The Divide

by Scott B. Williams

  Three

  THEY’D JUST MADE IT to the perimeter fence when Sergeant Connelly did have his chance to get a piece of the action and a taste of revenge. This time incoming fire rather than a shout was their first warning. The shooters in the compound were at a disadvantage though, blinded by their own lights while firing out into the darkness beyond the perimeter. Eric and Sergeant Connolly had several clear targets and while the sergeant used the Beretta to good effect, Eric emptied most of a magazine from the M4 in a series of 3-round bursts until the incoming was suppressed. Then, he hurled a grenade in the direction of the fallen men before helping Sergeant Connolly clamber over the fence to the outside, where Eric lifted him onto his back and sprinted for the concealment of the trees. He was pretty sure the grenade finished off the shooters that had spotted them, but it would only buy them a few minutes. The rest of the group that had rushed down to the lake would hurry back at the sound of all this new commotion and would quickly discover the dead men and the missing prisoner. Eric wanted to be long gone before they did, and he was counting on them not expecting him to circle back to the lake since they wouldn’t have found any sign of their attackers there, other than the destruction of their boats.

  Moving through dense woods in the dark with a man unable to walk on his own was anything but easy though. Aside from his shattered knee that prevented him from putting weight on that leg, the sergeant’s bare feet were exposed to sharp rocks, briars and any number of hazards that might put his good foot out of commission with a single misstep. There was little option but to carry him, and as soon as they were deep enough into cover to avoid a stray bullet, Eric stopped for a minute to put him down and catch his breath, while laying out his plan to get them out of there.

  “I’m sorry I’m slowing you down, Branson. I don’t want to be the cause of you getting caught. You can’t get me out of here without help. Leave me and I’ll go to ground until you can make contact with whatever unit you’re with. I can tell you know what you’re doing, so I assume they do too. I’ll be fine until reinforcements arrive.”

  “There are no reinforcements coming, and like I said before, there is no unit! I’m working this alone with no support and no authorization. It was supposed to be a recon mission only, but when I found out you were alive, I knew I had to get you out. The only outside help we can expect is a helicopter extraction—if we can make it to the PZ in time.”

  “If there’s an extraction, you must be with some unit somewhere, so who sent you? If it was Lieutenant Holton from our post, then he must have requested help from Special Ops posted elsewhere, because I don’t recall ever seeing you around.”

  “Yes, Holton sent me, and no, you haven’t seen me around. I did my Special Ops time in the Navy in another life, but I’m here for my own reasons now, and they have nothing to do with a unit following anyone’s orders.

  “You were Navy? Which SEAL team? Three?”

  Eric didn’t answer. “Look, here’s the deal. I’ve got a boat hidden down there at the lakeshore. We’ll need it to reach the PZ. I had an alternate overland route to use in case I couldn’t use it for some reason, but it’s the long way around and it would be pushing to make it in time now even at a run, and you can’t even walk.” Eric looked at his watch. “The extraction is scheduled for 0400 hours and it’s a one-time deal, no do-overs.”

  “Don’t you have a radio you can use to call in alternate coordinates? Surely Lieutenant Holton wouldn’t send you out here with no contingency plan.”

  “That’s exactly what he did, Sergeant Connelly, because like I said, this mission is completely off the books and I’m no longer even enlisted. It’s a private deal I made with the Lieutenant. I’ll tell you more about it later. We’ve got to move now and get to the boat. I know you can’t walk, but maybe you can help me paddle.”

  “Paddle? You mean like a canoe? Is that the best Lieutenant Holton could come up with? I guess he’s being frugal considering he’s already lost an armed patrol boat down here.”

  Eric grinned but it was too dark for the sergeant to notice. “He wouldn’t even go that far. I had to bring my own personal boat, but actually, it’s a kayak and it’s got its advantages. All we’ve got to do is work our way down to it and then we’ll slip out from under them before they figure out what happened. There’s still time to make that extraction if we hurry. Let’s go!”

  Eric half-assisted and half-carried Sergeant Connolly through the dense undergrowth until they caught sight of open water through the foliage. Behind them, in the direction of the campground turned compound, the sounds of men shouting in confusion and anger told them that the empty building and the bodies of the men they’d killed had been discovered. Someone was yelling orders to spread out and shoot anything that moved, and Eric knew they were about to start combing the woods. And just as he and the sergeant reached the top of the steep bank where he’d tied off the kayak, the sound of an outboard motor roaring to life told him that someone had replaced at least one of the fuel lines he’d taken from their other boats.

  “That’s not a sound I wanted to hear,” Eric whispered. “I was hoping we’d be able to get out of this cove and across to the next point to the north before they got a boat running. I didn’t have enough C-4 to take out all their smaller runabouts, so I pulled the fuel lines. Someone must have found a spare, so we’re going to have to be extra careful. We may be able to stay out of sight by hugging the shoreline, but if we do that, we’re going to miss our ride. It’s twice as far around with all the little bays and coves.”

  “Then leave me here with the boat and take the overland route you mentioned. You can make it if you don’t delay. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope, I’m getting you out, one way or the other. If we miss that helicopter, we’ll still have the kayak.”

  Before the sergeant could argue further, they both heard the outboard revving up to speed as the motorboat headed out onto the lake. There was more shouting from the direction of the barges where the rest of the boats were docked, as well as in the woods behind them. It was time to go, but with at least one boat out there looking for the source of the attack, Eric knew they needed to proceed with utmost stealth.

  Getting the sergeant down the bank and into the kayak proved almost as difficult as carrying him as far as he already had. Eric had to first climb down himself and get a length of spare rope, and then take it back up with him so he could rig it to lower the injured man to the water’s edge. Once there, he was able to manhandle him over the cockpit coaming and into the forward seat. He knew Sergeant Connelly was suffering intense pain throughout all this, but now that he was in the kayak, at least he could keep the weight off his bad leg.

  “Give me a paddle, and I’ll do my best to help.”

  “Don’t worry about paddling right now. Here, take this instead and keep a sharp lookout.” Eric handed him the M4 and his spare mags. “I’ll do the paddling for now,” he whispered. “All I want to do is ease south along this shoreline to create some distance. The main thing we have to avoid is being seen. Just be ready to shoot if we are.”

  The other thing they needed to do was cross the cove to the opposite shore so they could head north, but Eric could now see that the boat they’d heard was still buzzing around the cove, the men inside it sweeping the open waters of the lake with flashlights. To make matters worse, Eric heard another outboard fire up from the direction of the barges. He figured that if they’d had time to get two of the boats running, they’d probably also found the man he’d left restrained inside the houseboat. It wouldn’t make much difference though, all he could tell them was that he’d been taken down in the dark by a lone attacker—if he would even admit it. Regardless, it was information that would do them little good at this point.

  It was going to suck to miss that airlift out, but Eric resigned himself to the fact that it was probably going to happen. He doubted the pilot would hang around long if he didn’t get the “all okay” signal Eric was supposed to flash with his
light upon his approach. Would he simply turn around and return to the post, or would he spend a few minutes cruising low over the shoreline, giving them a second chance to flag him down? Eric didn’t know, but he did know it was the only hope they had of getting that ride, and in this weather, the pilot would have to pass quite close to see anything. The rain was still reducing visibility and when Eric had thought it was just one boat that would be looking for them, he’d considered striking out across the lake on his planned course anyway and simply engaging the searchers when and if they spotted the kayak. Now, with potentially two boatloads of shooters to deal with, that didn’t seem prudent, since if they were spotted on open water with no cover the powerboats would have all the advantage with their speed and maneuverability. Eric wouldn’t risk it with the wounded sergeant in his care, especially when he knew he could avoid contact by hugging the shore and sticking to the extreme shallows where no one would expect to find a boat.

  The shoreline of the cove gradually turned back to the east before it joined the main lake, and Eric’s only choice was to follow it and then see whether or not there would be a window of opportunity to make the crossing when they got there. His plan was thwarted, however, when the second boat pulled out from the barges and headed straight for that point at the end of the cove, effectively cutting them off until the men in it decided which way they would go next. Eric eased the matte black kayak into a stand of cattails and came to a stop behind the trunk of a big pine tree that had fallen into the lake when the bank eroded from under its roots. He then slipped out of the cockpit and took the rifle back from Sergeant Connelly, instructing the injured man to lie down in the cockpit out of sight, while he crouched in the shallows just forward of the bow, his head barely above water as he covered the approaching boat with his finger on the trigger.

  The boat cruised by at slow speed and the beam of what was probably a 12-volt spotlight swept the shoreline and lit up the fallen tree, but the low-profile kayak was completely hidden behind it and the searchers went by unaware they were mere yards from those they sought. It was a tense few minutes until they were gone, and Eric knew if it hadn’t been for the good fortune of being in the vicinity of that tree, he would have had to open fire and take them out. It would have been easy enough to do, but it would renew and intensify the search when the others heard the gunfire. As it was, they would soon be free to move again, as the boat was slowly turning away from shore to follow the first one out into the main lake.

  “Now you see why I don’t mind paddling,” Eric told Sergeant Connelly as he handed him the rifle and climbed back into the cockpit.

  “It’s a pretty sneaky boat, I’ve got to admit. I assume this isn’t the first time you’ve used it in this sort of situation.”

  “No, but I thought I was done with that stuff a long time ago. Turns out you never know though, do you? Who in the hell are these guys, and what exactly are they thinking? Have you got any idea?”

  “Not really, other than that they hate the federal government and they’re taking advantage of the chaos to establish some kind of stronghold out here in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, they picked the Tenn-Tom to take over because it was an easier target than the Mississippi—a lot less traffic but still enough that they were able to commandeer a good supply of fuel from the northbound barges. We don’t know the extent of their organization or if there really is one beyond what we know they have along the Waterway. That’s what my crew and I were trying to determine. Whoever they are, they’ve got balls to think they can get away with this. Your one-man operation tonight might give ’em second thoughts though. If they don’t find us, they’re going to be scratching their heads a long time, trying to figure out who blew up those boats and nabbed me right from under their noses. They thought they were going to break me and get intel about our operations to the north, but they didn’t know who they were dealing with or what I’ve been through before.”

  Eric contemplated all this as he paddled, quickly getting the kayak up to cruising speed so as to gain as much distance as possible while there was less chance of being seen. The more he learned of what was going on here in the U.S., the more difficult it was to believe. But why he thought his home country was immune to this sort of thing though, he couldn’t have said. He’d certainly seen it happening all around him in Europe, and Bart Branson had always said he thought it was all going to unravel here one day like all empires did. Hearing their old man speculate about such things just made Eric and Keith more determined to serve their country, and the two brothers certainly saw their share of combat, just as Bart had in Vietnam. Only Eric made a career of it though. His skills in special operations warfare had been acquired in many different places alongside many different fellow warriors, but he’d never expected to put his specialties to use at home. Sergeant Connelly had apparently been in the middle of all of this madness since it started, and there were lots of questions Eric wanted to ask him, but they would have to wait for now. It was best to paddle in silence, staying alert for any signs of pursuit and as well as the sound of an approaching helicopter just in case there was a chance of getting the pilot’s attention.

  The buzzing of the two motorboats in the distance provided a steady backdrop to the sounds of their paddle strokes. Once they’d reached open water, Eric had given Sergeant Connelly his spare paddle, and although he wasn’t an experienced kayaker, he was able to handle it well enough to help out, even if not enough to make a real difference. The Klepper was one of the most seaworthy kayaks ever designed, but speed was not one of its attributes. It was still miles to the PZ and they still had to stick close enough to shore to be able to duck for cover again if one of the searching boats came back their way. Eric cursed Lieutenant Holton under his breath for not providing a radio with which he could make different arrangements with the pilot, but this wasn’t the first time he’d operated this way and he knew the drill. That helicopter would return to the post without them, and no one there would remember a thing about Eric Branson or a kayak, nor would they have a conclusive answer for Shauna. All Eric could hope was that the lieutenant would honor his promise to get her and Jonathan a ride west if he didn’t make it.

  At 0355, just five minutes before the UH-72 Lakota was scheduled to arrive, Eric and the sergeant were still on the opposite side of the lake, nearly two miles south of the cove that was picked for the PZ. At that same time, they could hear both of the two motorboats returning from a loop further north, and from the sound of it, now turning into that very cove.

  “Those bastards are heading straight to the PZ! That helicopter is going to come in right on top of them!” Eric turned the kayak as he cursed, paddling for all he was worth to try and get closer. It was impossible to see anything beyond the glow of the searchlights from that far away though, as the light rain was still falling.

  “Listen, I can hear it now!” Sergeant Connelly said.

  “Yeah, and they’ve heard it too. Look! No more lights!”

  They listened to the sound of the rotors closing in on the lake but couldn’t see either the unlit aircraft or the boats. The only thing visible were small flashes of light near the surface, and Eric knew immediately that the men in the boat were firing on the aircraft, even before they heard the echo of full-auto bursts.

  “Sounds like a couple of AKs to me,” Sergeant Connelly said. “I hope the gunner could get a fix on those muzzle flashes in this weather. If he did, those assholes are going to wish they didn’t make that mistake!”

  “Gunner? What gunner? There’s no M134 or anything like that aboard. It’s a Lakota the lieutenant got on loan from a National Guard base somewhere. It’s set up for observation and stuff like that. No armament.”

  “You’re shitting me?

  “No, but the two extra crewmen that helped me with the kayak were carrying M4s,” Eric said. “Maybe they’ll at least return fire. I’ll bet they’re all confused as hell though, running into incoming right where I’m supposed to be.”

  But
though Eric and Sergeant Connelly listened hopefully, they heard no more shooting, only the sound of the rotors receding into the distance as the pilot made a U-turn over the water and sped back the way he came. Eric was pissed that the pilot turned away so quickly without so much as making another pass over the lake, but he knew too that if they’d been low enough when the shooting started, it was possible they could have taken damaging hits even from small arms fire. When the sound faded away to the north, Eric knew for sure the pilot wasn’t coming back. He would instead return to the post and report that instead of a kayak, he’d found boats full of armed men waiting in the PZ. Lieutenant Holton would assume Eric’s mission was a failure, and that he must have been captured and forced to disclose the time and location of his planned extraction, when in fact it was just dumb luck that the searchers had been there at all.

  It sucked because if he’d simply had a radio, all of this could have been avoided, but Eric resigned himself to the way things were, rather than how they should have been. The reality was that he was no closer to reaching his goal of getting to Megan than he was before he met Lieutenant Holton aboard the C.J. Vaughn, and maybe even farther from it, in fact. He turned the kayak around to head for the far shore, away from the distant boats, and the two men dug in with their paddles, neither of them talking; both lost in their thoughts of what they were going to do now and how they were going to get back to the base on their own.

  Four

  ERIC AND SERGEANT CONNELLY finally broke their silence and began discussing their options as they neared the far eastern shore of the lake, opposite the cove where the helicopter had approached. The men in the two motorboats had hung around the area for a while after the pilot turned the aircraft away in the face of their gunfire, but now they had apparently given up. From the sound of their motors, one was heading back in the direction of the compound and the other was going north, likely to inform those controlling the lock and dam of what had happened earlier.