A Private War (16 page)

“Yeah, that sounds like it will buy us the time we need. It will take us about two hours to get the reloads we need. But, Jill and Kate can help make more while we are gone. The electric batteries are already charging and should be good to try on this first trip with them. I’ll prepare the tunnel door so we can use it and tow the second snowmobile you finished down by the first one. That will take me about ninety minutes all told. So we can leave right after you finish the reloads. My FNAR is sighted in at two hundred yards so you’ll need to tell me what adjustments to make on it for a longer distance.” Gaylon stated as they headed up the tunnel towards the Maintenance Bay.

Tom Reynolds was heading up the search teams that Murdock had sent out after receiving the report from his spy inside the town of Redway. The heavy snow and the constant whining from his men were really getting on his nerves. But, they had orders to keep searching for Gaylon Master’s cave no matter what the conditions. Finally, even Tom had to call a halt until sunrise as the snow and darkness caused men to be afraid of their own shadows. More then once there was shouts and gunfire that only lead to hung faces and whispered replies as tired men shot at ghosts. By ten o’clock that night, his men huddled under trees to escape the blinding ice and snow. So, camp fires were lit and shelter or tents were put up for a few hours of rest. Tom ate a cold can of soup as he leaned against the side of a large evergreen tree. The lower branches cut off and lay on the snow to get him off the cold ground. A fire burned by his sleeping bag, his open protection as he lay down to sleep. He could still smell the smoky remains of his retreat from the campground months ago when Gaylon and that bitch of his had attacked them. He had lost his motorcycle and most of his gear in that fight. But, he was pleased to hear that the kid he shot was the bitch’s brother. Teach them to mess with him even if it did end up causing his fall far down the pack order. And Murdock had the memory of a steel trap as he had recalled that fact and put him in charge of this shitty detail. Throwing the empty can into the darkness; he leaned his rifle against the tree and burrowed down into the smelly bag. His last thoughts on warm summers and hot women as sleep took him. And they were also his final thoughts as a hand reach around the tree and slammed a sharpened wooden stake into his right eye and far into his brain.

Peters slowly crawled away into the darkness and snow covered his tracks so no one could tell how Reynolds was killed when he was found later that night. An huge uproar had developed when three more men were found with either their throats cut or a stick jammed into their eyes. Some men fired into the darkness before anyone could stop them. And others wanted to turn tail and run as far as they could. They were sick with fear of Murdock but even more of the ghost who killed without a sound. Reynold’s Deputy took his pistol to one man and shot another in the back before order was restored. By the time it started to brighten in the east, no one had gotten much sleep and all of them were cold and tired. Reynold’s replacement was a mean and hated man, this was not the first time he had shoot one of his own men and only fear stopped others from shooting him. He had gotten the name “Cleaver” in Austin when he was seen taking a meat cleaver to a man’s head.

“Ok, pack up, we are moving out!” Cleaver shouted as he booted a few men who were slow in getting packed, “Murdock wants this bastard found today. Reynolds was soft to let you stop searching last night. And look what it got him!! So, get your ass in gear!”

A few men gave him bad looks behind his back but no one was crazy enough to stand up to him. The night’s snow fall made even walking hard and difficult with snow drifts well over eight feet high in spots. Two teams were sent back across the river to continue the search on the north side of the valley. And the other three teams were reformed and started their search on the south side. The loss of four men had cost them a team and Cleaver had to make do. As he stopped and observed the river as it curved to the South, a man next to him fall and blood splashed across Cleaver’s face. A single gunshot sounded three seconds later in the stillness and men fall to the ground and tried to find shelter in the snow. Cold and wet snow started to soak into his coat and he reached up one hand to wipe the blood from his eyes. He was no fool and knew that the shot was fired from a long distance away. Finally, knowing he could not wait any longer, he got to his feet and yelled for his men to get off their ass and watch for any movement on the distant ridgelines. They were all looking forward toward the bend in the river when another man fell across the river from Cleaver’s location. Again, everyone hit the dirt and some started to cover themselves with snow as not everyone had white overcoats or white bed sheets to cover themselves with. This gunshot was not as far away as the sound of the shot had only taken about a second and a half to reach Cleaver’s ears. But, unlike the first shot, this one had come from behind them and eyes everywhere scanned the Bluffs and hilltops for this second shooter. But, after waiting over an hour in the freezing snow, Cleaver again stood and ordered his men to get up and more forward. The likely location for the last shot was a rocky cliff face with no possible way to climb up to it. But, Cleaver shouted for two teams of men to climb up where they could and search the area along the ridges on both sides. And another team he sent across the river to support the search for Gaylon’s cave. No further shots were made and ridge top search teams took most of the day in reaching the top. No tracks were seen and this was shouted down to the valley floor. Cleaver motioned for them to continue moving forward and they finally reached the river bend. But this only limited their search more as the water had cut towards the south and they were forced to swim the icy cold water to the north side of the valley. Cleaver had to order fires to be started to warm up him and the other men. Others had to give up share clothes and blankets while wet clothes were hung on branches to dry. An hour later as darkness fell a massive explosion lit up the sky to the south only to be followed a minute later by four single gun shoots. Cleaver’s face hardened as the darkness returned. Pointing to two men, he motioned for them to climb to the far ridgeline. These were seasoned hunters and fighters; they both reached into their packs and pulled out large heavy duty plastic bags. Making their way to the river they quickly stripped out of their clothes and put everything into the plastic bags. Tying on their rifle to the bags, they slowly swam across the water with the bags helping to support their weight. Finally reaching the river bank they crawled out and put on their dry clothes then disappeared into the darkness. Gaylon had followed the search team on the south side of the river as they slowly made their way to the ridgeline and then headed west. The night before he had set up a claymore mine on the trail with a trip line of black wire for someone to step on and set it off. He was waiting nearby when the mine blasted the four men was a thousand ball bearings shot by terrible explosive force. Gaylon turned on his night vision gear and quickly ran up and fired a single shot into the head of each man. They had been tightly packed together and were already dead, but the gun shots were not for them. They were for the searchers down below as frightened men made mistakes. Picking up the guns and equipment that was not too damaged, he walked down the trail to the snowmobile and tied them on the back. Then made his way back the way he came. John Peters had made his shot from over a thousand yards away and he smiled as the Pirates tried to hide in the snow. Gaylon’s shot had followed minutes later as they had arranged. Peters then got on his snowmobile and made his way west after leaving tracks in the snow so that seemed to lead north east. He knew they would find the correct direction, but the point was to tire them out on dead ends. He had also watched the team climb the hillside to reach the ridge and had smiled. This was as fun as the night before had been. Slaying the men as he did had a great psychological effect on the rest of Murdock’s men. And the claymore he heard later only added icing to the cake. He too had placed a number of claymores along the hilltop along with pongee sticks covered over with branches and snow. A number of tripwires were also strung to a number of trees. Nothing was wired to them as that was not the point, time and fear was being used to make the searchers break ranks and run. Seeing a tripwire, they would have to stop to find the mine, or try to go around it. Only to drop into a pit dig into the snow with sharpened sticks that John had frozen in place with melted snow. One man had already done so and was now limping with a bloody bandage on his right calf. John had heard the man yell as his feet dropped into the pit. And was nearby as they had to stop and pull the stake out of the man’s leg. They would now fear every step as they made their way forward. And each man now used a long stick to probe the snow in front of him.  Hours later, with the darkness adding more terror and fear with each probing step, the leader hit an open space with his stick and jerking it back out, pulled the pin on a grenade. The blast lifted him several feet into the air and he screamed as his left leg was sheared off below the knee. Another man fell as the pieces of wire from the grenade impacted his chest and face. He was not killed directly either this caused the other two men to turn and fire into the darkness around them. The first victim cried for his Mother and quickly went silent from loss of blood and died soon after. But the other man continued to scream as the hot steel burned into his flesh. The man who was nearby looked over and then fired a burst into his chest and the screaming stopped almost has quickly as it had started.

“Joe’s dead too. What say we get the hell out of here and head for Iowa? Because I’m not dying for these dirt bags” one man said, “What ya think?

“Sound good to me, George! I’m tired of freezing my dick off for nothing. There is a bridge about three miles ahead that we can take south. Let’s turn north here and head down the other aside of this ridge. Then we….” Two quick shots ended what they might have said next as John shot each in the head from only ten feet above them. Massive Oak trees make for good cover from rifle fire and are easy to climb. The Bur Oak John was in had enough thickness high up to protect him from the grenade and the wild gunshots the two survivors had unleashed and still allow him to roll over and shoot straight down at them. That made the body count twelve since last night and left the number of searchers down to twelve. He called that a good day of hunting and made his way back to his snowmobile.

The snow had started to fall again as Gaylon placed a booby trap in the snow in front of the search. It was a little trick he had learned in trapping foxes in the snow. First you dig a hole in the snow about a foot or so deep. Then you clear a shelf all the way around the hole on which another piece of snow is placed. Then you carefully shave away the piece of snow until it is level with the snow around it. Now, you have a trap in which no one can see and it leaves an open space for something to step in. The small booby trap was a pressure plate on which someone can step and it would fire a shotgun shell straight up into a person’s foot. It was nothing more then two pieces of wood, a shotgun shell, and a nail. The bottom piece had a hole drilled part way into it. And the nail was hammered through until it visible in the hole. The shell was then placed firing primer side down into the hole. This now only needed pressure for the nail to fire the primer and unload eight lead buckshot pellets into the person who stepped on the final piece of wood that was now on top of the shell. It would be a real blast for someone and could be the final thing they felt. Satisfied that the trap was now ready, he took a spruce branch and carefully brushed away his tracks and any snow left from his digging. He continued to clear away any tracks as far back as he could until he could step onto the rock ledge he had started from. His other two booby traps were closer to the rock face in which the searchers might look. So that if they were stepped on, the rest of the team would step away and should hit the final trap. Peters was doing the same thing farther up on the ridgeline. And was just finishing up when a bullet hit the tree next to his head with the sound coming a second later. John threw himself to the left and rolled until he had cover behind the large tree. He knew the shooter wasn’t far from him and he had missed by only three or four inches. They would not make that mistake a second time. So John quickly looked behind him at the covering trees and brush and belly crawled straight back and down the ridgeline until he knew he was free from sight. He stayed belly down and he moved from tree to tree until he had slowly worked his way back up to the ridge and better cover. He took a small periscope from out of his backpack and used it to sight around the tree safely. He could see two men slowly making their way along the ridge using cover and concealment. These two knew what they were doing. But, they needed patience as a good sniper would wait days without taking a shoot. In so doing, they maximized their chances on a one shot kill. These two were good deer hunters, no more. John figured the range as down to six hundred yards and a light six mile per hour breeze. The snow should not cause a deflected shot and he quickly set his scope for the proper mil settings. Sight on the leader, John started to calm his mind and body as he took slow easy breaths. His heart rate stated to drop and he again checked the range. Five hundred and ninety yards, as he set the scope’s cross hair on the leader’s chest and fired. He waited for the bullet to impact the body and he saw a splash of blood at the center of mass. The man’s body knocked backwards nearly six feet before it fell. On seeing the blood, his partner face dropped, and he turned around to run; too late as John’s second round took him high on his back. The hollow point bullet drilled through bone and spinal tissue before excelling out the front of the man’s neck. A wash of blood followed and the snow turned red as it soaked up the hot wetness. John turned around and headed back to his snowmobile that was farther down the hill side and out of sight from another more teams of searchers.