Read Online Bug Out! Part 9: RV Ambush by Robert Boren - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Boren
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way.
“There’s the top of the ridge,” George whispered. The men got up to it, and laid in the dirt, scooting up to look over the edge.
“There’s the camp, but it’s too far away,” Malcolm whispered. “We’ll have to follow the ridge over to the left a ways. We’d better go down a little lower for as long as we can, so nobody sees us.”
“Maybe we ought to stay here for a few minutes and rest,” Kurt said. “It would be better if it was a little darker.”
“Yeah, I agree,” George said.
The men set down their stuff and slid down a little further. Jeb pulled out his phone and went through the hits on the local app. “Looks like seven hits,” Jeb whispered.
“That’s the right number,” George said, looking at his phone. “The big group is about half an hour away, from the look of it.”
“Your phones are gonna buzz like crazy when they get close enough,” Jeb said. “Don’t get too startled.”
“Maybe we ought to set up the mortars here,” George said. “The camp is well within reach, and they’ll have a hard time picking off whoever is manning them at this distance.”
“Fine by me, as long as you can do without our sniper rifles,” Earl said.
“I suggest we leave one here, and move the other one closer,” Jeb said.
“Who’s the best sniper of you two?” Malcolm asked.
“Earl,” Jackson said. Jeb nodded in agreement.
“Okay, why don’t we have Earl come closer then?” Malcolm whispered. “Not all the way in where most of us will be, but within sniper range.”
“I’m good with that,” Earl said.
“If the enemy starts to flee in this direction, I can pick them off,” Jackson said. “They might, you know. Look at the topography.”
“Good point,” George whispered.
It was getting darker by the minute. The group sat silently and waited for a few more minutes. Then Jackson moved over to a spot with a little stable ground, and started setting up his mortar.
“Okay, men, I think we can get going,” Malcolm whispered. They picked up their gear and started moving left along the ridge, as quietly as they could. Malcolm stopped to put an arrow in his crossbow, and took up the rear.
It was slow going. The ground below the ridge was a little slippery. It would have been impossible if not for a goat trail that meandered along, about fifteen feet from the crest.
Then came the buzzing. The men all jerked, startled, but settled down quickly as the hits continued. Jeb turned and looked back, grinning. “Come on down,” he whispered.
They continued along, until they could barely hear talking and laughter over the ridge. They stopped, and George set down his gun cases and snuck up to the top of the ridge. He peered over, then looked back at the group.
“Still a little far for the snipers,” he whispered, “but great place for the other mortar.”
Earl nodded and looked for a small flat spot to set up. The rest of the group moved along further.
The talking got louder. Some was Arabic, some English. They got about fifty yards past where Earl was set up, and George poked his head up again. He turned and looked at the group, nodding to the left, indicating that they should go further. He put his finger to his lips.
They went another thirty yards, and George saw a flat spot close to the ridge, big enough for the M107. He peeked over the ridge. It was a good spot. He set down his gun cases and took the .270 off his shoulder.
“I’m going to set up here,” he whispered. “You guys keep going a little further, and space out maybe twenty yards apart.”
The men nodded and kept going as George took the M107 out of its case and unhooked the tripod. He positioned it on the flat spot, quietly put a full magazine in, and removed the scope lens caps. He got behind it and looked through the scope. Perfect. He could take out all of the men in view on the canyon floor before they even knew what hit them. He only counted four down there, though.
Sentries. Where are
“There’s the top of the ridge,” George whispered. The men got up to it, and laid in the dirt, scooting up to look over the edge.
“There’s the camp, but it’s too far away,” Malcolm whispered. “We’ll have to follow the ridge over to the left a ways. We’d better go down a little lower for as long as we can, so nobody sees us.”
“Maybe we ought to stay here for a few minutes and rest,” Kurt said. “It would be better if it was a little darker.”
“Yeah, I agree,” George said.
The men set down their stuff and slid down a little further. Jeb pulled out his phone and went through the hits on the local app. “Looks like seven hits,” Jeb whispered.
“That’s the right number,” George said, looking at his phone. “The big group is about half an hour away, from the look of it.”
“Your phones are gonna buzz like crazy when they get close enough,” Jeb said. “Don’t get too startled.”
“Maybe we ought to set up the mortars here,” George said. “The camp is well within reach, and they’ll have a hard time picking off whoever is manning them at this distance.”
“Fine by me, as long as you can do without our sniper rifles,” Earl said.
“I suggest we leave one here, and move the other one closer,” Jeb said.
“Who’s the best sniper of you two?” Malcolm asked.
“Earl,” Jackson said. Jeb nodded in agreement.
“Okay, why don’t we have Earl come closer then?” Malcolm whispered. “Not all the way in where most of us will be, but within sniper range.”
“I’m good with that,” Earl said.
“If the enemy starts to flee in this direction, I can pick them off,” Jackson said. “They might, you know. Look at the topography.”
“Good point,” George whispered.
It was getting darker by the minute. The group sat silently and waited for a few more minutes. Then Jackson moved over to a spot with a little stable ground, and started setting up his mortar.
“Okay, men, I think we can get going,” Malcolm whispered. They picked up their gear and started moving left along the ridge, as quietly as they could. Malcolm stopped to put an arrow in his crossbow, and took up the rear.
It was slow going. The ground below the ridge was a little slippery. It would have been impossible if not for a goat trail that meandered along, about fifteen feet from the crest.
Then came the buzzing. The men all jerked, startled, but settled down quickly as the hits continued. Jeb turned and looked back, grinning. “Come on down,” he whispered.
They continued along, until they could barely hear talking and laughter over the ridge. They stopped, and George set down his gun cases and snuck up to the top of the ridge. He peered over, then looked back at the group.
“Still a little far for the snipers,” he whispered, “but great place for the other mortar.”
Earl nodded and looked for a small flat spot to set up. The rest of the group moved along further.
The talking got louder. Some was Arabic, some English. They got about fifty yards past where Earl was set up, and George poked his head up again. He turned and looked at the group, nodding to the left, indicating that they should go further. He put his finger to his lips.
They went another thirty yards, and George saw a flat spot close to the ridge, big enough for the M107. He peeked over the ridge. It was a good spot. He set down his gun cases and took the .270 off his shoulder.
“I’m going to set up here,” he whispered. “You guys keep going a little further, and space out maybe twenty yards apart.”
The men nodded and kept going as George took the M107 out of its case and unhooked the tripod. He positioned it on the flat spot, quietly put a full magazine in, and removed the scope lens caps. He got behind it and looked through the scope. Perfect. He could take out all of the men in view on the canyon floor before they even knew what hit them. He only counted four down there, though.
Sentries. Where are
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