Gutierrez’s voice whispered in his earbuds. “Whoever’s headed for the barn, that patrol we spooked is on your tail.”
That drew a curse from Rick. Trev toggled his mic. “Gotcha. We’ll try to lose them, or if not we’ll lead them on a merry chase to buy you guys some breathing room.”
“Be careful,” Lewis said. “Me and Jane are almost to the shed. If you do get pinned down maybe you can wait out the timer, and the explosion will buy you the distraction you need to slip away.”
“What a mess,” Rick muttered. “Gone wrong before we made it fifty yards into the camp.”
Trev ducked between tents to reach another row, just as flashlight beams tracked along the row where they’d been. Their pursuit was still shouting to each other, but they sounded more confused than anything. With any luck the blockheads might not even be sure they were chasing anything. Maybe they’d give up soon, or start searching another direction.
Gutierrez again. “Hey Lewis, me and Trent are close to the motor pool and it seems unguarded. Do you need us at the shed? If not we could be useful here slashing tires and cutting fuel lines.”
“Yeah, that might help us get away if the patrol decides to sound the alarm. Although we’re close enough to Huntington that they’d probably just send trucks down from there. Do it anyway, though. That’s the sort of damage we’re looking to do here.”
Trev and Rick had made it to within thirty feet of the barn. To his relief the patrol seemed to be sticking to the lane they’d just abandoned, the lights shining down it as they searched between tents. He slowed to let Rick catch up. “Let’s get to the barn and circle around it,” he whispered. “That should take us far enough out of the way that we can make for the shed again.”
His friend nodded, and Trev motioned for him to lead the way so he could hang back and keep an eye on the patrol.
The shouts and waving flashlights hadn’t drawn as much interest as he’d feared, but a few soldiers did stumble out of their tents to see what the commotion was. Most immediately dismissed it and headed back to their cots, but he saw one or two start poking around their tents. Rick led the way to yet another lane to avoid them, although they had to wait a while for two blockheads chatting in front of a tent to duck back inside.
Finally they reached the barn, following the row of tents that ran parallel to its reassuring bulk off to their left. At the corner Rick checked the wider lane between their hiding spot and the building, then gave Trev the all clear sign and started across.
Halfway across, at the worst possible time, shouts off to their left indicated that the patrol that’d been chasing them, or maybe a different one, had finally chosen to search this lane.
Trev bit back a curse as flashlights swung his way. His first impulse was to freeze, since movement would almost definitely draw attention. But if he just stood around in the open they’d see him anyway. Ahead of him Rick was already the rest of the way to safety around the corner, and Trev barely had time to follow before the light passed near them. He ducked behind the barn, holding his breath as he fell into a crouch.
Less than a second later the beam of light shone directly on the wall around the corner, and men yelled to alert everyone. Rick swore, but Trev didn’t waste time doing even that. He was already bolting hard along the south wall of the barn, headed for the tents on the other side and possible safety.
Unfortunately, what they hadn’t planned on was the guard standing near the barn doors halfway down the large building. There was a sliding door for vehicles, and beside it a normal one for entry and exit. It was that one the guard stood in front of, right where he wasn’t supposed to be.
Nobody had been there during the day when he and Jane had been scouting, and they hadn’t seen anyone there during the few inspections of the depot they’d done at night, either.
The blockhead turned their way, raising his rifle and calling an uncertain question. He didn’t have night vision, and in the darkness his aim was off. Trev gave a low, incoherent shout, a warning noise, and pointed vaguely ahead in case the soldier could see his silhouette, trying to confuse him. At the same time he ducked into a full sprint, ready to drop to the ground the moment the blockhead managed to aim properly.
Neither of those happened. The soldier stayed confused and uncertain right up to the moment Trev tackled him to the ground. He cut off the enemy’s cry for help with the butt of his own rifle to the man’s face, and the blockhead went limp, stunned. Trev hit him again, then again, until he was sure he was at least unconscious.
Rick already had the door to the barn open. Trev grabbed the guard under the arms and started dragging him inside, and his friend ducked down to help. “What do we do now?” he hissed.
In answer Trev handed off the body to his friend. “They’re expecting a guard on this door. I’ll take over for him while you wait just inside, ready to pop out and start shooting if anything goes wrong.” It was a good thing Lewis had insisted on the precaution of dressing in blockhead uniforms for this. Even if that precaution was probably pointless, since none of them spoke the language or languages these conscripts used.
The younger man raised just that objection. “You can’t talk to them.”
“So I’ll grunt and point wildly to keep them running off after imagined enemies.” Trev glanced towards the corner, where the light was bobbing wildly and so bright he expected the patrol to pop into view at any second. He tucked his M16 just inside the door and dove for the sentry’s dropped weapon, hissing over his shoulder. “Go!”
He heard the door close behind him as he came up with the captured rifle, and trying to act as natural as possible he straightened to stand where the sentry had been. At the last second he remembered the man hadn’t been wearing night vision and yanked his goggles off, shoving them into his vest just as shouting soldiers rounded the corner and he was pinned by a flashlight beam.
As soon as he knew he’d been seen Trev started towards the blockheads with an urgent expression, pointing at the tents south of the barn and shouting vague noises. He felt like a moron, but he wanted to get the flashlight beam off the door as well as buy himself time to properly put away his goggles.
The blockhead patrol called questions at him, and he nodded exaggeratedly and pointed even more wildly over his shoulder while making an affirmative noise. Then he held up two fingers to indicate the number he’d “seen”.
At any second he expected to get shot in the face for trying to fool them without saying a word of their language. But either there were enough different languages among the army that had come up from Mexico that communication was a problem, or his vague noises were convincing. Either way the patrol bought him as a soldier in uniform guarding a barn door.
The flashlight swept away from him in the direction he was pointing, and as Trev slowed to a halt the blockheads rushed past him, now calling what sounded like orders. Either they were telling him to come along and guide them or to get back to his post. Trev hoped it was the latter as he returned to his position at the door and watched them run past.
After they were a hundred or so feet away among the rows of tents he pulled out his night vision to watch as they kept going. Once he could be sure they wouldn’t be coming back in the next minute or so he turned to the door, which was open a crack with Rick’s goggled eye peering out. He gestured. “Let’s get out of here before they come back.”
The door opened a bit more and Rick poked his head out. “Wait, there might be a problem.”