Steven Konkoly - Event Horizon

Squirming onto the soft pine-covered forest floor, he pressed forward several feet and rested behind a thick spruce. Alex listened for a few moments, hearing a snap in the distance, followed immediately by another. Unless the clumsiest, bumble-footed buck in all of southern Maine had just wandered onto his property, they had uninvited guests. Alex eased his head around the tree, taking in the scene. At first glance, the forest looked like it always did—a shadowy, multihued canvas of greens and browns, dominated by tall vertical lines and random thickets. Organically alive, but typically motionless on a macro scale. A few more seconds of observation explained the sensor hit. Darkened figures moved in a line, spaced at least ten feet apart, due east.

He brought the rifle to his shoulder and examined the lead man in the column. MultiCam-patterned uniform, tactical vest—no body armor, same boonie cap worn by the militia at the bridge, AR rifle with unmagnified optics.

Definitely not Bambi.

Their trajectory through the forest puzzled him. They couldn’t be more than two hundred feet from the clearing, which meant they’d have seen the barn through the trees. The best approach to the house was from behind the barn, pretty much taking the same path he had travelled to arrive in the forest. The barn put them less than fifty feet from the house. A charge from the tree line directly behind the house forced them to cross triple that distance, while navigating a fenced vegetable garden.

What am I missing?

A quick scan through the line of militia soldiers showed them all moving in the same direction. Parallel to the tree line. The last man in the line didn’t appear to be moving. Alex peered through the 4X scope, centering the red arrow on the man’s chest.

“Shit,” he muttered, slowly retracting his head and rifle behind the knotted trunk.

It hadn’t been the last guy. He’d found himself staring at the point man for a second squad moving in his direction. The militia deployment made more sense now. One squad could take advantage of the blind spot created by the barn, while the other provided suppressing fire from the trees beyond the backyard. He started to low-crawl back to the edge of the forest, but stopped. Did it make sense to punch a few holes in the squad headed toward him and make a run for the barn? The thought was tempting, but he preferred not to attract the combined effort of two dozen rifles to his return trip across the clearing. The suppressor might keep his position concealed long enough to make it through the raspberry bushes, but he’d be fair game after that.

He wiggled under the thorns and turned left, lying along the edge of the grass and surveying the land behind the house and barn. It was clear.

“Alex,” said Kate through his earpiece, “we have a second group approaching from the east. Sensors picked them up about a hundred feet from the driveway, which puts them about even with the house.”

“Roger. I have two separate squads inbound from the north. One looks like it will line up along the trees behind the house. The other will probably use the barn to get as close to the house as possible. I want everyone with optics scanning the northern tree line for their positions. We’ll give them a full magazine welcome to make them think twice. Everyone who can shoot needs to be in on this. Once the initial salvo is finished, everyone goes back to their assigned positions. If they can safely aim and shoot a weapon, they need to be doing that. We’ll only get one shot at making a strong impression. I’m heading back, so don’t shoot me. Have someone open the front door.”

“Got it,” she said.

He gripped the rifle’s hand guard and took off in a crouch, half-expecting to hear the supersonic snap of incoming bullets. Careening past the corner of the barn, he didn’t ease up on his legs until he reached the front of the house, where he slowed to a jog and struggled for breath. No matter how many miles he put into running, sprinting three hundred feet remained a thoroughly unpleasant experience. Fighting waves of nausea, he took the stairs on the porch in a single leap, pulling himself up by the railing. The front door swung inward, and Kate, who looked all business, took his hand and pulled him inside.

“Are you sure you want the kids involved?” said Kate.

“Yes,” he insisted.

“Then you need to provide some hands-on guidance.”

“Is Ryan upstairs?” he said, running through the foyer hallway.

“Charlie and Linda took him up,” said Kate.

Alex surveyed the kitchen and great room area, not pleased by what he saw.

“Samantha, just for now, get everyone behind the safe box, not in it. When I give the signal, Daniel and Chloe will move next to their father by the sliding door and you’ll stand behind the sink. At some point, very soon after that, I’ll order everyone to start firing. I want you to empty the shotgun at the far right corner of the garage. Try to hit it as many times as possible.”

“You want me to shoot the barn?”

“Yes. Tear the corner to pieces. I want the kids to shoot six rounds each into the forest, wherever their father is shooting, followed by the rest of their magazines at the barn. Got it guys?” he said, staring down Chloe and Daniel until they nodded.

“Sam, when you and the kids have emptied your weapons, get inside the safe box and reload. You should be safe behind the sandbags before they fire back. The rest of you will rapidly shoot half of your rifle magazine at visible targets in the trees, the other half at the corner. Targets of opportunity after that,” he said, running to his father in the great room.

“Dad, I want you to focus on both sides of the barn and anything to the left. Use both of the firing positions in the great room. I expect them to send a guy to the left corner to fire into the house. Concentrate on putting that target out of action, even if you have to slow down your rate of fire and take well-aimed shots. Yell out if you need backup.”

His next stop was Ed, who kneeled behind a wide sandbag wall built five feet back from the open side of the deck slider.

“You good with the AR?” said Alex.

“I prefer the Ruger, but I think we’ll need the extra punch for this one.”

“If it jams, switch to the Ruger and yell for me. I’ll put the AR back into action. Here’s what I need you to do. After the first full magazine salvo, reload and cover the right corner of the barn, along with anything you can identify in the tree line behind the house. Take three quick shots at each target, reacquire or find a new target and repeat. If men push forward from the barn, yell out a warning and focus your fire on them until they are no longer moving toward the house. Their most likely breach point is this sliding door. If it gets too crazy behind your sandbag position, fall back to the safe box,” he said, slapping Ed on the shoulder. “Easy enough?”

“Easy enough.”

“Kate, you’ll start out in the bathroom. After the first mag, you focus on the tree line. If the eastern group makes a dash for the garage, you relocate to the sitting room. You’ll have a clean line of sight down the front of the garage, which is their fastest way into the house. Cover that approach until Linda and Charlie get downstairs. Check?”

“Check,” she said and jogged toward the mudroom.

“I’ll be back down in a few moments. Pass anything you see over the radio.” He opened the door to the basement and came face to face with his mother holding a 20-gauge shotgun.

“Mom, I need—”

“The kids stay down here. You have too many moving parts up there as it is. A few shaky pistols isn’t going to make or break the day,” she said.