She studied the group a moment and chose a target sequence, then performed a dry run while recalling the LMR’s box magazine capacity of ten rounds. She had never been OCD about anything, but this would be the worst of times to lose track or run out of ammunition. Her second dry run complete, her finger found the trigger again. And she once more forced the air from her lungs and exercised another relaxed trigger pull.
Lauren’s first target reached for his neck and dropped backward into the brush behind the log he’d been using as a chair. The remaining two, now on full alert, hurried to their feet in sheer panic. While scrambling for their weapons, one tried dousing the campfire, first by dumping his drink on it, then by stomping it with his boot. Lauren drove the bolt home, aligned her shot just above his body armor’s collar and snapped the trigger. The round pummeled the agent, shattering his clavicle and boring a golf-ball-sized cavity beside his spine. He gagged, wheezed, fell to his knees, and tried calling for help as he drowned in his own blood.
The last agent had dropped low and had his rifle pulled to his shoulder. He unleashed a volley of rounds in full auto in multiple directions, while the ensuing muzzle flash strobed the campsite and gave away his position like a beacon. “You sonofabitch!” he cried. “Where are you? I don’t give a damn who you are! I’m going to fucking kill you for this! Do you hear? Come out and show yourself!”
Lauren sighed. “Shut up and die,” she said, her words a simple, whispered sonnet of finality. She methodically loaded a round and pulled the trigger, sending a final shot into the loudmouth’s exposed forehead. His head recoiled backward as his body flopped over the fire ring, sending sparks, embers and ash into the air and heated stones tumbling to the dirt.
Lauren took some deep breaths and waited out the adrenaline dump. She set the LMR’s safety and moved the rifle aside, then lay there motionless in the rain, scanning her surroundings through the NVD’s white phosphorus hue for signs of life or motion. After, she stowed them and repeated the motions using the FLIR monocular. The campfire’s vibrant, white-hot heat signature came into view first and foremost, followed by a trio of less vivid, waning ones belonging to the cancelled agents. Pivoting far left, she took into view the first she’d put down, then swiveled clockwise. The image lost contrast, morphing into darker shades of gray until the viewfinder found the pair of parked SUVs and the residual heat from their engine compartments and exhaust systems.
Once satisfied no other threats or hazards remained in proximity to lie in wait for her, Lauren rose, abandoning the LMR precision bolt gun for the H&K416 slung across her back. She brought the weapon close, checked the chambered round and the safety, and took cautious steps to the scene, minding the diminished traction of wet terrain.
As she went, Lauren stopped to verify her kills. She disarmed each man fully, removing chambered rounds and magazines from their sidearms and unloading and setting aside their rifles. She then relocated the collection of weapons and ammunition to the backseat floorboard of the closest SUV, which she was surprised to find had been left unlocked.
Lauren slipped into the front seat and closed the door. She stowed her night vision and waited for the interior lights to dim and fade away. The rain had soaked her to the bone, sparing neither her nor anything she had on. She wrung out what she could from her shirt, used it to wipe her face, and rubbed the moisture from her hands on the vehicle’s upholstery. Then, using the illuminated dashboard’s brightness as a guide, she gave the passenger compartment a once-over.
The touchscreen display mounted to the dash remained lit even with the door closed and no key in the ignition. Lauren reached out and tapped it with her finger, and the screen came to life, displaying a moderately detailed topographical map of the surrounding area. A blue, wedge-shaped icon sat static in the center of the screen. She tapped the zoom button denoted by a plus sign, and the icon became two, each triangle representing an object of some kind, possibly a waypoint or a vehicle. After a closer inspection of the map’s layout and a drop-down legend, Lauren learned the latter to be the case.
She leaned back in the seat and collected her thoughts. This interface was somehow being used to track the locations of DHS vehicles, conceivably by means of GPS satellites in coordination with mobile transponders. Something then dawned on her to which Lauren hadn’t given much thought: that satellites might still be in orbit and in working order. Before a moment ago, she’d assumed the EMP had taken out everything electronic irrespective of location, elevation, or whether it had abided within Earth’s atmosphere.
Another notion occurring to her, Lauren tapped rapidly on the ‘zoom out’ tab to acquire a larger overview of the general area. She leaned closer and squinted when the screen exposed another icon similar in shape to those representing the vehicles she’d already come upon, but in a lighter shade of blue. Dragging her fingertip over the screen to pan the map, Lauren brought the icon to the center. She then zoomed back in to discover a pair, much in the same manner as before. “Son of a bitch. There are more of you.”
A lively flash caught her attention through the windshield, causing Lauren
