Steven Konkoly - Event Horizon

Home sweet home.

EVENT+78:45

Limerick, Maine

Alex stormed out of the side door to the barn holding a bloodstained map in one hand and his rifle in the other. Staff Sergeant Evans and his two marines sat on the porch steps, drinking out of their CamelBak hoses and eating MREs. They had just finished hauling the last of the militia bodies into the trees behind the barn.

“Staff Sergeant! Have your team mount up. We have a mission.”

“A mission, sir?” said Evans, stepping down from the porch.

The marines behind him started packing up their food.

“Two of the terrorists confirmed the location of the Maine Liberty Militia’s headquarters in Parsonsfield—less than nine miles from here. We’ll roll up with the Matvee and tear the place apart. I want M320s attached to all rifles. Full grenade load-out.”

“The men in the barn, sir?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” demanded Kate from just inside the screen porch.

“They aren’t going anywhere,” whispered Alex, eyes on Kate as she strode across the porch.

“Sir?” he said, locking eyes with Alex.

“One of them expired from natural causes. The others are a little worse for the wear, but they’ll be fine. I want to be on the road in under a minute.”

“Shit,” muttered Evans, “this isn’t good.”

“I plan to file a full report detailing the entire interrogation—after we get back.”

“Where are you going?” said Kate, standing with her hands on her hips in front of the Matvee.

“I know where their headquarters is located,” he said, waving the folded map. “We have to hit them now and put an end to this.”

“You and three marines? You’re out of your fucking mind,” she said. “No offense, Staff Sergeant.”

“None taken,” Evans said, slowly backing away.

“We’re bringing the Matvee. With the 240 and grenade launchers, we’ll blow the place to pieces. You’re not changing my mind, Kate,” he said, knowing that he was unlikely to get off that easy.

“I’m not doubting that you could level the place, if they let you get close enough.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that this militia group detonated a car bomb at the entrance to our neighborhood. What makes you think they won’t have something bigger ready for you at their secret hideout?”

“Headquarters,” said Alex.

“Whatever. One, they won’t be there, unless we’re dealing with the stupidest militia group ever. Two, they probably left a nice little surprise behind for you. You’re not thinking this through right now, and the staff sergeant knows it,” she said, shooting Evans a nasty look. “You’re running on empty, Alex. No. Actually, you’re running on those stupid STIM things. Look at your hands.”

Alex didn’t have any intention of producing his hands for general examination. He’d fought to keep the trembling hidden since he arrived last night.

“How many P-STIMs have you taken, Captain?”

“See?” Kate said. “He knows.”

“Four in the past thirty-six hours.”

“Jesus,” muttered the staff sergeant.

“It’s the only way I’ve been able to function like this.”

“Is that a lot?” asked Kate.

“They’re recommended for one-time dosage, at night, during extended combat operations. Yes, he has a shit-ton of amphetamine in his system. Frankly, I’d feel more comfortable if the captain had a seat inside and let this filter out of his system.”

“I’ll take a break once this Eli Russell character is dead,” said Alex.

“Who’s Eli Russell?” asked Kate.

“Our prisoners identified him as the leader of this group. I haven’t walked them around to look at the bodies, but I think he escaped. This was only half of their group.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Your family needs you in one piece. You have the vast resources of the Marine Corps and Homeland Security at your disposal; why don’t you let them handle this?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Not really. Call Grady. Maybe he can send a helicopter or a drone to blow the place up. Designate the location as a critical threat.”

“Sounds like a better plan, sir, for now,” said Evans.

“I’ll contact Grady.”

“Thank you,” Kate said, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll go check on the prisoners,” said Evans, slipping away.

“Staff Sergeant?” said Kate, standing next to Alex.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you for moving the bodies. It would have been too much for us right now. We’ll get your men some real food tonight.”

“Not a problem, ma’am, and we’re fine with MREs if it’s too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll throw some beers in the freezer a little later—if Captain Fletcher doesn’t have a problem with that.”

“As long as I get one, there’s no problem,” said Alex.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Evans said and jogged to the barn.

“Sorry, hon. I just thought I could put an end to this right now. What if they come after us again?”

“I can’t imagine they’ll return with the marines here. Let Grady worry about this. Designate this guy, Eli Russell, as the top threat in southern Maine. It’s not like you’ll be out of the loop on what happens.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Let me call Grady and see if he can scare something up while Russell’s trail is hot.”

Kate nodded. “I want you inside taking a break when you’re done. Mopping and sweeping doesn’t take a lot of energy. We have most of the bigger pieces cleaned up downstairs.”

“What happened to resting?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. We’ll be at this most of the day just to get the house in basic shape. All hands on deck.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said and kissed her on the forehead.

Alex walked toward the garden, looking for a little shade behind the house. He still felt exposed outside of the house, despite walking nearly every square foot of the forest to the north and east of the clearing. The prisoners told him far more than he had conveyed to Kate, and he had no reason to doubt their words. Not after what he did to the scumbag who kept insisting Eli would return to “rape every bitch in that house.” Dying of natural causes involved a long, painful process in front of his scared-shitless comrades. They nearly talked over each other to give Alex information.

The ROTAC indicated a full signal from his resting spot on the slanted metal bulkhead door. He scrolled through the preprogrammed directory and selected “Patriot.” It was the only call sign listed without a follow-on number or letter. Had to be Grady. He pressed “Lock,” which initiated an encrypted protocol connecting his radio to Grady’s. “Connected” flashed on the digital display a few seconds later. He remembered it was “push to talk” technology just as Grady’s voice broke the silence.

“Alex, Evans called as soon as Lianez hit the road. Sounds like you gave it to them good. I’ve arranged for priority treatment of your wounded at Goodall Hospital in Sanford. Is everyone else okay?”

“We have some minor injuries that can be treated here. Thank you. I have a situation that requires immediate attention. Can you spare a full squad right now?”

“Right now?”

“Affirmative. I need additional marines to conduct a raid against the militia headquarters. I interrogated a few of the surviving militia and confirmed the location. It’s less than nine miles from here.”

“Alex, I can’t spare any marines right now. A quarter of the marines I had in Boston are missing or en route. We’re getting ready to evacuate north to the Londonderry Reserve Center.”