No matter which way he puzzled it, the equation wasn’t balanced and the Regulators were on the losing end. Rob was doomed. The frustration turned into a heavy weight in Lance’s stomach. His best friend, the closet thing he’d ever had to a real brother was trapped like a rat inside that courthouse surrounded by invading Chinese soldiers…
And the only cotton-pickin’ thing Lance had thought to do—besides disobey Rob’s final order—had been to raise the banners and call on every able-bodied American to rush to the defense of strangers. To risk their lives and safety for…who? Freedom fighters? Fools? Patriots?
Who the hell were the Regulators anymore? Lance closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rough bark of the pine tree. It just wasn’t fair. The Regulators had been formed in the first place to counteract the incompetence—and later the willful negligence—of the federal government and their lack of enforcement of border control laws.
The Regulators had never been more than extra hands and eyes who’d not been required to let illegals go with an order to appear before a court. No Executive Order could make them ignore the law. They had been landowners, ranchers, concerned citizens from across the country, and they’d come to assist the real unsung heroes along the border: the Border Patrol agents who put their lives on the line day in and day out for a government that didn’t seem to want them. And for a long time, the agents had been real thankful to have the assistance.
Now? Lance opened his eyes and stared at the mostly destroyed husk of a town in the valley below. Now the world had gone to shit and America was dying a brutal death right before his eyes. Who cares if there were illegal immigrants when China had invaded and was destroying entire towns…for what? Resources? Revenge? Some grand master plan that only a few men in suits on the other side of the world knew about? Lance shook his head.
He imagined two dogs fighting, one injured and limping, the other aggressive and smelling blood. America was injured—and bad—but she wasn’t down yet. The Chinese were strong and willing to press the attack…they had proven that with the destruction of Pine Bluff. So why were they waiting? Why not just wipe out the courthouse, bury everyone in it, and move on.
Movement down the ridge out of the corner of his eye drew Lance’s attention. Nate was working his way carefully up the back side of the ridge, out of direct sight of the Chinese in town. Inspiration struck Lance like a thunderbolt out of the clear desert sky.
They know Rob’s down there. They want him alive. They want info.
Lance gripped his rifle with white knuckles as another thought drifted through his mind. Hallwood. He sold us out. Son of a bitch. He must have made a deal with them—that’s why the civilians haven’t been harmed.
Nate arrived slightly winded and crept up next to Lance. He propped his rifle against a sapling and leaned back against Lance’s tree. “So what’s the word, boss?”
Lance never took his eyes off the courthouse. “The Chinese are trying to wait ‘em out. They want Rob alive,” he said, turning to face his fellow Regulator.
“Shit, that’s not good.”
“Yeah,” replied Lance. It was all so obvious now. If they could make Rob talk, they’d know where the rest of the Regulators were hiding…they’d move up the mountain in strength and…
“What do we do? I got word before I left base that a big bunch of folks is comin’ up from what’s left of Tucson. Those guys we met on the highway when we first came up here, I think.”
“That’s a start.” Lance nodded to himself. “That’s surely a start. But we got to keep the Chinese from going in there after Rob. We need to make ‘em look over their shoulders.”
Nate picked up Lance’s binoculars and peered at the remains of the town, crawling with invaders. He whistled, a low mournful sound. “Lot of ‘em down there.”
“Yeah. I think it’s time we thinned the herd a little.”
Nate glanced at the new head of the Regulators. “Yeah? When?”
Lance smiled wolfishly. “Tonight.”
JUST AFTER SUNSET, LANCE peered through a night vision scope attached to the captured Chinese sniper rifle. It wasn't a crystal-clear image but it was better than squinting into the darkness. He had assembled his teams and devised a battle plan and made sure everyone was as ready as possible. So why am I holding back?
There'd been some grumbling voices from the other Regulators—mostly worried about the overwhelming firepower they would be going up against. But deep in their hearts, they all knew that what they were doing was not merely to strike a blow against the invaders, but to rescue Rob and their fellow Regulators.
One argument had nearly swayed him to follow Rob's last order and lead the Regulators north to safety. It had been a simple question. What if Rob and the others had already been killed? Which then forced Lance to ask, what if the Chinese were merely setting up a trap, because they expected a rescue attempt?
Lance spent the afternoon thinking that over. He'd gone through all of his own doubts and had come to the conclusion that no matter what the Chinese had or had not done to Rob and his Regulators, Lance knew he had to do something other than tucked tail and run. Lance Bryton was not a man to leave his friends behind. He could no more walk away from this fight than he could cut his own throat.
Besides, he figured, with the way the country was falling into anarchy and all the death and destruction that surrounded them on a daily basis, their own survival was by no means assured. Even with the captured stores and weapons that they had taken from the Chinese, it would be a long, cold winter up in the mountains. Would it not be better, he had argued, to go out guns blazing in a heroic and noble effort to save their comrades? If they failed, they saved himself possible starvation and long-suffering death at the hands of the invaders. If they succeeded, they would win glory and maybe rally other resistance groups and bring themselves one step closer to ending the Chinese menace.
Lance grimaced in the darkness. His speech had been full of patriotic sentiment, but sitting out here in the gathering night, pointing a high powered rifle at the enemy brought a new sense of danger to the mission.
He had assumed that the Chinese soldiers down there at the antennae riddled van were watching a drone, which was in turn watching the Regulators. He glanced up at the tall pines that stood sentinel on the slope of the mountain. He hoped that their canopy would be enough to block out their heat signatures from any drones.
Lance looked through the scope at the glowing body of the man he assumed to be the Chinese commander as he strolled between vehicles talking to soldiers. Lance had pegged him for the CO the day before and had made sure someone watched his movements all afternoon. The man regularly walked over toward the drone van and peered into the same box. He was always followed by a cluster of other soldiers that had to be junior officers. The man certainly had the air of a commander about him.
If Lance only had a rocket launcher, he could end that problem right there. Unfortunately, the best he could do was the AR’s the Regulators had brought north from Nogales and the two captured Chinese sniper rifles equipped with night vision scopes. One of those was in his hands, the other was further down the mountain with the rapid action force, just on the outskirts of town.
Lance handed the rifle off to the best marksman of the remaining Regulators, Jerry Baersfeld. Jerry was also their nominal radio chief, which left Ed Franks’ wife running the radio room back at base. It didn't really matter much anyway, Lance realized, because nearly every man who could still hold a rifle was out on the line tonight.
The Regulators had scattered through the trees north and west of town. As long as they could remain hidden Lance figured that they had a 50-50 chance of being able to inflict enough damage on the Chinese to draw their attention away from the courthouse. Anything to give Rob and the boys in the courthouse a chance to escape.
Jerry took up his position and settled in on the rocky outcropping. Lance looked up and noticed that there were no trees directly overhead. They would be complete
ly in the open for the drone to spot.
"It's a good bet they know we're here," said Lance.
Jerry grunted. He shifted the dial on the scope and settled his elbows into the dirt, bringing the scope to his eye. "If so, they’re awful cocky about it. I see that officer down there and it looks like business as usual. Hang on…yeah…definitely a few more men on patrol tonight.” Jerry adjusted his aim on the rifle. “Looks like a lot more guys closer to courthouse."
“Damn.” Lance scratched the stubble on his chin. "Think they're on to us?" He whispered in the darkness.
"Hard to tell. This piece of shit scope don't show me much."
Lance sighed. "So. They know something's up.”
“Or they think something’s up," replied Jerry. "They may have added more people guarding the courthouse, but they left their command-and-control structure vulnerable. Last night there were at least a dozen men within shouting distance of that van down there. I only see three."
"Could be a trap?"
The sniper grunted again. "No idea, man. These guys are shifty. I see no heat signatures anywhere outside any of the vehicles. Obviously, I can't see inside those APCs, which could be chock-full of chink soldiers."
"I don’t think they’ve done that," said Lance. "We had eyes on those APCs all afternoon. If someone's in there, we would've seen them get in. Besides, those damn things gotta be ovens by now, sittin’ in the sun all day."
Lance checked the watch on his wrist. Fifteen minutes to show time. He glanced at the dark shape of the sniper next to in the dirt in the rocks. "You sure you can make the shot, Jerry?"
Jerry sucked air over his teeth. "From where we were this afternoon? No way—that spot up the ridge is about 2 miles away. From where we are now?" The man chuckled. "We’re a little less than half a mile out. There's no discernible breeze and my targets are mostly stationary. Shouldn't be too much of a problem.”
"Good. What’s your first target?"
There was silence for a moment as Lance watched the barrel of the sniper rifle shift back and forth while Jerry peered through the scope. "I don't know, man,” Jerry said in a low voice. “Look, say my first shot is spot on and the computer that controls their drone explodes. Now what? We got everybody stirred up and they know we’re here. They're all going to be running for cover all over Hell’s half-acre down there. But," he whispered, "what if I take out the operator sitting there at that terminal? What's the first thing that happens?"
"Well, the commander will send up the alarm and they’ll all run for cover."
"Right—but, somebody's got to look at that drone screen, to direct the counterattack. Right?"
Lance began to see where Jerry was heading. "Right… So the next person that runs up to see where the threat is coming from gets popped, too."
"And the next, and the next, and the next. Until I run out of rounds. We deny them their intel, we remove soldiers from their lines, and we really piss ‘em off in the process. When you get angry in combat, you make mistakes."
"Then let's see how many Chinese we can piss off."
COLONEL CHUN STROLLED BACK to the drone van. He took a cup of hot tea from a lieutenant with a grateful nod. This land the Americans called Arizona was a strange place. During the day, it was hot—even for October. Yet, once the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature dropped quickly. He was beginning to question whether or not he should have requisitioned winter gear for his soldiers. Men standing at guard with numb fingers would not be an effective fighting force if the Americans launched a counterattack.
He took a sip of the hot beverage and relished the warmth as it spread through his stomach. These terrorists were anything but predictable. He half expected them to launch an attack tonight, but he was unconcerned. His men had superior firepower, heavy weaponry, instant communications, and a drone circling above. The town had been utterly destroyed by the last raid so there were no easy concealment spaces for the American terrorists to exploit in the middle of the night.
He glanced up, thinking of the drone high overhead looking down at their encampment. He would be able to see the heat signatures of anyone trying to approach town the second that they left cover. The colonel took a sip of his tea and chuckled as he made his way around a burned police car. The only cover nearby was the treeline at the base of the mountain range to the north of town. If the Americans were hiding in those trees right now—and his instincts told them that they were—they would still have to cross at least a hundred meters of open space before they could find suitable cover to escape the unblinking eye of his drone.
No, if the Americans tried to launch a counterattack, they would be identified quickly and he would have no problem destroying them. The real problem, he thought, was the men in the basement.
Chun stepped up behind the drone operator and took another sip of tea, nodding approval as the man performed another routine circle over the Chinese encampment. Other than the two figures that were up on the mountain ridge to the north, there were no other heat signatures detectable near town. Two men had been there off and on throughout the entire day. Obviously they were there just to watch.
The Colonel was a bit disturbed by the fact that they had moved approximately a mile closer to the remnants of the town, but they were still so far up the ridge that it would take 45 minutes of hard hiking to reach the courthouse.
He took another sip of tea and hoped that the caffeine would kick in quickly. He had been on alert all day waiting for approval from Beijing to destroy the courthouse. It had taken a lot of effort to keep the men motivated and focused. Many had wanted to charge in and kill all the terrorists. He couldn’t blame them—they had likely lost friends to these Regulators in the recent ambushes.
Chun sighed and stretched his back. His body ached for the release of sleep. It was pointless to stay up any longer, he told himself. Beijing will take another day to argue and discuss the ramifications of destroying the courthouse. He hissed in derision. Politicians.
He was about to ask the drone operator to shift the angle of the camera to focus in on those two terrorists watching them up on the ridge when he heard a loud smack, similar to someone throwing a brick at the side of a building. The drone control monitor was instantly covered in a fine mist of blood, bone, and chunks of brain matter. Chun cursed and dove to the ground, wincing as the lifeless body of the drone operator landed in a heap next to him. The man's face was gone, replaced by an open cavity. Blood poured out of the hideous wound and squirted into the Chun's face. He screamed and rolled underneath the communications van for cover.
At last his brain caught up to speed, and he shouted "Sniper!"
That one word sent the Chinese forces into a flurry of activity. The alarm was passed on through radio to the rest of the soldiers and men instinctively took cover wherever they were. Under the van, Chun could hear shouts and questions about where the sniper was shooting from. No one had seen anything—the last screenshot that he had seen from the drone showed that the only two people within about a mile of their location had been those men watching them from the ridge.
Surely it couldn't have been them? That's almost a mile away! These men are simple civilians! Warrior–wannabes!
LANCE HOOTED WITH PLEASURE. "Where the hell you learn how to shoot like that, again?" he asked, laughing at the sight of that officer diving under the intel van.
"3rd Rangers. Hooah," said Jerry. Lance could hear the smile in the man's voice. "What’d I tell you?" he asked quietly, never taking his eye from the scope. "Our first catch of the day. Here comes number two…"
CHUN SCREAMED FOR SOMEONE else to read the drone monitor. He heard footsteps in the dirt on the other side of the van as someone raced around behind the vehicle and tried to take position in front of the control station. Chun felt rather than heard the impact of a round hitting the side of the van.
He was about to open his mouth and shout another order when the body of the second drone operator collapsed into the dirt next to the first. Chu
n was glad that it was so dark—he didn't want to have to see a second wound like that first one. A split second later he heard the thunderous crack of a rifle rolling around the hills. He thought it came from the north.
What really angered him was the sound of that rifle. That was the distinctive report of the QBU-88 Chinese sniper rifle. He knew there was absolutely no possibility that one of his men had decided to start shooting at them—it had to have been one of the rifles lost when the terrorists had launched one of the innumerable raids last month. He pounded his fist into the dirt in impotent rage.
"Jan! Get someone in that chair! We have to know where they're coming from!"
"At once, sir!" was the muffled reply from across the street.
Chun slithered his way to the far side of the van and waited for a moment. He heard someone scream on the opposite side of the van—behind the drone terminal. A split second later, the rifle cracked in the distance and echoed through town. Whoever the sniper was, he wasn't perfect—someone had been wounded and was thrashing around in the dirt.
Chun thought about the situation for moment. All the shots had come from the north. It had to be those two men up on the ridge. It had to be. Mind made up, he rolled from under the van and stood up, his back against the cool metal facing west and, he hoped, out of view of the sniper.
A soldier crouching by the front wheel turned at the noise and his eyes went wide at the show of bravery by his commanding officer. That was exactly the kind of inspiration Chun sought. He adjusted the fit of his helmet and straightened his uniform. He strolled casually behind the van and took a spot next to the soldier.
"Can you see anything? Muzzle flashes?"
The young man was so scared, he couldn't reply. He shook his head and gripped his rifle tighter, his head swiveling back and forth between the area where the shots had come from and his commanding officer.
Sic Semper Tyrannis Page 27