I camouflaged the body with grass almost like a professional sniper. I had some experience with long-range shooting, but only about ten hours of actual training. I had the basics, but not much real practice. Camouflage and position selection were taught mostly in theory. I was more of an assault operator: close the distance, eliminate the target, control the perimeter, operate at short to medium range.
I set up near the spot where the game had been caught and waited for the hunters. The hours stretched endlessly. I burned with impatience, but I couldn't move I had to endure. At one point I even considered the insane idea of finding a bear's den and luring it toward the hunters, though I couldn't guarantee it wouldn't eat me first.
Only closer to noon did they finally arrive.
"Game's getting scarce. The cold's closing in," one of them said.
"We're running out of food. Once we kill that damn old man and take his weapons, we'll hit the town, wipe out the creatures, and take as much as we want," the other replied.
Only one of them carried a double-barreled shotgun. The second had nothing but a crude machete a slab of metal wrapped in cloth for a handle.
"Two more sinners killed so many of ours. But they'll pay for it soon," the first said.
I had already cleared the area of dry branches and anything that might make noise when I approached. They moved loudly and carelessly, checking their traps half-heartedly.
"Oh we've got something. Game," the second said happily.
The first looked at the catch.
That's when I stood up.
I crept in behind him and drove my knife into his neck. The second never even spoke I pulled the blade free and threw it into his chest. After searching their bodies, I took the shotgun and the radio.
I dragged the bodies away and continued working. I covered them with vegetation, then pulled out wire and set two tripwires with grenades nearby, leaving the blood clearly visible. They'd follow the blood trail and walk straight into the traps.
Turning on the radio, I listened to their channel as I moved toward their base. On the way, I ditched the shotgun, hiding it under grass.
At first, the radio traffic was routine. About twenty minutes later, they tried contacting the hunters. When no one answered, their tone changed. By then, I had reached the edge of their base and lay concealed in the brush, listening.
Another ten minutes of radio silence followed. I switched frequencies, guessing they might've changed channels but it seemed they had simply gathered inside and were talking face-to-face.
Eventually they decided to investigate and sent out a small group. The ones who stayed behind were on edge. I crawled closer. Finding a position nearby, I lay still and waited.
There were several possible outcomes.
One: they hit the traps, fall back, and call reinforcements to sweep the forest with a larger force.
Two: they call in backup from the main base and begin a slow, methodical search of the entire area.
Three: they hole up inside the base and stop moving altogether.
In all three scenarios, infiltrating the base would be extremely difficult. A real chance existed only in one of them.
I pulled out the explosive charges. One would go near the vehicles. The other two depending on the situation.
From the radio chatter it became clear they were sweeping the forest until they stumbled upon the blood trail and began to inspect it.
Boom.
A short, dull blast came from the woods, and screaming immediately flooded the radio.A second explosion followed.
Everyone still at the base rushed outside, confused and disoriented. One man, with a crudely drawn cross carved into his forehead, ordered them to calm down. He quickly gathered the people around him.
Seeing my chance, I moved.
I crawled toward their vehicles and planted a charge beside the fuel tank of one of them. I nearly collided with a cultist, barely managing to drop flat and slide under another vehicle.
When the moment came, I pulled back to a safe distance. The man near the cars opened the fuel hatch and went inside the building, returning with jerry cans in his hands.
So they've got stored fuel. That simplifies things.
I had underestimated their fanaticism.
They were in a frenzy blinded by bloodlust, unable to remain inside their base. There was no reason left in their eyes. In their attempt to find the culprit and tear him apart, they abandoned the base almost entirely.
"Madness," I muttered.
I hadn't even considered they would react this stupidly. I was counting on at least a third of their people staying behind that would have given me a window to slip inside. The explosives were supposed to serve as a distraction for my retreat.
I dropped my cloak really just a sheet of fabric bound with grass raised my suppressed AR-15, and headed for the fuel. I placed my phone on the ground nearby and set the alarm to go off in exactly three minutes. Then I circled the base carefully, staying out of sight, lining up two guards positioned on high ground.
Ding
The ringtone echoed across the entire base, drawing everyone's attention.
Two shots followed.The muted cracks of my rifle were almost lost beneath the sound of the alarm.
Shame. I'd have to abandon the phone.
Before they could react, I slipped into the storage building. Inside, I immediately found the jerry cans. I twisted open each cap, sniffing.
"There you are," I whispered as the sharp smell of diesel hit me. It was nothing like gasoline.
I slung one can over my back, grabbed the other in my left hand, took my pistol, and slipped back outside.
"Which one of you bastards killed two of our men?!" someone roared across the base.
I reached to my forearm and pressed the transmitter.
The explosion thundered.
A flash burst outward. The shockwave tore through the nearest vehicles. The blast hammered my ears, the world blurring for a second.
"Shit put the fire out, now, or the whole place is going up!" someone screamed.
The flames ignited by the explosion and flying debris spread rapidly to the building.
I ran.
"That's him! He's not one of ours! That bastard did this!"They spotted me.
Gunfire erupted. I rolled, hurled the jerry can aside, raised my rifle, and returned fire. A few rounds caught one of them. The others dove for cover. Backing away, I vanished into the trees while bullets chased me from behind. They didn't pursue the burning chaos mattered more.
About two hundred meters out, I finally stopped and pulled the jerry can off my back.
"So that's why it smelled like diesel," I muttered.
Several holes riddled the container. One had passed dangerously close to me. Reaching back, I felt a shard that had punched through the fabric and lodged in my Kevlar. I'd worry about that later.
I stuffed scraps of cloth into the holes and hurried toward my car.
Meanwhile
The flames continued to rise. Fire reached one of the fuel tanks, crawled across the spilled fuel, and erupted inside. A massive explosion ripped the air apart, hurling everyone who had been trying to contain the fire. A towering column of flame swallowed the sky.
In a desperate attempt to save anything, a man in a truck charged in, hooked the tank, and dragged it out of the base.
Soon, people burst from the forest. The man with the cross on his forehead stumbled, smashed his head against the asphalt, and began pleading for forgiveness.
An old Ford rolled up to the base.The Pastor stepped out.
Not a single muscle in his face moved as he surveyed the ruins, his gaze cutting into the wreckage of the buildings.
"Pastor, this is my fault. I am ready to offer myself to God," the man with the cross said.
"No," the Pastor replied calmly. "This is not your fault. It was I who allowed myself to believe in that man's reason. That was my mistake. If not for those two who killed our people, I would have burned that heretic yesterday along with his miserable house. Take all the weapons. Gather everyone. We march on the sinner's home."
His voice was calm, but in the lenses of his glasses the flames were reflected as if fire had replaced his eyes.
"Prepare the wood for the sacred fire. We will offer their bodies and souls as sacrifice, for the peace of the faithful."
"So… we don't kill the one we captured yet?" a subordinate asked.
"No. His brother will come for him. And then we will burn him as well," the Pastor said.
He got back into the car.
In the main camp, shouting erupted. People rushed to the vehicles. A massive convoy rolled onto the road.