Unlike the bulkier, slower machines he'd tested, this one was built for speed. While the others were designed for shooting footage of landscapes, cities, or even weddings and real estate showings, this model was known as a racing or freestyle drone, capable of speeds up to 90 miles per hour.
Dak had been toying with various styles of drones for the last few months, growing more interested in their use for tactical situations with every passing day. He carried two of the faster versions, and one larger drone that he'd equipped with a small amount of ordnance—a chemical compound he'd come up with similar to semtec. The explosive was capable of knocking down a small building and easily killing anyone within five yards. That wasn't the purpose behind the device, though. He'd created it as diversion first—lethal weapon second.
He shoved the bag with the bigger drone back toward the rear seat and took out the racing drone. Most people who used those kinds of aircraft equipped a camera on the front next to the FPV camera so they could record their flight and post the videos to YouTube or other video hosting sites. Dak had taken a slightly different approach.
He'd need the video feed to analyze the best approach into Nate's property, but he also needed to know for sure if the boys were being held there.
So he'd added a modification to the FPV camera that made the drone a little heavier and slower than normal, but would allow him to utilize thermal scanning with the push of a button.
If the boys were being kept somewhere on the property, Dak would know. On the other hand, if there were no thermal images on his screen, he had a bad feeling it was because the kids were already dead.
After going through his preparations of getting the drone ready and adjusting the flight settings on his laptop, Dak set the drone on the ground and fit the goggles over his eyes.
He didn't like the idea of being blind to his immediate surroundings, but there was no better way for him to get the intel he so badly needed. At least in the forest, hidden in the pull-off, he was secluded.
He looked through the camera lens of the drone as the tiny aircraft's motors whirred to life, lifting the machine off the ground. Dak likened the experience to riding a motorcycle in the air. It had taken him a few months of practice to get accustomed to the controls and how to fly the thing smoothly, but once he got the hang of it, he was doing the same aerobatics as pros he'd seen on the internet.
He carefully guided the aircraft through the opening of the trail until he cleared the trees, then he pushed the machine up, sending it shooting vertically into the air.
It never got old to him, seeing the earth drop away as if he was on board a rocket. The loud whining from the motors faded as he gained altitude, climbing high over the ridge to reveal the farm on the other side.
Acres of dried corn stalks spread out over a huge field between two hills. Dak had to hand it to Nate, he could sure pick the spots. Dak imagined what the place must have looked like in the summer, when everything was green and lush.
He refocused and continued to climb until he was nearly a thousand feet above the plateau. Then Dak steered the aircraft toward the house at the other end of the field. The home was nothing special—a white, two story rancher with a porch that wrapped around half of the exterior.
Dak slowed the drone as it neared the house. The camera angle tilted forward, and Dak flipped the switch on the thermal scanner. His view of the home changed and displayed several orange and red shapes within the confines of the house's outline. One of the figures moved toward the front door. Dak's immediate assumption was that Nate was about to leave the house. If he did and looked up, Nate might see the drone.
Dak pushed the aircraft higher. The screen glitched as the scanner's sensors stretched beyond their normal operating limits. Dak flipped the switch back to normal viewing mode and continued sending the drone high into the air. He'd deliberately kept it just high enough that Nate couldn't hear it, but where the scanners would work.
Breath coming in short, tempered bursts, Dak watched, anticipating seeing his ex-teammate step down off the porch and into the front yard. He kept the machine hanging in midair for what seemed like hours. It may have been only a minute. Dak glanced at the battery indicator. The one downfall to these kinds of drones was how rapidly they burned through battery life. Dak could keep it there for a few more minutes, thanks to some modifications, but the machine couldn't linger indefinitely.
Dak decided to try something else.
He descended while retreating toward the ridge and then leveled the aircraft so he could see under the roof of the porch.
As he suspected, the towering man stood near the steps, looking out at his harvested cornfield. Dak couldn't tell what else he was doing, but he held something in one hand. A beer bottle perhaps? Dak recalled the man enjoyed a bottle of brew now and then. Not that it mattered. The only bearing that factoid might have on the situation would be impeding Nate's ability to drive—depending on how many he'd consumed.
Dak held his breath, watching as the target continued to stare out at the field. Then, after what seemed like decades, Nate turned and sauntered back through the door into the house.
The battery indicator on the screen told Dak he still had five more minutes. He'd need at least one or two to get the drone back to his location. Wasting no time, he accelerated toward the house and
