I heard the crack of gunfire, a quick snapping, then nothing. I rounded the corner of the fence line and saw Retro standing over the body of a man, with Decoy searching him.
Then Retro’s chest exploded, followed by the rapid fire of someone emptying a magazine. Decoy turned to the threat and was hit in the shoulder, spinning down next to the dead terrorist. The bullets began to come my way. I dove to the ground and rolled behind a log as rounds cracked into the earth around me. I popped my head up, trying to locate the shooter. I saw him fifty meters away in the wood line, spraying his pistol all over the place. The weapon locked open on an empty magazine, and he took off running deeper into the trees.
I rose on a knee for a shot, knowing the odds of me hitting him were very small. He pulled out a cell phone and began hitting keys, then his head exploded in a fine red mist. He snapped to the left like he was hooked to a bungee cord as two more rounds slapped him in the chest.
I trained my weapon on the source of the fire, seeing Jennifer break out of the wood line. She reached the body and kicked his gun away. She caught my eye, then bent down and began searching him.
I sprinted to Retro and Decoy, starting to triage the damage. Jennifer arrived as I was peeling back Retro’s shirt.
She saw the wound and said, “Oh, God… Pike…”
75
Rafik was unloading the trunk when his cell phone went off again. He hoped he’d see success, but dreaded what he would find. It was Keshawn, sending that he’d accomplished another attack. The news brought a sense of calm.
He packed the large rucksack with the two remaining EFP trays and pulled out the tripods necessary to aim them. He leaned them against the car, wondering how he was going to take them into the trail network without someone questioning him. He glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention. All he needed to do was get into the wood line fifty meters away, but there were many, many people coming and going in the parking lot, and he would most likely be walking with other strangers, just like before.
He saw a man walking with a tripod and a camera. Going the other way, toward the shore and the cliffs. The sight gave him courage to dive right in. He shouldered the rucksack, then picked up the tripods, heading rapidly toward the trailhead leading back to the nuclear plant.
He made it into the woods without any undue scrutiny and began rapidly climbing back the way he had come, wanting to get the EFPs established as soon as possible.
Forty minutes into the trek, he reached the waypoint to leave the trail. He walked north for thirty meters when his phone vibrated again. He took a pause on the side of the trail, breathing hard, praying for good news. It was a simple text from Farouk, saying “done.” It was the prearranged code word for a catastrophic event. The loss of the team. It was the third time he’d received it today. The text made him weak, wanting to sit down.
He gained control of his emotions, clinically analyzing what had transpired.
He had no idea how, but knew this wasn’t simply bad luck. Someone had deciphered his plan, dissected his organization. Some predator was now hunting them. Someone with skill.
He dialed Keshawn, the last remaining man.
“Why are you calling? You said only use text for security. In case someone’s listening.”
“Get out of your truck. Right now. Someone knows our plans.”
Rafik waited for a moment, hearing only breathing. Then, “What do you mean?”
“Keshawn, don’t question me. Just do it. Then come to my location with your remaining devices.”
“I’ve already done it. I never took the truck.”
Rafik was initially incensed at his protege ignoring his orders, but quickly tamped down the emotion. In this case, the rebellious streak may have worked in their favor.
“I need you to bring the remaining devices to me for a final attack.”
He gave Keshawn instructions, telling him where he was and how to locate the shooting position. As he hung up the phone, he saw a Park Service ranger coming down the trail, looking at him strangely.
For the first time, he remembered he’d left his pistol in the car, and felt a bolt of fear.
“Hey, where you headed?”
Remembering the man he had seen before, Rafik said, “I’m going to take pictures of the cliffs. I want to get a shot down the coast.”
The ranger cocked his head, saying, “Well, you’re going the wrong way. This trail goes to the cliffs, but it’s the long one. Why are you going into the woods?”
Rafik rapidly walked back to the trail, looking left and right to make sure they were alone.
“I can’t tell which trail goes where. The signs aren’t that great.”
The ranger looked at his tripods and relaxed, laughing. “Yeah, we need to fix them. The paint’s pretty much gone, huh?”
Rafik closed up to him. “Yes. Which way should I go?”
“Just follow this trail the way you were going. But if I were you, I’d head back to the parking lot and take the red trail. It’s the shortest. And probably safer.”
“Why is it safer? Because it’s shorter?”
“Uhh… yeah. That’s it.”
Rafik dropped his tripods and brought out a knife, whipping it straight into the man’s chest. He bowed out, his face a caricature of shock, mouth in an O and eyes wide. Before he could realize what had happened, Rafik pulled out the knife and raked it across his throat, splitting it wide open. As the man fell, Rafik grabbed his body and dragged it through the underbrush to a fallen log, hiding the remains from view of the trail.
He retrieved his tripods and sprinted into the forest, wanting to get out of sight of anyone who might be coming. He thought about the man’s response. About the danger. It didn’t make sense to say that to someone walking in the park, especially since he’d seen plenty of families using this trail earlier in the day. The Americans were petrified of anyone getting hurt in public places.
76
Jennifer sprinted back to the Suburban for a medical kit while I began conducting initial treatment of Retro. Decoy held a wad of his shirt against his shoulder wound, doing what he could to help.
“How’d they get the drop on you?” I asked. “What happened?”
“There was only one guy checking out the EFP damage. We smoked him, then this guy came out of the wood line, blazing away. We fucked up. We both thought there would be only one, like the guy in the truck. You drill his ass?”
“Jennifer did. Two in the chest, one in the head.”
He raised his eyebrows, letting that sink in, then said, “How’s Retro?”
“He’s hit, but he’s going to make it. Just needs to get to a hospital, like you.”
I hoped I wasn’t lying, because it was bad. Retro had a neat hole in his chest, and a ragged exit wound on his back. Jennifer returned with the medkit and threw it on the ground between us, and we both went to work. Jennifer packed the entrance and exit wounds with Kerlix, capping it off with a special rubber bandage for sucking chest wounds that incorporated a flutter valve to release air. I prepped an IV and got it going, hoping to increase
