“What are you talking about,” asked Bishop somewhat confused.
“Look,” Moore said pointing to the back of his arm. “It’s an electrical storm.”
Bishop did not need to see the hair standing on the back of Moore’s arm; he could see it on his head. Although he had never witnesses an electrical storm, Weston had described them to him and he knew it was certain death to be caught in the middle of one.
They dropped back into the ravine and started off on a run. There was little sound of thunder, but that was not a true indication of how close the storm was. Normally one would avoid low-lying areas in the event of a storm, especially dry streambeds like they were in, as they flooded quickly from unseen water building up miles away. But an electrical storm was just that, lightening and static electricity with occasional hail. The only cover they could hope to find in time would be somewhere in the wash they followed.
Bishop ran effortlessly and soon began outpacing his companion. He could not concern himself about that as he sensed the storm getting nearer. The air was ‘alive’ around him, and they could both hear the first signs of the static discharges contacting the earth around them. One such crash was near enough to Moore that Bishop stopped to see if he had been hit. Unscathed, and filled with added motivation, Moore soon ran past Bishop without a hint of showing any signs of stopping. While the situation was not funny, Bishop had trouble keeping the smile off his face as he turned to follow. Bishop was once again in the lead after overtaking his partner. The crashes of lightning were increasing by the minute and he knew they had little time before the inevitable occurred. As he turned a corner, he saw where the ravine had been cut away on one side creating a cave-like cavity under its rim. Knowing they were unlikely to find anything better, they took refuge in the meager shelter.
They huddled together with Bishop allowing his companion the back portion of the grotto. The storm had reached its full intensity now. Bishop planted his staff in the dirt along the side of the cave. He did not want to lose it, but he knew it was not a good idea to have it too close. The two men said nothing as the storm raged on for what seemed like hours, when in fact it lasted about twenty minutes. There was not much use in talking as the noise from the electrical impacts were so loud, that they needed to shout to be heard even though they were right next to each other. When the storm subsided, they crawled out of their hole and examined their surroundings.
“Wow. I’ve seen them from the valley before, but that was the first time I’ve ever been in one, and hopefully the last,” Moore said in relief.
“It was something, wasn’t it,” Bishop said. “Look at that,” he continued as he pointed toward where they had been before taking cover.
The ground both in and out of the ravine had been scorched repeatedly. There were blackened marks on the rocks themselves, and here and there small patches of brown grass sat smoldering from the brief fires.
“I guess your wolf knew what he was doing,” Moore offered. “You think he made it alright?”
“I’m sure he’s been through it before. I think he’ll be fine,” Bishop said, as he believed. Being alerted by his unlikely companion was all the difference they needed to make it themselves. Now that he was no longer with them, he missed him.
Before that nightfall, the rock wolf had returned and they found what they were looking for. Tucked into the base of the mountain was a manmade structure, which stood apart from its natural surroundings. It resembled a typical military prefabricated building, except for the fact that there were no windows in its walls. Bishop dropped his satchel, removed from it a pair of binoculars Weston had given him, and examined the area. No one was in sight.
“I doubt they have any reason to send out patrols at night, but to be safe, we’ll take two hour watches to make sure.”
“Okay,” Moore replied.
“No fire tonight, so we’ll eat cold.”
After a few hours of sleep, Bishop decided to remain on watch through the night. Moore was exhausted and Bishop needed him to be ready when the time came. He doubted that they had already mobilized a team to send to the valley, and he did not see any signs of dust or noise to indicate otherwise, so he believed they were in good shape. If he was wrong, and they did not send out a force, which he thought highly unlikely knowing his father, he would go ahead with his plan anyway. He would wait a couple of days if necessary, but he knew Moore‘s effectiveness would lessen as each day passed.
Early the next morning sounds from the all-terrain vehicles aroused Moore from sleep. He slithered alongside Bishop and they lay side by side peering through their sparse cover at the spectacle before them. Forty-one men, and vehicles loaded with supplies, were counted among the contingent. Moore noticed all of the weapons and concern went out to his friends. “You think they will be alright,” he asked Bishop.
“I don’t know kid. The best thing we can do is what we came here for, do it right, then go help your friends.”
Moore nodded in agreement.
Bishop looked back at the wolf who was sitting and studying the two men, “You can go now boy. We appreciate your help but you can’t do anything for us here.”
The wolf turned his head as Bishop spoke to him. Moore turned to Bishop, “You really think he understands you?”
“Look,” Bishop said while pointing as the wolf walked away from them.
“I don’t think anyone will believe me when I get back and tell them who we had as an escort on this trip.”
Focusing on what they were about to do, Bishop returned his attention to the facility. There was no further movement, or sound, coming from the area after the soldiers had departed. He did not think there would be, as the size of the force that assembled was most likely all they would need. He decided to wait another hour before they moved in. That would allow enough time for the soldiers to put plenty of distance between them and him.
It was late in the day by the time they reached the perimeter of the valley so it was necessary to start their campaign at once. Their oxygen supply was their biggest concern. Wallace knew his men had to be thinking about this so he decided to put their minds at ease, and create a significant factor of motivation by briefing them. “Once we get inside the valley we can breathe the air. If you look at the sky above it you can see it looks normal, not like out here,” he said as every man did indeed see the difference after he drew his attention to it. “If we stay out here, we die. If we take our objective, we live. Any questions?”
There was none.
“Squad two, get the mortars set up and ready to fire on my signal. Squad one, secure a position on the ridge where you can see into the village, spot for the mortars, and discourage anyone from coming up here. Everyone else be ready with your teams to take our target. Questions?”
Again, there was none. By this time, each man among them could recite their orders verbatim.
“Okay. Move out,” Wallace said.
The men on the rim could not see anyone moving in the valley below, but the village was in sight. After the first few rounds were used to dial in the target, they unleashed a steady barrage firing for effect. The sound of explosions carried throughout the valley. Buildings disappeared as the remnants of them sailed through the air. Small fires were accumulating as a result of the destruction. After fifteen minutes of bombardment, the village was gone, and the explosions ceased.
Sure of foot, and with a precision born from years of training, the assault team made its way down into the valley with their weapons at the ready. The men were sweating in their protective suits and were running high on adrenaline. When they reached the remains of the village, they did not find one body in all of the carnage. Wallace removed his head covering. The air was fresh and clean. It was air he had not breathed in a long, long time.