The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

It had been a long day already, and when he’d woken up that morning he had no idea he’d be called upon to do something like this.

There was no way to know how long it would take the villains to arrive, if they showed up at all. Civilians, he’d learned, could be prone to paranoia more often than those trained to see threats, but Alex and Tara had been trained by Sean Wyatt, and from what Dak knew of the man, Sean was one of the best.

Dak squatted down on a mat he’d stowed in the pack and waited. His dark outerwear not only kept him warm in the chill of the night, but also nearly invisible. Even if someone shined a light on him, they would have difficulty spotting him in the camo outfit.

He kept his night-vision goggles on top of his head. If and when enemy vehicles arrived, the lights could blind him with the goggles on, but after the blast of the mines, if there were any headlights still on, those would be his first targets.

After half an hour of being camped out in the woods, he checked his watch and noted the time. Dak spent hours hunting deer in the mountains of Tennessee along the Cumberland plateau. It was much colder up there at the higher elevations during winter, so both hours of no action and the cold didn’t bother him.

As luck would have it, he heard the sound of vehicles rumbling down the highway just a few minutes after looking at the time.

He loosened up and rechecked the remote detonator in his lap, flipped the arming switch, and waited.

A loud bang signaled that one of the vehicles had just rammed through the closed gate at the front of the driveway.

If there had been any doubts about the intruders’ intentions, those doubts vanished in an instant.

Dak held his thumb over a red button and waited. Three SUVs came into view with bright headlights blazing through the endless rows of trees. The ghostly beams sprayed around Dak as the vehicles wound through one of the curves. He remained perfectly still until the first in the convoy neared the log where he’d placed the first mine.

When the SUV’s front right tire was parallel with the log, Dak pressed the red button.

A fiery blast erupted, echoing like a mortar firework through the woods. Dak knew the damage would be significant. Not only would the SUV be disabled, but anyone in the front seat, and probably in the back, would be riddled with hundreds of ball bearings.

The other two SUVs slammed on their brakes in exactly the places Dak anticipated. He flipped the arming switch for the second mine and pressed the red button again. A second blast rocked the forest.

Smoke billowed out of the two mangled vehicles. Dak raised his rifle and fired two quick shots. The suppressor on the muzzle kept the sound to little more than a few clicks. The headlights blinked out in rapid succession and plunged the survivors of the attack into an abrupt and terrible darkness.

The damage from the explosions knocked out the lights of the front and rear vehicles, which left only the taillights of the second SUV for the assault team now scrambling to regroup.

With the advantage of darkness, Dak lowered the night-vision goggles and aligned his sights with the panicked hitmen as they clambered out of the middle SUV. One by one, Dak picked them off like fish in a coffeepot. The would-be killers never saw it coming. The driver of the second vehicle figured out that the gunfire taking out his men was coming from the right side, somewhere in the forest. He climbed out of the truck, took cover behind the engine block, and then foolishly stepped out with a submachine gun at his hip. The man sprayed bullets into the forest, which could have been dangerous had he a clue where the sniper was positioned. As it was, Dak remained safe a good twenty yards to the left of the barrage.

When the man’s weapon signaled he was empty with a series of clicks, Dak put his head in the crosshairs and put a 5.56 round through his skull.

When the survivors from the second vehicle were dead, Dak stood from his spot in the bushes and proceeded forward. He moved up fast, using the wider tree trunks as cover until he reached the third SUV, where he lowered his rifle and drew a pistol from his hip.

He detected movement in the back seat and shifted to the driver’s side, from where the movement came. That side of the truck looked virtually unharmed except for the blown-out windows. Dak saw the head in the back tossing one way then the other. No doubt, the victim was dazed by the blast and the subsequent attack.

When he reached the door, Dak jerked it open and grabbed the man inside with his left hand. He pressed the gun to his forehead as he dragged the assailant to the ground. There, Dak saw the damage. The man was bleeding from the right side of his neck and face, where bearings had torn through his flesh.

Dak stood and pressed his boot against the man’s face to keep him still while he searched the rest of the vehicle. No movement came from within, and after watching the other two for several seconds, he decided everyone else was dead.

He lowered back down and put the gun to the side of the man’s head.

“Who sent you here?” Dak demanded.

The dying man looked up into Dak’s face. Painted with streaks of black and dark green, his face showed only the whites and green of Dak’s eyes. They poured rage out against the blackness. It was a haunting visage, and the man’s eyes widened momentarily.

He shook his head vehemently. “Death comes to all,” he said. “It is already done.”

“It’s going to come to you unless you tell me who you’re working for.”

The attacker laughed, and when he showed his teeth,