The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

driver had been careless enough to leave the keys in the ignition. He decided against that possibility, the men he now faced had as of yet shown no signs of rank stupidity. And again, even if he was able to drive away it still left them free and unfettered to do whatever they wanted. He knew that he couldn’t allow that to happen.

Climbing through one of the numerous fingers for the draw, Micah grunted in pain as his foot slipped on a loose rock and caused his chest muscles to tense. Any sudden movement that used those muscles triggered a searing wave of fire on the right side of his rib cage. Occasionally the pain was accompanied by the sickening sensation of fractured bone and cartilage rubbing up against one another.

It was not a good sign, and made the injured Texan even more aware that what was to come would be a fight to the finish. There would be no chance of disengaging and moving away at a rapid pace.

Staying low and as much as he could in the shadows of the surrounding mesquite, Micah carefully made his way toward an area closer to the road and to the rear of the terrorists. The scattered clumps of tall grass and cedar brush helped conceal him from the scanning eye. As he moved, he checked his background repeatedly, making every effort to blend in with the mesitas to his west. Micah Templar had hunted men before, and knew how the slightest inattention could spin the balance between who was doing the hunting and who was supposed to be the prey.

The trooper found himself wishing he had thought to check for the Bushnell binoculars inside the Ramcharger’s console. In the haste to get Uncle Zeke armed and airborne, he had forgotten about them. Micah had already noted that one of the four terrorists had some sort of scoped self-loading rifle, possibly a Dragunov SVD. This put him at a disadvantage for any sort of distance shooting, or for long range observation.

His thoughts wandered back to Ezekiel Templar and how his uncle planned to stop The Uvalde Raider, as well as deal with the deadly cargo emplaced within. Micah did not know much about nerve agents but he had seen the deep concern, along with real fear, in his uncle’s face when Qassam spoke of it earlier.

What was it called? VX? Yeah, that was it. That was a very important thing to remember once he was able to get the word out. For a moment his inner determination slipped, and for the merest fraction of a second he found himself thinking ‘if I get the word out.’

Micah immediately shook off that briefest lapse into despondency, mentally castigating himself for losing focus on what lay at hand. He paused again in the splotched and scattered shade, flexing his hands and fingers to keep them from stiffening up so much. He knew he would need to do some fast snap shooting soon enough, and he wanted his hands and fingers as ready as possible. The beating they had taken in the fight with Mustafa had left them swollen, battered and with the sensation of clumsiness.

He could see the four terrorists intermittently through the undergrowth and brush that he was utilizing in screening his movement. They were still warily walking in the direction of the airfield, as well as the cinder block operations shack where Mustafa was handcuffed to the front railing. The Hezbollah operatives would not be able to see their second in command until they were nearly abreast of the structure, and could see around the corner to the three tiered steel rail.

Micah could not let them get to that building. The structure would give the terrorists excellent cover, and once finding Max’s body would realize there was most likely only one man they had to contend with. Plus there was the very real chance the unconscious Mustafa might revive and be able to give them more information on what happened. The less they knew, the better it was for Micah.

Dropping to his elbows, Micah stared through the intervening foliage to his adversaries beyond. He began making mental notes on each one individually, their tactical proficiency and how they were armed. The former Marine took grim satisfaction when he saw how they stayed mostly within the road’s right-of-way and did not spread themselves out further.

It was natural instinct for humans to bunch together in the face of an unknown danger and even seasoned infantrymen had to guard themselves from doing so. These Hezbollah Lebanese were certainly capable of killing and undoubtedly highly dangerous when in their own element, but they were certainly not well-trained light infantry.

Micah watched as one of the Hezbollah operatives used hand and arm signals in an attempt to control the movement of the other three. All four were dressed similarly except for this one, who was armed with some sort of submachine gun along the lines of an Uzi and wore a blue t-shirt. His gesturing and general demeanor left Micah with the opinion that Blue Shirt must be their defacto leader.

The next man he studied was the one with the scoped rifle the trooper had taken note of earlier. That particular rifle represented the biggest threat that Micah could determine at present. It appeared to be an SVD or like type, and that meant it had far more range and inherent accuracy than Micah’s .30/30. The scope was the real deal breaker, and the terrorist who carried it knew enough to stop from time to time and glass the encompassing area. Whatever else happened, that particular shooter would have to go down first.

The other two were acting as flankers, slightly off the road on opposite sides forward of their group leader as well as the marksman with the SVD. Both were armed with AK47s, much like the one he had given Uncle Zeke. From prior