ENCOUNTER by Hep Aldridge (bill gates books recommendations .txt) 📕

mentally ran through our assets: two men and a 16-year-old boy below with a P-90, an M-16, and an AK-47—Oh, and the Claymore wall of death. O’Reilly and I had M-16’s, Dimitri had his Barrett .50 caliber Zombie killer, and Reggie had her 500 Remington Magnum. We all had our personal handguns, Joe’s Smith and Wesson .45, Doc’s Walther PPK, Reggie had her Colt 1911 .45, I had my Glock 21, and Dimitri and O’Reilly had their Sig Sauers. I chuckled as I realized O’Reilly had strapped on a pair of 9mm Sigs, one on each hip, a la General Patton and his .45s.

Our firepower and level of expertise gave me some degree of confidence, but the other side of that coin is what worried me. We were going up against a force of ten combatants; the eleventh member was probably the prisoner, the Watcher. So, ten men, highly trained ex-military, heavily armed with no intention of letting any of us live—a sobering reality. We were outnumbered, out-trained, and probably out gunned. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. “What could possibly go wrong…?” I wryly thought. A couple of moments later, another thought entered; it was Jeannie, “Please, save him; the ranks of the Watchers has dwindled.”

I looked at O’Reilly, and she nodded, “I heard.”

I got on Comms and asked, “You all hear that?”

The answers came back from everyone, “Loud and clear.”

Part of the gear we had brought out with us were tablets, so we could monitor the cameras Joe and Eduardo had set up on the roadway. I turned on my tablet and saw no sign of the mercs. Just to check, I said, “Nothing on the cameras, Joe?”

“Nothing yet,” he said.

“Everybody got eyes on the camera feeds?” I asked and got an affirmative response from Dimitri and Reggie.

It had been over an hour since we had received the alert from Jeannie and moved to set up our positions. That could put the mercs still a couple of hours out.

“All right, everybody, relax as much as you can but stay frosty; we don’t want any surprises.”

“Rules of engagement, Colt?” Dimitri asked over the Comm.

“We don’t start the fight unless absolutely necessary. Once it begins, we use lethal force and rain seven kinds of hell down on them.”

A low whistle came over the Comms followed by a chuckle, and then, “Roger on the seven kinds of hell.” I turned to look at O’Reilly. She had the same wild animal smile that I remember seeing on her when we got into the firefight with the drug dealers in Tamara’s village, grinning like a wildcat getting ready to pounce and savoring the prospect. I guess I grinned back because she nodded her head and looked back down the canyon road. I thought, damn, that woman is scary as hell, glad she’s on our side and turned my attention to the road.

Joe and Eduardo had added another camera when they did the reset of the first two. We now had one a mile away, then one at two hundred yards, and one at a hundred yards. They each gave us a good wide-angle view of the entire width of the roadway. Another hour passed when the thought from Jeannie arrived, “They are close.”

I looked at the pad and checked the cameras—nothing on any of them. Nothing was said, but the tension was palpable. It took another fifteen minutes before Joe said, “There they are.”

I looked at my screen and saw the men approaching the first camera a mile out. They were spread out, scanning their surroundings, and well-armed. Behind the first six, all dressed in camouflage fatigues, came the local pushing ahead a man with his hands bound, followed by three more men in single file. They were all moving cautiously but at a good pace.

Dimitri came over the Comm link, “Well, they’re not amateurs; looks like they know what they’re doing.” As we watched, their heads swiveled up and down both sides of the canyon walls.

“Just our luck,” Joe replied.

“I’m not seeing a good way to help the Watcher,” Dimitri said as he watched the Watcher stumble along.

“I see that,” I said, “not sure how we’re going to approach this. Let’s hope something changes before they get too close.”

They were approaching the camera two hundred yards out when Dimitri said, “He can’t get clear if the shooting starts. If he could stop them, maybe fall and stay low… something to get him out of the line of fire.”

A few seconds later, we started picking up the audio feed off the camera when suddenly Jeannie’s voice thundered in our heads, “Fall down, now.”

The Watcher immediately dropped to his knees, and the man behind him stumbled. Expletives were being shouted at the old man. But he did not move. They were close to the camera’s hiding spot, and we could hear the discussion plainly. They were speaking in English. One of the men from the front came back to the Watcher on his knees and ordered him back to his feet. He was obviously the man in charge. The Watcher replied in his language, and the local who had been herding him along said, “He says he will go no further.”

“Is that so?” the man in charge said. “Tell him if he does not get to his feet, he will be shot where he sits like a dog.”

The local did as he was told, but the Watcher refused to move, dropping his head down to his knees.

“Very well, have it your way; Palo, kill him,” the leader said to one of the men watching and moved away.

The man pulled out his handgun and walked to the old man. Everyone backed away slightly. The local stepped back and stood two steps behind where the old man was kneeling.

I heard Dimitri over the Comms, talking to himself, “One more step to the right, bucko, one more step.”

As if on cue, the soldier with the pistol moved slightly to his right to line up his pistol