“Three. All trucks.”
“Did you see how many per?”
“No, too far.”
“Where are you now? I can’t see you through the binoculars.”
“Southwest from your position. About 1,500 meters from the mouth of the inlet, 500 meters from the shoreline.”
After a moment, Danny said, “Ah, there you are. A tiny, unremarkable speck. Is Josh still there? I can’t tell if that’s another person in the boat with you or a pelican.”
Will smiled. “He’s here.”
Josh, who had picked himself back up from the floor of the boat, glanced back anxiously. “Is something wrong?”
“Relax,” Will said. “We’re almost there. No one’s seen us yet.”
“Yet,” Josh said, flashing Will a nervous smile.
“Stay low, just in case.”
Josh got into an uncomfortable-looking crouch next to the seat. Will wanted to tell him to relax again, but that probably wasn’t going to help. It was liable to just wind the kid up even more.
Will turned the trolling motor back on and eased the Carver forward. He angled the boat southeast, making a beeline for the shore. The ridgelines of the lake were raised high enough that if he could get the boat there without being seen, they could then travel south, closer to the marina, without being spotted the rest of the way.
Eventually, as Will turned the Carver to run parallel to the raised shoreline, he heard the unmistakable sound of outboard motors roaring to life from the house. Not one, but two. Will remembered seeing a boathouse across the inlet and two boats inside when they had arrived at the marina yesterday.
His right ear clicked, and he heard Danny’s voice: “I must be hearing things. Are those motors?”
“Those are motors,” Will said.
“What do you see?”
“Squat.”
From his angle, Will couldn’t see anything but the water in front of him and the raised shore immediately to his right, the wall of dirt and high, swaying grass less than a meter from the Carver’s starboard.
“Okay, I see them,” Danny said.
“What’s going on?” Josh said, looking back at him again.
Will shook his head. “What do you see?” he said into his throat mic.
“Two boats,” Danny said. “They’re moving down the inlet. Fast. They should be coming into your view…now.”
Two fast-moving boats blasted out of the mouth of the inlet, multiple silhouetted figures in each craft. Just as fast as they appeared, they were gone, shooting up the lake toward Song Island as fast as their powerful outboard motors could carry them. At that rate, it wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the island.
“What do you see?” Will asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Danny said. “They’re still too far away. All I see right now are stick figures on two boats coming toward us at full speed. I don’t think they’re following boating regulations, either. Someone call the Game Wardens.”
Then Danny went quiet.
Will waited, listening to the loud screams of motors racing across the lake.
After a while, Will said, “Danny, what do you see?”
“Four to a boat,” Danny said. “They’re definitely coming full bore. Looks like you were right to skirt the house on your approach. I told Carly you weren’t nearly as dumb as you look.”
“Good to know. What are you dealing with?”
“Assault rifles. A pair of AK-47s. M4s. The good stuff.”
“Can you take them?”
Will saw Josh looking worriedly back at him again, but the kid somehow managed to restrain himself from blurting something out.
“Do fish shit in the lake?” Danny asked.
“I don’t know,” Will said, playing along. “Do they?”
“Last time I checked. Anyway, you should get to the marina as fast as you can. It should be relatively clear at the moment. Or clear-ish.”
“We’re there now.”
Will aimed the Carver toward shore until the starboard side was pressing up against the dirt and flicking at branches sticking out of the ground. Will let the boat drift for a bit before they finally reached an area where he could drive the boat up onto the muddy beach.
He instantly cut the trolling motor and hopped out of the boat, landing in a hard patch of dirt and mud, with the anchor rope in hand. He saw a tree trunk nearby and wrapped the rope around it, then pulled it tight before dragging the boat farther up until he was satisfied it wouldn’t drift off on its own.
Josh stumbled out after him, cradling the Remington like it was a precious baby. Will resisted the urge to tell the kid to sling the weapon instead. The last thing he needed was for Josh to trip and accidentally blow his own head off. Besides alerting whoever was still at the house, it was going to cost him valuable manpower. Neither one of those things were acceptable losses at the moment.
Will poked his head above the ridgeline and took inventory of their position. The tall, uncut grass was both an ally and a hindrance. On the one hand, it kept him hidden, but it was hard to see through it. Fortunately, the sun had baked enough of the grass that it kept the height reasonably in check.
He was surprised to see they weren’t that far from the marina. Will could make out the high-raised roof of the gazebo about 200 meters to his left. And slightly behind that was the back of the garage. He did the math in his head and concluded that carrying the supplies over the distance was going to involve a lot of sweating and grunting, but it was doable.
Will was still gauging the distances when he heard gunfire from Song Island. He knew instantly it was Danny’s M4A1. He waited to hear return fire, but instead he heard the M4A1 fire a second, then a third time.
Josh crouched silently next to Will near the ridge as they heard loud returning fire from multiple weapons. There was a volley, shattering the calm air in a loud, reckless downpour. Then Will heard three more shots. The M4A1 again. Calm and unhurried shots.
Then there was silence.
“What happened?” Josh asked, looking over at Will.
“I don’t know,” Will said.
His right ear clicked and he heard Danny’s voice: “They’re heading back to you now, tails stuck firmly between what are no doubt very wobbly legs. Looked like weekend warriors to me. I might have clipped two. Definitely got one of the motors.”
“Good work.”
“Have Tower, will snipe. Good luck.”
“Roger that.” Will looked over at Josh. “They’re fine. You ready?”
Josh shook his head, but said, “Yeah, okay, sure.”
“You’ll do fine. Let’s go.”
He climbed up first and raced across the flat ground, thankful there were enough tall blades of grass to hide most of him, if not the top of his head. He stopped ten meters from the ridge and looked back and saw Josh following, hunkered down in that same uncomfortable pose he’d had back in the boat. At least he was low to the ground, and anyone looking from the house probably couldn’t see him.
Probably.
Will gave him a nod, hoping to give the kid some confidence. It might have worked, or it might not have. It was hard to read anything beyond Josh’s absolutely terrified expression.
Will looked forward and started moving through the grass again. He could see the garage and gazebo coming up, still a good 280 meters away, give or take.
But then something else caught his eye, and he went into a crouch. Josh, not anticipating the sudden stop, bumped into him from behind. Will grunted a bit as the barrel of the Remington Josh was carrying dug into his back.
“Sorry,” Josh said.
“You’re doing good,” Will lied.
He looked across the field and to his left at a Jeep buried in the ditch along the road. It was parked about forty-five meters from the marina, give or take, and Will could make out three figures crouched next to the vehicle, looking in the direction of the house. Two of them had binoculars.