“I got your back, Eli. I suspect this won’t be our last operation.”
“Not if the federal government plans on imposing martial law on us. Not by a long shot. If you’d do the honor of mustering the troops, I’d like to kick this off before I melt. Gonna be a scorcher today.”
Eli stepped into the shade and repeated the plan in his head. He’d accompany Hillebrand’s squad, followed closely by Bertelson’s, into the forest past Gelder Pond Lane. They’d head slightly southwest until they reached the lake, where they’d turn left and follow the water’s edge until his rangefinder put the dock at about a hundred yards. At this point, he’d lead them away from the shoreline at a forty-five-degree angle until they could see the clearing.
He’d send a few scouts from there to scan for sentries before moving Hillebrand’s group to a position hidden from the house by the barn. Bertelson’s crew would take positions in the tree line behind the house, and they’d all wait for Brown’s squad to settle in along the eastern woods in the same location they had used to survey the compound yesterday.
Once everyone was in place, Bertelson’s squad was to pour rounds into the back of the house while Eli breached the door attached to the screen porch with Hillebrand’s squad. Brown’s team would establish fire superiority on the eastern flank and rush to the garage, looking for a second breach point along the front of the house. With two squads converging on the target, radio coordination played a critical role in avoiding fratricide, a point he needed to reinforce.
With the three squads formed up in the woods, he stepped forward to address the troops.
“I’ll keep this simple. Today we strike the first blow against tyranny. I don’t expect this will stop the government’s plan to take over York County, but it’ll sure as hell make them think twice about putting boots on the ground,” he said, amazed that he could conjure this stuff up on a whim.
The men muttered in agreement. He might have heard a “hell yeah.”
“We show no mercy here—like they showed no mercy at the bridge. Kill everyone in the house, no matter what you find. They’re harboring the enemy, and we need the word to spread. Harboring the enemy is the same as taking up arms against the people.”
More cheers.
Man, this is fun.
“Squad leaders, keep your radio earpieces in at all times—and listen up. I don’t like repeating orders, and we have two squads breaching the house from opposite ends. There’s potential for a blue on blue engagement if we’re not careful. Got it?”
The squad leaders verbally confirmed his warning.
“Rifles on safe until I give the order to open fire. You do not want to accidently discharge your weapon and compromise the operation. If you do, just put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger. Save me the effort. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Are we ready to take the fight to the enemy?”
A mixed garble of chants erupted, most of which seemed to indicate they were ready.
“XO, make a note. Task Force Liberty crossed the line of departure at zero seven forty-two hours. Let’s move out!”
Chapter 32
EVENT +75:03
Limerick, Maine
Kate checked her watch and rubbed her face. This wasn’t how she wanted to start the day, let alone every day until the Maine Liberty Militia was—how did Alex put it? Neutralized? She wondered what it might take to make that happen. Did Alex really have the power to list them as a critical threat and summon a giant boot to crush them? She’d thought his statement sounded heavy handed and Gestapo-like, especially on the heels of waving his magic badge around, but now she’d gladly help him craft the words required to prevent a continuous string of 4 AM wake ups.
After breakfast, she’d suggest that he draft his first report, emphasizing the immediate need to hunt down and stamp out this group, if they even existed. Maybe the kids had been full of shit, running their mouths after four too many tallboys. Maybe Alex had crossed paths with a one-off gang of opportunistic weekend warriors. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter, just the off chance of an organized attack meant she’d continue to experience the pleasure of studying a grainy, light green image while mosquitos found their way through the open window with the sole purpose of distracting her free hand from her coffee mug.
She sighed, knowing full well that she’d never complain about any of this in front of the others. Leaders didn’t whine, and they certainly didn’t put up with whiners.
“A few mosquito bites are a small price to pay for vigilance,” she mumbled, imitating Alex.
“What was that?” said Alex, appearing in the doorway to the sitting room.
“Nothing. Just muttering to myself. I ran out of coffee, and I can’t think straight,” she said.
“I think we’re out of the attack window for now. We’ll resume these positions about a half hour before sunset and keep them manned until 10 PM. Militarily, these are the most likely periods of time for an attack. I’ll put up a bunch of trip flares around the house later today, which should give us an advantage if they hit us in the dark.”
“Good, because, uh, I couldn’t see shit out there. I might have spotted them moving toward the house, but that’s about all I could do about it,” she said, standing up from the folding chair.
“I know. Tonight and tomorrow morning, you’ll have two wires running through the window, each attached to a flare. If you see something through the scope, pull the wire and fire.”
“You’re a poet. What’s for breakfast?”
“Chef’s surprise. The fridge isn’t working right, so my mom is clearing out the perishables, which somehow includes frozen bacon.”
“She likes bacon. How much coffee do we have left?”
“There’s a fresh pot brewing.”
“No, I mean like, in the grand scheme of things. Stockpiled.”
“The good stuff?”
“I don’t really care at this point.”
“You might once you taste the instant stuff.”
“How close are we to tapping into it?” she said, suddenly looking concerned.
“Six pounds.”
“That’s not good. Time to switch to instant. Most of them won’t know the difference. I saw Charlie watering his coffee down with tap water. What’s wrong with that man?”
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“I heard that!” said Charlie from the kitchen. “Not my fault you’re serving this fancy mud stuff.”
Kate picked up her backpack, which was filled with spare rifle magazines, and slung her rifle.
“You can leave that stuff here. No sense clunking it around the kitchen,” he said, stepping out of the sitting room.
Kate didn’t argue. She hated carrying the rifle around, constantly adjusting the sling and checking the safety—worried that it might discharge accidently. Logically, she knew it was impossible, even with a chambered round, but the very act of carrying a deadly weapon felt awkward. Alex handled his rifle like a natural extension of his body. Barely an afterthought. He shifted it out of the way with no apparent effort while navigating tight spaces or working. To her husband, the rifle was a simple tool. To her, it was a killing instrument to be feared and distrusted. She wondered if she’d ever adjust.
Most of the kids were at the kitchen table, including Ryan. She didn’t see Chloe on the screened porch or in the great room. Hopefully, she was still sleeping and not avoiding Ryan. He was crazy about her.
“How’s my big man doing?” she said, approaching the table.
“Feeling better, Mom. My leg is still throbbing, but the battalion surgeon said I could expect that for a week or so.”