Lauren didn’t want to be here anymore; she’d done what she had come to do and now knew her next destination. She wasn’t about to wait around for the smell of burning flesh to wind its way through the air. The other vehicles weren’t far, perhaps located at another encampment. By her estimation, it was just over a two-mile trudge in the dark through rugged terrain. Loaded for bear as she was, it would take at least an hour or more to get there. But she’d come this far already, and neither distance nor difficulty was going to dissuade her.
As she readied to take her leave, she noted a faux-leather folder wedged between the passenger side seat cushion and the center console. Her inherent inquisitiveness getting the better of her, Lauren retrieved it and read the title on the front cover. “Operation Solve for X…” She trailed off, opening it and bringing it to within reading distance. The first few paragraphs didn’t give off much of an air, but the more she read, the more a sickening feeling expanded in her gut. “Jesus…what the hell is this?”
Lauren read every syllable of every word on every typewritten page front to back with a sense of purpose. She scanned each paragraph from its leftmost side to its right edge and down, left to right again, all the way through to the end, spotlighting on keywords and key phrases marred in despotism. Stratagem. Disarmament. Domination of populous. Die-off. Ruse to entrap, outmaneuver, and circumvent. Skillful avoidance of difficulty. Trick of the trade. False allurements. Distraction. Deception. Roguishness. Illusion. Reclamation of terrain and resources. Forced compliance.
The policies and principles of tyrants. Matters for which her father had done his utmost to prepare her, and over which he used to obsess. Each reference sent a menacing shockwave through her.
Lauren reached the end, uncovering a set of pages appearing newer, held separate from the rest. At the top, the title read ‘Addendum: Modifications for Novel Direct-Action Protocol’. The text within served to clarify all that had happened as of late. It explained the missing children. They had been abducted and were set to be used to coerce disarmament and extort uncontested surrender. It detailed the plan behind the vicious air attack employing an unmanned Predator drone loaded with military-grade Hellfire II high explosive air-to-ground missiles.
The documents within the folder chronicled everything and left out nothing. It covered well the sudden violent escalation of hostility on behalf of their enemy. And it was all here, a typewritten, diabolical manifesto, evidence of every direct violation of civil and inalienable rights, every malevolent step taken against them. It was a quantified declaration of war, right in her hands. And it made Lauren’s blood boil.
She forced her eyes closed and tensed her muscles, trying to will away the eruption of anger she was now feeling inside. There would be no quitting now, no turning back, no going home until this was finished. Lauren could not allow these horrendous premeditated acts to go unpunished. She had to find a way to kill them all; then and only then would sentence be passed and would vengeance be hers.
Chapter 36
George Washington National Forest
Shenandoah County, Virginia
Tuesday, March 15th
“Gentlemen, I think we might’ve uncovered a booty,” Agent Nadler announced on his way back to the fire ring.
He approached with an armload of ingredients, snacks and the like, all of which had been requisitioned from what could be found stashed away in vehicles, individual backpacks and emergency food kits. He strolled past a row of camp chairs where his colleagues were seated, knelt, dumped the gatherings on the ground, and went about rummaging through them.
Agent Gil Norris leaned closer to examine them. “Not a bad haul, Trav. Not bad at all. What’s on the menu today?”
“Eh, a hodgepodge, I suppose, or something resembling one,” he answered, scratching his temple. “We’re running dangerously low on options, as you know. Inventory is slim, getting slimmer by the day. I figure we’ll go with what we have the most of: baked beans and baked beans. But by mixing in these twelve-ounce packs of Lit’l Smokies I found, we should be in for one hell of a treat.”
“Did you say Lit’l Smokies?” the agent to Gil’s left asked.
“’Deed I did.”
Gil cracked a smirk and pretended to rub his belly. “Mmm…beans and franks. It’s been a while since I lulled myself to sleep to the tempo of my own farts.”
Nadler snorted his humor.
“Where the hell did you find Lit’l Smokies?” the other agent persisted. “I haven’t seen those since my last trip to a legit grocery store.”
Nadler casually gestured to the leader of their task force seated in his camp chair on the opposite side of the fire. “It appears some of us have better connections than others.”
Gil sat up, his eyes tracking across the fire. “Is this true, August? Have you been holding out on us this whole time? Where did you come about this treasure trove of baby wieners?”
August was slumped in his chair, his arms folded across his beefy chest, chin nearly touching his forearms. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
His fellow agents laughed heartily at the recognizable response.
“I guess we’ll keep it under wraps, then, and dine like vagabond royalty in our ignorance,” Gil mused.
“And fart our royal asses to sleep later,” the agent yet unnamed jeered.
Gil raised his mug. “Amen.”
“Gentlemen, wait,” Travis Nadler said, “because there’s more. I’m putting together some dessert for us later that might bolster our morale a tad. Hold your excitement…we’re going to roast some s’mores.”
“S’mores?” Gil Norris harrumphed. “Conjuring our inner Cub Scout, Nadler?”
“Better question is how did you conjure the ingredients?” the other agent asked. “I can’t remember the last time I even saw a graham cracker.”
“Me neither, and we don’t have
