Broken Tide | Book 4 | Backflow

by Richardson, Marcus

  Cami shifted her gaze to the left of the biggest vehicles and found the two tents that John had pointed out. Massive canvas structures, the tents screamed military issue. "They must've taken those when they captured the rest of the National Guard gear," she observed.

  Rufus grunted. "I don't see anyone...where are they?"

  "I can't see her. I've got to find her," Cami said as she struggled to get to her feet.

  John grabbed her hand and pulled her back down to the ground. "Hold on there, Cami. We can't run in there half-cocked—we've been going full out for the past couple hours. If we charge in there now, we’re just gonna get shot down. We don't even know where she's at, yet."

  "I'm with her,” said Rufus with a lopsided grin. "I say we go in there, guns blazing.” He pulled back a few branches of the bush in front of him and peered intently at the encampment. "I owe some payback to a couple of those guys..."

  "Yeah, but where are they?" John said angrily. "We go running in there and start shooting the place up...they gonna come from the woods? Underneath those cars? In the tents? We don't know where they are. We might walk right into a trap and get gunned down." He looked at Cami as she struggled to free herself from his grip. "Is that going to do your daughter any good?"

  Cami sighed and stopped struggling. She jerked her hand out of his grip and growled in frustration. "There's gotta be—"

  A shrill, high-pitched shriek split the air and froze Cami's heart. "Amber!" she breathed. "That's my daughter—my baby, they're hurting her!" She started to stand up again.

  John pulled her back to the ground once more, rougher. "Listen," he hissed. "Use your skills! That wasn't a scream of pain, that sounded more like frustration to me."

  Cami was breathing hard, but she closed her eyes, and strained her ears, listening for any other sounds.

  "Gaaah! I’m going to kill you all!" Amber roared, her voice distant, but strong.

  Cami's eyes snapped open. "You're right..." she whispered. "She sounds madder than I've ever heard before..." A smile spread across her face. "She doesn't sound hurt..."

  "Yeah, but how long can that last?" asked Rufus. He wiped sweat from his face with the back of his arm. "We can't just sit here in the bushes, sweating. We gotta do something, guys."

  The radio in John's pack chirped softly. "We reached the stream...but there's a problem."

  John cursed as he struggled to get the radio free from his pack. "Sorry about that—I should've known better than to leave the stupid thing on like that. If we walked into that camp it would've totally given us away." He fumbled through the pack and finally pulled the radio free, then handed it to Cami.

  She brought the radio to her mouth, eyes still on the seemingly deserted enemy camp, and pressed the transmit button. "What do you mean there's a problem?" she whispered. "We found the nature center—looks empty..."

  "I'm guessing that's because most of them are up here in the creek,” Flynt replied. “Some are on guard duty, but it looks like most of ‘em are washing clothes or just messing around."

  John and Rufus looked at Cami at the same time. "This is our chance," she whispered.

  "If most of them are at the creek..." John agreed.

  “I was hoping they’d be here...” Rufus groused.

  "There might only be a couple people left guarding Amber," John countered.

  "I’ve got an idea," Cami said.

  "Does it involve me getting a crack at some of these guys?" Rufus replied.

  "You’ll get your chance," she said with a grin. "What do you think about walking right in there and trying to draw them out? I'm not talking about making yourself a target, I'm talking about going in there and messing up those trucks," she said with a nod toward the pickup trucks and cars.

  “Done,” Rufus said, his eyes bright.

  "You’re thinking about using him as a diversion, while we sneak around through the trees over there and loop behind the big vehicles to those tents?"

  Cami nodded. “Problem is, once somebody starts shooting, the rest of Cisco's men by the creek are going to hear it and come running."

  "Not if Flynt keeps ‘em occupied. Can he do it?"

  "We’re about to find out." Cami brought the radio to her lips. "Change of plan. You ready to get some payback?"

  Flynt's reply was instant. "Always."

  Cami grinned and pressed the transmit button. "When I give you the word, you take down as many of them as you can and keep ‘em occupied. We’ll rescue my daughter, cause as much damage as possible, then head out."

  "Got it. They're going to chase us..." Flint added.

  John looked at Cami and nodded. "Let them. Stagger your retreat, spread out, and make sure everybody keeps heading generally east. Once we secure Amber, we’ll loop behind them for a little run and gun."

  Flynt laughed. "You know, I like the way you think..."

  Cami snorted. “Give me a couple minutes to get into position, then I'll give you the signal." She looked at Rufus. "You ready?"

  He grinned at her.

  "All right,” she said, “have at it."

  "Finally," Rufus muttered. He got to his feet and pushed his way through the bushes.

  Cami and John ran through the bushes as fast as they could along the south end of the clearing. As she ran, she kept a close watch on the encampment, especially the tents on the far side of the big vehicles. Rufus emerged from the tree line, and she paused behind an especially large oak to watch.

  He scrambled across the clearing, ran through the knee-high grass and emerged onto the cracked blacktop, his rifle up and ready. No one noticed him. He made a beeline for the first pickup truck, took aim, and shot out the tires on each one.

  Cami raise the radio to her mouth. "Go, go, go!"

  Before the echoes of Rufus's shots dissipated, gunfire erupted in the distance, which sounded remarkably like fireworks on the 4th of July.

  "Okay, go!" she said to John. They sprinted through the bushes, heedless of the noise they made as they slammed through branches and pine trees and anything that got in their way. The gunfire from the battle at the creek, and Rufus shooting up all the vehicles in the parking lot more than covered the snapping of branches and thrashing of bushes as she and John barreled their way through the forest.

  They emerged onto the access road, took their bearings, and angled straight for the two big tents, now only about 20 yards away. A man sprinted from the first tent, without even looking in their direction and charged straight for Rufus as he continued to decimate the tires on Cisco's vehicles.

  "Oh, no you don't," Cami said as she paused and brought rifle up. She placed her cheek against the stock, closed one eye and focused through the scope. She was far closer than normal, so compensated quickly and lined up that crosshair on the man’s waist.

  When she pulled the trigger, the rifle bucked and sounded like thunder. The man took the round in the shoulder which threw him off balance and he rolled in the dust and the gravel to a stop. He screamed as he lay in the dirt and thrashed.

  Cami cycled the bolt, and out of her peripheral vision saw the flash of brass as the empty cartridge was ejected from the chamber. She pulled the second round free of the bandolier on the sling, placed it in the chamber, and slammed the bolt home. In less than two seconds, she had the scope back in front of her eye, lined up on the man's head and pulled the trigger. The screaming from the parking lot silenced. Rufus turned and waved, then went back to tearing up the vehicles.

  John had moved halfway to the tent and taken a knee to cover Cami while she dispatched the first enemy. A second man poked his head out of the tent and looked toward the sound of Cami's shots, spotted John, and ducked back just in time to miss the round John sent toward his face.

  "They’re on to us!" he called. "Run!"

  Cami ejected the spent cartridge in her rifle, loaded another round, and chased after John, who approached the first massive tent at a sprint.

  The gunfire in the distance ratcheted up a notch as Flynt full
y engaged the bulk of Cisco's men. Cami sprinted to catch up to John, but he was bigger and faster despite carrying a heavier load of equipment and gear. "John—wait!"

  It was too late. Two men emerged from the tent, one on either side. The first one went down with a shot from John's rifle, but the second managed to fire. John crumpled where he stood and Cami screamed.

  She swung the .308 around and fired a snapshot. It caught the second shooter square in the chest. The man flung his rifle to the side and fell back in a spray of blood. Cami sprinted to John, her boots pounding off of the gravel parking lot, and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust.

  John moaned and picked himself up off the ground. "Dadgum that was close," he muttered as he adjusted his hat and grabbed his rifle.

  "You’re not hit?" Cami gasped.

  "Nah, I think they got my pack," he said. "Least, I don't feel like I've been shot...ain’t it supposed to burn?"

  "We gotta go in there," she whispered.

  John nodded. "You take left, I'll take right."

  Cami nodded. She reloaded her rifle, rammed the bolt forward, then slung it over her shoulder and drew her pistol. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 21

  Sailing Vessel Intrepid

  Cape Henlopen, Delaware

  Reese groaned and open his eyes to the sound of Jo cursing. He blinked in the darkness inside Intrepid's main cabin, where he'd taken refuge the night before from the increasing number of biting bugs attracted to their swampy anchorage. He looked down and found Jo on the floor amid a pile of clutter. As she moved, she bumped pots and pans, empty tin cans, and all manner of boxes of food and supplies, creating a horrible racket.

  "Two questions," Reese moaned. "What time is it, and why are you on the floor?"

  "It's early, dadgum it," Jo growled in response. "I'm on the floor because I fell off my seat."

  Reese sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'll bite—why did you fall off your seat? You were so proud of that contraption you rigged up last night to make sure you couldn't fall out of the—"

  "Because the boat shifted again, and my balance was thrown off."

  Reese sat up in his small bunk. "You're right," he said, as he became fully awake and realized that the deck was no longer tilted to starboard. "The tide came in!"

  “You're not supposed to be up… Byron said you needed to get some rest since you were up with the graveyard shift…"

  Reese swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood, almost losing his balance on a can of tomato sauce. "That doesn't matter—we've got work to do. If we don't get the boats ready and slip out while the tide’s high, we’ll be stuck here for another day!"

  "Oh, well,” Jo said from the floor. “When you put it that way, what’re you doing? Get your keister up on deck and get us out of here!" Jo flopped on the ground for a minute, trying to avoid bending her hurt leg. "Though, before you go, would you mind givin’ an old lady a hand up?"

  Reese laughed and hauled Jo to her feet. "Can you make it up the ladder?"

  She nodded. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Just need to take my time. But I felt like a turtle on my back in the middle of a highway down there," she said as she pointed at the pile of debris on the floor. "I suppose before I go up, I should clean this up.”

  “I'll help you when I'm done topside, but I gotta get up there and get with Byron."

  Jo waved him off, so Reese turned and clambered up the ladder, wincing at the pain in his knee. The cut that had attracted the shark to the Tiberia the day before was only partially healed, and the skin was pink and tender. He hoped as he clambered up onto the main deck, that the saltwater bath he'd taken had disinfected the wound, but he filed it away as something else to watch.

  "Morning, sunshine!" Byron said from Tiberia’s cockpit. "Tides in," he announced.

  Reese immediately checked the sky—clouds dotted the southern horizon, but for the most part it was another clear day. A slight breeze kissed his cheek from the northwest. Intrepid remained in exactly the condition he left her the night before, all sails neatly stowed away, the rigging tied up, and all lines taught. The only difference was the deck wasn't tilted thirty degrees to starboard.

  "She seems fairly level," Reese said as he eyed the deck.

  "I was thinking the same thing. Libby wanted to give you another five minutes, but now that you're up…"

  "Do we have time for breakfast?" asked Libby as she emerged from the cabin area on Tiberia.

  "If you're willing to wait a half hour, we’ll be able to anchor offshore and get food then," Reese replied. "I don't know how long the tides going to last with this unnatural channel," he said as he eyed the 20-yard gap out to the ocean. The sandbar, their spit of dry land claimed the night before, during dinner and stargazing, had vanished from sight, replaced by the endless water that rolled in off the Atlantic.

  Tony, at Tiberia’s bow, scanned the horizon with his binoculars and turned in a slow circle while Reese and Byron planned the day. As he turned west, he froze. "Uh…guys?"

  "Whatcha got, Tony?" Reese asked as he moved forward on Intrepid to cast off the bow lines tied around the tree stump, now just barely visible above the murky water, where the night before it'd been about three feet tall.

  "It looks like a helicopter...and it's coming toward us…"

  Reese paused and looked at Byron. He shrugged. "Is it like a news helicopter or…?" Reese asked, almost afraid to suggest that it might be a military vehicle.

  "No, it's definitely Coast Guard. It just turned a little and I can see it's white and orange…" He said. "It's coming in fast, though."

  "Think they see us?" Byron asked.

  Reese glanced up at the aluminum masts of both ships, shining bright in the reflected sunlight. "I don't see how they could miss us. We look like the only normal things around here…"

  Within a minute or two, Reese's guess had proved accurate. The Coast Guard helicopter, an HH-60J Jayhawk, made a wide circle around the two boats, encompassing all of Gordon's Pond—or what used to be Gordon's Pond. The helicopter stayed approximately a hundred yards up, so the downdraft from its rotors wasn't terribly noticeable, but the surface of the water surrounding the two sailboats was churned up considerably.

  "What do you think they want?" Reese yelled over the roar of the helicopter as it circled a second time.

  "One way to find out!" Byron hollered back. He motioned toward the cockpit of Tiberia and picked up the radio. Reese nodded and did the same. He turned on the radio and set it to scan. In seconds, he heard Byron talking. "—epeat, this is sailing vessel Tiberia on Channel 4, hailing Coast Guard helicopter off our starboard bow. Come in please," he said.

  After a moment, the radio chirped with an incoming message. "This is Coast Guard Rescue one one six, to sailing vessels below. You are in restricted waters and ordered to vacate the area immediately."

  Bryon made a face. "One one six, this is sailing vessel Tiberia, that's what we were trying to do when you showed up."

  The pilot did not find Byron's response amusing. "Tiberia, you are in violation of Presidential Executive Order 1352C—no civilians are allowed within restricted airspace, land, or adjoining waters of any military base in the United States. Active or inactive."

  "One one six, what base are you talking about?" Byron demanded.

  "Fort Miles," the helicopter pilot replied. "Approximately a mile northwest of your current position."

  "For starters," Byron replied, "we didn’t even know it was there, and secondly, we don't want anything to do with it. We anchored here to repair our hulls, and then we'll be on our way."

  "Do you need assistance?" asked the helicopter pilot as the orange and white aircraft circled for the fourth time.

  "That dadgum thing is loud enough," Jo grumbled as she appeared on deck, red-faced with her hair slightly mussed. "Finally got it fixed up down below, but the walls are shaking from all this noise—all kinds of things are liable to break loose if they get any closer…"

  Reese looked a
t Jo as she stared at the machine gun mounted to the foredeck. "Don't even think about it..."

  "What? A girl can dream…"

  "These guys are the Coast Guard, they're not our enemies…"

  Jo shrugged. "For now."

  Reese ignored her and went back to the conversation Byron was having with the pilot. "...damage to the hulls of both boats in the fighting up around New York City. As a matter fact, we came to the aid of Sailfish, one of your cutters."

  After a long pause, the helicopter pilot came back. "We'll check on that information, Tiberia—in the meantime, you want to explain why you got a Ma Deuce mounted to the deck of one of those sailboats?"

  "That was the same thing I asked the National Guard after they confiscated my boat on Long Island and cut a hole in her! We had nothing to do with it, and didn't want anything to do with it. We barely managed to get out of that insane asylum with our lives."

  "You were on Long Island?"

  "That's right,” Byron reported. “We escaped Camp Echo a couple days back —"

  "Standby," the pilot said in a monotone voice.

  Reese watched the helicopter as the pilot reduced their forward momentum and the aircraft appeared to drift on the breeze as it slowly, ever so slowly circled their position once more. As the helicopter drifted off Intrepid’s starboard bow, he looked up and saw a rescue diver in the open side door, one hand on the massive, iconic winch built into the airframe. Reese waved and smiled when the diver waved back.

  A moment later, the pilot returned to the radio frequency. "Roger that, Tiberia, your story checks out. Look, I don't mean to come across as a jerk, but you seriously need to clear out."

  Reese looked at Byron, who shrugged. "Well, like I said, we’re trying to ship off here before the tide runs out and we get stuck in this lagoon again."

  "Well go ahead and clear out—be advised, though, the navy’s working up the coast from Norfolk. They're encountering piracy and resistance all along the coast, and the admiral in charge of the carrier battlegroup is not in a good mood. If you know what's good for you, you’ll get out of here, and head offshore."