CHAPTER 17
The hangover was fierce. Sharp and blinding above the neck and almost worse below where Thom’s stomach was doing flips that seemed to reach up into his throat.
He stumbled out to the front porch after making a trip out back to the outhouse. Thom found Brody already outside, gathering wood to start a fire.
“What are you doing?” Thom squinted against the glare of the morning sun.
“I’m fixin’ to start breakfast but we only brought one bag of charcoal.” Brody straightened from where he’d been bent over piling the sticks in the stone fire pit and looked toward Thom. “I think the better question is how are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.” He pressed a hand to his head, which only made Brody smile wider. As his brain started to function, he noticed a few key absences. “Where’s Rocky? And the truck?”
“City boy ran out for coffee. Didn’t believe I could brew it on the fire.”
“How far is he gonna have to go to find coffee around here?”
“Couldn’t be too far. I hear the truck now.” Brody cocked his head to the side.
How the fuck was Brody functioning and not hung over? Thom decided to figure that out later. After coffee.
He made his way gingerly down the few short steps to the ground as Rocky pulled up close to the cabin and cut the engine.
When he swung the door open and stepped down, Thom nearly wept with joy at the cardboard holder in his hand bearing three extra-large to-go cups.
Rocky strode forward, one cup held out in offering. “Good morning, sunshine. Coffee?”
“Oh, bless you. Yes.”
“Hung over?” Rocky laughed.
“Yes. Why aren’t you?” Thom frowned.
Rocky shrugged. “Maybe I can handle my alcohol better than you.”
Or maybe his two supposed friends had plied him with extra liquor. Even if they had, Thom couldn’t be angry as the hot coffee slid down his throat.
“There’s ibuprofen in my bag.” Rocky eyed him again. “You know, in case you need it.”
Hell yeah, he needed it. “Thanks.” Thom was about to go in search of relief when he heard the loud crack cut through the woods.
Rocky glanced in the direction of the unmistakable sound. “Somebody’s up and out shooting early.”
That single shot was followed by a burst of a dozen rounds of rapid fire.
“What the fuck? That’s no hunting rifle.” Thom eyed the woods.
“Who the hell is shooting a semi-automatic weapon up here?” Brody asked.
The sound began again, with more than one weapon being fired this time.
Thom frowned. “How close is the nearest neighbor?”
Rocky shook his head. “I don’t know. Last time I was here, there was an old farmer who owned all the acreage on either side of us. But I haven’t been here in a long time. He could’ve sold.”
Brody let out a snort. “I don’t know about around here but I don’t know any farmers who make a habit of shooting up their places with an AR-15.”
“Me either,” Thom said. “We need to check this out.”
“Hell, yeah, we do.” Brody planted his coffee down on the rail and spun toward the staircase.
“We’re on leave. We don’t have to do shit if we don’t want to, you know.” Rocky looked from Brody to Thom and then let out a sigh, putting his own cup down. “There goes my peace and quiet.”
“Do we go armed?” Thom asked.
It wasn’t like they were set up for a recon mission. They’d come prepared with beer and food for the barbecue, not body armor or weapons or anything else they’d normally have when heading out.
“Hell yeah, we go armed.” Brody turned to Rocky. “What’ve we got here?”
“Um, my grandfather’s double barrel shotgun. A couple of twenty-twos. Buckshot. Birdshot. And some knives.”
“So we’re roughing it.” Thom cocked a brow.
“Hey. What do you want from me?” Rocky frowned. “It’s not even hunting season. We came here to relax and shoot at targets. Not get in a firefight with the neighbors.”
“We’re not going to get in a firefight with anybody,” Thom said, worried by the gleam he saw in Brody’s eyes.
Brody let out a snort. “Not with our choice of weapons against what they’ve got, we’re not. Talk about bringing a knife to a gun fight.”
“We’re just gonna check on what’s going on. Maybe it’s just a couple of guys enjoying some time away, just like us.” Why did Thom feel like he had to supervise Brody? It wasn’t even his cabin. He turned to Rocky, looking for help.
Rocky pressed his lips together. “All right. We check it out.”
“Armed?” Brody asked.
“Yes, armed.” Rocky rolled his eyes. “Good thing my grandfather isn’t around to see this.”
Brody was already inside checking out the gun cabinet Rocky had unlocked when they’d arrived. He held up the double barrel. “You’re nuts. The man who owns this quality weapon would most definitely approve of what we’re doing.”
Rocky glanced at Thom and tipped his head toward Brody. “Guess he’s taking the double barrel.”
“Guess so.” Thom laughed.
Thom grabbed one of the .22s, squinting at the name on it. “A Henry. Nice.”
Brody’s head whipped up. “That’s a Henry rifle?”
Thom pulled the gun close to his chest and frowned at Brody. “Oh, no. You picked your gun already. This one is mine.”
Another round of shooting began in the distance and sobered Thom immediately. “We need to get out there.”
“Agreed.” Rocky pulled open drawers and started tossing ammo and knives onto the table.
They grabbed their weapons, shoved extra ammo in the cargo pockets of their pants, along with the knives and headed out the door.
As the three of them went outside Thom figured they would check out the source of the noise and then, when they found it was nothing but a couple of guys having fun, they could come back and continue their guys’ getaway.
If nothing else, they’d have an interesting story to tell at the wedding.
They moved through the woods like the well-trained commandos they were. Their training was so ingrained in them, into their minds, their muscles and reflexes, it didn’t matter if they were sneaking into an insurgent stronghold or a hunting camp the procedure was the same.
This could have been any one of the exercises they routinely ran through between missions to keep their skills sharp. Any live-ammo tactical scenario staged in a wooded terrain.
Except it wasn’t a training exercise . . .
It could, however, turn out to be an exercise in futility if all they found were a bunch of drunk guys taking their target practice to the extreme by shooting off a couple of hundred rounds from their AR-15s.
Whoever the shooters were, they were still at it. It was sporadic, but the sound of gunfire hadn’t stopped for more than a few minutes since when the three of them had left the cabin in pursuit of answers.
The bursts of sound increased in volume as they progressed through the woods. Thom, Brody and Rocky were definitely getting closer. Close enough they slowed their pace and began to move more quietly as they approached.
Maybe they were being overly cautious, but they didn’t know what they were walking into. Then again, maybe they were being foolish not being more cautious because they didn’t know what they were walking into.
Armed with hunting guns and not much more, this might be the stupidest thing they could have done. Normal people probably would have gone to the police to report the gunfire. SEALs tended to handle things on their own.
When Thom began to hear voices he knew they were almost upon the group of shooters. He gave Brody and Rocky the signal to hold where they were.
“There looks like there’s a clearing just ahead.” Thom tipped his chin toward where it looked as if the forest got less dense.
“I smell smoke. And . . .” Brody sniffed the air. “Barbecue.”
“I told you. It’s probably just a group of guys hanging—” Rocky didn’t finish the sentence as his eyes widened and he stared at something past Thom’s shoulder.
“What?” Thom swiveled his head to look just as the foliage behind him moved. The same happened three more places as the woods around them came to life.
“Ghillie suits,” Brody hissed.
Thom nodded.
The question was why in the mountains of Pennsylvania were there men hiding in the woods, camouflaged as well as any military commando and outfitted with automatic weapons, which happened to be pointed directly at them?
“Put them guns down.” The order came from one of the invisible men who’d become visible when he stepped out from a bush behind Rocky holding what looked like it could be an AR-15 draped in camo netting.
“A’ight.” Brody nodded, bending slowly to lay the double barrel on the ground. Thom and Rocky did the same with their rifles.
As Thom clasped his hands behind his head so none of these guys would mistake any move he made as him going for a handgun and then shoot him, he took inventory of what else he had on him that could be used as a weapon.
The folding knife he’d shoved in his pocket, his training and his wits were the sum total of what he had to defend himself with.
They were outmanned and outgunned. And the four surrounding them were just the men they could see. There were more men at the camp, as evidenced by the voices Thom still heard.
He supposed he’d be seeing them soon. One man clicked on a comm unit not quite as high tech as what they used in the teams but military grade.
“Intruders in the perimeter. Requesting back up.”
“Who the fuck are these—”
“Shut up!” One man cut off Rocky’s question and silenced any further discussion among them.
Whoever they were dealing with, it was best to humor them for now.
Once Thom and the guys figured out the situation and what they were up against, they could decide how to get themselves out of it. Because just like their current captors were an unknown entity, so too were Brody, Rocky and Thom to them.
There was no way these men, whoever they were, suspected they had three of Uncle Sam’s most highly trained operators in their possession. And Thom intended to keep it that way.
The fact they came armed with nothing but Rocky’s granddad’s rifles and were staying at his family’s cabin helped the ruse that they were just three normal untrained civilian guys hanging out.
Confident they’d be able to bullshit their way out of this situation Thom maintained his calm . . . until a dozen more men showed up, these kitted out as well if not better than their ghillie-suited friends, right down to the Kevlar vests and KA-BAR knives.
“Shit,” Rocky said on a breath.
Thom couldn’t agree more. This might not be as easy to get out of as he’d anticipated, even for them.