Ed stepped back into view and lifted his hand. Jason felt Early squeeze his shoulder. “Head right for ‘im boy,” he whispered. “Don’t dawdle, but don’t tear ass. Be quiet, most of all.”
Heart a jackhammer in his chest, Jason left the safety of the doorway and almost tripped going down the concrete porch steps. He looked left and right, then jogged at an angle across the street. Ed vanished again, right in front of his eyes.
Jason reached the curb out of breath and sweaty, the tension wracking his body. He moved into the tall grass, hearing the rush against his legs. He was right on top of it before he noticed the slit cut into the fence. Cautiously he pushed through, big grape leaves brushing his face. There in front of him was a small hill, barely more than a mound six or eight feet high and maybe thirty wide, overgrown with grass and weeds. It sat at the edge of what appeared to be an empty field, featureless in the dark.
Ed squatted near the top of the hill, his rifle up and sweeping back and forth. Jason’s heart leapt into his throat but after a second he figured out that the man was merely looking using the scope of his weapon to study their surroundings. Jason could see a faint glow around Ed’s eye and guessed, correctly, that he was using some sort of night vision scope.
As his heart slowed down Jason watched Ed lower his weapon and peer with his own eyes over the small hill. Some sort of aging white cross was stuck in the ground beside him. A few trees dotted the otherwise flat landscape.
Jason waited at the fence, not sure what he was supposed to be doing. He looked around, back over his shoulder, wondering where Early was. A hiss snapped his head back around. Ed had climbed down the slope and was moving around the small hill to the right. Jason followed him at a distance, trying to remember what he’d been told and not screw up.
Around the tiny rise they headed west, Ed moving slowly through the tall grass. Jason followed him, staying in the same trail of broken stems, after a few seconds thinking to check behind him. Early was right there, about forty feet back, moving soundlessly with his rifle sideways across his body. He caught Jason’s look, nodded, then went back to scanning the tall grass. Jason’s eyes moved to the small hill. Cut into its short slope were five wide wooden steps leading to the flat summit. Up there, dangling from the white crosspiece by one rusty chain was a sign. 5TH HOLE, he read, 134 YARDS PAR 3. Even in starlight the dark lettering was plain to see on the white background.
As they moved west a berm rose to their right, blocking their view of the weed-choked fence there. A street bordered the course on the north side, just on the other side of the fence, and there were houses there overlooking the links. Between the grape vines and the berm they were hidden from any casual observers as Ed slowly worked his way west. There were a few big trees, beeches and maples, but no actual cover other than the berm to their right.
Ed paralleled the 4th hole, gazing south over the expanse of the course. It was empty and overgrown, but you never knew who might be wandering around at night. He glanced up at the sky. They should be dead, really. All of them. With the technology available to the army, satellites and aircraft and drones of every size, the dogsoldiers were barely more than well-armed hobos in comparison. But this city wasn’t the front. Wasn’t anywhere near the front. Hell, from everything he’d heard and seen this city was the opposite of the front, in every way. Even if it wasn’t, the government reportedly still had problems inside its own ranks in addition to having to fight an actual war that had ground on far longer than anyone could have imagined. Tanks going missing, spy satellites spinning off into space because the guidance update had been hacked, whole trainloads of gear diverted from the military to the ARF even at this late date.
Whether it was a lack of them or something else the Army wasn’t using the big armed drones to secure this dead husk of a city. Word was they were being used at the front, although news of that fight was sketchy at best, and nobody trusted anything coming out of the government-approved news sources.
Personally, Ed believed the Army had very few of their high-tech toys left to use over the city, if for no other reason that the ARF Irregulars, dogsoldiers, doggies, guerrillas, freedom fighters, resistance, rebels, whatever you wanted to call them, were still alive and fighting in and around the city, with very few craters to be found. Bombings were still out of the question, and officially had never happened, even though the truth was a bit different. Air-to-ground missiles were always on the menu, however, although he hadn’t heard of any in close to two years. Ambushes of squads like his were even rarer, which made him think that the military didn’t have access to many satellites.
They used to be pretty common, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen unmanned aircraft, drones, of any size. All he’d seen for months were helicopters heading in and out of the military base near the city center, and jets and cargo planes landing and taking off from the large regional airport thirty miles west of the city. Luckily, jets and helicopters were big and loud. So unless God was really pissed at them they’d hear any aircraft long before it came into view, but he scanned the starry sky anyway. They had a portable jammer which worked on the small unarmed recon drones, but when the squad was split up and he was with the element that didn’t have the drone jammer….
Near the fourth hole tees the berm sunk back into the ground, leaving just the weed-choked fence to their right to provide concealment. He moved that direction, hugging it, passing the small, foul-smelling pond. Once, Canadian geese had lived around it, but none were to be found now. Eaten or scared away, he supposed. Most likely eaten.
He worked his way through a small stand of trees, checking over his shoulder. The kid was maintaining a good interval, keeping his natural urge to hurry in check, but was likely to have a sore neck tomorrow the way he was whipping his head around, trying to eyeball everything at once.
Off to the southwest he could just make out the tiny clubhouse, a black blot against a charcoal background. He stayed close to the fence, walking slowly, listening more than looking. The night was alive with the sounds of birds and insects. He was listening for any sudden changes in that tune, indicating they weren’t alone on the links. Away from the houses and buildings, which universally smelled of dust and decay, his nostrils filled with the odors of dirt and grass
The mercury had dropped into the seventies, but they were sheltered from any breeze by the fence and the humidity was still hellish. All three of them were slick with sweat within minutes. Whole squadrons of mosquitoes descended upon their moist flesh. They were in Jason’s eyes, his ears, even his nose, driving him crazy. He smacked at his skin, waved at them swirling around his head, until he saw Ed slowly turn around and glare. Jason remembered the forceful “no sudden movements” command, and put his hand back on his rifle, chastened and angry. The pointman’s face and neck were covered with the bloodsuckers, but he never made a move to touch them. How could he stand it?
Jason looked around him, trying not to make fast, jerky movements. The rolling grass of the decrepit golf course didn’t look much different than the fields behind his parents’ property, but there he was relaxed. Here, he was terrified. He kept expecting soldiers to pop out from everywhere in the night, shouting, searchlights blinding him. It turned what would have been a pleasant walk, but for the humidity, into a kind of waking nightmare. And yet, he reminded himself, this was what he wanted. He’d searched these men out. Came far south to the city, to find them, find the war, no matter how dangerous or stupid or traitorous their cause was—according to his father. After wandering through the abandoned suburbs for a week he wasn’t sure these neighborhoods were anything but where the dreams of so many had died, but it was the closest thing to the war this side of the front.