Copperheads - 12 (2 page)

One by one, each of the surviving trailers was torched, common road flares tossed into puddles of leaking diesel that mixed with smaller, purple pools of human blood.

As the multiple columns of dark, black smoke boiled into the Texas sky, a sole raider approached the earthmover and withdrew a can of spray paint from his pocket.

“SET THEM FREE!” he scrawled in bold, black letters across the yellow canvas of the scraper’s body. 

Bishop scanned the nearly vertical walls of the canyon below and flashed Butter a knowing grin. “Let’s see how our comrades do with this little wrinkle, shall we?”

The SAINT team’s largest member grunted his approval and nodded toward the valley beyond. “How far are you going to make them move, sir?”

Judging the terrain as just short of impassable, the Texan rubbed his chin. Then, his gaze travelled back up the mountain they had just crested two hours ago. Grim and Kevin were up there, assuming the role of a two-man sniper team that was providing cover.

As he considered the question, Bishop shifted his burning legs and then adjusted his pack. The straps had started eating his shoulders an hour ago, and he was sure ice packs were in his lower spine’s future. “I’d think two hundred meters would be a fair test. If they can get set up in time to cover us, then I’d say they were both fit enough to return to duty. Wouldn’t you?”

Butter shook his head, “Grim is going to be pissed to high heaven, sir. Kevin won’t say anything, but that old man is going to chew on you like a cheap steak.”

Shrugging, Bishop responded nonchalantly, “I’ve been married to a mean woman for a long time, my young friend. I’ve had my ass chewed by the best. Compared to Terri, Grim is a soft, purring kitten.”

A flash of confusion crossed Butter’s face, “Miss Terri isn’t a mean woman, sir. Why do you say things like that?”

Bishop’s expression and voice turned fatherly, “After you’ve been married a few years, come back and we’ll have a beer. You can tell me then if you’re still perplexed by my insight.”

Before Butter could explore the topic further, Bishop reached for the radio microphone clipped to his shoulder. “Lead to overlord, lead to overlord, we’ve got contact. I repeat, contact. Count 15, no, make that 30 armed men moving on our original route. Do you copy – over?”

“Copy, lead,” came Grim’s voice, the ex-contractor’s tone making it clear he already smelled a rat. “What’s the call, boss?”

Winking at Butter, Bishop keyed his mic, “We’re going to have to go around these guys. I need you to set up on the other side of that canyon to cover us. Over.”

High above their teammates, Grim and Kevin scanned the canyon in question, seeing more pain, sweat, and tears in the rugged rock formations and sheer faces of stone.

“What the hell is he trying to do to us?” Grim complained, wiping a sleeve’s worth of perspiration from his forehead. “If he wants us dead, why not just sink a bullet in our heads and get it over with? I think that sadistic bastard is enjoying our slow, agonizing demise.”

Kevin didn’t respond at first, still riding a wave of joy over the doctor’s approving his return to the team. He knew exactly what Bishop was doing and didn’t blame the SAINT leader. “He’s just making sure we’re ready to go back to work, Grim. That’s all.”

“Grim? Did you faint?” Bishop’s voice taunted over the airwaves. “Hello? Overlord? Did you two decide to take your toys and go home? Or do I need to call in a medevac copter?”

“We’re scouting the new route,” Grim hissed into the radio. “Trying to estimate the impact to our timeline, over.”

“You’ve got 20 minutes,” Bishop’s command-like voice boomed through the speaker.

Grim’s eyes grew large at the deadline, his gaze returning across the treacherous terrain before settling on Kevin. “Are you shitting me? I couldn’t cross that deathtrap in 20 minutes before my leg got shot to hell. He
is
trying to kill us!”

“We better get moving,” Kevin urged, rising from their hide and hefting his sniper rifle and pack.

“I think we need to inform that crazy son bitch that he’s suffering from heat exhaustion and that we need at least an hour!”

Kevin pivoted and shrugged, “Up to you. But… do you really want him telling my dad that we’re not able to return to duty?”

The grizzled, old veteran had to think about that. Finally shaking his head in disgust, he keyed the mic, “Roger that, lead. We’ll be ready.”

Traversing the rocky, downhill terrain with over 50 pounds of gear stressed their muscles unlike any gym workout or weight routine. Grim felt like his knees were rusty joints, screeching the protest of pain with every step. His calves cramped up, his lungs burned from the high altitude and lack of oxygen. Still, they kept moving, climbing, scrambling, and pressing the limits. While he would never admit it, deep down inside he knew Bishop was right. Their lives depended on each other, the four-man team only as strong as its weakest member. He was determined not to be the link of the chain that failed.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the canyon, both men drenched in sweat, both gasping like marathon runners at the finish line. Kevin checked his watch, “We’ve got eight minutes to get up the other side and find a good spot.”

Glancing at the steep wall to be negotiated, Grim began having second thoughts.
Maybe it’s time to hang up this rifle and let them put me out to pasture
, he considered.
I’m too old for this shit. It’s taking me longer and longer to recover. Maybe the wife is right. Maybe it’s time.

The fact that Kevin, 20 years his junior, seemed to be suffering just as badly did little to console the old warrior.
His injuries were twice as bad as mine
, he thought.
Besides, there is no age discrimination on the teams. Either I can do this job or not. Period. End of story. I can’t keep up, and I will get one of these guys killed if I pretend otherwise.

Just as Grim was reaching for the mic to report he couldn’t achieve the objective, the packed earth of an animal trail caught his eye.

He followed the path with a steady gaze, a knowing smile crossing his face as he realized Bishop hadn’t seen it from across the canyon. “Well lookie there,” he whispered to Kevin while indicating the path frequented by local white tailed deer. “Let’s take the easy route.”  

The youngest member hesitated, knowing that Bishop had ordered them to cross as a test. Grim detected Kevin’s pause. “Sometimes it’s not how strong you are but how smart you are. Sometimes experience will save your ass when muscles won’t.” Noting his partner’s persistent hesitation, he continued his sales pitch, “Besides, trail hikes can represent their own set of dangers. Come on, and I’ll regale you with stories about how I wrestled a bear on the Appalachian Trail when I was just a lad.”

A full minute before the deadline, Grim keyed his mic. “In position, sir. Your new route is clear of tangos.”

Down in the valley, Bishop heard Grim’s report and flashed Butter a look of surprise. “No fucking way,” he mumbled, turning to glance toward where his men should be. Sure enough, Grim stood from behind a thicket of brush, his arm waving in wide strokes. He then flipped his boss a one-fingered salute.

The Texan was partially mystified, mostly pleased. He had no idea how Grim had pulled off what was surely a minor miracle, but in reality, he didn’t care. What really mattered was that his team was back together, and that gave Bishop a feeling of satisfaction he hadn’t experienced in months.

Just as the SAINT leader was reaching for his mic to give Grim a rough time about sprouting wings and flying across the canyon, the thump-thump-thump of a helicopter echoed through the valley. Nick’s voice in his earpiece soon followed. “SAINT One, SAINT One, this is Honcho. Do you copy?”

“Did you decide to deliver a picnic lunch, boss?” Bishop responded. “Butter is dying for some fried chicken and potato salad.”

Nick, however, wasn’t in a joking mood. “Get your people together, Bishop. There’s been an incident.”

Frowning, the Texan turned to Butter and halfheartedly mocked his friend, “Well, of course, there has been an
incident
. We wouldn’t want to take a few days to rest and recover, now would we?”

Butter shook his head and then seemed inspired. Fanning his nose, the young man teased, “Mr. Bishop, I hope they at least let
you
take a shower before we deploy, sir.”

Taken aback by the kid’s attempt at banter, Bishop scanned his teammate up and down for a moment. Butter, having ventured onto an unfamiliar limb, suddenly looked unsure and guilty.

Bishop started laughing, “You’ve been hanging around Terri too much.”

“Go on, show Aunt Diana what a big boy you are,” Terri cooed to Hunter, trying to coax the child away from the couch that supported his wobbly legs. “Come on,” coached the proud mother, holding out her arms a short distance away. “You can do it.”

Hunter’s face lit in a broad grin, his glowing eyes traveling between his mom and Diana to make sure he was the center of attention. It soon became clear, however, that he wasn’t going to let loose of the sofa, no matter how appealing his mother’s promised embrace.

“Come on,” Terri continued, waving her outstretched hands in welcome. “Take that step, big fella. Just one step.”

Taking a deep breath, Hunter lifted his leg, but then a look of pained confusion painted across his face. He decided to plop down instead.

“Oh, no,” Diana snickered. “Maybe next time.”

“Dang it,” Terri chuckled, “I wanted him to take that first step before Bishop and the guys left. Dad needs to be here for that.”

Diana bent and scooped Hunter from the floor much to the child’s delight. Bouncing him on her hip, she said, “I wanted to be in on the big event, too. I thought for sure he’d do it for his favorite auntie.”

Terri began packing the diaper bag while the Alliance’s top official entertained and snuggled with the cackling babe. “He’s such a happy boy,” Diana noted.

“Bishop spoils him rotten when he’s home,” Terri confessed with a sigh. “Then all of a sudden my hero-of-a-husband is off on some grand adventure, and I’m left with a kiddo who thinks I should spend every waking moment playing and attending to him.”

“Why don’t you leave him here with me and go along with Bishop on this trip? I could use the distraction, and other than this brewing international incident, there’s not a lot going on right now.”

Terri momentarily brightened at the idea of a mom’s day out, but then flashed a coy smile at her friend. “You’re just wanting me to go along because the Colonel is pissed about his food convoy getting torched.”

Feigning innocence, Diana countered, “What? Nooo. Not me. I was just thinking my friend could use a break from her routine. Besides, this mission isn’t dangerous. Nick wouldn’t be sending Bishop’s team down south if it weren’t for your husband’s relationship with the President of those United States. Leave Hunter here with me for a few days and go with Bishop…. Get out of the house … change up your day a little.”

Terri was still skeptical, “Uh-huh. The fact that my husband doesn’t have a diplomatic bone in his body wouldn’t have anything to do with your offer – would it?”

A tinge of guilt colored the Alliance leader’s expression. “Well … err … maybe a little. I would feel a whole lot better about the situation if you were going along.”

Before Terri could respond, the door to Diana’s office opened in a rush, Nick and Bishop barging in, serious business on their minds. Both of the men pulled up short when they spotted Terri and Hunter.