you right away. Where are you, over?”

  The location Mary referred to was a large clear-cut in the forest where the YMCA had recently started construction on some additional cabins. It was about three hundred yards from their current position.

  “We’re on the main forest trail. ETA to your position is three minutes. Over and out.”

  Taking off again, Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared that
Mary and the rest of the QRF squad were holding their ground.

  After jogging another fifty yards, Perter turned onto a secondary trail that would take them to the clear-cut. The five hiked up it single file.

  Ahead, the shooting had died down and there was only intermittent fire. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the camp, however, and the reports coming over Perter’s radio were becoming increasingly more ominous. Another boatful of attackers had landed somewhere along the south end of the peninsula. It explained the shooting Jonah had heard in that direction.

  They arrived at the clear-cut where, behind the tree line, Mary and two others had taken up positions.

  Jonah ran over to them and took cover behind a nearby tree. “Everything okay?” he called over to Mary.

  “Yeah,” she grunted, staring ahead without looking at him. Though the moonlight illuminated the deforested area of the clear-cut, it was impossible to see beyond the tree line. Mary gazed across at it, her night vision glasses raised to her eyes. There were only five sets of them, which Granger had distributed among the teams.

  “Dammit,” she cursed. “Looks like they split up. No wonder the shooting has thinned out.” She raised her radio to her mouth. “Rambler One to Bravo Base, some of the intruders have slipped past our position. They may be heading in your direction. There’s only two or three left here, over.”

  A moment later, Ned Granger replied. “Copy that, Rambler One. Leave two men behind while the rest of you fall back to camp. They can follow you back, over.”

  “Roger that. Over and out.” Mary called out, “Jonah, you and Noel stay here and hold the line. Give us five minutes, then follow us back. Got that?”

  “Mary, Noel’s left wrist has been shattered,” Perter told her. “He needs medical attention right away.”

  “No, I’m good,” Noel replied, though the look on his face indicated the pain he was in.