Casimir was pacing the office now. “Did they get anyone?”
“Pamela Piper went down and so did Horace Hayfield.”
“I’m glad they at least got that bitch, Piper. No more illegal escorts out of the country. Now, give me the details of everything that happened.”
“I don’t really have any details, since there were no survivors who were going to report in.”
“Where are they now?”
“We don’t know. Their plan was to take the Highland checkpoint, but they could have gone to half a dozen other checkpoints. We have several hundred volunteers all along the border with Oregon. There’s no way they won’t be seen.”
Casimir looked like he was at his wit’s end. “No fuckups this time. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, no fuckups.”
“Shoot them, except for Sandy. I don’t want her dead. I want her brought back to me.”
Dennis started to leave, but Casimir told him to wait. He was pacing behind his desk. Then he stopped and turned toward O’Reilly. “After they’re located, I want you to fly out there. I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll helicopter you out to the naval base, get you in a Fighter, and then helicoptered to their location. You can be there in two hours.”
“Yes, sir.” Dennis saluted and left.
It was now midnight as the Pilgrims traipsed through the woods. There was a full moon, which helped them see better, but it also made them more visible to the enemy. It was finally decided that Foote and Wrenn would take the forward positions and use rifles. Ray and Cassandra would lie back, also armed with AR’s. Everyone else used pistols.
They weaved their way through the woods for over an hour and figured they cleared about three miles. Suddenly there was gunfire ahead, and to their right. Then, more gunfire. They figured that Foote and the enemy were trading rounds. Foote heard a shell ricochet off a tree trunk just to his left. He knew he was spotted, but where was the shooter? He yelled to his would be assailant. “Get out of here, or you will be killed.”
Then came a distant voice. “Surrender now or I will kill you.” Foote smiled. A real pro wouldn’t give his position away.
Foote inched closer to where the enemy was, but then shots rang out from his right, just as Armstrong arrived to help his friend out. Armstrong returned fire, but more shots rang out from several different directions.
Meanwhile, Ray and Cassandra were pushing the civilians forward. A minute later Armstrong came back. “Keep moving forward, quickly. Ray, Cassandra,” whispered Armstrong, “close the ranks. Move fast. The woods are full of Squads and civil patrol volunteers. Mostly patrols. They’re heavily armed. They came at us from the north. I think they’re trying to force us back to the road. We’re going to have to move forward and southward.”
They heard a noise overhead. Armstrong looked up and saw a chopper with a spotlight. The Lightning Squad clearly knew they were out here and meant to find them. Eugene and Sandy were scared.
“They’re going to find us,” Eugene said.
Armstrong looked at the Blues, who were signing. Wrenn said, “What an opportunity.”
Armstrong spotted a small open area with a single tree. He looked at Wrenn with his sly smile. Wrenn made his way for the tree and then reaching into his backpack.
Eugene appeared confused. “What is he doing?” he asked Ray.
“Using the spotlight to see better. Hopefully it’ll illuminate the enemy before us.”
Eugene still couldn’t understand how he got up to the roof at that motel or how he was going to climb that tree. If it was deciduous, he could understand. But a conifer? That’s got to be a lot tougher.
Then he saw Wrenn pull something out and put them on his shoes, and began climbing.
Cassandra came over to him. “They’re called claws. You fit them over your shoes. They grab onto the trunk of the tree. He also grabbed a rope and put it around the trunk. They enable him to climb better and rapidly.” She smiled.
Wrenn was up there about twenty minutes before coming down. The others were huddled together behind a clump of trees. Wrenn came over and reported.
“There’s about a dozen of them; mostly volunteers. One group of three—probably a squadron—and they’re scattered all over. They appear to be moving south and west.”
“We’ve been outflanked,” said Armstrong. His sharpies appeared to concur. “We can’t continue west or we’ll run right into them. We’re going to have to run south and cross the road. They might not expect it.”
“I didn’t see anyone to our south, and the helicopter was searching only in the north woods,” Wrenn said.
“All right, you guys. Let’s run quietly to the road and cross into the south woods. Everyone ready?” They all nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Everyone was moving quickly now, and then Moore fell, letting out a yell. Eugene and Sandy came back for him. Everyone was occasionally falling, as it was dark and difficult to see where they were going. People were constantly running into low-lying branches, tripping over exposed roots, or getting scratched up on low-lying branches; but Moore’s injury was severe.
“I stepped in a hole and turned my ankle.” When he attempted to get up he found he was incapacitated. Eugene and Sandy attempted to pull him up, but Moore could put no weight on the right foot. They tried to carry him, but Moore screamed in pain when they tried.
They heard Ray. “Keep moving, don’t stop.”
Moore said, “Do as he says. Leave me. I can’t move.”
Then Sandy urged Eugene to keep running as Eugene set him down. “Listen, Ev,” Eugene said, “use your gun. Get as many of those bastards as you can.”
“Count on it,” Senator Moore said.
The gunfire got closer. Armstrong estimated they were about three miles from the border. They tried to move forward, but were being pushed toward the road, where they would be exposed. No one knew if there might be more enemies approaching from there. Armstrong figured if he were running enemy operations he’d radio all nearby forces to move in from the south. If that happened before they could reach the border, they were as good as dead.
“Where are they, Smitty?” Olin said.
“I can’t see them. Could they be dead?” Smitty asked.
“I haven’t run across any bodies. No, I don’t think so. I think they’re hiding. Quiet. Listen for any noise coming from the south. I’ll call the captain.”
“Captain, it’s Olin.”
“What’s your situation?”
“The enemy hasn’t returned fire in the last five minutes. We can’t see them. We think they’re hiding.”
“These are ex-Blues. They’ll do anything to throw us off guard. How many are you?”
“We have a dozen men in pursuit.”
“Flare out and move south carefully. Listen for any sound. Keep your eyes and ears open. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We still have the chopper out there, but there isn’t enough fuel to stay out much longer.”
The Pilgrims reached the road, and saw no sign of anyone. They crossed the road, and put about a hundred yards between themselves and it. “Okay,” Armstrong said. “Run west; full speed. No stopping; no matter how tired you are. Ready? Let’s go.”
The pilgrims still felt they were about three miles from the border. If they moved fast enough they could be there in less than an hour. What they would find when they got there was anyone’s guess.
Eugene could feel his heart slamming against his chest. His panting was raspy. Gotta keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Oh shit, I’m so tired. I don’t hear any more shooting. Maybe they lost us. Gotta keep going anyway. A branch slapped him in the face. How can I hug the trees when they keep tripping me, raking me across the face? Well, better than exposing myself to the enemy, I guess.