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They reached the fence line and stayed in the shadows, hidden by a Chevy Nova propped on blocks with the hood popped open and the engine torn apart. Other vehicles lined the dirt lot and more than a few of them were in similar stages of being stripped. Beyond the cars was a dilapidated stucco house with a ripped tarp covering half the porch and in the center of the courtyard a bonfire rose dangerously high with pallets piled upon it and flames jumping above the roof of the single-story home.
The light from the fire illuminated the whole property. Bodies danced and people huddled in lawn chairs around it. Drunken laughter mixed with the beats blasting from the battery powered stereo. The bitter scent of wet dog and chemical laced smoke drifted on thick white clouds from their lips. A lone pit bull laid on the dirt away from the fire with a chain wrapped around its neck and attached to a stake.
“What’s your count?” GySgt. Fuimaono’s voice was a hum on the wind as he stared at the gathering with abject hate and his grip tight on his rifle.
“Fifteen so far,” Landon breathed out the words. Fifteen wasn’t so bad.
A woman shrieked playfully, beating her fist against a man’s back as he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her inside.
“To the right.” Sgt. Sierra tapped the ground and the three men fell back deeper into the shadows of the night as a man stumbled forward, closer to the fence, and braced himself with one hand on the Chevy while a stream of urine hit the sand.
He struggled to zip his pants back up with the cheap gun holster slipping down on his belt. The pit bull barked, moving as far across the yard as its chain would allow, and stood sniffing the air behind the man with its clipped ears raised at attention. Landon held his breath.
“Stupid mutt.” The man finished fixing his pants and staggered backwards, kicking the dog’s empty water bowl across the yard. The pit bull stayed where he was, staring directly at the three of them, but didn’t bark again.
“Did you see it?” Sgt. Sierra touched his cheek. Landon nodded. Tear drop tattoo. They had what they needed.
He glanced at GySgt. Fuimaono, waiting for his order, and for a split second he imagined the Samoan warrior standing up, scaling the fence, and charging the compound single-handedly to go down in a blaze of glory.
But then Gunny spoke, a pained and rage filled whisper, “Fall back.”
“Are we still waiting for sunrise?” Cpl. Hemming packed a dip into his lip and then checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed.
“They’ll be nice and toasted then.” Sgt. Sierra chugged down another gulp from his canteen, still breathless from the mile jog back up the hills.
“It’s going to be a long night.” Landon sighed and they all turned to the sky as if the position of the moon could confirm it. GySgt. Fuimaono was deadly silent as he checked his rifle over again.
“Are we good to go?” Landon hesitated before climbing into the back of the AAV to wait for the morning rays of light to guide them and hopefully get some sleep.
“Aye,” Gunny grunted as he headed back over the hill on foot to start phase two of the operation. “Try not to shoot the dog.”
