The fat woman yelled again for Merriam to bring the kindling. She started our way in a huff. Merriam stood with an armful of sticks and hurried back to the clearing. She tried to evade the mean bitch but got whacked anyway. When all eyes were off the edge of the woods, Richard and I crawled away until we could stand.
Instead of going back to our camp, we circled to the west staying far enough back to avoid detection by the enemy. Ninety degrees over from where we'd been, we found a suitable site where the enemy could be watched twenty-four-seven. On the way back to our camp, we discovered an area where old, rusty farm equipment had been abandoned over the years. That would be the spot where sentries could meet to relieve each other instead of stumbling around near the enemy camp looking for their spot. We headed back.
We got back at ten-thirty and explained the situation at the enemy camp to our group. Volunteers were solicited to spy on the enemy up close; we needed to be aware when the missing members returned. Those guards would relieve every four hours. My son-in-law, Mitch, took the first watch. I drew a circle in the dirt and showed the people assigned to that duty where to watch from and the junk equipment area where they'd relieve each other. All nodded. Mitch said he'd finish the current four-hour shift and stay on until four that afternoon.
Richard and I ate, then grabbed our bedrolls and crawled under one of the wagons to sleep in the shade.
Later, I vaguely heard thunder in the distance before I dozed off again.
A loud boom of thunder woke me initially. Right behind it, a cracking bolt of lightening hit nearby. I looked at my watch, twenty minutes before four. Rain suddenly poured down. I looked out from under the wagon; tarpaulins had been attached to the sideboards of the wagons and stretched tight to stakes in the ground. Many of our group huddled there to stay dry, but wind driven rain surged in on one side to dampen those closest to that edge.
The intensity of the downpour subsided after fifteen minutes to a light, steady rain. Five minutes later, Mitch and his relief rushed into our camp and sought me out.
"They're back." He blurted as he breathed heavily from running. "They rode in about thirty minutes ago. Two wagons, ten men and two women. There were two horses and three cows tied behind the wagons. I couldn't tell what was on the wagons, but they had a lot of stuff under tarps." His numbers matched what we expected: eight adult males and two teenagers made ten males from a distance. Everett would have made eleven.
We all gathered close together under another tarp hung over two taut lines stretched between two tree branches.
"We have two choices. The first is to attack now before dark. The second choice is to wait till morning when everyone is getting up. In the morning means those raunchy bastards will abuse their captives again tonight."
There were loud murmurings of approval, and I heard a lot of nows spoken.
Morgan spoke above the crowd. "Tom, why don't you and Richard discuss how you'd implement each plan of attack and tell us the best option? I'm in favor of now, if it's feasible."
A steady, heavy rain, not a downpour, beat incessantly on the tarp. Richard and I stood aside and discussed pros and cons of each timeframe for long minutes. Finally, we agreed on the action we'd take. It was risky, but a dawn raid gave no clear promise of success either. Now won because everyone in the target camp would be tired at the end of a long work day or from riding the final hours of a multi-day trip. The rain that had driven everyone inside was the deciding factor in our favor.
I addressed the group, "We'll go now under cover of the rain. Six of you will be with Morgan. Paige will lead another team of six. Mitch and I will go as a team as will Richard and Bryon. Our two man teams will slip into the cabins with silenced weapons while they still have lanterns lit. We'll try to take them by surprise and kill them inside the cabins quietly. If you hear shots, be ready to return fire."
It took the better part of thirty minutes to gather weapons and rain gear. The two-man teams carried silenced MP5s and several people in the six man teams cradled silenced rifles in their arms. Everyone wore Army issue camouflage clothing. Carmen carried a backpack filled with medical supplies and an M16. Our dogs were left tied under the wagons with their jaws muzzled; if only left tied, their howling at being left behind could set the dogs in the enemy camp into a wild frenzy and put their keepers on edge.
I led seven people, and Richard led the other seven in parallel columns. Near the edge of the clearing, we stationed our backup crews. They hunkered down amid puddles in the mud.
Richard and I led our two men to the barn to secure it first. Although the big sliding doors on the front stood open, we approached a single-man door at the backside. Byron slowly opened it. The rusty door hinges squeaked as the wood plank door moved outward dragging through the muck. I cautiously entered alone and listened intently as I slithered forward. Dim light spewed through the big open doorway. In the gloom, two loaded wagons sat in the center isle. There was rustling up in the loft.
Above me someone furtively whispered, "Shhhh."
Loudly in a gruff voice, I yelled, "Get your worthless asses down here and give me a hand. Now, dammit."
I heard voices speak softly. A half minute later, multiple
