Read Online A Long Road Back: Final Dawn: Book 8 by Darrell Maloney - Free Book Online
Authors: Darrell Maloney
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compound’s drive-through gate and sat there, engine idling.
He knew that Karen, working the control center, could see the men on her surveillance cameras.
He also knew she wouldn’t direct the sentry on the inside of the gate to open it until she got the all clear from Bryan. It was standard procedure, borne of the days when they feared armed assaults on the camp. The sentry, on the inside of the wall, couldn’t see whether there were any threats outside. Only the man or men requesting entry could. The woods had been cleared back for a full fifty yards in the area around the gate. It would take a very fast man indeed, running at a full sprint, to infiltrate the open gate before the vehicle drove through and it slammed shut again.
But it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for someone to try. Especially a single man seeking refuge.
Actually, the greater threat wasn’t even realized until Frank Woodard came to join the group a few months before.
“I don’t believe you have much of a threat of anyone rushing the gate on foot. I think there’s a greater chance of someone lying on the floorboard, holding a gun on the driver, trying to force his way in.”
Frank had helped them come up with a way to defend against such an effort.
“Anytime anyone has to go outside the gate, remind them of this statement: ‘It’s Bravo Six, requesting entry.’ ”
There was, of course, no Bravo Six. The people of the compound had decided long before there was no real need to use the phonetic alphabet or call signs. They’d always used first names, except for the one time they were forced outside the compound and trying to retake it from a larger force. And that was to differentiate their fire teams so they didn’t trample on their respective missions.
No, in this case, the statement, “It’s Bravo Six, requesting entry” would immediately alert everyone in the compound that the driver was under duress. Probably being held at gunpoint or forced to take someone into the compound to keep a friendly hostage from being shot elsewhere.
Frank’s game plan was for the request to be answered with the words, “Sit tight, Bravo Six. The gate’s off the rail again. It’ll take a few minutes to fix it.”
While “Bravo Six” was cooling his heels outside the gate awaiting repairs to be made, a team of men would be scaling the walls on the opposite side of the compound and entering the woods. They would sneak up on the vehicle and surround it, weapons drawn, to demand the bad guy surrender.
It was a procedure they’d rehearsed time and time again. And there were no procedures set up to deviate from it.
At the console, Karen watched the pickup on monitor 7 and wondered why they were just sitting there. All three of the men were carrying their radios, so there was no chance they were having a communications malfunction.
The fact was, Bryan was trying to collect his thoughts.
Trying to shed himself of some of the shame and the guilt he was feeling.
Trying to force himself to feel less like an animal and more like a human before he reentered the compound and had to face the inevitable questions.
About where the group had gone.
And what they’d done.
Inside the cab of the truck, each of the three men remained lost in their own thoughts. Brad stared at his hands. Bryan Too started out the windshield, focused on a wren that had perched itself on the top of the gate in front of them.
It had to be his imagination, Bryan Too knew. But it seemed the wren was watching them.
Glaring at them.
Judging them perhaps.
Finally, Bryan drew a deep breath and picked up his radio.
“Whoever’s on the desk, this is Bryan. We’re all clear and ready to come in.”
Karen could sense the tension in his voice. No
He knew that Karen, working the control center, could see the men on her surveillance cameras.
He also knew she wouldn’t direct the sentry on the inside of the gate to open it until she got the all clear from Bryan. It was standard procedure, borne of the days when they feared armed assaults on the camp. The sentry, on the inside of the wall, couldn’t see whether there were any threats outside. Only the man or men requesting entry could. The woods had been cleared back for a full fifty yards in the area around the gate. It would take a very fast man indeed, running at a full sprint, to infiltrate the open gate before the vehicle drove through and it slammed shut again.
But it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for someone to try. Especially a single man seeking refuge.
Actually, the greater threat wasn’t even realized until Frank Woodard came to join the group a few months before.
“I don’t believe you have much of a threat of anyone rushing the gate on foot. I think there’s a greater chance of someone lying on the floorboard, holding a gun on the driver, trying to force his way in.”
Frank had helped them come up with a way to defend against such an effort.
“Anytime anyone has to go outside the gate, remind them of this statement: ‘It’s Bravo Six, requesting entry.’ ”
There was, of course, no Bravo Six. The people of the compound had decided long before there was no real need to use the phonetic alphabet or call signs. They’d always used first names, except for the one time they were forced outside the compound and trying to retake it from a larger force. And that was to differentiate their fire teams so they didn’t trample on their respective missions.
No, in this case, the statement, “It’s Bravo Six, requesting entry” would immediately alert everyone in the compound that the driver was under duress. Probably being held at gunpoint or forced to take someone into the compound to keep a friendly hostage from being shot elsewhere.
Frank’s game plan was for the request to be answered with the words, “Sit tight, Bravo Six. The gate’s off the rail again. It’ll take a few minutes to fix it.”
While “Bravo Six” was cooling his heels outside the gate awaiting repairs to be made, a team of men would be scaling the walls on the opposite side of the compound and entering the woods. They would sneak up on the vehicle and surround it, weapons drawn, to demand the bad guy surrender.
It was a procedure they’d rehearsed time and time again. And there were no procedures set up to deviate from it.
At the console, Karen watched the pickup on monitor 7 and wondered why they were just sitting there. All three of the men were carrying their radios, so there was no chance they were having a communications malfunction.
The fact was, Bryan was trying to collect his thoughts.
Trying to shed himself of some of the shame and the guilt he was feeling.
Trying to force himself to feel less like an animal and more like a human before he reentered the compound and had to face the inevitable questions.
About where the group had gone.
And what they’d done.
Inside the cab of the truck, each of the three men remained lost in their own thoughts. Brad stared at his hands. Bryan Too started out the windshield, focused on a wren that had perched itself on the top of the gate in front of them.
It had to be his imagination, Bryan Too knew. But it seemed the wren was watching them.
Glaring at them.
Judging them perhaps.
Finally, Bryan drew a deep breath and picked up his radio.
“Whoever’s on the desk, this is Bryan. We’re all clear and ready to come in.”
Karen could sense the tension in his voice. No
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