Now his voice was strong, deliberate. “For those of us who live here. We have to win. We need to show Hodges that our families are off limits. All power must have a boundary. If we don’t draw the line here, where will it ever be drawn? Can he come for our children? Our wives? Our daughters?” Cooper let the words fall and hang in the air. He wanted Miles’ men to know that they were fighting as much for their own families as they were for Jake. He looked into their eyes and saw the intensity that he had hoped for.
“Any questions?”
Jason spoke from the back of the group, “What is our jump off time?”
Cooper looked at his watch, “Eleven. That should give you enough time to loop around the back of their position.”
Jason nodded. He gathered his men in a short huddle and they set out first.
“We move out in ten,” Cooper called to those that remained. He could feel the tension and nerves hanging in the air. He couldn’t tell if it was real or he was imagining the sharp tang of nervous sweat bleeding into the scent of pine. There was no denying the acrid smell from those clustered in a small group that were nervously puffing on cigarettes like steam locomotives. Cooper used the time to double-check his equipment and weapons.
Dranko sidled up next to him. He leaned in and pulled the flap from one of his pockets back so Cooper could look inside.
“I got one left,” he said, as Cooper saw a fragmentation grenade cradled in the pocket.
Cooper smiled, “I’d forgotten about that. You’ll know when to use it.”
Dranko frowned, “I hope so.”
He chambered a round into his pistol and then did the same for his rifle. He found the sounds reassuring.
“Lock and load,” he called out to the group and then waited as the sharp sounds of metal hitting metal resonated as each worked their bolts. He didn’t want anyone doing this when they were in position and have the sound give them away.
“Now, safeties off.” Again, he waited as they complied.
“Alright. Now, your safety is your finger. Keep it out of the trigger guard until you are ready to shoot. These guns won’t go off by themselves. Don’t get nervous and put your finger in until it’s go time. If you see someone getting lazy or stupid, nudge them. An accidental discharge might kill your friend and it definitely will blow our surprise. Got it?” Cooper delivered the lecture because he knew he was dealing with inexperienced people who needed to be walked through it, point by point.
Anxious heads nodded around him. He saw how they deliberately pressed their trigger fingers against the outside of their trigger guards. Some did it so hard that their fingers turned white. Nervous tongues licked dry lips, hands tightly gripped their weapons, and color drained from their faces as the adrenaline was dumping into everyone’s bloodstreams. This is it. Cooper decided on one last piece of advice.
“Now, everyone take a long, deep breath. Remember to breathe!” He saw chests rise and fall as they did so. I have to hope they hold together and no one panics before the bullets start flying.
He recalled something else he’d heard once. He couldn’t remember if it was from his father or his drill instructor. When the bullets start flying, men do not fight for country or for any cause. They fight because they don’t want to let their buddies down.
Cooper called out, “Remember, we have to count on one another. If we do, we will get through this.” He made sure he made eye contact with each of them, to drive the message home. “Alright, let’s move out.”
“Right, Sarge!” Freddie called out with a mocked up tone of bravado. Most everyone laughed. Cooper guessed it was more to release nervous energy than the humor.
As they walked down the road, they separated into the three groups. Angela and the other two sharpshooters were in front, Cooper and his team in the middle, and finally Miles’ group. There was some small talk as they first set out, but it quickly disappeared after a few minutes. The only sound from the group was the rustle of clothing as they walked and the occasional clang as metal touched metal. Whenever that happened, the person repositioned the offending object so that it wouldn’t happen again or became more careful in how they carried their weapon. Cooper was impressed when he saw them doing this without being told. Self-preservation is a powerful motivator.
They had button hooked across the road and were making their slow advance through the trees and underbrush to get into position near the cabin where Jake was being held. Their progress was painstakingly slow. Movement was limited to crawling and the occasional crouched jog. Cooper kept a steady eye on his watch as the minutes ticked by. We’re gonna make it.
He and his team reached their position at 10:50. Miles’ group had safely taken cover a few minutes before. Meanwhile, Angela’s group was still working their way down the opposite side of the road and hopefully would cross and get into position in time.
Cooper lay on his back and did his best to follow his own advice and keep breathing deeply. He had exchanged a few breaths when he heard something that made his stomach leap into his throat.
The high whine of a truck’s motor roaring closer.
Chapter Fourteen
Every muscle in Cooper’s body tensed. All his senses immediately heightened. The green foliage around him became a deep emerald forest of trees, ferns, and brush. The scent of pine turned to an invigorating rush. His clothing turned to a raspy mess against his skin. The engine’s whine was a roar assaulting his eardrums and he could hear the nervous breath of those around him.
A pickup truck crested the hill to his left. It was moving so fast he half-expected its wheels to leap from the pavement as it did so. His vision sharpened. He saw a white haired man behind the wheel. He thanked God that its bed was not full of armed men. His mind raced furiously, recalculating their plan and trying to assess the best path forward. He clamped the fear that rose in his belly as frantic thoughts of Jake and doubt about the rescue plan cascaded up from deep within.
The truck sped across the asphalt and his field of vision. Break lights flared red; tires screeched and white smoke leapt from the tires as it reached the driveway that led to the cabin. The pickup careened as it made the turn and the body leaned precariously to the side; a threatened rollover that was narrowly averted. Cooper’s brain told him to drop his focus and to scan the area. A man was running towards a sandbagged position set up to guard the entrance. A makeshift gate made up of a felled tree on a metal swivel blocked the vehicle’s path. Two other men were moving into flanking positions on either side of the truck.
It skidded to stop just inches from the tree-made barricade. A cloud of dust flew past the truck as it stopped. The nearest guard waved his arm about him and sputtered with a coughing fit. Cooper’s line of attackers looked toward him expectantly as a group. His gut screamed at him to hold and he held up one finger signaling them to wait. Still, he cursed himself for his indecision. Act for Christ’s sake, his mind assailed him.
He spurred his gaze back to the pickup. The guard had recovered and was holding his rifle at the ready, pointing it at the driver. He was dressed from head to toe in hunting camouflage, but the rifle was of a military-pattern that Cooper did not recognize. A long, slender magazine butted out from underneath.