The 4-day hunting trip took a turn none of the former Marines expected. When mysterious activity in the woods was discovered with the look and feel of a non-US military operation, Russ called a friend and former operator at Langley to report what they had observed. The call rocketed up the chain of command, and they became unceremoniously recruited for a mission they did not want to pursue. They observed a high-value target (HVT) shackled at wrists and ankles get hustled into an underground bunker by men carrying AK-47s and wearing tactical gear with no markings. Their assigned mission to save the HVT had a very short fuse since his execution was already scheduled, and the clock was ticking.
* * * * *
Chapter #6 – Underground
The trio camped on the fringes just outside the George Washington and Jefferson National Forest. This was supposed to be a four-day civilian hunting vacation, and all three men were excited to share time. The trio consisted of Martin Druthers, or Marty, who automatically had a special place in Russ’s heart since Marty’s older brother by two years, Pete “Set” Druthers, had been his spotter and was killed in Afghanistan. Marty was immediately given the call sign, Setter, without his choosing. As a rule, you don’t pick your call sign; it’s decided for you.
Russ was on the long gun and willingly modified his call sign from Spike to Spiker in honor of his dead friend, along with a silent promise to watch out for his little brother, Setter.
Marcus “Polo” Polanofski, Lance Corporal, Retired, rounded out the hunting party as the old man of 45 years, 25 of which served as team lead for multiple tours in Iraq. They were former Marines who became friends formed over a few short years in the sand. Setter was the newbie, but he had a bloodline connection, and that was enough.
How does a four-day hunting trip in the deep woods of the northern tip of the Shenandoah Valley between Front Royal and Winchester turn into a non-paying contracting gig none of the trio ever thought possible? Well, it did, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could have done about it. They were swept up in a keep-your-hands-inside-the-vehicle kind of moment because they were in for one hell of a ride and did not know it yet.
All things considered, though, this unanticipated recruitment was their own fault for calling in a mysterious discovery in the deep woods where they hunted outside the national park. Word of their discovery got flashed to Langley, and almost instantly, Russ was on his cell phone with a Retired Brigadier General, William “Wild Bill” Westerly, who led a covert team of clandestine operatives trained at Camp Peary, Virginia, near Williamsburg, also known as the Farm.
The transition from a hunting trip to a Recon team mission began innocently enough during their sweep of a second ridgeline looking for signs of deer, not that a random wild boar would be disregarded. Their civilian status was about to change without their knowledge, and their vacation soon would become a mission. Russ was at the lead and walked just below the ridge’s peak. Marty was fifty yards behind and below him. Marcus was staggered back another fifty with vertical separation of the three a shade under 100 yards. They were wired for sound and communicated through earpieces and throat mics.
Marty broke the silence, “Ahh, guys, I’m looking at something that should not be here.”
“Describe it,” said Russ.
“It looks like a ventilation pipe or something sticking out of the ground,” said Marty.
Marcus chimed in, “Hey, I’ve got something too, and it looks like live people are involved.”
Russ’s spidey senses went off. “Guys, do not get spotted. Everyone secure?”
“Roger that,” confirmed the team. Polo said, “There appears to be an entrance built into the side of the hill about two hundred yards ahead of my position up an old dirt track. One vehicle is parked out front. Looks like a military Humvee. There’s foot traffic in and out. I count three armed souls, side arms, and a couple of assault weapons.”
“Maintain stealth, Polo, mark GPS, and we will converge on your position now. Sit tight. I need to call this in,” instructed Russ.
“Roger that,” said Polo. Marking GPS now. You’ll need it because this is a sweet hide, brother, and you’d step all over it before you saw it. You’re welcome…”
Russ had struggled with the decision to place the call for about 10 seconds, knowing they were likely to get sucked into something civilians don’t want to get sucked into. He scanned the directory on his cell for Major Bryan Haddaway, a good friend and former operator who now worked as a trainer at the Farm. On the third ring, the call was answered by a gruff voice, “Haddaway.”
“Bryan, it’s Russ Carter. Need some guidance, brother,” he said with no greeting, no niceties, strictly business.
“Russ Spike Carter. Well, I’ll be goddam, son. I thought you went civilian. What’s a civilian puke doing calling a man who is still an active warrior? This better be good, Carter,” said Bryan, maintaining his mock scorn.
“You tell me, Major,” Russ said and then shared the intel from their observations. He found it odd that Byran did not react in any way or find their discovery out of the ordinary. No questions, no clarification, nothing. Russ had that sudden intuition flip in his gut that said he should never have called. They were now an “X” on a map somewhere.
Russ was not surprised when Bryan remarked about the exact position where Russ sat. Bryan continued, “I know where you are, Carter, and GPS says you’re on the edge of something quite dark.”
“Define dark,” said Russ.
“I’d have to kill you,” said Bryan, and there was not a shred of levity in his voice. Instead, it communicated a not-so-veiled warning, “Listen closely, my friend. Stay away from the dark.” The call disconnected abruptly.
Russ just sat there with a warning flag waving in his mind. His gut told him the danger was very real, and his phone call to the Major may have just put them at risk. He tucked away his phone and headed for Polo’s GPS target.
Polo had chosen a perfect hide on a ledge lined with foliage above where the activity below occurred. He scanned the activity around the hillside entrance with his binoculars while he waited for the team to arrive. The entrance looked like it was concrete, and the door was heavy-gauge metal. His headcount so far showed three soldiers standing around the right front of the vehicle holding what looked like AK-47s. He could not see inside the vehicle through the dark-tinted windows. When one of the soldiers motioned toward the vehicle, two other men in suits exited the Humvee and met at the rear passenger-side door, each armed with machine pistols. One opened the vehicle’s rear door, motioned, and stepped back as a slight figure in a hooded, long-sleeved, orange jumpsuit with Prisoner stenciled across the back stepped out.
“What the hell?” whispered Polo to nobody. The man’s slumped posture from cuffs and shackles made it difficult to determine his height, but Polo thought he had to be well under six feet. The hooded jumpsuit hid his face, and his frame appeared small and thin, the jumpsuit hanging loosely on him. With the hood over his head, getting any identification was impossible.
One of the guys in suits shoved the man roughly with the barrel of his pistol and pointed toward the open door leading into the hillside. The man should have stumbled; instead, he showed incredible agility and caught his balance with a single hop that had to have been almost two feet off the ground. Polo held his view on the entrance and blindly swatted at Marty, the first to arrive, when he crashed into the hide. Marcus’s concentration on the hillside entrance never wavered as Russ followed a few seconds later.
“Sitrep?” snapped Russ, who was in full battle mode.
Marcus snapped back at him, pointing straight ahead, “Get your glass on that bunker entrance. You’re sitrep is happenin’ right fuckin’ now, dude!”
Marcus never took his eyes off the scene below. He paid particular attention to the man who was clearly in restraints. Russ put his rifle scope on the entrance, boosted the magnification, and confirmed cuffs in the front connected to shackled ankles. “Can’t see his face; the hood’s blocking my line of sight.”
Polo said, “Spiker, he’s a little man, well under six feet by my estimation, and very agile. I mean, the guy just jumped about two feet off the ground in a single hop to catch his balance after getting shoved hard enough to go down because of them shackles. He didn’t go down. I mean, he launched upward and regained his balance when he landed in one single hop. I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that from nobody, much less one cuffed and shackled. Look at his feet now; it’s like he’s dancin’ or somethin’. Don’t appear to have a problem with the shackles for sure.”
Russ said, “Hey, who’s that other guy that just jumped out of the Humvee? What’s he doing?”
Another man wearing a short bomber jacket and dark watch cap ran up behind the shackled man, jammed a syringe into the side of his neck straight through the hood, and held him as he went slack and collapsed.
“Holy shit,” said Polo. “What the hell are we into, Spiker?”
The suits grabbed the feet and under the arms of the unconscious man and lifted him to carry him into the bunker. As they picked him up, the hood fell away, revealing a very light-skinned face and completely bald head that was so light in color it almost reflected light. When the door swung closed behind them, Marcus continued to observe. “Wait a second…show’s not over. The other three guys just got into the Humvee and are leaving.”
Russ said, “Their leaving may be a good thing for us. I want to know what’s behind that door. Langley wants to know what’s behind that door. Wild Bill Weatherly wants to know, too. Can you guess what we’re going to do?”
“I’ll take door number one,” said Marty, punctuated with, “OOWAH.”
Russ slapped a high-five, “I heard that, brother, but y’all need to hear this. My gut has kicked in again, and this feels like it’s too damn easy. It’s happening way too quickly, and I do not like taking orders on blind faith. That gut feeling was justified after I called a friend at Langley a few minutes ago to share Polo’s intel with him.”
“Dude, that was the right call to make,” said Marcus, “Always follow protocol. I would’ve called somebody if you hadn’t.”
“I agree, Polo, and I appreciate the support, but something stinks, and I’ll be damned if I can put my finger on it. My gut says we are an “X” on somebody’s map, and I fear I did the right thing but with the wrong people.”
Russ slipped back into the moment. The call had been made, and they needed to tighten up. As that thought crossed his mind, his cell vibrated with an Unknown Caller indication.
“Go for Russ,” he answered.
“Carter, this is General Westerley.”
Russ snapped to attention in his mind, “Hello, General Westerly. How can I be of service?”
Marty and Marcus stiffened a little when they heard the caller’s name.
“Sir, the three of us are here together. Can I put this on speaker?” asked Russ.
“Yes, if secure. Son, you boys have stumbled onto a black operation we lost track of at a very unfortunate time. As of right now, you are officially part of a team of operators I run out of the Farm. Effective immediately, you are under non-disclosure, and for now, I need a verbal verification of your agreement to the terms.”
Despite having no choice and zero visibility of the terms, they all responded verbally. There was no chance Russ would ask to see the terms. Whatever was going to happen was happening in real time, and the urgency triggered another flag for Russ.
“What’s our tasking, General?”
“There’s a high-value target (HVT) in that bunker. You need to break into the bunker and help him escape. Only two guards are monitoring the HVT, so you should be able to overpower them. You are cleared to use lethal force if necessary. The HVT is being held captive and scheduled for execution at 0400 hours. Get him out of there, Carter.” The call disconnected.
Russ blew out his cheek with a long exhale. “Well, that didn’t feel right either. You guys think I’m paranoid?”
Polo said, “I don’t know, dude, but that comment about being on the “X” has me spooked. I vote we get off the “X” and find another hide while we recon this thing. He said 0400, and it’s only 0217 now. We don’t have much time, but don’t want to rush in and wind up being collateral damage.”
Turning his attention back to the hillside bunker, Russ pressed, “Did you see any other guards, Polo?”
Marco shook his head, “None since those three left in the Humvee. It seems to be a low-key security operation if you ask me.”
“They never are low-key, especially when they look like they are,” muttered Russ.
“Marcus asked, “What does the FOB say we should do?”
FOB serves as the forward operations base, and unfortunately, they had only one available…themselves.
“We’re the FOB,” said Russ. “Paint the entrance into that hillside to get good coordinates in case we need to call in an airstrike.”
“Holy shit, Spiker! Airstrike? That sounds a little terminal, don’t you think?” howled Marty.
“Do you know what’s behind that door, Setter?” Russ fired the question at him, not waiting for an answer, said, “I don’t. Our job is to check it out. Nothing we see here is on anyone’s map. General Westerly has an HVT we must rescue, which I don’t like. So, settle in, Marines. We will recon this potential spot on a map for an hour, no more.”
Marcus growled in his Georgia red clay dirt road voice, “That’s cool. We need to be on the same page, brothers. What are we watchin’ for? And what about ROE? You know, share some of that tactical wisdom only you snipers can see,” and winked at Russ.
“As far as we’re concerned,” Russ added, “we were never here, and we need to get off this “X.” First thing, we need to turn off our phones. Haddaway had my exact location pegged when I talked to him. Marty, leave your phone turned on here in this hide. Polo, can I get you to scout out an alternate spot for another angle on that entrance?”
Marty jumped into the conversation, “Let me look for an alternate spot, Spiker. Not to brag, but I did have the best teacher.”
Russ laughed and slapped Marty’s shoulder, “I can attest to this man’s boast. His brother could find or build a nest for the invisible ones…anywhere…he was one of the best.
Find us a new nest…Setter…and watch for booby traps. Like I said, this is all feeling way too easy and coming at us way too quickly.”
* * * * *
Thanks for reading Chapter #6
Future chapters will be posted on Learningbyliving and my new Substack site.
If you’d like to delve into the storyline across the four books leading up to “Untethered,” go to my Amazon Author page or check out each book here:
Book #1 – “Dreamscape Conspiracy” & Video
Book #2 – “Beyond Dreamscape Conspiracy” & Video
Book #3 – “Fear the Jump” & Video
Book #4 – “Dead Thoughts” & Video
Stay tuned…