The Vagabond Codes Page 18

  For a moment Ben studied Danna. She’s changed so much; the wisdom, the gentleness. Before, it was just about protecting Izzy; but she sees something more. And I want to see it too. Am I missing something?

  Then he recalled last night’s conversation with the Stranger.

  “We save the world by saving them,” he said slowly and solemnly.

  Danna squeezed his wrist and smiled. “It’s a start.”

  The following afternoon, Cameron and the Stranger gathered a small crowd around a patch of dirt next to the storage trailer. Oswald had given them a map to the Witchers’ compound. Using a secret path through the minefield, they slipped out during the middle of the night to scout the area. They returned after breakfast, weary and grim.

  Ben was the last one down, even though he had barely slept. The wind had picked up during the night, and the tower creaked and groaned like it was about to fall over. And that darned rooster . . . . At any rate, he felt like a zombie, and he was hungry.

  He shouldered his way to the front of the crowd and saw that the Stranger had scraped out a map of the Witchers’ stronghold on the ground using twigs and leaves as markers. Danna stood nearby, munching on a piece of toast.

  “Where’d you get that?” Ben asked hungrily.

  “At breakfast. You missed it about an hour ago. No leftovers either.”

  Ben pursed his lips. His stomach growled. He thought about going back upstairs to grab food out of his pack, but the Stranger cleared his throat to begin the meeting.

  “Hate to break it to you, folks,” the Stranger said after the conversations had died down, “but the rumors are true: these Witchers are as advertised.”

  Cameron added: “Black magic; insanely creepy rituals; you name it.”

  Murmuring broke out among the crowd. Many got up and left, but a small group edged in closer.

  Lowering his voice, the Stranger continued: “The compound is protected by a tall chain link fence topped with barbed wire. There are only two exits: one that leads down into the quarry pit; the other through a fortified chain gate to the road. The guard post at the top of the building has a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the surrounding area for a quarter mile.”

  “How many men are there?” a sour-faced old man asked.

  “We counted at least twenty, so—”

  “At least twenty? There’s no way—”

  “No way what?” Cameron snapped.

  Red-faced, the man slunk to the back of the crowd.

  “Cameron will set up initial fire support as our sniper,” the Stranger continued. “We’ll attempt to enter the building through or near a utility door on the bottom level. Using stun grenades and firearms, we’ll engage and disable every Witcher we meet.”

  Ben knew precisely what “disable” meant: kill.

  “Operating in two teams, we will move room-to-room until we locate, identify, and secure Sammy and Claire Marie. Then we’ll take them to the extraction site. Cameron already spotted a good place for an ORP, just out of sight and sound from the base.”

  “Can you speak English, please!” someone from the crowd called out.

  “Objective Rally Point,” the Stranger said quickly. “It’s where we’ll make our final preparations before the raid, and it’ll be the rendezvous spot after extraction.”

  “Extraction means once we get the kids,” Cameron explained.

  “Do you know where they’re keeping them?” Oswald asked.

  “No, but I’m assuming they’re being kept close to the sleeping quarters,” the Stranger replied.

  Oswald looked up and frowned.

  “I’m sorry,” the Stranger said quietly, putting his hand on Oswald’s shoulder. “It’s my best guess; we got as close as we could.”

  “Anything else?” someone asked.

  “They’ve got at least three dogs, and we did get close enough to observe the guard rotation and how often they change shifts.”

  “They’re lazy,” Cameron said. “We’re not gonna take chances, but we’re sure those guys don’t last more than fifteen minutes up there before they’re sawing logs.”

  Danna cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “He meant they fall asleep quickly,” Ben explained. “The guards are loose watchers.”

  “I’m assuming you’ll engage shortly before dawn,” Whit said.

  “Exactly,” Cameron replied. “Most of those Witchers will be warm and snuggly when we come knocking.”

  “Not you,” Ben reminded his brother. “You’ll be nice and safe hiding in the bushes.”

  “Hey, there could be cougars out there,” Cameron replied with a smirk.

  Oswald cleared his throat. “What’s next, Stranger?”

  “Well, the objective is simple: we need to first establish blocking fire positions to suppress their fire, get in, find the kids, and get out.”

  A brief, somber silence fell over the crowd.

  “You said you need two teams.” A short, athletic woman had stepped through the crowd and now stood next to the Stranger. She was black, with round cheeks, crystal blue eyes, and a short, freckled nose. She wore olive-green cargo pants, a black cotton t-shirt, and a tan ball cap. “I’m assuming you need to get a squad together,” she said, crossing her chiseled arms.

  “This is our security guru, Kaela,” Whit said. “She was a Marine.”

  “Was?” Kaela asked, putting her hand on her hip.

  The Stranger smiled at Whit. “Once a Marine, always a Marine, Whit.”

  Kaela laughed and cocked a thumb at the Stranger. “I like this guy.”

  “Do you know OBUA?” the Stranger asked.

  “You bet — and CQB.”

  Ben glanced at Danna and scrunched his eyebrows as if to say, “huh?”

  “Perfect,” the Stranger said, clasping his hands together. “You’ll be lead on Assault Team One. Danna here will be your second.”

  Kaela smiled and fist-bumped Danna. “Girl power.”

  “You got that right,” Danna replied with a grin.

  “Who else?” Whit called out.

  “Any other military here?” the Stranger asked, looking around.

  “Right here.” A thin man, early twenties, stepped through the crowd. He had a shaven head, dark eyes, and a tattoo of a snake on his lower neck. “Corporal. Army.”

  The Stranger shook his hand. “Glad to have you, Corporal. You’ll lead Assault 2 on Delta Fire-Team. You got a name?”

  “Patrick Robinson, but my friends call me Poncho.”

  “You got it, Poncho.” The Stranger rubbed his forehead. “Anybody else military?”

  Poncho cleared his throat and stuck his thumb behind him. “My man, Ivan, he’s not military, but he took a lot of tactical classes before the Robopoc. He’s a mean dude with a rifle, man.”

  The Stranger gave a thumbs-up. “Okay, Ivan, step up.”

  Poncho grinned sheepishly. “Uh, he’s not here, man. He’s out laying more mines. Loves that stuff.”

  Cameron smirked. “All right, sounds like our kind of guy.”

  The Stranger rubbed the back of his neck. “We still need Delta Fire-Support,” he said to himself as if thinking out loud.

  Kaela heard him, and raising her voice, she called out: “We need two people for long-distance fire support. Must be good shots and comfortable with assault rifles.”

  A man and a woman, both wearing hunter’s camouflage, stepped up. “We’ll go,” the man said, his hand half raised.

  It was Jasper, the man who assaulted them last night. The woman was his twin sister, Jade.

  “Thank you,” the Stranger said. He put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a squad.” He turned to Whit. “Does anyone besides Dr. Roylott have medical training?”

  “Just Arlene,” the old man replied, scratching his head. “She was a physician’s assistant before everything happened. But there’s no way—”

  Dr. Roylott stepped forward. “I was planning to go,” he said with a slight
frown.

  “I figured as much,” the Stranger replied. “But it’d be unwise to risk the Arx not having a doctor.” He turned to Cameron. “You’ll keep the medipac.”

  “Just pile it on, dude,” Cameron said flatly.

  The Stranger grinned and clapped Cameron on the back. “Anything else I miss?”

  Cameron scratched the back of his head. “Just that we’re packing light: a rifle and pistol each and enough ammo to keep them off for twelve hours, if need be.”

  “We need grenades, too,” Ben said.

  “Good thinking.”

  The Stranger scuttled the dirt map with his boot and addressed the squad: “Take the next couple of hours off. Eat. Sleep. Clean your guns. Then we start drilling.”

  Everyone was quiet. A wind chime clanged above them, and Old Glory billowed and clapped in the wind.

  The Stranger turned around and faced the crowd. “We’re going to get them out of there. I promise you.”

  Some nodded, others scoffed, and many simply walked away.

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” Ben said flatly.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Witchers

  THE SUN HAD just set when the group left the Arx; they were heavily armed, steely and grim. As they marched, Ben waited for the moment when the adrenaline would kick in and his heart would start to beat like war drums. He never knew ahead of time when it’d happen — it’d be like getting stage fright two minutes after starting a speech.

  It doesn’t matter. I’m going to war. And the thought of that made his heart leap.

  But what if I forget everything after shots break out?

  He began to rehash the mission details in his head: how to breach the building, who goes in first, fire-team names, code words, how to clear a room. He blinked hard and shook his head and smiled. I got this.

  After a mile of trooping down the gravel road, they cut across a field and came upon a well-paved road that paralleled Highway 77. This they took, out in the open and under the stars, for five miles until they reached the edge of a large, rocky promontory.

  The Stranger held up his hand. “Two-minute break,” he said in a hushed voice. “We hike to the ORP from here. The quarry is a mile north and to the right.”

  Ben leaned against a boulder and glanced at Oswald, clearly struggling with the march. He doubted whether bringing him along was a good idea. But the Stranger wanted him to come. I guess I wouldn’t want anyone to think the same about me, he thought.

  Shaking his head, he glanced at Oswald, who was taking big swigs of water from his canteen. Satisfied, he twisted the cap and fastened it to his pack.

  “Dump it out.”

  Oswald, water dripping down his chin, looked up to see the Stranger staring at him. “Huh?”

  “Dump it,” the Stranger repeated.

  Cameron leaned over and, in Oswald’s ear, said: “If your canteen is sloshing around half-empty, it’d be the same as if we’re stumbling through the woods like a herd of deadheads. A scout could hear us three hundred yards away.”

  Oswald frowned and looked at his canteen dolefully.

  “I’ll share,” the Stranger said, patting him on the back.

  The big fella took another swig and emptied the canteen on a patch of wildflowers, which were blooming everywhere because of all the rain.

  And that was the last Ben smiled for a long time.

  The squad picked their way among the crags until the ground began to slope upward, halting briefly so Oswald could catch his breath then moving on again.

  Cameron and the Stranger led the way, forging ahead in steely determination.

  Every second counted now.

  This is the last night these children sleep afraid, the Stranger had said.

  Ben hoped more than anything that the kids would be there, still be alive — if only so he wouldn’t have to see Oswald’s face if they weren’t.

  He gazed up at the blurry stars. So much pain. So much fear. When will it stop? At that moment, a streaking meteor scraped the sky then vanished without a flash. His heart jumped, but he didn’t know why.

  Night deepened. They moved forward up the rocky slope, the Stranger leading the way. Although the moon shone brightly, Ben could hardly see the way before him. A blackness lay upon the barren landscape, like a wild graveyard with the boulders and rocks as tombstones. Strangely dark, Ben thought. Every now and then somebody would stumble, but there was always a hand to lift him up.

  The Stranger led them through a few scattered groves of eucalyptus trees; then around a deep drop into a ravine; and finally, halfway up a steep, shrub-covered hill until they reached a small depression between a semi-circle of large boulders. He called for a halt. They’d reached the ORP. The quarry was on the other side of the hill.

  Ben set down his pack and surveyed the land they had just hiked, and for a moment he thought he saw twinkling lights miles away. He figured some vagabonds found a couple of flashlights — maybe the cursed flashlights he and Danna left at the Rite Aid.

  “Okay, this is it, guys,” the Stranger began. “Cameron sets up as a sniper on the eastern hill. His objective is to take out as many guards as he can before we initiate contact. When that happens, Jasper and Jade will provide fire support. That’s when we make the breach.”

  He leaned in, his jaw set and his brows furrowed. In a steady, lower-pitched voice, he said: “Guys, we need to execute this mission aggressively. Violent. Chaotic fury. They’ll get confused and think they’re under a large attack.”

  “Aggression and violence,” Oswald said in a strained voice. “Got it.”

  Cameron cleared his throat. “Just remember: you’ll probably be fighting in close combat, possibly room-to-room, in near-dark visibility. Be prepared for the worst.”

  “And some of these Witchers might have military training,” Kaela added.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ivan said, tossing a pebble into the dirt. “If everyone follows the plan, then it’s not gonna matter if that place is full of four-star generals.” His eyes flashed as he spoke.

  Ben listened absently as the Stranger continued on with the plan. They’d wait here for two hours before beginning the raid. In one hour, Jasper and Jade will move to the far side of the quarry to set up their fire support location. But for now, it was time to rest and get something to eat.

  They snacked on food bars in stony silence and uncertainty. Ben observed his friends. Danna sat quietly on a rock next to Kaela, her hands folded in her lap; the Stranger stood ten feet away, facing the quarry, hands clasped loosely around his back and gazing down; and his brother Cameron was crouching on a boulder, unnaturally still, his eyes thoughtful and dark.

  Abruptly, Cameron stood up and said he was going to do a quick scout patrol. Ben understood. His brother always preferred to be alone whenever he felt stressed.

  Those two hours were the longest of Ben’s life. He was just about to close his eyes when the Stranger stepped into the center of the clearing. He was stone-faced and rigid. Everyone stirred to life and waited for him to speak.

  “We’re moving out,” he said in a low voice. “Remember, you must be fast; you must surprise them; you must kill them.”

  “And stay down,” Kaela added as she tightened her body armor straps. “If they see any one of us, it’s over.”

  Ivan stood up and clutched his rifle. “Let’s do this.”

  The squad moved quickly, the Stranger leading the way. At first, Oswald kept pace, but he slowly began to fall behind. Ben kept his eyes ahead and pushed it out of his mind.

  He sensed the quarry getting closer. Thoughts raced through his mind. Why is the Stranger going so fast? I wonder what Danna is thinking about. I wish I had HULC right now. The wind’s picking up — I bet Cam is cussing under his breath.

  The terrain began to get less rocky, and they entered thickets of chaparral brush. The brush wasn’t the best cover, but it was better than picking their way among the rocks. They slowly made their way around the hill, an
d after a short dip, they climbed up a steeper-than-expected ledge and stopped.

  Before them, just five hundred yards away, loomed the quarry.

  It was dark, quiet, and terrible.

  Ben took out his binoculars and glassed the landscape. The quarry was a vast space of wasteland, cleared of any living thing. Near the middle was the giant pit itself, a menacing crater broad and deep. He could imagine the inky black water festering at the bottom, lifeless and cold. That’s where they throw all the bodies, he thought.

  He moved the binoculars to the right. Next to the pit was a massive corrugated metal facility with a towering smokestack and three large conveyor belts leading into the pit. The Witchers’ fortress.

  On the opposite side of the pit, the building featured a large delivery bay, where two dump trucks and several pick-up trucks were parked in rows.

  The barbed wire fence was higher than he expected. He could only see one gate; and next to it was a small administrative trailer with a single light flickering in a window.

  The Stranger signaled for them to crouch down. “Take your last drink,” he said quietly, handing his canteen to Oswald.

  With a clenched jaw, Oswald shook his head and waved it off. The Stranger took a deep draught and dumped out the rest.

  Ben felt Danna next to him. Her face was pale, and her lower lip trembled. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “I’m scared, Ben,” she replied, barely audible. “I’m really scared.”

  Ben wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. Gazing at the Witchers’ fortress, he said: “Me too.”

  The squad waited another minute, then the Stranger motioned them forward. Up ahead, the brush thinned into sparse thickets and cactus bramble. Ben pursed his lips. They hadn’t said this part would be so exposed.

  Crouching low, they began the slow descent, step-by-step. After fifty feet or so they came upon a large, flat-topped boulder that jutted out over the slope.

  Cameron stopped. “Well, this is my stop,” he said softly. “I’m setting up on top of that boulder.” He paused for a moment, studying his brother’s face. “You’ll be all right,” he said, squeezing Ben’s shoulder. “Give ‘em fire and brimstone.”