The small team was ninety-seven miles from Fort Bliss, all of it covered on foot to avoid detection, well outside the range of the big guns there. They had MLRS rocket launchers, but there wasn’t anything besides training ammo for them. Those “flying telephone poles,” as the troops called them, were devastating to the infected, but didn’t have any type of warhead that could do much damage beyond that created by the laws of physics. Their best bet was going to be support from the Air Force at Holloman.
But first, they had to get closer and ensure it was the correct target. Without a rock-solid positive ID, there was no way the First Armored Division staff at Bliss would authorize the release of anything bigger than the M240 machine gun that his team carried. After seeing the collection of antennas and strange green military vehicles, Pollard knew that they’d found the right place.
“Valencia,” he grunted, waving his hand to get the kid’s attention. “You one hundred percent sure that the jamming equipment is located somewhere in this town?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” the diminutive private replied, holding up a small, handheld device. “We’re within five kilometers of the source in that direction.” He pointed directly at the town. “The equipment that’s jamming the signals between Bliss and Holloman may not be directly inside the town, but it’s all right around here somewhere.”
Pollard nodded. “Good enough for me. We need to get a better look.” He dug in his pocket for the satellite phone, but stopped when the private held up a hand. “What?” he asked menacingly. He hated signal weenies. They were always messing shit up.
“You can’t make a call, Sergeant. They’ll ID the source within seconds and then triangulate the location in under a minute. If they have security, they’ll be coming our way before we can move.”
Pollard pushed the satellite phone back down into his pocket. “Okay, fine. We need a better look before I make a decision.” He thought about what he needed to do, but was coming up empty handed.
He was woefully underprepared for this type of responsibility. Three years ago, he’d been in high school, now here he was, leading a small strike team on a secret mission in the New Mexico desert. He was given the task just two weeks ago, but had settled into his role as the only noncommissioned officer on a team of signal weirdos, artillery and Air Force observers, an engineer with a bunch of C-4 explosives, and a small 4-man infantry contingent. There’d been several similar teams heading out from Fort Bliss with the intent of finding and possibly destroying foreign army elements who were jamming communication signals, but none of them had been in communication after the first week. To Pollard, that meant they were either being jammed themselves, or dead.
“Jacobson?” Sergeant Pollard called out softly.
“Yes, Sergeant?” the specialist responded immediately.
“You see any infected on our trail?” While most of the team was facing forward, looking to their potential objective, Specialist Jacobson and Private Brachear were the rear security, focused on making sure no one—or no thing—snuck up behind them.
“Nope. Those four we killed this morning were the last ones we saw.”
“Alright. I want you to set up a small ORP right here,” Pollard said, directing Jacobson to establish an objective rally point. “I’m going forward with Valencia and Cooper to see what we can see. I want to scope out this town and those vehicles. The place isn’t that big, so we should only be gone for about two hours. Three max. Watch our backs. We won’t have comms, but I have a red star cluster for a last-ditch visual signal. If you see the star cluster, we’re in trouble and need support. Any questions?”
Specialist Jacobson thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, Sergeant. We’ll keep an eye out and straight up murder any infected that may wander toward the town.”
“Damn right you will, but do it quietly,” Pollard replied, grinning at Jacobson. They’d both been specialists together for over a year until Pollard got promoted. While Pollard had outranked him, they’d been able to stay friends without any of the usual tension that occurs when one person is selected for promotion and the other wasn’t. Jacobson didn’t care about making E-5 since he was supposed to get out only a few weeks after the infected came along and fucked everything up. Now everyone was staying in the Army for the foreseeable future.
The two men grasped hands, then Pollard and his small, two-man observation team moved toward the town. There was plenty of desert scrub brush along their route to give them excellent concealment, even in the daylight. If there’d been time, everyone would have preferred to wait until the nighttime, but that’s when the infected became more active and anyone watching the perimeter for intruders would be on heightened alert.
When they were a mere fifty feet from the back of a battered white building, Pollard called a halt. “Okay, Valencia. What does all your nerd gear say about those trucks?”
The private took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He was used to running in the Army, but the gear he carried, combined with the running in a crouch had taken away his breath. After a moment, he powered on a handheld device and fiddled with the knobs. Little lines bounced all over the monochromatic screen for a moment as he studied it before shutting it down.
“Yeah. They’re definitely jamming from this location.”
Pollard nodded. That’s what he’d expected. Whoever was out here wouldn’t have set up shop in such a shitty location if it wasn’t for a reason like this. The town was much closer to Holloman than the division intelligence officer had predicted the site would be, but Pollard had done a lot of thinking during the mission. The
