Retribution Road Jon Coon (best android ereader TXT) 📖

sniper rifle and the ammo can full of five-round clips of fifty caliber BMG ammo. He ran back to the truck and headed to the command center.

As he crested the hill overlooking the lake, he saw several men stacking plastic explosives against the heavy steel door. Gabe settled on his stomach in a pile of large rocks, flipped open the gun’s bipod, and as he jammed a clip into the heavy fifty-caliber, he surveyed the area with the scope.

He redialed Tom’s cell. Tom answered almost instantly.

“Okay, I’m set. What do I do?”

“The range finder is set for that ammo, and the gun is zeroed in at 200 yards. Its effective range is about 2,500 yards. Read the distance to your target on the range finder, and then set the scope accordingly. If you can, pick a target with some room around it so you can see where you hit. Fire and adjust until you get the range.”

“Got it.”

Gabe let the phone drop to the ground beneath him and followed Tom’s instructions. He chambered the first round. A few feet from the door was a backpack with several black blocks of Semtex 10. Gabe sighted in. He took two deep breaths, exhaled half a breath, and held. The range finder had shown 510 yards. He squeezed slowly and fired. On line, but three feet short. When the men at the door heard the muzzle blast and realized they were taking fire, they turned. But before they could dive for cover, Gabe had chambered another round.

His second shot was on target. The bag of Semtex exploded, and body parts flew.

Half of the assault team was still able to run for cover. Gabe now had the range, and hit two before they found shelter. He counted eight still in fighting shape. But by now they were out of sight. He heard shots from the trees, but he was well out of their range.

Gabe’s phone rang. He quickly answered.

“Is the door clear?” Tom asked.

“Clear. You’ve got shooters in the trees in back of the bunkhouse. If you can flush them out, I can help.”

“Roger that. We’re moving. Cover us if you can.”

Gabe shoved another clip into the rifle. The armored door opened, and with Tom in the lead, the seven men moved quickly for cover and began firing into the trees. Their fire was instantly returned, but in the process, careless heads bobbed up, and Gabe got two more. With the Rangers moving in and the lake in back of them, escape was limited. Tom called in Spanish for them to surrender and was answered with a hail of fire.

Gabe got one more careless eager beaver, and then the Rangers had them flanked. Now caught in a crossfire, shouts of surrender came from the trees. The Rangers stayed behind their protective cover, and slowly the empty-handed men came forward from the trees. Gabe counted four. He waited. The Rangers held fast. Gabe scanned the trees and thought he caught movement on the far right. A grenade flew toward the Rangers on the right, and the pitcher had a good arm. It landed short but close enough to do damage. Two Rangers went down.

The four men who had come out from the trees dove for cover. Gabe followed the movement through the trees and took his shot. The fifth survivor, who had thrown the grenade, went down with a scream of pain. His teammates got up from the tall grass, hands on their heads, and stepped into the clearing.

Behind him, Gabe heard the plane on the runway rev up and start to move. He ran for the truck, jumped inside, and left a cloud of dust as he chased the plane. He sped down the access road beside the runway and got slightly ahead of the plane, then slammed his brakes. He jumped out, put in a fresh clip, and braced the gun across the truck’s hood.

The plane was gaining speed. He took aim at the pilot’s window and rapidly fired the first shot. His lead was slow, and the round went through the plane behind the cockpit. He chambered a second round, and it took out the right-side cockpit window. The plane veered off the runway, crashed through a fence, and hit a power pole with transformers. The pole fell onto the plane and the transformers blew. It set off an explosion that turned the plane into a ball of fire and shook windows a mile away.

Fire trucks, police, and ambulances began arriving. A med-evac chopper picked up the two wounded Rangers, and the police were surprised to hear that only four of the attackers had survived. None carried identification, but all looked Latin American.

Several had identical snake tattoos. Angelica recoiled when she saw them and explained to Tom that the men were part of the Zapatista Army working for the cartel. Not that Tom had harbored any doubt.

Restrained in the bunker, the four survivors were interrogated by Tom’s Rangers, but, more frightened by the certainty of Caldera’s punishment for talking than the Ranger’s threats, they remained silent.

The ranch was in ruins. The house looked like Swiss cheese, the hangars and barns were burned along with several planes. The command center had survived and was running on its generator because the plane crash had knocked out the power. But the only casualties on Tom’s team were the two wounded Rangers.

The attack had lasted less than an hour, but it would take years to repair the damage. For the first time in his life, Tom was speechless. He sat on the front porch steps, his head in his hands, and surveyed the devastation. His life took on new meaning. He wanted retribution, and he would have it regardless of the cost.

His morose contemplation was interrupted by a beckoning from Jimmy, the geek from the command center. “Sir, you’ve got an urgent message. It’s on your secure line.”

Tom checked his pockets for that cell phone and discovered it missing. “Take me to the bunker,” he ordered