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The ground once again shook, but this time, the grotesque sounds of the new partially erected metal communication tower screeched and groaned before bending over.
He and Spencer peered around his truck and watched the tower crash to the ground, half landing on one of the containers.
They stared at the mangled mess of metal and wire as the dust and debris cleared.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen on Tate’s picture.
“What the hell was that?” Tate answered.
“They’ve begun launching explosives at us. The last one hit the south communication tower.”
“Fuck!”
His eyes scanned the area in the hills for any sign of movement.
Tate took a deep breath. “Are you and Spencer injured?”
“No. We’re both fine. Luckily, I heard the whistle of it flying through the air and took cover.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Roger.”
The sounds of motors fading up into the hills reached his ears.
“Fuckers are leaving.”
Spencer cleared his throat. “Those bastards are going too far.”
“Agreed.”
Sparks flew from the exposed wires. Some of them were hooked to power for tools and equipment to be used in building the tower.
Spencer stood. “I’ll cut the power.”
“Roger. I’m going around the back and will check out the damage.”
Spencer left and he heaved out a deep breath before making his way around the front of his truck and to the back area of the construction site. In case they were watching, he’d stay in the shadows. They’d been instructed to wear their flak jackets and he was happy right now to have it.
Moving between the footings for one of the back buildings and the storage containers, he watched the hills more than the ground. The instant he heard incoming, he’d dive behind one of these containers and hope for the best.
A few steps more and he could see the damage directly. It was nothing more than a tangled mess of metal and wire. The arcing stopped and he ventured closer to the base of the communication tower. A gunshot rang out and a bullet hit the ground a foot from where he stood. He ran for cover behind one of the containers, his weapon drawn.
He heard the trailer door close and pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped Spencer’s number and the instant he answered, “Where are...”
“Get down. Shots fired.”
He heard Spencer run for cover, but his eyes were focused on the hills and the direction of the shot.
He saw the brush move and took aim. Firing off three shots he waited. The brush stopped moving, but he knew from this distance using a handgun, he’d hit nothing but ground.
He put his phone back to his ear. “Spencer, where are you?”
“I’m walking along the back of the containers toward the tower. Is that where you are?”
“Affirmative.”
He pocketed his phone once more and decided to test the area. He stepped from behind the container just as two trucks pulled into the lot. Rather than watch the trucks, he watched the brush to see if it moved.
