Surviving The Black (Book 4): Betrayal From Within

by Finley, Zack

  "Boss to Buzzer, move up to give us a visual report, but keep your heads down. Stealth is our best friend right now."

  "Buzzer acknowledges need for stealth. Moving to new position."

  "Sniper One reports no contacts on 360."

  "Boss to Cockerall and Mansion assemble to move out. We will prepare to go straight through Buzzer's group with the Humvees if needed. Tangoes may have deployed other units to block our exit."

  We sent four scouts on the remaining ninjas through the fields to Rossview Road. Thin rows of scrub trees divided most parcels. Fields were bounded by rutted tracks that gave farmers access without forcing them to drive through the fields. This was an area of rolling hills, not flat like the region along the Mississippi River. Between the scrub, hills, wooded areas, the scouts had plenty of cover.

  "Boss to Port Royal scouts."

  "Go for Port Royal."

  "Port Royal, we need to secure our exit. I'd rather not get boxed in. Can you get eyes on that curvy zone north of the canoe place? It was a great place for a roadblock. If it is clear, creep up and monitor the intersection with Sadlersville Road."

  "Port Royal, wilco. Monitor for roadblock, if clear, need ongoing visual on Sadlersville Road intersection."

  "Roger that," I radioed.

  I nixed adding the mansion pickup to our convoy. We had too many vehicles already. It was a sweet ride, but a driver and shotgun for the three grain-trucks diluted our available manpower significantly. The bus was nearly empty at the start of our return trip. Since it contained much of our non-combat gear, I was reluctant to leave it behind.

  The two Humvees led the parade with our remaining pickup playing tail-end Charlie. We allotted a driver and a shotgun for each big rig.

  "Port Royal to Boss."

  "Go for Boss."

  "Tangoes have two pickups blocking the curvy section of Port Royal Road. I doubt you could see it from your direction in time to avoid it. They only have a few shooters on the roadblock, most of their men are digging in on the hill above. Estimate 18 Tangoes all with AR-15s."

  "Boss to Port Royal, what do you recommend."

  "Humvees could get through, but there is enough firepower here to tear everything else to shreds. Recommend two eight-man squads to hit both groups from behind. A night assault would be better. They have the terrain advantage. Port Royal, out."

  Shit. We had to crush any forces between us and that gauntlet to get out of here with our prize. I screwed up, we should have patrolled more of our exit road. Dwelling on that error would not help now.

  Zeke, Grady, and I pored over Allie's map. We needed to clear Port Royal Road sufficiently to bring our grain trucks through. We couldn’t afford to let our opponents disable them with an unlucky shot. I didn't want to give the group at McGregor Road time to dig in.

  "Boss to Buzzer, what do we need to clear out your nest?"

  "Buzzer to Boss, the Hummers should do it. We haven't gotten very close; the woods are 200 feet from the zone. They are still milling around parked on a triangular area surrounded by pavement. I have two men in the ditch across the road, nearly in knife range. Two nearby houses are probably occupied. Only one has smoke."

  "Boss to Scout Two."

  "Go for Scout Two."

  "Change of plans, I need an eval of Head Road, soonest."

  "This is Scout Two, we are close. Barbed wire fencing is screwing with us. Give us five minutes."

  "Roger, Scout Two, five minutes. Boss to Buzzer."

  "Go for Buzzer."

  "Once Scout Two reports, we are bringing both Humvees. Hold your fire until we start shooting, then take any remaining Tangoes down quickly. If Scout Two reports contacts, we will leave the cleanup at your site to you. Once you have the area secure, bring up the convoy."

  "Buzzer to wait for shooting to start, then end them." I rolled my eyes, but he essentially had it right.

  The men in pickups were the hammer, but the anvil was the roadblock before the bridge. I expected the pickups to shoot at us and run. If the Humvees gave chase, then the convoy was much weakened. If we sped by, the pickups would then harry the convoy from behind. It might have worked without our intel on the roadblock.

  It was just a theory, but it helped explain a few things. Funneling us to the ambush site and trapping us there might have disabled our convoy, forcing us to leave the grain behind. But only if we cooperated. Whether my theory was right or wrong, we needed to run the gauntlet.

  Zeke offered to man the M240b in Humvee Two. There was no one better on that machine gun. He would baby the barrel and still wreak havoc on the enemy. Zeke grabbed his Humvee crew and mounted up.

  As much as I wanted to shoot the Ma Deuce, Eric was better at it. He worked with Zeke in his free time to master the weapon and deserved his place in the turret. Mike was already sitting behind the wheel on Humvee One, and Allie was in the seat behind it. I had to give them credit for initiative. They both relaxed when I slid into the shotgun seat. Eric and Allie prepped the cans of .50 caliber ammo belts for easy reloading as we waited for word from Scout Two.

  With Zeke and I playing hooky in the Humvees, command of the trailing convoy fell to Matt.

  We placed the second pickup in position behind the Hummers, planning for Buzzer to fall in line behind the convoy to play rear guard. Craig rode in the fighting position on top of the first semi-trailer in the fleet. Joel drove that semi. He spoke quietly to the truck and bus drivers. I'm sure he reminded them to grit their teeth and drive through any enemy. Our second-best driver drove the other semi with double trailers. Those trucks took longer to stop and would need to slow down on curves. We couldn't afford for it to rear-end a vehicle it followed or rollover on a mountain curve. Avoiding treacherous mountain curves on a narrow mountain road was the whole reason we risked the TN-52 route through Jamestown.

  "Scout Two to Boss."

  "Go for Boss."

  "One pickup with Tangoes blocking Head Road. Five shooters. Similar situation at Rossview Road with six shooters. Two friendlies in trees on the west side of Port Royal Road immediately south of Head Road. Two friendlies in trees on the north side of Rossview Road, about 200 feet from Port Royal Road. Will engage once you arrive on locations."

  "We copy, Humvees on the way. Convoy to follow after McGregor intersection clear."

  "Buzzer to Boss, we are ready."

  Grady drove the pickup. He gave me a thumbs-up as the Humvees eased forward. I wanted to avoid being detected as long as possible. We led the parade, single file with Humvee Two in our wake. Our job was to crush those waiting for us. Buzzer’s team would clear the site for the rest to follow. Then we'd do the same at the next two sites.

  "Buzzer to Boss, they just heard you. Everyone is ducking behind their pickups. Suggest looking behind the pickups to avoid surprises before proceeding. We can't see them."

  "Roger." We raced forward now the element of surprise was gone.

  Without the roadblock near the bridge, we might have talked first. This time, we let our machine guns begin and end the conversation. Instead of diving for dirt, the men standing behind the pickups stood their ground.

  Within seconds the Ma Deuce shredded the pickups. And the men behind them. My ears immediately went numb from the booming concussion of the .50 caliber in such close quarters. My earplugs didn't stop the impact, but past experience told me they would speed the recovery time.

  The encounter was quick and horribly violent. There were no effectives left. I blamed their deaths on television. Only on TV would a vehicle's thin sheet metal shield a person from a machine gun.

  "Boss to Buzzer, move up, and clear the scene. We are moving out." Knowing everyone's ears were still recovering, I grabbed Mike's arm and pointed down the road. We whipped around the two shredded pickups and accelerated down the highway with Humvee Two hot on our tail. The clock was ticking, those waiting at the next road heard our opening salvo.

  Our next objective, the intersection with Head Road, was less than a mile
on our left. On our way, we passed a handful of farmhouses and dilapidated barns. Any residents stayed out of sight.

  The men at the next intersection also had an exaggerated perspective on the stopping power of sheet metal. This group began firing as soon as we came into view. Eric reciprocated. The concussive hammer of the Ma Deuce knocked out my hearing again. We never slowed down, knowing the next intersection was barely 1,000 feet ahead, to our right.

  We dealt just as swiftly with the next group. I regretted the slaughter and was furious at the militia leaders for wasting the lives of these men. Our high-caliber machine guns left no wounded at such close range. My anger didn't stop us from gathering their weapons and ammo from the mangled remains of the militiamen.

  I learned two men survived the massacre. We left them zip-tied in a ditch, their nerves shattered. No one considered them a future threat.

  We remained at this intersection until the whole convoy caught up with us. The Sadlersville Road intersection, our next target, was a mile away. We had no eyes on it, but I wasn't willing to wait to have it scouted. The convoy would follow us for about half the distance, stopping at a defensible location until we were ready for them to move forward.

  "Scout Royal to Boss."

  "Go for Boss."

  "Two more pickup loads of armed Tangoes have just joined the roadblock. They are adding the pickups to the roadblock and dispersing the Tangoes in the high ground. The new arrivals are handing out extra magazines. Now estimate total force at 30- to 40-shooters with automatic rifles, a mix of AR-15s and AK-47s. Some ballistic vests but no significant body armor and no apparent NVGs."

  "Boss to Royal."

  "Go for Royal."

  "The convoy is now at Rossview Road. Humvees will move forward to Sadlersville Road in a few. Once that is clear, we will consolidate on the river side of Sadlersville Road, dismount, and move forward on foot to meet with your scout. No assault until nightfall. Maintain surveillance. Boss out.

  Eric and Allie were shifting ammo cans around when I got back into the Humvee. Eric had a new belt in place, and they stashed the partially used one behind the unopened cans.

  While my ears said he blasted through most of a belt, Eric was quite frugal, making his shots count. It made me appreciate his finesse and reinforced my resolve to keep Buzzer away from our machine guns. He would have blasted through two cans and warped the barrel. Buzzer was a bit of a wild man, but totally solid in a fight, as long as you kept him away from the heavy weapons. And explosives. With explosives, he ascribed to the ‘more is better’ school.

  The Humvees led the way, speeding single file along the narrow road. After half a mile, we left the rest of the convoy in our rear-view mirror. Mike warned at the three-quarter mile mark as we crossed under a major power line. The road sign warned of an intersection ahead, but a curve in the road and a wooded hill masked our view of the actual road. One of the modest homes on the right displayed a bedraggled American flag from its porch. People were at home, but thankfully out of sight.

  Sadlersville Road was anticlimactic. No roadblock, no shooters. Houses on both sides of Port Royal Road made me nervous, and I had the convoy move up to cover the intersection while moving the Humvees forward.

  A road caution sign and Mike's vigilance saved us from going too far on the next leg. I missed it, due to craning my head to monitor the large houses perched on the hillsides on my side of the highway. Eric split his time scrutinizing the buildings on both sides, so it was left to Mike to save our bacon.

  "Boss to Convoy."

  "Go for Convoy."

  "Stop. The distance to our objective is shorter than we thought, and nobody wants you to have to back up."

  "Convoy stopping, now."

  Mike turned us around, and we raced back to see how close they were. The convoy was barely a quarter mile back. It was also closer to two houses than I liked, but it could have been a lot worse.

  It took time to jockey the various rigs into a satisfactory defensive position. The four convoy scouts spread out to monitor for threats. Scout Royal sent someone cross-country with a hand-sketched map of the enemy deployment. Once the scout arrived, we'd plan the assault.

  Zeke sent everyone without an immediate assignment on a two-hour stand down to eat, hydrate, and rest. With our Gammas limited combat experience, he wanted to give them some time to decompress after today's adrenaline-charged outing. For my Afghanistan vets, this was like every day in the field, but without any IEDs or RPGs.

  Zeke reminded all the squad leaders, "Make sure your troops' infrared patches are clearly visible. This will not be a clean battlefield, and we cannot afford any blue-on-blue."

  I wasn't looking forward to killing more armed civilians, but I really didn't have a way out except through them. These people could disable any of my grain trucks with a stray bullet, so I couldn't let them get close.

  I recalled the area where they'd set up the roadblock. Details were vague since I viewed it through my night vision goggles. I remember mentally tagging it as a great place for an ambush. The road cut through rocky slabs, creating an artificial canyon. The gap wasn't very long, but it was deep enough I couldn't see over the top on the east side. The Humvee roof blocked my view of the other side, but we were past it in seconds. It was probably more impressive during daylight.

  I slumped in my Humvee seat and nodded off, needing only a short mantra to let go. At least it wasn't moving.

  A hand shook me awake, along with the smell of coffee. Zeke handed me a hot mug, whispering, "Scout from Royal is here."

  I sat up straighter and took his offering. Easing the crick out of my neck and the other aches from my protesting muscles, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Allie and Eric were still asleep in the back, so I climbed out quietly, holding tight to the cup-of-Joe.

  The back of a pickup was our impromptu command center. A large pot of water heated on a nearby camp stove. Zeke must not have wanted any smoke to draw attention, although I suspected the Humvees, pickups, a bus, and six semis would have awakened the neighbors.

  Zeke started the briefing. "Scouts report our neighbors are either absent or are keeping out of sight. The ambush is a bit more complicated. Pete, show Jeremy and the others what we are facing."

  Pete cradled a hot mug in his hands. He took a long drank and put it down in the truck bed. He moved toward a smudged sheet of paper in pride-of-place on the center of the tailgate. "We have an armed group of at least 30 and possibly as many as 36 digging in on the ridges above the roadway. The canyon walls on the east side are sheer for about 15 feet above the road. The ridge is another 20 feet higher behind it. Some areas next to the road have a second tier of stone above the first, but others are a jumbled mix of boulders, standing, and downed trees. Just above the actual roadblock, there is a slight dip behind the edge of the rock wall providing excellent cover for their men. Most of their group is waiting on this side." Pete drained his cup and continued.

  "The west side ridge is half the height. The area along the roadway has a few rock walls, but they are interspersed with jumbled boulders, trees, and loose scree. Getting up on that side would be more a scramble than a rock climb. There is still plenty of cover and a lot of dead leaves and vines. Moving around on those slopes will be treacherous and won't be quiet. I don't think even Ben could slide through that area without getting a reaction." A few people reacted to this.

  "I don't think the Tangoes intend to move around much. They've been using picks and shovels since they arrived to dig themselves safe firing positions. They are a hardworking group, who aren't skittish about hugging dirt. There are driveways and buildings at the top of the ridges. The house on the west side appears vacant, but someone is lives in the east side one. It is a huge three-story mansion with white columns, miles of windows, and fancy iron gate. The gate is chained and locked. We suspect the people there know about the roadblock and deployment. Heck, they may have people on the lines. While we haven't had the house watched all the time, th
ere hasn’t been any foot traffic between it and the roadblock."

  "Did you spot any scouts?" Zeke asked.

  "That is why we only have an approximate count on these bastards. And why I made such a wide detour. We haven’t spotted them, but I bet they have some. They could have dropped them off before reaching the ambush site, or they could be the six people we’ve lost track of. The leaders have a few handheld walkie talkies. They don't have many, but I bet they have scouts in place to warn them to get their heads down. That's about all I have," Pete ended.

  "Anywhere for me to set up?" Craig asked.

  "Don't think so, buddy. They have the high ground, and the trees are thick. This is going to be up close and personal," Pete said. "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

  I wished Pete hadn't said that. I didn't want anyone to think this was going to be a cakewalk. From the grim looks all around, nobody was taking this likely.