Cynetic Wolf
SEEK AND HIDE

The next few hours passed in a painful blur. Why was I so worried about her?

“Raek, you ready?” It was Lars. He pulled me up from the log I’d been moping on behind an abandoned tent. “It will be fine. We’ve got to go.”

“I’m ready. Thanks.”

Lars nodded his understanding, not needing to say anything.

When we rejoined the group, I realized I’d let my team down. I couldn’t let pain or emotions cripple me, not now. They were risking their lives for this. They were counting on me.

Stepping onto a small crate, I looked around. “Everyone ready?”

A weak chorus of “yeas” and “yeses.”

“I said, everyone ready?” I yelled in what I hoped was motivational anger. “We’ve got between fifty and a hundred fifty bastards in those woods. Our job’s to capture one man, Thorn Fury. It might seem trivial, but trust me, this monster might be the key to the entire war.” I let that sink in.

“Have you been beaten down by the GDR, seen your family and friends subjected to unspeakable humiliation, violence, and hate? I have. My sister was murdered by those pigs. My family disappeared too. They’ve taken everything from me, including my town. It’s our time to hit back. So, again, who the hell’s with me?”

This time, a roar.

“That’s more like it! You know what to do. Go do it.”

“Nice speech,” Nim said under her breath as we got underway.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “I’m back.”

“I know. She’ll be okay, kid.” A smile crossed her thick lips. “Let’s go get him.”

On the edge of a small clearing a kilometer from the spot, Nim stopped and raised her fist. The squad froze, snapping into position and leveling blasters, turning to cover all sides.

I fired off preprogrammed web access requests, spoofing the first server. A new wave would trigger every two minutes. By eleven minutes, we’d have their platoons reduced to sections of three or four, and spread over close to five square kilometers… at least that was the plan.

“It’s started,” I said to no one in particular. “Ashlo, get Henk on standby.”

“Roger that.”

“Spread out, folks!” Nim yelled. “Like we drilled it.”

The soldiers jumped into action, running in their respective directions over logs and branches, sweeping disturbed snow to cover their tracks and find cover for the inevitable shootout. It was still dark.

The next sequence went as Lars and I took up positions behind a pair of ancient oaks.

We waited, wordless, as the area brightened. It was going to be a beautiful day, one filled with blood. Henk better be ready.

A small crack and rustle of leaves… seconds later, snow crunched. Footsteps.

I alerted Nim, straining my eyes and ears. A few hundred meters.

There it was again, and again. Again.

Soldiers appeared, guns drawn as they marched in staggered formation, trigger fingers ready. They were masked in helmets and goggles, chests covered in armor. This was going to get ugly. And there were at least twenty. Jeez.

“Listen, ladies,” Thorn’s icy voice rippled through the night. I’d never forget that voice. The burning hatred sent cold chills through me, a distinct evil. “Stay sharp. They’re out there. They wouldn’t pull this stunt otherwise. There’s some objective. They’re trying to spread us out. They can’t be dumb enough to think they can win, which leaves one thing, retrieval. Kid probably left something behind.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“What if there’s no one there, sir?” a timid voice asked. “What if it’s a goose chase?”

“Then you’re getting paid good money to play hide-n-seek, soldier. You got a problem?”

“No, sir, it’s just—”

“Good!” Thorn snapped. “Anyone else have something stupid to add?”

No one said anything. “Now in case you forgot,” Thorn said, “this kid’s important. The Board’s anxious to meet him, even if it’s in a body bag. You ladies want to be the sorry lot that let the Board down?” He sneered.

Shhh... Any noise at all would spell disaster. We’d guessed Thorn’s route but dangerously underestimated his force. We were outnumbered at least three-to-one.

Nim messaged me. That him?

Yeah.

Copy that. Wait for a better opportunity. Too close to retreat, she shot back.

We’d been sitting for thirty minutes, not fifty meters from Thorn’s thirty-or-so—at this point relaxed—men, when one rose.

“Gotta take a piss,” he said to his buddy.

I froze. Crap. Was this guy’s bladder going to get us killed?

He ambled to the side, whistling as he unzipped his black cargo pants. He was a tall shaggy guy, goggles around his neck, paint under his eyes, a high powered blaster on his back. Typical special forces.

If Thorn’s squad was special forces, we weren’t outnumbered, we were screwed.

A splash shattered the silence, slowing to a drizzle. The zing of a zipper. He turned to leave.

That was close...

Two steps, he jumped. “Crap. There’s a footprint here!”

“What’d you say?” Thorn yelled. Oh no...

Someone fired, catching the pisser in the torso.

The clearing erupted.

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