Steven Konkoly - Event Horizon

“Then we’ll know they didn’t come here on official business and act accordingly,” said Kate, patting her drop holster.

“If they produce a warrant, you better not produce a gun,” said Samantha.

“If they produce a warrant, I’ll serve as your personal butler for the remainder of the year,” Kate quipped.

“What are these people thinking? Flash the lights and hit the siren for a few seconds,” said Eli.

He waited a long minute after the sound and light show.

“I guess they don’t give a shit about the law. All right. Back it up and park us about fifty feet down the road. That way,” he said, pointing north. “I want to take a little look before we call in the cavalry.”

Brown pulled the car along the right side of Gelder Pond Lane and stopped.

“Should I bring the .308?”

“Negative. We’ll map everything out and head back to base. This is strictly a reconnaissance mission.”

“Roger that,” said Brown, opening his car door.

“We have company!” yelled Linda. “Zone 2. Single sensor pick-up. If they head straight in, they’ll appear due east of the garden.”

“Shit!” Samantha yelled from the kitchen. “I told you it was the cops!”

“I don’t give a shit who it is. They’re trespassing,” said Kate, slinging her rifle. “I’ll head up to the master bedroom and keep an eye on the tree line.”

“I’ll join you,” said Linda. “Sam, I need you to stay here and watch the sensors. Call us on the handheld if any of them are triggered.”

“Got it. What are you going to do if they head toward the house?”

“That all depends on how they approach and what they’re carrying,” said Linda. “I’m sending the kids into the cellar with Amy until this is resolved. Tim, I want you to make sure all of the doors are locked, then keep Sam company.”

“I’ll check the front door on my way upstairs,” said Kate, patting her father-in-law’s shoulder.

He leaned his M-14 rifle against the wall and hurried after Kate, catching her before she turned down the foyer hallway.

“Don’t do anything we’ll all regret. If they’re alone, we’ll talk to them at the door. The last thing we need is the entire Sheriff’s Department pitched in against us. We’ll lose everything.”

“What happened to the ‘I smell a rat’ speech?”

“Let’s sniff them out a little closer. Trust me on this,” said Tim.

Eli Russell crept to the edge of the tree line, pushing the underbrush out of the way, until he had reached the point where he couldn’t go any further without breaking concealment. Brown eased into a position behind the thick tree to his left and nodded, staring straight ahead. Dense, unkempt bushes forced the use of a compass to stay on a due-west heading. The Fletcher compound remained obscured by heavy rain until they reached a point roughly fifty feet from the edge of the clearing, reinforcing his assessment that it would be nearly impossible for anyone in the house to detect their arrival. Unslinging a pair of powerful binoculars, he rose on both knees until he had a view of the house and the surrounding area.

Through the rain-splashed lens, he saw that they had arrived on the left side of the house, from the perspective of someone standing on the front porch and facing the front yard. They had agreed that all observations would be recorded relative to the viewpoint of this imaginary observer. Continuity of perspective was critical to recreating an accurate diagram of the compound.

Most of his view consisted of the eastern side of the house. A single window on the ground level facing them indicated that he was looking at the garage, which probably housed his deceased nephew’s SUV. Further examination led him to suspect that they had boarded up the window from the inside. He could see wood through the rain-splattered window. That was all the evidence he needed to bring back a squad or two of soldiers.

“Well, looky here. A surveillance camera,” said Eli.

“Got it,” said Brown. “Along with that motion-activated light up on the second story. The camera looks stationary. Do you think any of that shit works, with the EMP and all?”

“Unless they replaced it all, I highly doubt it.”

“Do you think they could see us if it worked?” Brown asked.

“I highly doubt it. Even if those are quality cameras, the image will be grainy. Throw in the rain, and we’ll be washed out. Those windows up there are a different story. Someone with a pair of binoculars might be able to pick us out. Keep an eye on them for movement.”

“Roger that, sir. Did you notice the screens have been removed from the windows?”

“Good eye, Mr. Brown. They’re ready for action.”

He panned right to a partial, long view of the back of the colonial-style house. A bulkhead door protruded from the foundation, next to a covered screen porch containing a table and some of that fancy outdoor furniture he saw in his ex-wife’s Pottery Barn catalogue. He couldn’t be certain, but the table looked like it had been abandoned in the middle of a meal—unless they were slobs. Five table settings and what looked to be like the remains of sandwiches. Definitely an open bag of chips. Five was one more than the neighbors reported to be living out here.

Set back from the house, a red, two-story barn with roof-mounted solar panels materialized between sheets of rain.

Damn. These people have it all!

“Looks like we just found our new headquarters. Did you see the solar panels?”

“Yeah. This looks like a completely self-sustaining operation. The vegetable garden behind the house nearly stretches to the trees. That’s enough square footage to feed several families, and if you squint between rainsqualls, you’ll see that they’re growing a sizeable plot of something way in front of the house. Some kind of grain.”

“Shit. I might have to keep a few of them alive to tend the crops and keep the boys happy,” he said, finishing his sentence with a barely audible mutter and a grin. “Be a fitting life sentence for these bitches.” He studied the layout for another minute. “What are you thinking in terms of tactics?”

“Definitely bring in the primary breaching team behind the barn,” Brown said. “They’ll probably have cameras back there and some motion-triggered lights, but at that point it won’t matter. Once we have control of the barn, we can suppress them from the northern tree line,” he said, pointing beyond the vegetable garden, “and move the team right up onto the screened porch and in. Probably keep another team right here. Be easy to suppress those two windows and move a group across once all of the shooting starts on the other side.”

“Damn. You read my mind, son. Were you Delta Force or something?”

“3 rdRanger Battalion, sir.”

“No shit? 101st Airborne. Screaming Eagles.”

“Airborne!” they said, pumping fists in the air.

“Are you seeing this shit?” said Kate, standing several feet away from the leftmost window, staring through binoculars.

“Cops, my ass,” muttered Linda.

“I can’t pick them out of the forest on either screen,” said Samantha, over the handheld, “what are they doing?”

“Reconnaissance. If they were real cops, they’d ring the doorbell and state their business,” responded Kate.

“Maybe they want to make sure it’s safe to approach.”

“They drove up to the gate and pressed the intercom button. I’m pretty sure they would have driven their cruiser right up the driveway. Not exactly the safest approach. Hold on—they’re leaving,” Kate announced. “No way this was legit.”