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10
Whenever I imagine battle,I see one of those epic fantasy movies where thousands of men or monsters line up in formation on opposite sides of a field. The leader bellows out a rousing speech, building emotional momentum until the armies charge at each other, screaming bloody death.
That feels like a battle to me.
Not this.
Our vehicle was one of the last to leave New Haven, so when Mack parks the truck on the side of a small country road, we only have a few minutes to wait. Mack focuses on his watch—it’s an old-style one you hand wind every day—and we sit in silence for three minutes.
Then he says, “Okay. Let’s go.”
The three of us get out of the truck and make our way through the woods that surround the bunker camp. I’m moving with the others. Doing exactly what I need to do. But I’m in a weird emotional stupor where I can’t even process what’s about to happen. My feet take one step after another. My eyes scan through the trees. My hand hovers near the gun in my belt holster. I breathe automatically. And I’m not fully aware of any of it.
It doesn’t take long until we’re approaching the edge of the woods.
According to Grant and Jackson’s reconnaissance, the electrified fence we constructed around our camp was knocked down by the Wolf Packs in three different places during the initial attack. One of the breaks is on the opposite side of the perimeter from the main gate, and it’s directly in front of us now.
We pause so Mack can verify our location. Then he gestures for me to position myself behind a large rock where the trees stop and the camp clearing begins. Silently he points toward one of two guards stationed at the break in the fence.
I nod and get into position, using the boulder for as much cover as possible as I line up my shot.
Mack gestures for Gail to target the second guard, and then he moves to hide behind a tree several yards away from me.
We won’t make our move yet. Not until the distractions are triggered. Since Mack is in my eyeline, I watch him as he keeps time on his watch. I’d guess it’s about five more minutes before he looks up, meets my gaze, and gives a silent hand signal.
The timing is perfect. Because just then I hear a loud explosion nearby and another one across the camp, followed by loud shouts of surprise and warning.
There’s suddenly a lot of motion and activity in the camp, and the posted guards start searching for the source of the attack. I check my aim and pull the trigger. My guard goes down at almost the exact moment as Gail’s.
It helps that Wolf Packs aren’t the brightest bulbs in the pack. They spend a lot of their time drinking and carousing, and most of them are still in bed this early in the morning. It’s a few minutes before they sort themselves out, but eventually several of them come rushing out the break in the fence, heading in the direction of the explosion near us. A few of them are shooting indiscriminately in all directions.
When Mack makes a hand gesture, all three of us fire on them. My hands aren’t as steady now as they were for my first shot, but I still manage to hit the guy I target. It’s at hip level and so isn’t a kill shot, but he still goes down and doesn’t get up.
There’s a lot more shooting now. Some of the guys are firing back at us. I do the best I can, but I have absolutely no idea whether I manage to get anyone else or not.
It doesn’t matter. They’re all exposed, and we aren’t, so we take them down quickly.
When it’s quiet, Mack signals for us to advance beyond the tree line. We need to get into the camp through that break in the fence. My heart is hammering so wildly it seems to swallow up my entire consciousness, but my body still follows direction. I trail Mack and Gail, keeping my gun at the ready. It’s the same pistol Grant gave me when he first started to train me. I’m using it instead of a larger weapon because I’m much more comfortable with it. I’ve lost the exact count of how many times I’ve fired, but I should still have plenty of rounds left before I need to reload.
We’ve almost reached the fence when there’s a sudden crack of sound. The air by my right ear whizzes.
I whirl around toward the men we already took down. One of them has lifted his head and his arm, and he’s aiming at me. He’s going to fire again, and this one will hit its target. I know it for sure. I won’t be able to shoot him before he shoots me.
All this passes through my mind in a matter of a few frozen seconds. Then there’s another gunshot that makes me jump, but I don’t feel the pain that should follow.
I’m not hit.
I’m fine.
I look behind me, from the direction the second shot came from.
Cal and Rachel are advancing toward our position. Cal’s assault rifle is aimed toward that guy on the ground.
I’m ice cold and shaking a little, but my eyes meet Cal’s as he approaches. He gives me a curt nod—a brief, unsmiling acknowledgment that he just saved my life—and moves past me.
I fall into step with Rachel as we move in through the break in the fence.
There’s a lot more going on now. Shouting and gunfire and scuffling in all directions. Our other teams are coming at the camp through the other two holes in the fence and hopefully having as much success as we are.
