Fallen Out: Jesse McDermitt Series, The Beginning by Wayne Stinnett Page B
Authors: Wayne Stinnett
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about half a mile. We’ll find a narrow spot and tie that line from side to side on the surface.”
“You noticed that, too? ” he asked as he brought the quick Zodiac up on plane and headed upriver. “When that guy backed up sudden, I seen his transom was loose.”
“ Yeah, with luck they’ll be going fast enough to yank the engine right off the transom.” I opened the fly rod case and removed my new M-40A3 rifle. Reaching into the box I removed the last item, a U.S. Optics MST-100 scope, and mounted it to the rifle’s rail. I’d used the M-40A1 with this scope in the Corps. The Unertl designed scope also fit on the newer A3 rifle and I’d put about a hundred rounds through it on my island over the last couple of weeks.
“This looks good,” Rusty said, pointing up ahead.
“Perfect,” I agreed. The creek narrowed just after the first bend and there were large mangroves on either side that we could use for cover. “Put me off on the starboard side. I’ll pay out the rope as you cross over.”
He brought the Zodiac up on a sandbar created by a smaller creek and I climbed out. “Let’s play it by ear,” I said. “I don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to. Once they’re stopped, you call out to them and I’ll keep them covered. Be careful, they’ll probably have a light on and it’ll cause the optics to go white. You can get the Zodiac behind that dead fall over there and you keep down behind it.”
He slowly started across the creek as I uncoiled the rope until he reached the far side of the giant log. He pulled the Zodiac behind the large fallen mangrove and tied it off, then moved forward and tied the rope around another one that was still standing.
“Tied off,” he called out.
I pulled the slack out of the rope, leaving just enough so that it lay in the water, almost invisible. I tied my end off to a huge mangrove and then moved back to the sandbar, where a smaller tree trunk had fallen.
It had started raining again, as the next band came ashore. Neither Rusty, nor I were strangers to waiting in the rain. In Okinawa, back in the early ‘80’s we had a Platoon Sergeant by the name of Russ Livingston that always said, “If it ain’t rainin’, it ain’t trainin’.” He trained us well.
A few minutes later, we could hear them, maybe half a mile away. Sound travels well across water, even out here in the Glades. A moment later, we could hear their voices. We were between two bends in the creek, about a quarter mile apart. I was counting on them rounding the bend and seeing a long straight stretch, turn off their light. I wanted it dark, when they hit the rope. That would give us the best advantage. That and surprise.
Through the night vision headset, I could see a glow lighting up the horizon around the next bend east of us. I raised the optics and waited. They came around the bend and just as I’d hoped, turned off their light, seeing that they had a long straight shot in a fairly wide creek. I lowered my headset and looked over at Rusty. He was just lowering his and looked over at me and nodded.
T hrough the grainy, green lens of the night vision goggles, I could see that there were three men on the boat, they must have left one on the trawler. They were coming toward us pretty fast, at least as fast as their old outboard could push them.
When they hit the rope stretched across the creek, it did a lot more than stop them. All three were big men and they were traveling at nearly twenty-five knots. The rope snagged the engine below the water line and jerked both it, and the rotten wood transom, completely off, sending the dinghy into a sideways skid as the two men in front were launched over the bow. The guy on the tiller landed in the bow, but managed to stay aboard.
“What the hell’d you hit, Earl?” one of them yelled when he came to the surface. The dinghy had drifted thirty feet and the two men were swimming for it.
Just as the first man reached it, Rusty called
“You noticed that, too? ” he asked as he brought the quick Zodiac up on plane and headed upriver. “When that guy backed up sudden, I seen his transom was loose.”
“ Yeah, with luck they’ll be going fast enough to yank the engine right off the transom.” I opened the fly rod case and removed my new M-40A3 rifle. Reaching into the box I removed the last item, a U.S. Optics MST-100 scope, and mounted it to the rifle’s rail. I’d used the M-40A1 with this scope in the Corps. The Unertl designed scope also fit on the newer A3 rifle and I’d put about a hundred rounds through it on my island over the last couple of weeks.
“This looks good,” Rusty said, pointing up ahead.
“Perfect,” I agreed. The creek narrowed just after the first bend and there were large mangroves on either side that we could use for cover. “Put me off on the starboard side. I’ll pay out the rope as you cross over.”
He brought the Zodiac up on a sandbar created by a smaller creek and I climbed out. “Let’s play it by ear,” I said. “I don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to. Once they’re stopped, you call out to them and I’ll keep them covered. Be careful, they’ll probably have a light on and it’ll cause the optics to go white. You can get the Zodiac behind that dead fall over there and you keep down behind it.”
He slowly started across the creek as I uncoiled the rope until he reached the far side of the giant log. He pulled the Zodiac behind the large fallen mangrove and tied it off, then moved forward and tied the rope around another one that was still standing.
“Tied off,” he called out.
I pulled the slack out of the rope, leaving just enough so that it lay in the water, almost invisible. I tied my end off to a huge mangrove and then moved back to the sandbar, where a smaller tree trunk had fallen.
It had started raining again, as the next band came ashore. Neither Rusty, nor I were strangers to waiting in the rain. In Okinawa, back in the early ‘80’s we had a Platoon Sergeant by the name of Russ Livingston that always said, “If it ain’t rainin’, it ain’t trainin’.” He trained us well.
A few minutes later, we could hear them, maybe half a mile away. Sound travels well across water, even out here in the Glades. A moment later, we could hear their voices. We were between two bends in the creek, about a quarter mile apart. I was counting on them rounding the bend and seeing a long straight stretch, turn off their light. I wanted it dark, when they hit the rope. That would give us the best advantage. That and surprise.
Through the night vision headset, I could see a glow lighting up the horizon around the next bend east of us. I raised the optics and waited. They came around the bend and just as I’d hoped, turned off their light, seeing that they had a long straight shot in a fairly wide creek. I lowered my headset and looked over at Rusty. He was just lowering his and looked over at me and nodded.
T hrough the grainy, green lens of the night vision goggles, I could see that there were three men on the boat, they must have left one on the trawler. They were coming toward us pretty fast, at least as fast as their old outboard could push them.
When they hit the rope stretched across the creek, it did a lot more than stop them. All three were big men and they were traveling at nearly twenty-five knots. The rope snagged the engine below the water line and jerked both it, and the rotten wood transom, completely off, sending the dinghy into a sideways skid as the two men in front were launched over the bow. The guy on the tiller landed in the bow, but managed to stay aboard.
“What the hell’d you hit, Earl?” one of them yelled when he came to the surface. The dinghy had drifted thirty feet and the two men were swimming for it.
Just as the first man reached it, Rusty called
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