Ever Hayes - Redemption

“Left hand. Yep.”

I appreciated that he wasn’t going to argue with my plan. I was sure he didn’t like the idea of me walking into this one-on-however-many, but stealth was critical now. It made the most sense to take this approach.

Keena, on the other hand, objected. “Danny, what happens if you get caught?”

“Keena, we saw a couple hundred of these guys fall out of the sky. The forest down there is probably crawling with them. We saw the smoke from the fires…we know they’re down there. They’re waiting for us. This is our best chance to take away their advantage.”

She nodded but remained quiet.

“You okay with me taking the Springfield?” She nodded again and handed me the pistol. “All right then.” I took a deep breath and fist bumped each of them.

I climbed up the back side of the ridgeline, just out of sight of the snipers, until I was directly behind—and above—them. I slithered up to where I could look straight down on them and sure enough, there were eight men in all. Three sleeping, one on a radio, and four snipers zoned in on the valley. It had been almost an hour since the first two shots had been fired. My watch read 12:18 a.m.

The man on the radio finished his communication and walked over to a bush. He unzipped his pants for a leak he never got to take. I doubt he even felt the blade touch his throat. I slowly lowered him to the ground and slunk over to the three sleeping men. Three more quick slices, three fewer threats. I signaled in Blake’s direction—with my right hand—four down. He was a good two hundred yards away—and my night-vision goggles had a range of about fifty yards, so I couldn’t see him. But I was certain he was watching me. Hopefully he was moving my way.

I slowly slid down the slope behind one of the snipers. I had the knife poised to slice when gunfire erupted in the valley. The sniper jumped—startled—and his sudden movement caught me off guard. The knife slashed his shoulder, and he yelped in pain, jumping to his feet and plowing back into me. I fell back—off-balance—and noticed we had unfortunately gained the attention of the other three snipers. They were running towards us, trying to get a clear shot at me.

The gunfire continued in the valley as I wrestled with the large man now pinning me down. He was much stronger than I was and had better leverage, but I had his arms locked and he couldn’t reach his own gun or knife. I saw one of the men pass us and run up the slope. He’s heading for the radio. Come on, Blake . On cue, I heard the echo of a gunshot reverberate across the ridge. Then another. Then one more. Did Blake miss? Twice? The two men approaching to help the guy wrestling me froze as their friend who had run up the slope came tumbling back down—dead.

I was able to get my knee up into the gut of the man on top of me as he wrenched the knife from my hand. I kicked him off me, and we each drew our sidearm simultaneously. His first shot missed my head as I rolled and put two in his chest. He flipped backward over a rock and fell hard—and pretty far. Another two gunshots from Blake mixed with the barrage in the valley as another sniper died. One left . How is Blake missing these guys?

I couldn’t see the last sniper. No doubt he’d found a rock to hide behind. As hard as it was for me to lie still, I knew Blake was looking for him too. If this sniper was trained as I’d been, he was waiting for me to move—to be visible. He was also aware another gun out there had taken his comrades out at long range. One of us would make the first mistake—our last mistake.

From my prone position I motioned for Blake to keep moving toward me along the upper ridgeline. He had to get a different angle on the hidden sniper. There was another volley of gunfire in the valley below us, some yelling, and then a single shot. Eerie silence followed. I was afraid to move.

A few minutes later, Blake had a lock on the missing sniper. His final shot chattered across the ridgeline and through the valley. As soon as I knew for sure the soldier was dead, I grabbed one of the enemy sniper rifles and turned it on the valley, trying to find the reason for all the gunfire. The troops had been fighting someone down there—I could see torches and flashlights moving through the trees. Maybe even Lazzo and Hayley. I saw some troops run out into the open rock field, but there was no sign of Hayley—or Lazzo. Soon those troops would be radioing up here and would find out their sniper support was gone. We had to keep moving toward Knights Peak.

Two loud pops woke Eddie shortly after midnight. He sat up when he heard one more. The pops were loud enough to where he knew they weren’t normal. He stood and walked over to the bars, straining his ears to listen for anything else up the stairs but it was silent. The only noises were down the hall—the guards talking and prisoners shuffling around their cells. What were those pops? They sounded like gunshots.

Then the little red light on the surveillance camera went off a couple minutes later. Eddie hadn’t heard a helicopter come in, and he didn’t hear anyone coming down the stairs. He took that to mean the guard who had slipped him the key was in the control room. That was his signal. This was his chance.

It was dark outside, and the prison was silent. Eddie walked to the door of his cell and reached around to insert the key in the lock. A quick twist and click and the door swung open. Eddie slowly stepped out into the hallway. He heard someone clear his throat down the hall and could see a faint silhouette highlighted by a dim light source around the corner. He tiptoed to the end of the hall, grateful the other prisoners seemed to be asleep. Eddie peeked around the corner and saw a guard walking away from him and another seated a few feet away with his face in his hands. Eddie took three quick steps and snapped the seated guard’s neck in one swift motion. He pulled the guard off the chair, donned his hat, and took up the same position the guard had occupied just seconds earlier. He saw the other guard turn around and look in his direction. The guard began to pace back. Eddie didn’t dare move too much. He counted down the guard’s steps until he was only a few yards away and then lunged at him. The guard attempted to duck and yell but Eddie shoved his hand over the guard’s mouth before he could make much of a sound. Eddie slammed the guard’s head back against the wall and then gave his neck a quick twist—yielding another distinctive crunch. Two down .

He found the cells with red circles in them, put his face against the bars and whispered “Mali.” There was no reply, so he whispered again, a little louder. “Mali.” He heard stirring and whispered a third time, “Mali, are you in there?”

“Eddie?” a female voice replied in surprise.

“Shh, yes… it’s me baby.”

A shadow approached him, but it wasn’t Mali. It was Cera, Lazzo’s wife. “Cera? Where’s Mali?” Eddie could see the troubled expression on her face. “Where’s your daughter?”

“Isabelle is…” She reached out and grabbed Eddie’s hand. “Mali isn’t—they—” Tears pooled up in her eyes. “They’re not—”

But there were three circles on the sheet . “No… she’s here—” He realized he was being too loud. “I was told she’s—”

“Eddie.” A tear ran down Cera’s face. “She died a day after the beating. Her brain—she—I—” Cera didn’t know what to say.