A/N: Soundtrack for this chapter is by Mick Gordon - 11. BFG Division
Far Cry 5: The Collapse
Chapter 35: Army of Two
A quick stop to top off on ammo, in Roger's case swap his HCAR for Drubman's .50 caliber Kord, grab the needed climbing gear, and to grab enough MRE's to eat that evening as they waited for night to fully come the Sheriff drove the two of them to a small lake just southwest of the Hawkeye tunnel. As the pickup climbed the winding road the Sheriff couldn't help but stare in awe.
"Never even knew there was a lake here." He said prompting Joey to explain.
"In 1896 there was a gold prospecting mine built here. The mining company pumped all the water out of the lake to dig for gold but after only a year they had to give up, there are too many feeder streams coming from higher up in the mountains to keep up with pumping especially when they were burning through outrageous amounts of coal to do so. The final straw came when they realize that they had after that first year found less than a pound or two of gold that was likely run off from the feeder streams, regardless it wasn't enough to pay for more prospecting so they sold their equipment to another company in the area and left a 30 foot vertical shaft in the middle of this lake that now had several small 'islands' in it from material removed from the shaft. In the county records this place is called Devil's Contract, making it less than clear that is now a lake."
"I scuba dived here when I was sixteen and explored the shaft. They did a good job removing everything save for some old beer bottles and a builders plate for one of the steam pumps they used here." Roger added as they came to a stop.
Unloading from the truck and donning their packs Roger got his first look at the old trail he had blazed. While the rocks that he had broken up with nothing but a pickax and hammer hadn't obviously returned the saplings that had started to grow even before he left for the army had over a decade now to grow into decent size trees thus making it clear that the ascent would be on foot and they would be climbing over and through at least a few trees that always seem to fall on mountain trails like this.
"You two sure about doing this?" The Sheriff questioned.
Roger nodded silently unable to come up with a verbal answer that suited him. The Sheriff to his credit took the answer in stride. "Well... stay safe you two. Last thing I want to hear is that of all the things in this county that could kill you guys is that you died slipping off of a trail."
With that he left them to begin their march up the hill.
.
Roger took the position of trailblazer as his sheer broadness meant that Joey had less likelihood of having to break through the thick brush thus making it easier on her which worked given the pace he was setting for themselves.
They weren't in much of a rush really, two hours to reach Snowshoe Lake, five hours to climb the cliff which by then would be past sunset, and then another two hours of waiting for night to fully fall before they started their attack. But Roger couldn't make himself slow down, some part of him pushed him to get to the lake. To see for himself if the one place that he and Joey had carved out for themselves so long ago had remained sacred and secure. If the cult had violated the place then it would be he that would be the first to begin to drive them out.
The lack of labored breathing behind him a few times worried him but every time he glanced back there was Joey, shotgun in hand and traveling in his wake.
'How long has it been since I haven't had to slow down for anyone honestly?' He wondered. It was one of the few 'negative' notes in his service record both in the Army and much more blatantly in his time with the CIA. More than a few times he had wondered if the reason why he was made a 'Reaper' was simply because they couldn't find people willing to work at his pace so cutting him loose simply made things easier on both him and the staff.
'Give the order, point in the general direction, and wait for the explosions, dismembered bodies, or for him to return with flash drives full of info that normally would have taken months of prep work to acquire and then some. Old man Yeller certainly never complained about having someone complete their tasks in half the time estimated, thankfully he was smart enough to never bet on that being more than a happy surprise.' He mused as he pushed past a half fallen tree that with even a light touch ripped its few remaining roots and smashed its way down the mountain below.
"Well we are just about to get out of the treeline at this point. Kinda surprised that more of these trees aren't unstable considering how much of this path was chunky gravel after you got done with it." Joey mused as she jumped easily over the remaining divot left by the uprooted tree.
"Honestly haven't given that much thought." He replied as he looked higher up along the trail at the thinning trees. "I'm not going too fast am I?" He questioned drawing a cocked eyebrow from his partner.
"Roger I have been wondering why you aren't going faster. At best I figured you were watching out for more stuff like that tree or other weak spots on the trail." She shot back.
He chuckled softly. This was unusual but by God he was going to take it for everything it was worth. "Ok then Joey try to keep up."
He started at a moderate jog before slowly picking up speed as they broke above the tree line. From here the trail was still as clear as he remembered making it when he wanted to be able to crawl his truck up this mountain.
As they neared the top of the ridge that would let them look over into Snowshoe lake he unslung the massive 75 pound machine gun from his shoulder and took it in hand. The last ten feet before the ridge he could hear Joey open a pouch on her bag and come up beside him holding a pair of binoculars. At the top he deployed the bipod and started scanning the area below as she looked more closely.
"Roger I am not seeing anyone at the lake or signs of activity." She said as he now copied her and extracted another pair of binoculars so he could look above them at the cliff they would be climbing and the radar site they would be attacking.
The peak of the mountain across the lake hid the radar site from view but nowhere did he see even so much as a guard shack or hunter's hide on this side to prevent against the very sort of flanking attack he and Joey had planned on.
"Jacob appears to have placed a bit too much faith that no one would be climbing up the cliffs in the area to attack his flanks. Not completely unreasonable but a touch less paranoia than I would have pegged him as having. Wouldn't be the first time in history that someone has placed too much faith in their cliff side defenses." He said as he now looked down into the area around the lake.
It was hard to make out details but he had to agree with Joey's assessment no obvious signs of human occupation like fire pits, tents, or latrines. One other thing that he was grateful not to see was signs of another Air Warden shipping container like what they had found in the marshes to the south.
"Ok Joey lets go down and see if things are as unsullied as they seem." He beckoned taking up his gun, folding the bipod, and marching quickly down the trail.
This part of the trail was much better defined by the local wildlife. Countless numbers of deer, elk, and moose among others had over the centuries had cut through the sparse brush which in turned allowed for deeper cuts made by rain and snow run off to form and feed the lake.
Finally the ground leveled off and the two deputies found themselves at the lake shore. Neither of them said anything as they searched the area and found... nothing. Roger slung his gun back over his shoulder and could hear Joey do the same.
The surrounding high black grey walls of granite gave a sense of protection and isolation from the outside world and their ancient wind worn shape directed the wind, funneling it to the east where the top of Ozhigwan falls could be softly heard even against the wind carrying the sound away from them.
Suddenly he felt Joey latch on to him emitting a lone soft sob. "It's safe Roger... it's safe." she muttered into his chest. He could feel his own eyes water and he returned the gesture and wrapped the woman he loved in his thick arms.
He fumbled for the right words at first his own emotions actually overwhelming him for a change. "Yeah Joey... our place is safe and I swear once this war is over we will come back here and enjoy this place together. Just like we always have. Hunting, cooking, skinny dipping,..." he paused for effect looking down at Joey's tear stained face.
"Making love under the stars again." He said getting a giggle from his partner.
"You hopeless romantic." She shot back grinning widely.
He replied in turn. "Oh I'm the romantic now. I seem to remember you saying something much different that night, something along the lines of 'This is perfect for us.' after which much fun was had." Their shared laughter was slow to die as they broke apart.
They casually made their way around the lake hand in hand, the tall grass crunching under foot and causing a number of rabbits to run away from their presence as they walked. In the sky a bald eagle dove at the lakes quiet surface before taking flight once more with a fish clutched in its talons. Life here had truly been sheltered from the cult's touch.
Finally at the base of the cliff things grew serious once more. Roger busied himself with checking the state of the first few anchors he could see and was pleased to see the massive bolts he had spent an entire summer making from scrap blocks of titanium from his father's machine operations were as untouched as expected from time and weather. He would in a perfect world prefer to go through and check the state of all of the anchors from the top of the cliff but that wasn't a luxury they had and if the anchors higher up did fail they could still free climb the face as it was slightly angled with plenty of hand and foot holds.
'I have had to climb far worse places in Afghanistan and Kyrat of course. Hell that one time is Russia was harder if only because of the ice and wind. This place really is a easy climb all things considered.' He thought as went over to wear Joey was equipping her climbing harness.
"Goddamn this thing barely fits. Might cause as much harm as good if I fall." She complained.
He couldn't completely fault her logic given how important safety gear fit tended to be but as he was going to be experiencing in a moment at least she had a harness to clip to. He was going to hanging off of his thick steel cable reinforced gun belt and the straps of his rucksack with little else to catch his own fall.
"Don't worry Joey could be worse, you could be me with my fat over armed and armored ass. Anyway the anchors seem good so we can play this as safe as possible. I'll lead and stay one anchor ahead of you, obviously if I fall don't bother trying catch me unless you really think you are strong enough to catch my falling fat ass." He quipped.
Joey nodded. "Lets not test that theory. Besides this isn't exactly a hard climb even without the anchors and gear."
He clipped on his anchor lines to his belt and straps before approaching the cliff face. "I agree but as I remember you stating when we first climbed this thing you hate the idea of 'free soloing' in general and want some form of fall protection."
He checked Joey's connections and she did his in a well practiced tradition.
"There is a difference between 'precarious heights' and just 'heights'. I still don't like the idea of falling to my death and unlike you I know my head isn't hard enough to survive, in fact I almost rather get in a shoot out then fall." Joey said as she looked up the cliff eye balling their route.
He reached up with his first anchor line before getting a good foot hold and easily reaching the second anchor. 'Yeah I am two and a half feet plus taller than I was when I placed these anchors.' He thought before looking back at a waiting Joey.
"Honestly I agree with you on that Joey. Sir Issac Newton is the deadliest son a bitch in the universe for a reason." He said before ascending once more.
.
Marcus loaded the last belt for the Huey's .50 cal GAU-19 miniguns before he looked over his work. He knew that any of the other Grey's or even Nick could have done such a basic task but that would leave him with a touch too much time to fret over the plan for tonight.
It wasn't normally a issue for him but the high stakes of locating the warheads and extracting them while actively fighting the cult both on the ground and very likely the air along with coordinating the timing of everything was setting him on edge.
'So many gears spinning and so many teeth to align.' He mused as he saw a tanker truck of aviation fuel pull up to the massive Chinook where Nick was waiting.
The later half of the afternoon had been spent moving the aircraft low and fast from Drubman's compound and hoping that Jacob's people didn't hear or happen to be looking in the general direction of the compound when the big twin rotored monster helicopter took off.
'At least we were able to carry off the M777 with the Chinook. The M60 and Pion took two hours to crawl back to Fall's End.' His thoughts continued as he now looked in the direction of the radar site.
He couldn't even see the radar site let alone the cliff where Roger and Joey were hopefully climb up but once more he found himself praying that nothing happened. Once they reached the top of the cliff they were supposed to radio in but it was getting close to sunset and they had heard nothing yet.
"Colonel." He heard behind him as he found Captain Foley walking up to him.
"We are set on our end. The artillery is set and the artillerymen briefed on their targets and the possible alternative targets so we just need to call it out and they have all the math done already. Any word from the Major and Hudson?" The younger man asked.
Marcus shook his head trying to stow away any nerves he may still have. "Nope. They still technically have time but we were all hoping they would reach the top of the cliff before they lost sunlight. Did we hear from Mack's AA team yet?" He asked moving on to the other time sensitive element of the attack.
Foley nodded confidently. "Yes sir they are in the Oz... Ozzy." he paused to sound out the word. "Ozhigwan Falls tunnel. Sorry about that sir most of us have been calling it the 'Ozzy tunnel'. First time I actually had to use its proper name."
Marcus chuckled. "Yeah I know the feeling. It's not even a native word or at least from a local tribe. I think the story goes it came from some Canadian fur trapper who was raised in one of the tribes in eastern Canada." He settled down before continuing. "Ok so Roger and Joey aside we are on track..."
"Black Reaper to Grey Reaper." his radio crackled to life.
Marcus made a grab for his radio as Foley leaned in to listen.
"Go ahead Black Reaper." He replied.
"Be advised payload parameters have changed." Came Roger's statement.
"Oh shit... now what?" The elder Reaper muttered.
.
The feeling grass and more so the feeling of his fingers digging into actual earth instead of granite and gravel was absolutely sensational as he pulled himself up over the cliff ledge. They still had another 150 or 200 ft climb over a ridge to reach a point where they could overlook the entrance to the radar site but that was simple hiking. The more dangerous part of their journey was over at least as soon as Joey was up and over the ledge.
"Ok I am so... ugh... so... out of practice." Joey grunted as she got within arms reach of him allowing him to bend down and let her grasp his forearm as he did the same and hauled her up to safety. He sat down looking at the southeastern vista their place on the mountain offered as Joey unhooked from her anchor lines now tucked herself up against him to rest for a moment. Without a second thought he held the woman in his arms and allowed himself to rest and take stock.
To their left across the forest below and the lake he could see Joseph's Chapel on his island standing there serenely in stark contrast to the evil that now emanated from the place. Dutch's island sat near by serving as little more than observation post for activity on Joseph's island and the western side of Whitetail Lake. Just within range they could see the blackened remains of where Joseph's Word once stood before Joey's demolition job. In between everything a dark green sea of trees concealed everything else as the shadows cast by the western mountains grew longer in the setting sun further concealing everything.
"I love our home." He heard Joey say softly. He responded simply by hugging her a little tighter. Moments like this were something that he personally treasured while out in the field. They served as reminders that the war zones and hostile nations he found himself in so often could one day be as peaceful as his homeland and that vice versa could however unlikely come to his nation.
'Well that certainly happened. A snake came to our garden and brought with it evil and death in its wake, as it took advantage of our good natures.' He thought grimly.
"Well Joey lets get going, get eyes on the radar site, and then we can eat while we wait for night fall to fully come." He said releasing Joey from his clutches.
In moments they were up and marching across the top of the cliff heading towards the V shaped gap between peaks that divided the Snowshoe Lake area from where the radar site was. The closer they got to the gap the more readily they could hear the roar of a diesel engine and the endless beeping that was standard to just about every heavy piece of equipment created by man.
Neither of them spoke as they jogged up the slope towards the gap, the loose gravel and stones slipped and shifted under their boots dogging down their progress right up to the moment they reached the ridge line.
"Down! Down!" He growled softly as he landed on his belly and unfolded the bipod legs on his Kord.
Joey dropped short of the crest and crawled up beside Roger and once more pulled out her binoculars.
"Get eyes on that gatehouse. I only see a guy on the roof." He said looking down the sights at the only man he could positively identify.
The gatehouse looked down the last bend of the road before it led into the switchbacks so even from where they were they would have to approach the building. To aid in identification a red masked man with a spotters scope sat looking rather bored judging by his body posture was posted on the roof with nothing but a crude awning for protection from the sun and a white folding plastic table.
"One guy on the roof and I can see one... two..." she trailed off for a moment. "Ok two guys inside the house proper." She continued scanning up the road looking for foot patrols until she was looking at the site proper.
"Roger get your binos out you need to see this." She said worryingly.
He did so and had to stop himself swearing too loudly. The base buildings were over run it seemed with dozens and dozens of men all gathered around watching the big show happening at the back of the massive SCUD launcher. A small crane was being used to hoist the reentry section of the missile into place as a crowd looked on with baited breath.
"Oh God. We're too late." Joey muttered as she looked on.
He let out a confident harrumph. "My dear Joey, so long as that missile hasn't been launched we still have time. The real problem is look at how many people are here. Just guessing there is well over 100 maybe even 200. Our plan is going to have to start changing."
They watched the construction crew drive around the missile in small scissor lifts as they directed the crane operator. Finally after a moment they waved the man off and the reentry vehicle with its warheads was lifted off and lowered to the ground.
Something must have gone wrong as soon one of the men in the lift hurried over to a group of men who by din of their pointing and gesturing were in charge as the crowd began to break up and go back to their normal duties.
"Damn you Jacob having your men wear masks all the time. I can't read lips like this. I think what happened is that the coupling mechanism was either damaged or made improperly." He said focusing on the gestures and pointing of the lift man.
Joey set down her binoculars and looked at him. "You can't read lips through masks but you can figure out why they can't put the missile parts together?"
He shrugged in reply. "Well going by what the guy is doing with his hands to describe what is wrong that is my best theory." He paused for a moment before smiling. "Unless of course for some reason he suddenly wants to describe some very strange ways of fingering a woman to his superiors."
He sunk back down against the ground snickering as Joey tried to glare at him in shock while holding back a smile. "More high stress humor Roger? Dirty humor at that?"
"Hey with the missile not assembled and the sun setting we have mostly ruled out a worst case scenario. The oversize garrison is a problem we can more easily solve than making sure that someone doesn't press a single button." He said seeing first relief and then understanding cross her face.
The sound of more beeping from the crane got her back up again along with himself looking to see if they were suddenly in a mood to try assembling the missile again so soon. Instead they could see the reentry section be lifted then lowered onto a cradle of sorts before a large off road forklift backed the load inside the warehouse that made up the southwest corner of the base.
"Well we at least know what building not to blow up if it comes to that. That leaves clearing the two receiver platforms and the radar tower which means they must be packed to the gills with cots and living quarters because this place I think at most was meant to house a maximum of 50 men at any one time and certainly not for anything extensive." He stated as the wheels started to spin once more in his head.
"So can we shell the site then?" Inquired Joey as she slipped down out of sight of the base.
He shook his head. "No, at least not explosive shells. Because all it takes to one shell landing wrong to hit the warehouse. Even the GPS guided shells have a margin of error of 15 feet and that is assuming that there isn't a bit of human error thrown in. Our artillery guys are veterans which means there is always a bit of rust even if they only got out a year or two ago, no fault on them of course. No I think it means that instead of us just marching in guns blazing to create the needed chaos that won't do anything but get us shot at..."
Joey quipped back at him. "Yeah that's not a good thing."
He nodded sagely as he pressed on. "Indeed. That is why we have them start dropping smoke shells on to the radar station directly in addition to smoking up the switchbacks should it come to that. The smoke screen won't last long maybe 10 minutes depending on the wind but if we are aggressive I think we can clear out at least a building or two before Dad and Foley show up.
Joey nodded in understanding. "Lets call it in."
.
It took ten minutes of back and forth to explain to his father what and why the changes had to happen but in the end it was finally sorted. At 9pm he and Joey would quietly attack the gatehouse and move up into the base proper in an attempt to secure the warhead. At that time or before if discovered Roger could call for Wheaty to hit the music and for the Grey's and Delta's to show up, in the meantime they would focus on clearing each building.
Once the reinforcements arrived the idea would be to kill the cultists and dig in while Dr. Niwa, a few of her guys that volunteered, and the Delta team to figure out how to best move the reentry vehicle or at least remove the warheads for transport.
Of course both men now accepted that the plan could become very fluid with so many hostiles at play.
Roger took first watch to let Joey take a nap or at least try to rest her eyes as he kept an eye on the goings on of the base and dug out whatever MRE he had managed to snag from the stockpile that morning.
'Menu 16 Chicken Burrito Bowl. Could be so much worse.' He mused as he went through his usual ritual at meal times in the field.
He crammed the main course and the cinnamon bun into the flameless ration heater and filled it with water from his canteen that he suddenly realized that he hadn't even touched since they took off after lunch.
'I don't feel dehydrated even after climbing the mountain and the cliff. Is the Bliss still working on me?' He wondered quietly as he took off his hat and used it as the famous 'Something' as stated on the MRE instructions to prop up the FRH. His main course and dessert warming up he grabbed the old WWII surplus field cup he was first given by his grandfather Titus as a child. He joked that it wasn't his because some Hun was foolish enough to aim for it instead of him. His cup didn't survive but he did.
Still the old aluminum cup had served him well through countless outings allowing him to make his coffee ration, cold sadly but that was to be expected.
A quick peek over the ridge showed that work on the missile body had stopped for the day and there were fewer guards patrolling the perimeter, still far more than any outpost he had yet attacked.
Observations made he settled back down and finished his coffee before draining the cup and adding the 'atomic fire engine red' tropical punch drink powder with more water. The sun was now well under the surrounding mountains and close to the horizon proper as he noted by the rainbow of reds, yellows, and oranges before they all eventually would fade into shades of blue and purple.
Drinking the electrolyte laden sports drink brought him back to something that he had been trying to not think about as of late. What if he was deemed too far gone to be allowed to stay in the Army? Even the CIA might not be as accommodating as it was originally. Large men over six feet tall weren't completely unheard of in most parts of the world but when a man is pushing eight feet people tended to remember them and the excuse of being a American or European tourist didn't always fly. That meant that the sort of Reaper work that they had brought him on for might not be appropriate for him anymore and that left fewer and fewer things in the field that were.
'God in heaven. Would they shove me behind a desk? At best I would be in a workshop somewhere stateside maybe even working under Dad on their special projects, maybe sometimes let out of my cage to go to a field office to troubleshoot or modify on the fly as the missions changed.' He thought grimly.
If they let him go back into the Army he wouldn't surprised if he was 'honorably discharged' completely or at least let go from Delta. Maybe he could talk himself into a training or desk based position but that wasn't all that desirable either.
All of his life he had wanted to be a soldier. To walk the Earth as his forefathers had with rifle in hand defending his nation and serving its interests. The idea that he would be anything but that wasn't something he seriously considered before short of being crippled but that wasn't something he felt he could plan on besides keeping astride of whatever labyrinthine processes the VA was cooking up that day.
Could he become a career lawman? One day carry the mantle of 'Sheriff Rook'? No. That was almost as bad as desk work. He lacked the charisma and sociability needed to be a good cop, that much he knew so that left the private sector.
Guarding VIP's as they tried to find new ways of putting themselves in dangerous situations or training people in basic security concepts or slightly above that convincing the people in charge that they need security either provided by whatever his employer was offering or encouraging them to pay for personnel and training of their own internal forces.
'Could always go the Africa route and hunt poachers which has moral upsides but if I am being honest Africa is always nice to visit but not a place I want to linger in lest I get sucked up into one of their conflicts and cross into the illegal side of the PMC world.' He thought as he checked his main course and found it ready.
He wasn't hypocritical enough to claim that even a tenth of the work he had done throughout the world for the Army or much more pointedly the CIA was legal. Of course much of his work in the Middle East alone would provide text book examples of war crimes for anyone studying international law and would provide excellent examples for foreign diplomacy majors of where comparatively small illegal acts prevent far worse tragedies and wars. The difference was working for the CIA at least meant 99% of the time having a place to fall back to that would at least pretend that you never left home and no they weren't going to extradite a man they see as innocent. Protection that a PMC just didn't have the ability to completely guarantee.
It was a depressing subject all around, full of questions he didn't have the ability to answer currently which always drove him somewhat mad. Of course it all hinged on not being arrested after this current war with the cult was over, but if he got past that hurdle he did at least have one thing going for him...
He looked over at Joey snoozing lightly on her pack with her shotgun next to her. No matter the outcome even if he was condemned to a desk job as long as he had her back in his life then he could endure and over come.
That too had its strings but they didn't seem so dire. Maybe after the war they would find that the most they could be are close friends, maybe something else would change and they would drift apart hopefully amicably to something less. A voice, though in the back of his head that refused to completely shut up especially when it kept rattling on about the best outcome to his current problems was especially loud when it came to Joey.
'I can be wrong. I can be wrong about everything. No matter what the numbers come out to be there is that razors thin chance that everything could work out. The CIA won't dump me at a desk. The Army will happily foot the bill and pay for all the custom gear I would need to keep doing what I do so they can say they have a honest to God super soldier on the roster. That Joey and I...'
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang from the gate house. He wolfed down the last bit of his dinner and shoved the cinnamon bun in his mouth just as Joey snapped awake and went for her gun.
"What's going on?" She asked as he focused on donning his hat again, chewing, and moving back to the ridge to answer just that question.
A old junker of a Subaru Baja that had been crudely painted white and had tattered cult flags bungee corded across the hood, trunk, and sides had pulled up to the gate house.
"So Mr. Chipmunk are those Whitetails doing something stupid or are they with the cult?" Joey asked as she brought her binoculars up.
He finished chewing dinner and breathed deeply. The odd vehicle choice and crude markings could suggest that this was some Resistance fighters trying to pull off a stunt but bringing up his own binoculars revealed that these guys weren't Resistance at all. From the inside the car and the bed poured out a group of ten of John's Preachers.
They looked thinner than what was normal for most of the cult to the point that they could be considered emaciated. But still they walked boldly with their red tattooed faces held up and smokey green eyes alert as they looked around the compound's entrance. At their sides they carried a number of knives and matching hatchets and had slung across their chests very short barreled AR's.
The head of their group signaled for them to stop as he marched another step or two toward the guards.
"By what right do you fire upon your fellow brothers!?" The preacher yelled at the three men coming out of the post, weapons in hand.
"You're presence isn't expected and you are not authorized to be here. Unless you can show us otherwise we need you to turn around and head back down the mountain." One of the guard called out.
Roger glanced at his watch and noted they still had just shy of two hours before the planned attack.
'Ok so what are a bunch of Blissed up Preachers doing up here at this hour?' He wondered as the Preacher took an aggressive step forward.
"You dare to block one of the shepherds!" He called out before he pulled out from a large belt pouch a familiar white book, holding it aloft for all to see. "This is my authorization! The Word of Joseph! Our Father! It is the job of those called to preach to the Faithful to be the day to day shepherds of our flock, to guide and teach. Yet here is a holding of the Project that has no such Shepherd posted here and no record of one that we can find!"
The guard let his rifle drop in a effort to calm the man down as he spoke. "Preacher. This place is directly overseen and organized per the will of Herald Jacob. Our faith here is strong, and we are loyal. To that end we do not question the actions of our Herald as they are ultimately the will of the God and The Father. If you have issue with this then on your head go and question Herald Jacob."
There was a tense moment when no one spoke as everyone gathered waited for someone to react. At the back of the group of Preachers three of their number slowly backed to the abused Subaru before pulling from the bed flamethrower tanks.
"Oh shit... Roger, I think our mission just went to hell in a hand basket." Joey muttered.
He didn't say anything but placed a calming hand on her shoulder as the flamethrower men stepped up. The guards now saw the pilot lights blazing away even in the glare of the Subaru's headlights and brought up their rifles.
"Stand down Preacher! We are all brothers are we not?!" The lead guard said as he adjusted his stance. His foot kicked the boot of one of the other guards twice prompting him to start inching back toward the gate house, likely in a effort to get closer to an alarm switch.
He brought up his radio but didn't hit the talk button just yet. This was the sort of internal issues that he had wondered about and if this could play out in a favorable manner it could simplify things.
'Or royally fuck them up but at this point our original plan we made this morning is now likely FUBAR in all respects.' He thought as the lead Preacher took another step forward flanked by two of the flame troopers.
"We are brothers, but even families must time to time cut off those who would betray family for their own sinful desires. PURIFY THEM!" He called forth as from either side of him twin tongues of fire leaped forth and consumed the three men.
"Black Reaper to Grey Reaper. Major civil disturbance on target! Plan is now fluid! I say again, plan is now fluid. Request that we get artillery smoke support on standby, will advise further." He called into his radio.
Meanwhile the man closest to the guard house to his credit even as his body was covered in burning napalm managed to blindly reach inside the gate house and trigger an alarm before succumbing to the pain of the flames.
"Roger what do we do?" Joey question as he could feel her tense up to start fighting.
"Paraphrasing Napoleon 'We do not interfere while our enemies are making a mistake.' or more accurately suffering under a civil war within the cult." He replied calmly before lowering his binoculars and looking at his friend. "Joey I've had dinner, I suggest while this is playing out that you breakout a MRE and wolf it down. I think..." He paused to consider his options.
"If these Preachers are still as tough as they once were then ten of them will cause some damage to the garrison before even they are overwhelmed. Once that is done these guys will inevitably relax thinking the worst for tonight is over..." He continued as the sounds of rifle fire and the screams of burning men could now be heard from the radar site proper.
"So we let them tire themselves out, maybe draw out their air power, make them burn resources, and then we hit them. How often again do missions go this badly?" Joey finished as she slipped down the slope to start on her dinner.
"To this degree? Not often. I can't go into details but there was this one time in the Congo where I was on a observation mission and needed to steal from this rebel camp because my supply drop didn't show up. Turns out I stole some big wigs imported Waygu beef, that night big wig accuses other big wig of stealing and then shoots said big wig. In 5 minutes the entire camp is butchering each other literally in many cases and by dawn there's only a dozen guys left who were picking the dead clean of valuables." He recollected.
Joey laughed softly at the story as she prepared her ration. "Ok so we just had some sort of wind fall, but what about the nukes?"
He glanced back at the chaos unfolding as the entire garrison was now pouring as much fire into the Preachers as possible. The Preachers being as resilient as they were rushed the largest groups of men shooting their way until they were close enough to engage with blade and bible. The flamethrower men were creating walls of flame in front of the entrances of the northwestern receiver platform at least pinning the men within from joining the battle.
"I feel safe in saying right now that these 'Holy Men' are more worried about the souls of their victims rather than their weapons." He replied.
It was about twelve minutes after the alarm was raised that a flight of eight white fighters could be seen racing toward the radar station and flew over the site looking at the destruction wrought by only ten Bliss enhanced men.
The two receiver platforms were now fully on fire as any efforts by this point to put the flames out was rendered useless. The facility only had the limited output of a single water main more meant to provide only the most basic of fire fighting capability, a far cry from what would be needed now.
The massive 8x8 SCUD truck and its half built missile cargo was moved just past the gate house to keep it away from the fires. Shortly thereafter the same off road forklift came down to the gate house bearing its nuclear cargo.
Joey giggled helplessly at the sight as both pieces of equipment were left unattended as the garrison started the grim work of collecting their dead and making sure the remaining two buildings didn't catch on fire as well. "So Roger do we hijack the missile parts and drive away while they are distracted?" She asked as her smile was beaming in the darkness.
He returned her smile but ultimately shook his head. "Good idea but I would rather not risk it. No what we do now is return to the original plan, more or less and now we can operate knowing that we won't accidentally hit a warhead." He said as he dug out his radio once more. "Black Reaper to Grey Reaper."
.
Marcus was lounging in a pilfered lawnchair near the Chinook surrounded by his men and the Delta team. Dr. Niwa and her people talked amongst themselves on the chopper's rear ramp. Nick was once more inspecting the Huey just making sure that Drubman hadn't managed to miss some small but essential maintenance item. Some 250 yards away from the choppers the artillery teams were less spread out as they waited for a sudden order to lay smoke.
He had directed them to sight in for the radar site but realistically they had most of the mountain at least roughed in to the point that the recently discharged Marine who had taken up the position of leading the battery promised that they could shift from one target to another and send a round in under a minute.
'Hopefully we will not have to test that claim.' He thought looking at the distant column of smoke and slight glow of a distant fire in the mountains. Even this far away with a otherwise clear sky and full moon it was clear that something was afoot.
"Black Reaper to Grey Reaper." Came Roger's voice across the radio.
Everyone around dropped what they were doing to listen in.
"Grey Reaper copies." He said instinctively standing and looking at roughly the direction where his son was.
"Mission is a go. Lay smoke on radar site, start jamming ops, and start clearing the skies. Package has been moved to the gate house and is unable to be easily moved without heavy equipment however it is secure. The cult did half the work now we will clean up after them. Black Reaper out."
Instantly people started moving to their positions and vehicles. The Chinook pilots had been in their seats already so the massive twin rotors were already spinning up as he called for the next piece of the plan to start moving.
"Sledgehammer this is Grey Reaper, op is a go. Begin fire mission, ten round smoke salvo and stand by for further fire missions once radio service is back online." He called to the artillerymen as he watched each of his forces board the heavy transport chopper and take their assigned seats.
"Sledgehammer copies!" The battery commander replied as barely a second later the first deep thud of the M777 firing followed by the warning alarm of the Pion ending in a larger even deeper roar of the bigger gun.
Marcus followed his last man in and took his seat closest to the ramp. Across from him along the port side of the aircraft Captain Foley was seated and watching the surrounding world begin to shrink as they took to the sky.
"Grey Reaper to Marbo. Quick time to firing position and engage hostile aircraft. Be advised of approaching friendly birds." He next called for Mack's group.
The moment Roger had said that the mission was a go the Cougars had started the engine on their AA tank and were already reaching the dirt road that would lead them up to the Jefferson lookout tower.
"Marbo copies! We will try to have the sky clear or else its on us." Mack replied with youthful enthusiasm.
Marcus couldn't help but smile. Mack was rapidly maturing into his role in the Resistance leadership and if they made it out of this war and the young man wanted to join the military he would be more than willing to send him off with the best possible recommends for officer training.
'Now for the last piece.' He thought as once more he pressed the call button. "Grey Reaper to Doom Guy. You are cleared for blackout."
"Doom Guy copies. Tell Black Reaper to 'Rip and Tear' for me. You have eight minutes and thirty seconds starting now..." Wheaty replied from the high school and soon their radios came alive with a demonic guitar riff that even Marcus had to admit was catchy.
.
Roger could hear the calls as they were made as they hurriedly gathered up their trash before taking up their weapons once more.
"Ok we got a clear shot past the gate house, by the time we get there the smoke rounds will have hit. We will clear the warehouse first then move on to the main radar tower. Stay on my six at all times, if you can't see me keep the sound of this .50 cal in front of you. Got that Joey?" He ordered as he started half sliding down the slope towards the gate house and the parked vehicles.
"I copy Roger." She replied as the first smoke shells landed and exploded.
While lacking the sheer punch of a traditional HE shell the bursting charges were still enough to make them both wince as the concussive wave roared over them followed closely by thick walls of white grey smoke that obscured everything.
The cultists stopped their clean up operations immediately. The bulk of their remaining number having at least served in one nations military or another knew they were being shelled and the moment that the smoke rounds burst the fear of white phosphorus burns became the single driving force behind their movements.
They flocked to either the radar tower or the warehouse by the dozens a few dragging their wounded brothers from the Preacher's attack but many others simply ran by, either not willing to stop and be slowed down or not even seeing the wounded whose screams for help were lost in the roar of the burning buildings and bursting shells.
It was into this Roger and Joey charged into navigating little more than by the glow of the fires through the haze and the odd command being given to get to cover.
Joey could barely breathe and her eyes started to water and at times blind her but she kept her self physically glued to the back of Roger's pack until she could see the bright white rectangle shaped light ahead of them from the warehouse's north facing entrance.
Only then did she pull back and bring up her shotgun.
.
From the inside of the warehouse the air only had a smoky tinge to it allowing the three dozen strong cultists to see who among their number remained and start to figure out some sort of organization amongst themselves. It was still debatable if the bombardment was part of the faithful Preacher's attack on them or if somehow this was a new kind of attack from the Whitetails or worse the southern Resistance forces.
Their answers came in a few seconds as from the thick smoke covered hell came two armored figures walking briskly, their speed leaving tendrils of smoke reaching out after them in their wake. For Jacob's Chosen who had begun to cast off the veneer of faith in the religious aspects of the cult suddenly found themselves briefly reconsidering their stance as the twin roars of a heavy machine gun and shotgun solved any lingering questions of faith for them.
.
He had never fired a Kord from anything but at least a bipoded position, but he had seen a few videos over the years of various com bloc soldiers doing so, normally as part of just messing around as all soldiers tend to at some point or part of the endless strings of bets and 'hold my beer' type moments that also come up among virtually any group of men.
For them they had to fire the gun slung across their chests often with awkward hand placements on the folded bipod and pistol grip with little in the way of bracing besides the sling. A strong man doing this could manage single shots or maybe even up to a three round burst of what could generously be called 'suppressive fire'.
Now though he raised the gun to his shoulder as naturally as he did any gun he had handled in his life. It was not by any measure a light gun nor the best balanced one at that, but still for the short range point shooting he was doing it worked beautifully.
The Chosen were tired, shocked, and packed relatively tightly in the open working space of the warehouse away from the shelves and most of the pallets of supplies that lined the walls. Every Mk 211 tracer round he fired punched through two or three men at a time mostly unhindered by the soft body armor some of them wore. Rounds that struck bone or anything similarly hard exploded adding to the gory chaos as the cultists either turned to run away or a few more daring men tried to turn to their guns on the deputies, the price for such bravery was a face full of #0000 buckshot.
The cultists farthest away raced either to hopefully hide among the shelves or the first solid object they could reach or some raced toward the east facing doorway and the glow of the northeastern receiver tower. The runners didn't even reach the threshold before being violently cut down.
"Joey, shelves." He ordered as she topped off her gun and rushed forward as he popped the feed tray cover and tossed the now empty ammo box aside. The sound of at two or three AR's being mag dumped drew his concern for a moment before it was silenced by a pair of shotgun blasts.
"Shelves clear!" Joey called out as she came trotting back out into the open space.
Another moment he had a fresh box of 100 rounds mounted on the gun followed by draping the end of the ammo belt on to the feed tray before closing it and tilting the gun on to its left side, so as to pull back on the pull start like charging handle.
Joey cocked an eyebrow at the motion. "Roger... why does that thing have a pull start?"
He could only shrug and smile. "Don't know off of the top of my head but I have to admit it works and feel like I am starting up a .50 caliber Russian chainsaw, now with extended belt boxes made by Dad."
His partner looked at the mass of dead and broken bodies they stood among and shared in his shrug. He wasn't wrong from a certain point of view.
They walked only a few steps before he noticed a stack of hard plastic weapon and ammo cases along the walls that caught his eye.
"Oh please be what I think these are! Joey cover me for a moment please." He said letting Kord rest on its sling as he dashed over to the closest box. Joey grumbled as she glanced at her watch with worry.
"Roger we have already burned half of our jamming time." She reminded him.
He nodded his head even as he set aside the case he was working with and wrenched open another. "Yes I know but this is going to be worth it!" He said before setting the next crate by the first.
"Joey you are getting a special shotgun for the next assault... well more pump action grenade launcher than shotgun." He said as he pulled and unfolded the stock on a oddly shaped firearm with a massively oversize slide action.
Joey's eyes widened when she saw the 40mm grenades come out as he flipped the back of the receiver cover open to reveal a familiar tube magazine. "Is that a pump action grenade launcher? Like that China Lake reproduction your Dad let me shoot once?" She asked just to make sure she was seeing and hearing correctly.
He nodded as he pumped the action to chamber the first round before loading the mag once more. "Yes however this is a Russian LPO-97 grenade launcher. Fires a 43mm grenade so ammo in the US is hard to find and of course these aren't exactly often exported here to the heathen west. Russian's made this thing for urban warfare so that means both short arming distances and the availability of thermobaric grenades like what I am loading for you now."
"Thermobaric?! Are you fucking kidding me Roger?" She said as she pulled a messenger bag off a dead peggie before dumping its contents on to the floor and reaching for extra grenades.
His face broke out into a full grin. "No my dear Joey I am not. Just make sure you keep... say 20 feet or so away before you pump one of these into a room. It will kill within just shy of 10 feet and its supposed to be safe at 13 feet but as you hopefully remember..."
"You can never have too much distance or hard cover from any explosion." She countered donning the now bulging bag and taking the offered launcher.
Now rearmed they peeked out the east facing entrance to the warehouse and saw the smoke from the shells had begun to not only fade but be blown away by a strong northern wind. Their cover both from the radio jamming and smoke was almost over but in the skies Mack and his people were making the cultists air support a non issue.
From well below them they could see angry pinkish red streams of tracers race up to intersect with the cultists P-40's as their pilots tried to maneuver for a strafing run. If they could get a solid run in there was a chance that their four wing mounted .50 cal guns might be enough to knock the AA tank out.
If...
Every plane that turned toward their position was lept upon in a hail of explosive fragmentation rounds and tracer fire while others were targeted by Cougars armed with Stinger missiles.
The old reproduction aircraft though rearmed had no equipment for countermeasure flares thus the hot exhausts of their V12 Allison engines were easy targets for the heat seeking missiles. Their only hope was closing the distance to get within arming distance of the missiles... straight into the teeth of the Shilka.
A third plane exploded as Roger and Joey stepped out of the warehouse and headed towards the radar tower. The tower wasn't actually much taller than the other structures that made up the site but what height it offered was still an advantage for the defenders who now lined the roof and every opening in the building.
"Feinde! Feinde! Es sind die Abgeordneten!" Someone at the tower yelled before the sound of whistling bullets followed suit getting far too close for comfort.
Joey broke left and took cover behind a forklift as Roger broke right and squeezed behind a air compressor trailer. He ducked below another burst of rifle fire pinged against the compressor's engine block wishing that the remaining smoke cover would have covered them a bit better.
He slapped open the bipod before slapping it atop his impromptu cover.
'Come on, come on, come on! Fight me you fucking bastards!' He thought as he poured short bursts of fire around any of places that he could make out a window or doorway. One of the first lessons he learned regularly carrying a Barrett was that the number of walls that could actually stop even a regular .50 cal slug was rather low in most parts of the world. That meant a doorway or window actually had a far larger kill zone than normally thought of as a attacker would tend to stay near a opening so as to view the battlefield and to be able to quickly shoot at anything he sees.
This was pretty common sense born from the idea that most intermediate cartridges at common combat distances had reduced penetration against walls. Hence why with his Barrett he could aim a mans width around any opening and expect to down anyone there, if the enemy tried to stay outside of that extended kill zone they would be unable to see as much or shoot back as much making them ripe for having their positions approached by other assault teams.
Or in their case tonight bombarded by a woman with a grenade launcher, hopefully.
Joey fired her first round with a oddly soft sounding 'bloop' and the canvas cover over the radar dome utterly disappeared in a flash of fire and sound taking with it a few intrepid men who had gotten on to the tower roof to get a even better angle on the deputies.
Her one and only shot instantly drew the fire of every rifleman in the building toward her, causing her to have shrink back behind the solid steel counterweight of the forklift in a tight ball as all around her bullets kept impacting.
He replied with another string of fire trying to once more take pressure off of Joey when the heavy metal song over their radios finally ended they heard one of the sweetest songs they could ask for begin to play.
"Hey guys! The King of the Skies has come to save the day!" Nick called as he strafed the tower with his four .50 cal miniguns that put even Roger's Kord to shame. Behind it the massive twin rotor Chinook swung about to land near the cliff edge.
The moment the ramp dropped the two assault teams raced out, the Grey's charging toward the radar tower and the Delta team escorting Dr. Niwa and her people to the gatehouse and parked warheads. At the tail Grace and Dmitri took a sector leaving the radar tower to the Grey's.
It was something to see how the Grey's fought, Marcus instinctively hip firing his M60 as he rushed towards the tower entrance with Casey easily keeping up despite his large size and still wearing his Spread Eagle apron under his body armor. The groups shots were quick and clean right up until they disappeared into the tower's structure.
Nick broke off and began orbiting waiting for more calls for strafing runs.
Joey topped off her launcher before switching back to her SPAS and dared to peek out from behind her cover before looking over to where Roger was now holding his position.
"Roger do we follow your Dad?" Joey called.
He didn't move from looking down the Kord's sights as he replied. "No, we hold here and wait for any runners to show up. Hounds to the hunters Joey."
From the upper levels of the tower even from where they were they clearly hear the screams and shouts of terrified men. A few jumped out of the window chancing that they could land without too much injury and get away from the squad of elite fighters, these men if lucky caught a burst of buckshot on their way down while those that avoided the shot instead were met with more explosive deaths from Roger.
.
Lars Lindgren limp slightly as he walked off the hard impact. It wasn't easy landing after falling nine meters to the ground but at least he was alive for the moment. His thoughts now were of simple escape and evade, something that many of his men under his command had little hope of utilizing at this point.
The radar site's commanders office was north facing meaning his window alone offered a chance to escape without moving toward the deputies last known position and avoiding having to deal with whatever forces were currently working their way through the second floor of the structure.
His escape options were limited to say the least. Climbing down the cliffs to reach the switchbacks leading away from the outpost were risky especially without equipment and at night, but if he could at least get to the gatehouse he could see if the vehicle the Preacher's had come in was still there.
The recent memory of those monsters soured in his mind. So called 'Blessed' men who were little more than drugged up zombies of the wider cult. He hated them before Joseph kicked off this war and the relatively few that were assigned to Jacob's forces were only marginally better than average as their faith ground hard against the pragmatism and strength of his and many of his brothers beliefs.
They even dared to push how far they could question Jacob and his methods to the absolute breaking point, but they at least knew better than to cross that breaking point. Something that John's half starved refugee Preacher's weren't afraid to do in the slightest.
He personally wasn't surprised especially after the botched delivery the other day that the Preacher's had shown up to their door. The longer this war went on the clearer it became that few men in the cult were like himself, men of action and preparation left alone in a world of sloth and ignorance. It was those reasons why he had left his position in the Danish Jaeger Corps and joined Jacob's cause even going so far as to pay the minimal lip service needed to his younger brother's beliefs.
Lars now crouched and moved slowly around the edge of the base perimeter, bouncing from bush to bush and from patch of tall grass to the next soon reaching the road that lead down to the gate house.
If he hadn't been moving carefully he would have missed the camouflaged figures surrounding the area around the gate house and the missile components. Instantly something about them pressed certain well trained buttons within him, as these men weren't the dressed up militia types they had seen thus far.
These men were wearing complete uniforms and their organized spread of the surrounding area spoke of a level of professionalism that he was more familiar with. He set those thoughts aside before looking back at the missile parts.
'Our last chance at a show of strength, a warning to the world that the weakness of its people and lack of planning is unacceptable.' He bemoaned internally. Getting back to the matter at hand the armed men around the missile meant that instead taking the Preacher's car that was still sitting there to get down the mountain, he would have to find a different way.
'The Nanolight. It should still be parked on the far side of the southeast tower and even if I can't get that motor started it should barely be able to glide enough off of the cliff and from there I can at least get to the ground in a safer fashion.' He thought as his feet already started to carry him further around the base perimeter and toward the warehouse.
He couldn't help but look at the destruction the base had suffered. The brain dead Preacher's had killed by last rough count 50 to 70 men with more wounded to various degrees then followed almost immediately by the deputies attack. The smoke shells and chaos they caused had made it impossible to coordinate much of anything outside the radar tower, adding the sight of Jacob's aircraft being shot out of the sky only made things even more helpless for them.
'If the surrounding mountains weren't so rugged then I might chance escaping on foot and leave all of this behind me.' He wondered as one of this two radios softly started sounding off with something that wasn't whatever hellish rock metal song that was playing.
"-oe... any... opy... on this channel?" His commanders voice was heard coming over the command frequency. Something unique to the forces of Jacob was how the command staff had to carry separate radios that operated on radically different frequency blocks not often used by normal commercial radios.
This was mostly used to pass along orders from Jacob himself to his more for lack of a better term loyal commanders that weren't so wrapped up in the cult's more religious aspects. Those men were limited to just the same general radios carried by the bulk of the cult. He had only just gotten a report off about the Preacher's attack before something overrode their radios and he could hear nothing but some metal soundtrack.
"Nest Command copies." He replied softly as he approached the warehouse. He half expected to ripped apart by Jacob for the lack of contact.
"What's your current situation? We've seen cannon fire and exploding planes all the way from base." The redheaded cult lieutenant inquired.
Lars entered the warehouse and couldn't believe his eyes. The other half of his assigned forces had been nothing short of massacred, their practically shredded bodies covered the bulk of the open space in the warehouse. Cut down by a heavy machine gun given the number and types of shell cases from where he was standing.
"Nest... Nest is lost. All of the garrison forces are dead or are in the process of being killed. I am currently trying to get to that nanolight recon plane we found a few weeks back in hopes of getting to friendly territory." He said as he grabbed a AR from one of the bodies so as to better arm himself.
On the other end Jacob barely contained his rising anger. For once he wasn't angry at those under his command, they had been sneak attacked by faithful elements of the cult and the timing of that sneak attack had just so happened to coincide with Roger Rook's attack.
Roger Rook. He had no other reason to suspect anyone else beside maybe Deputy Hudson that would have the gumption to plan and execute a complex multi-part operation like this and of course they would have the awareness needed to take advantage of any of their growing internal issues...
Just as he had done with the Whitetails before.
He managed to loosen his tight jaw muscles to speak once more. "Copy that Nest Command. Be advised that if you can exfill that the Ranger Station and F.A.N.G center are to be considered hostile territory until further notice. What is the status of the missile?" He asked.
"Intact and in enemy hands. Be advised the forces I seen closest to the missile are definitely professional military, likely special forces but I couldn't identify them for sure." Lars replied.
Again the answer wasn't surprising at all. The idea that they could completely control the county airspace was based heavily on there being little air traffic in the first place followed by the idea that any traditional law enforcement response wouldn't have the equipment or training at hand to penetrate county once the Air Wardens were deployed.
Jacob's thoughts flowed briskly with the new information. 'Of course I think for all of the time Joseph spent telling me the Air Warden's were for external defense, I think he had more intended for them to keep the less than faithful and outright sinners from getting ideas of escape. If the military is involved then we have lost this war in the long run that much is inevitable. It's now purely a matter of time unless Joseph gets 'inspired' to launch my silo's missile and maybe the others if the Resistance hasn't figured out how to disable them somehow.'
"Copy that Nest Command. Focus on exfiltration from here on..." he paused before stating the obvious. "Good Luck. Den Command out." He finished releasing the transmit button.
.
Lars moved slowly keeping to as many of the shadows created by the still burning receiver tower. Such caution was warranted now more than ever as he watched a helicopter gunship orbit overhead, its colorful tail rotor and numerous emblems making it clear of where it came from.
'I see that Hurk Drubman has gone back on his agreement with Jacob. Either that or now that the Resistance strong armed him into giving up his equipment, its certainly possible and all the more reason I need to get back to the Den and report this.' He noted before reaching a large camo net covered tent and sighed happily at what he saw.
The tiny black winged motorized hang glider was a fortunate discovery made early in the war when it was taken from a tourist trapped by the start of the fighting. He didn't know the mans fate but a glance at the various environmentalist and anti-establishment/communist propaganda stickers all over the frame work of the craft he doubted the man was the sort of material that was long for this world.
They had planned to use it for near silent aerial recon but that process hadn't been a top priority shortly after the fighting started in earnest.
Lars moved to the cliff edge and grumbled to himself. Only two of his men had been willing to volunteer to fly the craft and while they said it was easy they both had at least some rudimentary flying experience to base themselves off of. The terrain below the cliff edge quickly stuck out meaning that he would have little to no time to gain enough speed to pull up, motor assistance or not.
If he dared to move the aircraft closer to the base the terrain was far more favorable, being more of a vertical drop thus giving him more time to gain control of the craft.
As if he was being given a hint he could see the massive black transport helicopter begin to take off with a trio of lifting cables now dangling from its belly no doubt moving to haul away the only thing he could think of as being valuable enough to taken immediately from the area: The reentry section of the missile.
'How in God's name did we manage to misplace the section connectors so badly yet not notice until everything was machined and we have to assemble everything?' He mused as the Chinook moved away.
With the helicopter gone anyone's attention in the area would naturally be drawn away from the base, even the gunship was now heading north to go over the road leading up to the base so if he was going to have a chance of pushing the craft this was it.
The three bulbous rubber tires set up in a tricycle configuration made for easy and thankfully quiet pushing along the grass and gravel even as he traded some stealth for speed soon reaching his chosen take off point. The cliff edge suddenly seemed so much more unnerving than it ever had felt like before as he pushed the aircraft inline with it and prepared to prime the engine and hope the small two-stroke gas motor started on the first pull.
'Should have at least primed the motor back at the tent. Now I am here counting pumps!' He admonished himself as he finished the procedure.
His hand had just brushed with the pull start handle when a shotgun blast roared to his right and he instinctively ducked, before watching the Nanolight's wing fall off. The single attachment point between wing and chassis completely wrecked by a load of large bore buckshot.
He turned toward the source and found closing in on him a large group of men in mixed military gear and heavy body armor. At the head of their group he could recognize the cook at the local diner flanked by the grey haired black Stetson wearing owner of the local gun store who leveled a large machine gun at him even as he closed the distance.
He started backing up edging closer to the cliff edge racking his mind for ideas on how to get out of this situation. Behind him on his right side was a sort of 'diving board' with a readied parachute hanging beside it. They had used it as a means of teaching some of their less experienced members the basics of parachuting once they had sufficiently proven they had learned enough to attempt a jump off of the cliff. Now that chute offered a slim but still possible means of escape as he started edging towards it.
"Well now I guess we solved the mystery of who was in that commanders office." The gun shop owner proclaimed was his men closed in on him like wolves to wounded prey.
The next voice that spoke sent chills down his spin and straight into his very soul. "So we caught a member of Jacob's command staff... might be useful but at the same time considering the current state of things not as valuable as he once might have been."
From behind the group came a pair of tall massively armored persons, one a woman he knew as the 'Demoness' who had managed to fight and kill three of Joseph's personal guardsmen before being recaptured. By reports of survivors from Herald Faith's region she had personally lead the campaign against her. She held at the ready the shotgun that likely clipped his wings quite literally.
The other was a figure that he had seen on the local TV broadcasts plenty of times either beside a headless John Seed or speaking before the rerun of the crucifixion of Herald Faith and the subsequent detonation at her base that was felt even all the way up here on the mountain.
He could still remember getting on the roof of the radar tower as the broadcast played and watching the explosion occur on the opposite end of the county. He had never seen a nuclear blast outside of training films and movies but the blast he saw that day fulfilled in his mind every criteria of being one even if he knew in the more logically driven parts of his mind that such a thing was not true.
Roger Rook... 'The Collapse' had come to his base. He was so much larger than he had ever imagined, like Goliath before David only he most certainly didn't feel like the latter in anyway, shape, or form. What truly hammered home who this before now virtually mythical man was, were his bright but cold blue eyes that shined in the slowly waning moonlight.
He had for fifteen years of his military career become well accustomed to identifying what dangerous men looked like at a glance and of those who was more dangerous than the others. This man was easily the most dangerous and deadly one he had ever met, even Jacob who before he would have given such a label without question wasn't quite the specter of death this mere deputy was.
If Jacob was a wolf this deputy was the grizzly bear.
He put his hands up even though at last glance he was close enough to the parachute to have a good change of grabbing it as he jumped. It was a massive gamble either way: Try to don the parachute before he got too close to the ground or surrender to 'The Collapse'.
"Jeg... overgiver mig venligst!" He stammered in his mother tongue before switching back to English. "Please I surrender!
Deputy Rook stopped before him the massive machine gun slung across his chest largely unnoticed by the man. "A cultist actually surrendering? Now I have seen everything. Normally by this time if you people aren't commuting suicide at the first sign I show up you are often sprinting into my guns."
He couldn't doubt the man's words. He had seen and heard too many weak and scared people take the easy way out since the start of the war, even those who he honestly thought would be of stronger stock folded before this man.
"Please I have information I can give you." He tried to open negotiations with the offer.
The giant rolled his eyes. "I have doubts about that but lets see if perhaps you can give me something of worth. If you can at least do that I will not shoot you where you stand." he growled back.
He nodded in understanding prompting the deputy to begin questioning him. "What is the current make up of Jacob's remaining forces? I noticed that you had some of Herald John's Preachers come in right before we got here and wreck the place which lines up with some of the things we have heard from your foot patrols we have intercepted.
"Yes... there is a rift in our forces. Because of you I believe." He said hoping that a bit of ego stroking would help things along. "Jacob and men such as the ones here are of a more practical mindset. I myself don't believe the bulk of what Joseph has been saying for years, but I do agree with Jacob's observations on the weakness of the modern world. When things fall apart it will be men like us that shall inherit the earth. Its to that end we follow him."
Roger had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the sound of Jacob's particular dogma.
"Ok, and those loyal to Joseph disagree with that obviously." Rook offered.
"Yes. They believe their faith is enough to push through everything, in truth they are afraid and scared of you and the Demoness..."
"Can't imagine why." The woman quipped.
"They can't think of anything beyond offense, taking the fight to the sinners even as they run out of vehicles to carry them to battle, ammo for their guns, or even just bodies to bring to the fight. No matter how bad things get they claim time and again that the next time will be victorious. Jacob had a plan to fortify the entire region you know? To make you people bleed for every inch and even launch deep strikes into your rears to throw you off balance." He said his feelings of defeat bleeding through with every word.
Roger nodded. "I can see and agree with Jacob's thought process. The woods would favor a well dug in defender and be cheaper to maintain resource wise than holding just outposts and launching attacks from there. Wrecks the attackers morale as well. So now next question, Jacob must know about this rift in his forces what is he doing about it?"
He chewed on his lip for a moment as he instinctively wanted to clam up but knew that the more he spoke the stronger his chances for surviving this became as slim as they still were. "Jacob started pushing the more... zealous members to the frontlines. The ranger station and that place with the animals. Last I heard there are more men at the Grand View Hotel than ever but I don't know if they are with Jacob or loyal to Joseph. In any case he has been trying to keep the number of faithful at the silo and St. Francis to a minimum. That's all I know about that. My outpost was completely made up of known loyal men."
The deputy nodded with a surprising level solemness. "I can see that, you actually seem to care for your losses which is something I can't say I have seen before in other parts of the cult leadership." The deputy paced in front of him his jaw working side to side in thought before finally stopping in front of him.
"Well then you haven't given much of anything I didn't already know, at best you merely confirmed things. Now the question is what to do with you."
For the first time since he started talking Lars took a few small steps back once more closing in on the parachute. "You said... you said you wouldn't shoot me!"
The giant deputy nodded in affirmative. "Indeed I did and for what little you have given me I shall be generous and not shoot you. However you have failed to realize that we are not in normal circumstances where the usual act of surrender would guarantee certain rights that right now even as a officer of the law I would be required to give you." He paused to let the realization sink in a bit before continuing. "Right now we are operating under a form of 'Frontier Justice' in which the lone available member of law enforcement must take on the roles of judge, jury, and executioner."
His eyes widened as he realized what he had walked into but now the last of his nerves had left him as his fate now loomed large, he couldn't even hope to make the last two steps he would need to reach the parachute and the slim chance of survival it offered.
"Th... this... this is madness. I have surrendered! I-I have told you what I know, answered your questions! You are a Sheriff's deputy! Is it not your duty to arrest me!" He pleaded.
"Madness? I have no facilities to hold you, and little resources to see to your needs, and taking you deeper into our territory only increases the risk that if you get loose you can cause crippling damage to our operations and threaten our continued survival. Then there is the reaction of the people to consider.
Lars yelled desperately "This isn't Africa! Or the Middle East! Your people aren't savages! Aren't barbarians!"
The giant now stood squarely front of him a touch outside of even his arms reach. "You are right we are not in Africa or the Middle East... THIS. IS. HOPE COUNTY!" He bellowed as he lashed out with a mighty kick to Lars chest, its power so great it sent him sailing well beyond any hope of latching on to the cliff face to slow his fall by even the smallest amount.
.
Roger sighed as he looked east and could see for sure the large Cheeseburger mascot sign that marked the location of the F.A.N.G center and somewhere between him and there the Ranger station laid.
Marcus and Joey joined Roger at the cliff edge. "You said you wouldn't kill him Roger. That said the 300 bit was entertaining as much as I hate myself for enjoying it." Joey noted.
Marcus let out a laugh. "No, he said he wouldn't shoot him. Roger's boots aren't firearms so technically he was true to his word. The man's survival was not guaranteed."
Joey smiled. "Maybe you will have a future career as a lawyer Roger." Any further reply was silence by the shuffling of gravel under multiple boots as the Delta team approached.
"So Leonidas did you at least offer the guy 'Earth and Water'?" Ramirez joked getting a laugh out those gathered.
"Well considering the guy wanted to facilitate the building of a nuclear weapon in my homeland I felt it right not to give him anything more than what he exactly asked for." He replied as he turned to Foley. "Captain what's the status of the nukes?"
The Captain simply gestured behind him where the Chinook was lifting off to the sky with the reentry section still secured in its cradle now slung under the aircraft by the three cables.
"Grace and Dmitri are guarding the load and Dr. Niwa with her people are aboard. They will drop off the warheads at Fall's End for disassembly and then take the warheads to Rachel's silo for storage in the labs there. The missile body is still setup for transport but I wouldn't want to try driving down the switchbacks at night. What next sir?" The grim Captain reported.
Roger turned to his father. "Lets dig in then and tell Mack and his people to do the same until we can bring up a garrison to hold this place. Jacob must be out of the bulk of his air power so that means the road is the only point of entry up here unless the peggies suddenly want to start climbing."
Marcus nodded with a smile. "Agreed. Let's get moving then."