Home Invasion

by A. American

  “You might want to lay off those dirty assholes, Mikey,” Sarge said with a laugh.

  Annoyed, Mike shot back, “I got your dirty asshole.”

  Sarge blurted out a stifled laugh. “I bet you do! Dumbass!”

  Ted dropped his head onto the deck, rocking it back and forth. “Mikey, you really need to think before you speak.”

  “Fuck off, Ted. You half-eared freak!” Mike snorted.

  Ted sat up and said, “What have I told you about that shit?”

  But his warning was useless. Mike grabbed his belly and pointed at Ted as he started a stifled uproarious laugh. “Holy hell!” He said in a loud whisper as he fell back.

  Confused, Ted asked, “What?”

  Dalton was still lying behind the rifle. He picked up Mike’s signal mirror and handed it to Ted. Ted took a look and realized when he’d dropped his head, he’d rolled it back and forth in coal dust as though he were inking a stamp. Even the tip of his nose was black. He leaned forward and snatched the bandanna from Mike’s hand and wiped his face off.

  “You booger-eaters need to quiet down. Them commies find out were up here and the shit’s going to get kinetic in a hurry,” Sarge said. As he lay back and pulled his hat down over his eyes, he added, “Shut the hell up.”

  Mike leaned over and pinched off the side of his nose and fired a black snot rocket into a pile of coal dust. Ted shook his head and commented, “You really are disgusting.”

  Sarge kicked Ted in the hip, “Already told you to shut up.”

  Ted rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the group of Americans standing in the open door of the reactor enclosure. While some of them certainly were wounded, it appeared as though they were being treated decently. The thought was confirmed when a man walked up and started to check the wounds on one of them.

  “You seeing this?” Dalton asked.

  “I’m tracking,” Ted replied.

  From under his hat, Sarge asked, “What is it?”

  “Looks like they’ve got a medic down there taking care of our boys,” Dalton replied.

  Sarge shuffled his feet and said, “They’re soldiers too. We’d take care of theirs, so it only makes sense.”

  “Not what I’d expect from ‘em,” Mike said.

  “How you think they’ll feel if we off a couple of theirs? Think they’d take it out on those guys?” Dalton asked.

  Ted looked over at him, “What would you do?”

  Dalton’s head rocked back and forth. “I’d probably flay one of ‘em alive.”

  Ted’s face contorted. “For fuck sake. Let’s hope they’re not like you.”

  Dalton shrugged. “I tend to be direct and to the point.”

  “Saves time,” Sarge mumbled from under his hat.

  “I need a break off this glass,” Dalton said.

  Mike offered to relieve him from the observation duty and took up position on the rifle. Dalton found a place big enough for him to stretch out in and laid a shemagh over his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and dozed.

  “Do I need to have you give me the mag out of that rifle, or can you keep your social finger off the bang switch?” Sarge asked.

  Mike looked over at the old man and silently mocked him while tapping the trigger with his finger, then said, “No, you don’t. I’m not fucking stupid.”

  Sarge snorted. “Huh. Must be a recent thing.” Mike gave him the finger in an exaggerated manner. Sarge, without lifting his hat, said, “Keep it up and I’ll break it off and feed it to Gulliver.”

  “And I like finger food,” Dalton replied.

  Mike looked at Ted and mouthed, what the fuck? Ted shrugged in reply. Holding his hands up and working his fingers in the air, he said, “Mystery.”

  “No it ain’t.” Sarge replied. “He’s as predictable as a damn clock.”

  Mike shook his head as Ted stifled a laugh, and began observing the reactor area. The rest of the afternoon was spent watching the activity at the reactor. A third cask was moved out on a special trolley and loaded onto the boat in the lagoon with a crane. The men from the Army Corps of Engineers were kept in the area for the day. It was noted that they were regularly given water and even fed. It seemed the Russians down there were taking good care of them.

  Doc had replaced Ted on the binos and he moved to the rifle so Mike could get a little combat nap in before his swim. Doc was most interested in the condition of the Corpsmen and commented on the treatment they were receiving from the Russians. He made a mental note about the fact. If they were treating his wounded and prisoners well, he would do the same if the opportunity presented itself.

  As the sun began to set, the Americans were rounded up and led off. Ted watched, trying to determine where they were being held. But they were taken back into the reactor building and he quickly lost sight of them. They were probably being moved to the structure on the other side, though they had no way of figuring out where. Ted roused Mike and Dalton and the two started to get ready for the task at hand.

  When Sarge woke up, he sat up rubbing his eyes and asked, “What’s up?”

  Dalton was wrapping a bundle of C4 blocks with duct tape. He quickly replied, “My dick and your interest.”

  Mike started to laugh, tilting his head back with his mouth wide open. Sarge looked around and scooped up a handful of coal dust and dropped it into his gaping maw. This served to stop Mike from laughing. He started cussing and spitting, trying to get the black grit out of his mouth.

  “Calm down, Nancy. I was just trying to help you cover your face,” Sarge said as he rubbed coal dust in his hand. “This stuff makes good camo for night ops.”

  Mike spit a black slug out. “That was really fucked up. I mean, really.”

  Ted smiled and shook his head, saying, “Never going to learn.”

  Sarge turned his attention to Dalton. Dalton never looked over, just kept working on the explosives. The old man scooted closer to him and said, “You know, that could be.” He rubbed his chin as he looked down at Dalton’s crotch. This gave Dalton pause. Sarge licked his lips and said, “I’ve always wondered what the backside of one looked like.” He drew his knife from its sheath and added. “Whip that bad boy out and we’ll find out together.”

  Dalton thought for a moment before replying. “While your offer is tempting, I have to swim in that filthy lagoon in a moment.” He shook his head, “The risk of infection is too high. We’ll have to wait.”

  Sarge held the blade up. “That’s fine. I always have it.” He sheathed the knife and added, “And I’m a patient man.”

  Dalton scooped a handful of dust off the conveyor and began rubbing it on his face and neck, covering his arms as well. He removed his blouse top, keeping his t-shirt on. He was going to take his pistol and kukri with him and nothing else. Mike was likewise stripping down and getting ready. He was also carrying his pistol and the explosives in a pack.

  “How you going to initiate that charge?” Sarge asked.

  Mike held up a small green tube. “I’ve got two waterproof fuse igniters. There’s about forty-five minutes of slow burn fuse on each one. That should give us plenty of time to get away from the boat and back on this side.”

  Sarge nodded. “We’re going to pull out of here and go back to the coal pile. If you get spotted, we’ll put fire on them to try and cover you. But you’ll be totally exposed when you come out of the water.”

  “Only if they’re looking for us. But they won’t be,” Dalton replied. “Because we’re ninjas and won’t be seen.”

  “Well, you nidiots get ready to head to the boat.” Looking back at Doc, he said, “You and Ted move down the conveyor and get set to move to the top of the coal pile. I’m going to stay here and cover these clowns while they swim over. Once they’ve set the charge and head back, I’ll hook up with you guys on the pile.” He looked around at the men and asked, “We clear on this?”

  They all nodded and Mike slapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Come on, big boy. Let’s get our
frogman on.”

  As they collected the gear they would take, Sarge asked, “You got that charge set right?”

  Mike looked at the bag and nodded. “We’ve got two ten-pound charges of C4. One of them will surely go off.”

  The old man nodded. “Good. Two is one. One is none.” He wagged a finger at them. “You two get yer asses over there and back in one piece. If you get spotted, we’ll lay down covering fire, but we’ll all probably get our asses shot off, so don’t get spotted.”

  “Wasn’t this supposed to be a recon-only mission?” Ted asked.

  Sarge looked at him. “We’ve made a tactical decision. I don’t want that old fuel leaving here. Don’t know what they’re doing with it, but we’re gonna fuck that plan up. You got a problem with that?”

  Ted shook his head. “Me? No. I love blowing up radioactive material that’s surrounded by Russian Spetsnaz troops with a slim chance of success and a near certain death sentence.”

  Sarge smiled and nodded. “Good to know you’re on board.”

  Doc and Ted made their way down the conveyor. They had to go slow so as not to knock coal dust off the structure. It would potentially draw unwanted attention. Plus, they were carrying Mike and Dalton’s gear with them. Sarge maintained his position as overwatch while Mike and Dalton climbed down the support of the conveyor.

  The old man chewed his fingernails as the two men made their way very slowly down the steel supports to the ground. It seemed to take forever for them to make it down. The two men crawled on their bellies to the water and carefully entered it, trying to minimize the disturbance to the water as they slid in. Here, there was considerable coal at the water’s edge, which was a blessing as they weren’t trying to navigate through muck.

  Once in the water, they cautiously made their way towards the boat, swimming very slowly. Sarge cursed them under his breath, wishing they would hurry the hell up. But he also knew that if they did, it would create more disturbance in the water and increase the chance of them being spotted. So he counted his blessings, aggravating as they were.

  It seemed to take forever for them to make it to the boat. Sarge watched them through the binos as they paused beside the boat, getting their plan together. After a moment, Mike disappeared under the water. Dalton remained at the surface with just the top of his head visible. Sarge’s pulse quickened as he kept an eye on his watch.

  This part of the mission was without a doubt the hardest. They had to swim down under the boat, in total darkness and set the charges by feel alone. After about two minutes, Mike’s head appeared. Sarge watched as they two men discussed their options. After a moment, Dalton disappeared and Mike bobbed in the water with his head barely visible.

  Again, Sarge kept an eye on his watch. He started to get nervous at three minutes when there was no sign of Dalton. The minutes ticking by seemed like hours. Four, five. At five minutes and twenty-seven seconds Dalton’s head reappeared. The old man let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He actually felt a physical strain lift when he saw him. Sum bitch, Sarge muttered. He watched as Dalton wiped his face and took a couple deep breaths. He and Mike talked and suddenly Dalton disappeared again. Sum bitch! Sarge spat.

  But Dalton wasn’t gone as long this time. After a couple of minutes, he reappeared and the two started the slow swim back towards the coal pile. Again, the old man let out a suppressed breath. His head dropped onto his arms as he got control over his breathing before turning his attention back to watching them as they made their way back.

  Sarge maintained his position until the two men slipped out of the water. Once they were on the shore, he collected his gear and started down the conveyor towards Ted and Doc. It took him longer to navigate the conveyor than it did for Dalton and Mike to cover the distance to the top of the coal pile and they were there when he arrived.

  Mike was wiping his face with a shemagh and asked, “Your hip acting up? You took long enough.”

  Sarge ignored him and looked at Dalton. “What the hell? You got gills or something?”

  Dalton was pulling a dry shirt on when he replied. “No. Just years of various martial arts. Meditation is a big part of it. Learning to control your breathing. How long was I down?”

  “Almost five and a half minutes! That ain’t human!”

  “Damn,” Dalton said. “I could have stayed down another minute.”

  “How long we got until that boat goes up?” Sarge asked.

  Dalton looked at his watch. “Twenty-three minutes.”

  Sarge looked around. “Alright. Let’s make our way down to the tree line. Soon as that boat goes up, we head for the trucks and get the hell out of here.”

  “You don’t want to make sure it goes down?” Mike asked.

  “You guys go down there. I’ll stay here and give you a BDA,” Dalton said.

  Sarge hesitated. “This place is probably going to come alive like a kicked-over anthill.”

  “It’ll be alright. I’ll make it down there. We just need to know what happens to that tub.”

  The old man agreed. “Ok. As soon as it goes off, you get your ass down the hill. I’ll leave Teddy in the tree line. The rest of us will be at the trucks. If you get your ass in a sling, we’ll be able to come in with some heavy weapons and get you out.”

  Dalton smiled and replied, “You won’t need to come get us. We’ll be there shortly.”

  Sarge looked at Doc and Mike, “Alright, minions, move out.” Then he looked at Dalton, “Don’t fuck around. Get out as soon as it goes off.” Dalton smiled and nodded.

  Everyone moved out to their assigned positions. Ted took up a spot just inside the tree line as the others moved back towards the trucks. Dalton kept the M1A with him, reasoning he could use the scope to better assess the results of the blast. But he had another reason. Once everyone was gone he settled in behind the rifle and began looking for targets. There were several people on the dock near the boat, and he examined each of them in turn.

  The M1A was suppressed and the explosion would certainly mask the supersonic crack of the bullet. He figured taking out the boat was a good thing, but why not use the situation to eliminate some of the more important looking personnel on the dock. He checked his watch, three minutes.

  Had anyone near the boat been paying attention, they may have seen the trail of bubbles coming up on the port-side stern of the boat. The waterproof fuse burning under the boat was emitting a steady string of small cloudy bubbles as it slowly inched its way towards the charges secured to the wheel shafts. The charges were placed there with the intent that even if they didn’t breach the hull, they would blow the packing out around the shafts.

  When there was one minute left, Dalton settled the scope on a man with a beard. He wore glasses and a white lab coat type garment. He determined the guy was some sort of scientist or nuke specialist. Not only from the way he looked, but from the way the others deferred to him. Just as he flipped off the safety on the rifle, there was a muffled wump under water at the back of the boat. Initially, there was a rising of the water and the stern of the boat, but that was immediately followed by an enormous geyser of water erupting into the air from either side, soaking those on the dock.

  The people on the dock were momentarily stunned, and while they ducked, they didn’t move. Dalton settled the crosshair on the man’s head and squeezed the trigger just as the second charge detonated under the boat. The man’s head exploded and Dalton quickly engaged others in rapid succession, using the chaos on the dock to his advantage. When the mag was empty, he took a quick look at the boat. The stern was already under, and water was rushing up the deck. More people were running to the scene. Dalton quietly folded the bipod and slipped away from the lip of the coal pile, leaving a sinking boat and seven dead and several others wounded on the dock.

  Ted stood up when he saw Dalton sliding down the coal pile. When they were together, Ted motioned with his head and with a knowing smile, asked, “What were you shooting at?”

  Dalton
looked at the rifle and replied, “Oh. Just fish in a barrel.”

  Ted laughed and the two headed into the woods towards the waiting trucks. As they came out of the brush at the trucks, Sarge was standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he asked, “What the hell took so long?”

  “Just enjoying the show,” Dalton replied as he walked past him.

  Enjoying the show, the old man muttered as he turned and headed for his truck.

  CHAPTER 6

  Thad stopped as the man came running up. I recognized him from our meeting at the farm. “Mitchell, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He nodded and held out the piece of paper. “I thought you should see this.”

  I took it, and for a moment didn’t recognize what I was looking at. “Is this a weather radar image?”

  “Satellite. It’s from a NOAA weather satellite.” Mitchell replied.

  Looking at the image in disbelief, I asked, “How the hell did you get it? Is it recent?”

  He pointed to a time/date stamp on the upper corner. “Yeah, this was two hours ago.” He handed me several other images. “You can see the track of this thing. It’s going to roll right over us.”

  The image was a very large tropical storm. It was working its way up through the Bahamas at the moment. On one of the images there was an arch drawn in red ink. Mitchell pointed to it and said, “This is the possible track if it stays on this course.”

  “How the hell did you get these?” I asked.

  “The satellites are still up and working. I built an antenna that could receive the signal and connected it to my laptop. It was just something to play with before. But now, I can keep an eye on the weather with it.”

  There was obviously more to this guy that met the eye. “Can I see your setup?” I asked.

  Without hesitation, he replied, “Sure. We’ll go to my house and you can see the latest images. Just follow me.” He walked over and got into a side-by-side UTV that I hadn’t noticed.