Near zero separation, thought Edge. Not a good time to be walking upright with bits of metal in your hand.
The storm cloud reduced the remaining daylight to near darkness, and the rain had intensified to a downpour that shrouded everything in murky gray except for the lightning’s brilliant strobes of illumination.
“There’s no doubt they’re following us,” Tucker said, panting., “And I probably marked a good path for them.”
“Well one thing is for sure, we can’t stay together,” Edge responded.
Tucker nearly levitated. “What you mean? Like, split up? You remember who you’re with, right?” Tucker stretched his arms to illustrate his attire.
Edge pulled out his recon prints. “Listen, we have to. I’ll distract them and lead them down to the swamp over there.” He traced his direction on the map, then with his other finger traced Tucker’s path as he continued, “While you make your way back towards the cabin. You see this little shed here? Hide there until I return. And be sure to keep your head down.”
“But that’s close to the cabin. What if there’s someone still there?”
Edge nodded. “I know, but it’s far enough away from the cabin that they probably won’t search it.” Tucker’s expression was not one of confidence. “The fact is that they know they have the upper hand. They won’t be expecting us to return.” he reasoned. “I can see them approaching. Looks to be about five of them. The other two must be back at the cabin.” Edge whispered. Tucker looked over his shoulder but did not see anyone.
“I can’t see anyone in this,” Tucker whispered.
“I can’t either, but every time the lightning flashes I see about five different disturbances in the brush.” Edge pointed across the clearing. These guys may have heavy tactical gear, but they're really sloppy. Gives me the advantage. He handed Tucker the papers. “All right. Head left, circling your way back, while I lead them away.”
“You sure this is the smartest thing to do? I still vote for staying together,” Tucker continued, looking for a reason not to have to go solo.
“No offense, but you’ll just slow me down. I can protect you from afar easier anyway.” Edge let a crooked smile form. “Just because they’re chasing me, doesn’t mean I’m not the one hunting them.”
“If you say so,” Tucker responded as he prepared to move out.
“Don’t move until you see them follow me. Here, take this.” Edge whispered as he handed Tucker his weapon. “Don’t lose it.”
Tucker looked perplexed. “I’ve never used a gun on a live person.”
“Consider it on-the-job training.”
“Funny,” Tucker replied as he stuck the gun in the back of his waistband. Edge moved off into the brush, Tucker noticing that he was not as stealthy as he was before. He wants them to see him, he realized.
It worked. Upon seeing the movement, the soldiers opened fire. The brush to the right of Edge twitched and snapped under the barrage of bullets. The hunt had begun.
Wolf, a former Navy SEAL, covered the rear of the five. The other four men pursued Edge aggressively, but he paused to check the area. Not far away, a form, indistinct in the rain, seemed to move in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness.
No doubt the soldier is trying to draw us that way, he thought, catching wise to Edge’s plan. I’ll let those four continue to make him think that his ruse is working. I’ll take care of the other half.
The Goliath gave chase to his David.
۞۞۞۞
Like wolves hunting their prey, the four soldiers branched off in an attempt to cover more ground. Ramirez hooked left, Chou and Razor continued straight, and Anderson took to the right.
Former Marine Recon Anderson silently made his way through the tree roots of the low stream bed that often flooded during the rainy season. He concentrated on every step as he waded through the ankle-deep water. His honed sense of hearing listened for any sound other than tapping of rain against his black body armor.
With the heavens now opened and the storm at its peak, he held his hand up to shield his face against the pounding rain that was impairing his vision. But storms like this were nothing new to him, for he had spent several unofficial years in South America, helping the Brazilian government with its narcotic war along the border. He used his experience to his advantage as he closed in on his prey’s location.
Along with the howling winds, the rain brought the advantage Edge was looking for. The storm had helped level the playing field by allowing him to move through the glades unseen but, more importantly, unheard. Although his quickness allowed him to circle back behind his pursuers, it was still no easy task with the countless puddles of murky water that had turned into knee-high obstacles.
As Edge closed in on Anderson, he pulled an eight-inch survival knife from its sheath. He softly placed one foot in front of the other, creeping up from behind. Lightning flashed, and the recon marine spotted the shadow of something behind him. He spun around swept the area with his flashlight but found only emptiness. When he had convinced himself that there was nothing there, he continued forward.
Not three yards away, hidden behind a tree, Edge waited. When the light died, with the slowest of movements, he slithered around the tree to continue his stalking.
With the rifle pulled tight against his shoulder, Anderson swept it from left to right scanning the area. Nearly tripping on a root beneath the water before seeing dry land only a few feet away, he decided he’d make better progress there. He attempted to vault up onto the land using a fallen tree, but he had misjudged its strength and it immediately crumpled under his weight.
“Shit!” Anderson said, falling backward into the water. Getting up, he picked up movement in his peripheral vision and unsteadily swung his gun to the right. Edge quickly grabbed the gun and twisted it in Anderson’s hand, breaking his trigger finger. Before Anderson could scream, Edge rammed his knife into the man’s throat. Anderson’s body went limp; freeing his weapon, Edge silently helped the body descend further into its wet grave.
۞۞۞۞
As he slowly made his way back towards the cabin, Tucker found out quickly and how physically demanding it was to move stealthily through such terrain. His rain-drenched suit probably weighed as much as those other guys’ armor without giving him any of the protection. And his casual dress shoes, which certainly were not designed to provide good traction, sank nearly an inch into the muck with every step. When he reached the shed, he took a moment to sit and let his muscles relax.
Remembering that five soldiers chased him and Edge into the woods, Tucker scanned the cabin for the remaining two. From his position, he watched one of the soldiers casually patrolling the porch while the other searched inside. Tucker hoped that the other five mercs were far away. He looked into the dense darkness when he noticed a shadow following the exact path he had taken to the shed.
Shit, I’ve been followed!
By Tucker’s estimate, the individual was at least six-feet-five inches with broad shoulders. The hulking shadow moved slowly, not veering much from the path – and at its current pace, it would be at the shed shortly. From his hunter’s slow pace Tucker realized that the tracker did not know exactly where Tucker was, giving him an opportunity to escape. Sliding back into the shadows he accidently knocked a log from its place causing it to tumble down the other logs until it came to rest at the bottom of the pile.
Seriously???! He thought to himself. He did not have to look back to realize the shadow had started in his direction. With a pistol in hand Tucker took to one knee, peeking from behind cover, preparing himself to shoot an actual person. A man that size should be easier to hit than those targets at the range.
Tucker never got to test his theory as gunfire erupted and the logs behind which he was hiding splintered and flew in every direction. He launched himself away from the rapidly diminishing woodpile and started running. The firing ceased. I hope he’s reloading, Tucker thought.
Wolf dropped the
spent magazine on the ground and followed as his target ran further into the woods. Over the radio, he heard Klein asking who was firing near the house. “It’s Wolf! I’ve got the analyst here, and I’m taking care of him!” He slammed the new magazine into the gun and sprinted after Tucker
Tucker could clearly hear behind him every step his pursuer took as each of his feet splashed in the watery mud pockets created by the downpour. He had to do something and fast because out-running the merc was not an option.
Following Tucker’s footsteps now embedded in the soft soil, Wolf closed in on his prey. It was obvious to him that the man he followed was as much as a pencil pusher as stated in his debriefing. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the chase as he slowed his pace down to a jog.
After briefly losing sight of his target, Wolf noticed a figure crouched behind a large tree. I’ve seen kids with better hide and seek skills. He eagerly approached the tree, ready to stop the pencil pusher’s heart from beating. But upon closer inspection it became clear that he had been set up; hanging on a branch was Tucker’s suit jacket. Maybe he’s not just a pencil pusher, after all; Wolf thought to himself as he pulled his gun back to his shoulder, sweeping slowly in a full circle, searching for his target. Suddenly he felt the touch of cold steel placed firmly against the back of his neck.
Wolf stopped mid-turn with a smile on his face. “There you are.”
Chapter 9
After hearing from Wolf that he was on the hunt, it occurred to Bull that he had not heard from the rest of the team.
“Bull to squad, give me a sit-rep.” A few seconds passed with nothing but static coming through the radio. “Answer you duffers!” he demanded.
A whisper came in over the radio. “Ramirez here, no contact made.”
“Chou and Razor both reporting, negative contact here.”
Bull waited a second and looked to Klein through the window. He just shrugged. “Anderson, what’s your situation?” No response. Bloody hell. “Someone find Anderson.”
“Chou and I are currently southeast of his last known location, about twenty yards away,” Razor replied.
“Ramirez give assistance. Report back in once you locate him. Bull Out.”
“In route. ETA four minutes,” Ramirez responded, upping his pace.
Ramirez was a middle size man with mild Latino features. During his years as a Green Beret, he had interrogated many terrorists, specializing in “enhanced techniques.” Over time, however, word got back to his commander that Ramirez seemed to be focused more on using his techniques than on getting results and, after a series of psych evaluations, he was separated from the service. He told himself that he was justified in his methods because his victims, after all, were the enemy. Why should I be punished for finding a way to make a stressful job more fun?
Moving through the swamp, Ramirez slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew his pistol, a custom nickel-plated Colt .45 M1911 with an attached laser sight. In a close-quarters scenario, the increased maneuverability of a sidearm combined with the stopping power of this gun improved his ability to counter any ambush.
The forest had become a disco as lightning danced across the darkening sky.
“Ramirez, any sign of Anderson yet?” Razor asked.
“Negative,” he replied.
“Well, watch your fire, we’ll be at your nine o’clock in a minute,” stated Razor.
“Ten-four. Will keep an eye out,” Ramirez confirmed.
Hearing a rustling to his right, Ramirez quickly turned and saw movement in some bushes next to a tree near the waterline. Probably not Anderson; he’s most likely dead, he thought. So, whoever you are, you’re dead meat.
Ramirez moved forward slowly, his sidearm up and at the ready. Just beyond the bush he could see the waterline that Anderson was supposed to be patrolling, but no one was there. The bush shook again. Ramirez froze, darting his eyes left and right for a sign of anyone. The deepening dusk made it hard to see clearly. After several moments during which everything remained still, he continued forward, moving very cautiously. As he neared the point where he could get a clear shot at whoever was causing the movement, another bush a few feet beyond began to shake.
He snapped his gun towards it, waiting for the bastard to pop out.
Lightning flashed, revealing an unnatural straight line from the two bushes up to the nearby tree. It’s a goddam ambush! Ramirez cursed himself for falling for such a trick. Think! What direction is this guy coming from? Left? Right?
A rustle from the tree next to him answered his question. Edge had hoped his target would be drawn a little deeper into the trap, but Mother Nature gave things away too soon. Making do with what he had, Edge swung down from a branch like a gymnast and dropped kicked the soldier square in the chest. The blow launched Ramirez backward, his pistol flying in one direction, his rifle in another. His body armor prevented the strike from having its full effect, and Ramirez rolled backward, countering by swiftly rising to his feet while removing his knife. Holding the weapon across his body, he prepared to backslash the now charging target.
Edge saw the soldier rolling up and countered by leaning back. Ramirez slashed in a backhand motion, missing Edge by mere centimeters. Continuing with his momentum, Ramirez lunged at Edge, attempting to grab him around the waist.
Oh, I will be having none of that! Edge thought, side-stepping the attack and simultaneously parrying the arm away. He sliced the man’s triceps with the blade concealed in his left hand. The merc’s armor prevented a debilitating cut, but it distracted Ramirez momentarily, and Edge was able to lift Ramirez’s arm high enough to drive the blade deep into his armpit, hitting the axillary artery. In a single spinning motion, Edge kicked the back of the soldier’s leg, sending him to his knee, dislodged the blade from the armpit and plunged it into the soldier’s neck.
۞۞۞۞
“Ramirez, come in! Ramirez!” Razor said as he and Chou made their way through the brush.
Through his scope, Chou thought he saw a brief scuffle between two men, who he assumed were Ramirez and his adversary. Only static came back through his earpiece, followed by a high-pitched squeal of feedback, suggesting Ramirez’s radio had been destroyed.
“Bull, this is Razor. It appears Ramirez has already engaged one tango, but he’s not responding. We are heading to his position now.”
“Then why the hell are you reporting to me?” Bull chastised. “Get moving NOW!”
“On it,” Razor responded. He and Chou kept a quick pace, their gear rattling as they wove through the trees. Approaching Ramirez’s last known position, they slowed down and emerged out of the bush with their guns up. There, they found Edge, removing his blade from Ramirez’s neck.
Seeing them step out of the tree line, Edge pulled out the pistol he had removed from Anderson’s body and took off running. Chou immediately went to full auto with his G36C and ripped apart the foliage, hoping to catch the elusive adversary in the random spray. Bullets howled past Edge’s head as he made his way deeper into the woods. Chou continued firing until Edge disappeared like a ghost into the trees.
With Chou securing the tree line, Razor ran to Ramirez’s body, knelt and checked for a pulse. “Ramirez is down,” Razor reported to Bull. “No location on Anderson, our assumption is he’s also K.I.A. Tango escaped. We are in pursuit.” He stood, holding his weapon in ready position scanning the area with Chou.
“You’re letting one man make you look like a bunch of tossers!” Bull growled over the radio. “You make him pay, and get that daft package!”
“Got it, sir. Razor out,” he responded, imagining Bull’s face red with anger as he clicked off his radio. “Prick.” Then he turned to Chou. “Let’s finish this.”
“What about Ramirez?” Chou questioned, not taking his eyes off the trees. “He is one of us. It wouldn’t be right to leave his body here.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll come back for him after the package has been recovered,” Razor said as he stepped around the
body of his fallen brethren. For the first time in years, his blood ran cold. Who the hell is this guy that he can drop Ramirez like that?
Chou took the moment to reload his gun. “Razor, the package isn’t going to retrieve itself.”
“Damn straight,” Razor agreed, snapped from his thoughts. They took off down the path where they last saw their target retreating.
Edge came to the end of dry land more quickly than he had expected. The area before him, although covered by water, still had plenty of trees to use for cover but a lot less undergrowth to conceal him. Movement was also a problem because if he tried to run through the tangled roots, he would almost certainly trip and break an ankle. He took a moment to make sure that his gun was not clogged and to review his mental map of the area. Then he waded forward into the rapidly deepening water.
He had only moved about twenty feet when he saw the lights of his pursuers flickering in the trees behind. Okay, I can’t take on the two of them together: need to get them to split up. So, first I show them where I am, he thought as he fired his pistol in their direction.
At the shot, Razor promptly dropped to one knee while Chou instantly locked onto Edge’s muzzle flash and began firing.
As bullets flew by like angry bees, Edge dove into the water.
Chou cursed as Edge disappeared. He continued firing until he reached the edge of dry land, ensuring that if his target were hiding in the shallow water, he’d be dead. As the string of splashes settled back into the murk, Razor caught up to him. Chou signaled for him to look right while he looked left.
Chou noticed some ripples in the water to his far left. Sensing his prey, he signaled his partner to enter the water and flush the target out. Chou worked his way along the land to drive the asshole back into the water if he tried to get out, where Razor would finish him off. Chou turned off his light and made his move. I got you now you son of a bitch. Package be damned, I want your blood.
Chou was wrong about the ripples. As he passed a large mangrove tree, Edge reached out and grabbed his weapon with one hand, his tactical vest with the other, and flung him through the air. Chou hit the surface in a reverse cannonball, making a huge splash, and found himself on his back looking up through six inches of water at his target who held a pistol pointed squarely at his face.
Rise of the Phoenix Page 17