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“Good to hear things are going well down there,” his uncle said quietly. They were well out of earshot of the distant emplacements, but caution never hurt anyone.

Lewis nodded. “Let’s go.”

With his wife covering them they picked their way downslope to the next good source of cover, doing their best to move slowly and stay behind any concealment they could find. Once they reached it Lewis motioned, and it was Jane’s turn to head down.

Only a hundred or so yards more to the outcropping they’d picked out. Then they’d be ready to go.

It took about twenty minutes to go that distance at their slow, cautious pace. Once they reached the spot Lewis carefully unslung the missile launcher he’d been carrying, and Uncle George even more carefully withdrew the three missiles from his pack. Jane had already pulled out a pair of binoculars and was scoping the area below as his spotter.

Three missiles for his group, two to launch and one extra they’d brought just in case they needed it. The same went for his dad. That was more than half their remaining missiles they’d brought for this, not counting the ones they’d sent along with Matt. Which meant even if this attack was successful it would be costly, and they’d have to be much more sparing with their few remaining missiles afterwards.

But the potential gains far offset the cost. The blockheads didn’t know they had missiles, and in response to Lewis’s previous raid on the shelter they’d poured more soldiers into the area around Aspen Hill. That meant the emplacements below were stuffed with enemies, and most also had a heavy machine gun set up.

With his uncle’s help he loaded a missile into the launcher, checked it the way Gutierrez had showed him, then thumbed his mic. “One is go.”

“Copy. On your mark.”

Lewis glanced at Jane, who handed him her binoculars and pointed down at the closest emplacement below. “No heavy weapons there,” she said quietly. She kept pointing as she continued, also guiding his view through the field glasses with her other hand. “But that one and that one have something.”

He nodded, gauging distance. They were both farther away, but still within range. He turned to his uncle. “Want to give me a hand lining up the shot? I don’t want to mess up.” It was a fairly big emplacement, sure, but he’d heard about Gutierrez’s problems hitting the chopper. The embarrassment of missing a stationary target aside, he didn’t want to waste one of their precious missiles.

“I’ll do my best to keep you on target,” Uncle George promised. Jane nodded her agreement as she reclaimed the binoculars and panned the northernmost of the two targets she’d selected.

Lewis took a breath and hefted the missile launcher, going over the instructions for using the wire-guided system. His uncle crouched beside him and whispered a few suggestions for correcting his aim. Finally Lewis nodded his readiness. “Let them know.”

Jane lifted her radio. “Mark.”

He braced as best he could as the missile streaked away, doing his best to follow its progress and guess its trajectory so he could make corrections. Jane and his uncle also gave their advice.

Either they did something right or they were lucky, because the emplacement he’d aimed for went up in a brilliant explosion, dirt from ruptured sandbags flying everywhere along with tumbling bodies and equipment. “You got the machine gun,” Jane reported.

Lewis barely heard her, focused on scrambling to get the second missile loaded. It seemed to take forever as he fumbled it into place, and he knew time was of the essence. Once the enemy realized the danger they’d bolt from their emplacements, in case they were the next target. If they had enough time they might even manage to bring valuable supplies or even the heavy machine gun with them.

He should’ve spent a bit longer practicing loading and unloading the missiles, but to be honest knowing that he was handling high explosives gave him the heebie jeebies. Too bad they hadn’t had any dummy missiles to practice with.

Finally he got it in and began lining up the shot at the second emplacement. Over his radio he heard Tam reporting. “Two away for Two. Heading home.”

That was fast. Then again, they’d had longer to set up. Uncle George nodded his aim, and Lewis once again braced to fire.

The second missile wasn’t quite as good as the first, as far as he could see. Jane confirmed it a moment later. “It impacted off to one side of the emplacement, missing most of the supplies and the machine gun. Only a few soldiers hit too, it looks like.”

He had no idea what had gone wrong between that shot and the first one, aside from maybe rushing it a little. Which annoyed him; if he couldn’t figure out his error he couldn’t correct it for next time. But that was a worry for the future.

“Load up,” he said, already slinging the missile launcher onto his back. Jane was ready to go, and his uncle had the extra missile stuffed in his pack a moment later. Lewis lifted the radio. “Two away for One. Heading home.”

He heard the distant report of small arms fire from far below as they scrambled up the hillside towards safety, but he wasn’t terribly concerned. At this distance even a skilled marksman, with a powerful hunting rifle and an excellent scope, would have a near impossible time hitting a moving target. And it sounded like none of the heavy machine guns were joining the fray, at least not yet.

They didn’t have to go far, and then they’d be inside the scrub oak thicket and out of sight. From there it was safe going all the way back to the temporary camp the defenders had set up, not far from the top of the canyon.

“What sort of damage did we do?” Uncle George panted as they scrambled up the steep grassy slope, treacherous with rocks hidden underneath the long matted tangle.

“We hit at least a dozen blockheads with the first one, along with the machine gun,” Jane replied. “There was a secondary explosion too, explosives or fuel. The second one we got four or five, and maybe damaged some supplies.”

Could be worse. But for the price of their precious missiles Lewis hoped his dad had done better.

They made it to the safety of the thicket without so much as hearing the whine of a nearby ricochet. Since they’d already navigated the tangled scrub oak once, they managed better time coming back through, but it was still midafternoon by the time they reached their secluded camp.

Unsurprisingly the second team was already there when they arrived. “How’d you do?” Lewis called.

It was Tam who answered. She’d been spotting for that team. “Demolished both emplacements, including that new one the blockheads set up, along the road we took the stolen trucks from the shelter raid along. We got maybe two dozen blockheads and two big guns, and whatever else they had in there with them. Weapons, ammunition, that sort of thing.”

“Nice shooting,” he told his dad with a strained smile. “I didn’t do quite so well.” He repeated Jane’s numbers. As he was talking he pulled out his binoculars and looked down at the valley. He hadn’t had many chances to see the blockhead response while climbing in the opposite direction, other than the occasional glance over his shoulder. “What are they doing down there?”

“Not much,” Tam replied, coming to stand beside him. “I mean, they’re emptying out the emplacements aside from critical personnel, and they’ve got people dotted around in individual sentry positions with binoculars, watching the foothills like hawks. But no sign of any counterattack.”

Lewis didn’t like that. The blockheads had buzzed like a kicked anthill when they’d raided the shelter, bringing in more people and doubling their defenses. He supposed it was harder to respond to missiles, but even so he’d expected something.