u/Horizons_Unleashed

First Light

As light began flooding the streets of the town an eerie silence filled the air. No birds. No dogs. Nothing but the sound of wind rustling the leaves of the trees, and James' radio. They waited. Just as Kinley was going to open the door to begin moving, a single shot rang out in the distance. Followed by another, then another. Then it was a warzone. James and Garcia tensed up and ducked behind a tree praying a stray bullet would wander their way. The gunfire went from chaotic to melodic as the American insurgency weakened, only the well prepared were able to outlast the invaders. James calmed his nerves and peaked out from behind the tree.

He laid in the cool grass and watched through the scope of his rifle. He clicked the radio on to talk to Kinley but froze before he spoke. Kinley asked if it was him. Silence. "James!?" "ye-yeah?" "What's going on, talk to me" James wrestled with the idea of sending his friends out to get to safety... or to their death. He didn't sugar coat it. "I think there's an opening" "you think?! you need to know buddy c'mon" "ye- yes..." he explained to Kinley where to navigate and where to avoid. They began to make their way through town, staying in touch with James.

James could only see them 30% of the time, making him unbelievably nervous. This slowed progress even more, making the situation all the more volatile. They began walking down a road that James was in line with and Kinley and Voodoo needed to travel on. The issue James kept thinking about was that he couldn't see the side streets and wouldn't know if the way was clear. They were getting close to the safe zone, a tree line where they'd be out of danger. They passed what used to be a warehouse of some kind. James couldn't see the group of four men behind the half rolled up warehouse door. As they passed by the warehouse, Voodoo's shadow flashed ever so slightly under the door, catching the attention of one of the men.

The Shot

James glanced down at his watch to check the time. When he peered back through the scope, Kinley and Voodoo were nowhere to be seen. Garcia let out a whispered "oh fuck" "what?! where'd they go?! GARCI?!" Kinley and Voodoo bolted into an alley when they heard the door fly open and shouting from the foreign soldiers. James watched helplessly as the men split up and searched for the pair. Kinley radioed to James where they went and he finally caught a glimpse. One of the soldiers heard the radio chatter and started moving toward them. James had a clear line of sight. He thought to himself it would be far too risky to shoot, he didn't want to kill anyone anyway.

The weight of that decision landed heavy as he began to shake as if it was 10 below. "James he's closing in on them" "I see him" "James, he knows where they are! Dude he's gonna kill them!" James' vision narrowed, Kinley whispered on the radio a soft, solemn goodbye as the man raised his gun to the thin wall they hid behind. "I love you guys" Kinley whispered as James' rifle recoiled in agony, lobbing 250 grains of metal toward the man that was heart set on killing his friends.

The sound of exploding gunpowder rippled through the air for what felt like an hour. Kinley looked up to see a hole in the wall where the bullet grazed the man's shoulder. The soldier turned and ran as a bead of blood ran down his arm. "RUN KINLEY" Garcia yelled. He then grabbed James' shirt, pulled him up off the ground and the two ran faster than they ever had back away from the vantage point before anyone could trace the shot. They were still separated, but they were safe. Or so they thought.

The Escape

Garcia started becoming fatigued from running. He slowed, then stopped. James, who was in front of him, didn't notice. "James! Stop. We need to focus here" James slowed and dropped to his knees, sweat dripping down his nose and falling to the dry earth below. Garcia calmed him down and reassured him he did what he had to do. James kept silent in the wake of what he'd done. He knew he had to but it changed him. Even though the guy was the enemy, he was still human, away from home, away from family, just doing his job. And James tried to kill him. He tried shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind but couldn't until the radio screeched to life.

It was Kinley. She'd been trying to get a hold of James the whole time but couldn't. James answered that they were in the clear and they made plans to meet up near a spot along the river. James and Garcia made it to the river's edge first. They tried the radio with no response. Then again. Nothing. On the third attempt, they heard the report of a rifle through the woods.

James and Gacia ducked in cover. There was only silence. A few minutes later they heard rustling in the brush. It was Kinley and Voodoo. James ran over and embraced Kinley tighter than ever before. The group was whole again. "The shot. I thought.." James struggled to get that much out before Kinley replied "We heard it too, it wasn't at us, we're good." After the reunion, they began wandering toward James' property. The sight of that house was a relief to them all.

Nighttime

As dusk rapidly approached, they settled in for the night, Voodoo kicked his shoes off and crashed on the couch. Garcia dropped his gear and took the chair. James and Kinley took to the kitchen. It was warm in Montana by this time of year which was fortunate for the group. Electricity had been cut, along with water and gas. No heat. No ac. No running water. Kinley took notice when she tried to drink from the faucet in the kitchen.

James had a 200 gallon tank in the back yard for winter emergencies that was maybe two thirds full. Enough for a week or two. The silence was loud. Broken by a cork popping off a bottle of rum. James took a swig and offered it to Kinley. She grabbed it and took a sip as James talked about the dread he felt from that single shot he took. She assured him he only did what he had to do to keep them safe. And it worked. He didn't kill anyone, but he did save two people.

"Hey, aim small, miss small" Kinley joked. James gave a half hearted smirk to wash away the dread and at least appear like he was fine. Kinley accepted this and hugged him to try and comfort him. It worked for now. They talked for a while until they fell asleep sitting at the dining room table.

... to be continued

Garcia

James’ truck slowly crawled to a stop, something wasn’t right. Garcia was nowhere in sight and his driver's door was wide open. The door to James’ house was ajar as well. Garcia had a key to the place but would never leave his truck open and outside in a situation like this. James turned off the engine and stayed back for now.

No lights were on in the house, he grabbed his pistol and slowly approached the large brick home. As he got to the garage, he heard shuffling from within, then a loud click accompanied by the shake of the garage door. Suddenly the door flew up along with James’ gun and under barrel light. Garcia threw his hands over his face as he was blinded by the light.

“What the heck dude? What are you doing?” James yelled at him. “The clicker didn’t work, I had to open it manually” Garcia responded. James’ heart was racing as he holstered his gun. “I almost shot you dude!” James said. “Well don’t do that!” Garcia replied, “What the heck is going on, I was in town, then BOOM BOOM BOOM! Bombs started goin off everywhere. I came straight here. Had to avoid roads, took forever. I didn’t even have time to grab my bag.”

Prep

James got his answer on the smoke and lack of reply on the radio. There was no warning. No time to think. James always had a tendency to step up and lead when no one else would, he didn’t mind making decisions. His father raised him to be a leader so it came naturally for him. Showed up in video games with his friends in school, in his military career, and now here with Garcia. Garcia was a bit on the spontaneous side, a bit of a risk taker, James thought unnecessarily risky. But Garcia listened to James anytime he made a decision, Garcia knew James made good calls. There was a long history of trust.

They spent the next few hours listening, planning, and preparing to move. James had enough supplies to give Garcia a pack with basic gear. He also gave Garcia a spotter scope, they were a team after all in the shooting competitions. James made a plan to head into town and regroup with the rest of their friends. Garcia informed him that “they” had full control of the area. Neither of them knew who “they” were apart from an enemy, and a thing to avoid.

Kinley and Voodoo

"No way we’re getting into town in the truck." James said. They decided to head out on foot. Suddenly they both froze. The sound of static clearing into a familiar voice cut through the silence of their preparation. It was Kinley, another competitor and best friend of James and Garcia. They exchanged excited greetings and checked in on one another. Kinley happened to meet up with Voodoo like James and Garcia had done. Voodoo was a nickname for one of their companions, a big burly man from Louisiana. They explained that they were trapped in the middle of town and were holed up in the basement of Kinley’s house.

James and Garcia could hear the chaos in the background of Kinley's transmission. They made plans to help them get out of town to the safety of James’ compound of a house. Dressed in their hunting gear, James and Garcia were invisible on foot. They made it to a decent vantage point on the south side of town that had line of sight of most of the route Kinley and Voodoo needed to take. They settled in to wait for daylight to plan the route through the town.

James noticed Garcia becoming impatient with a few hours left until dawn. Garcia suggested they move now under the cover of darkness, James assured him it would be best to hold their position until lights revealed the true size of the threat. James reassured Garcia that they have cover from above in the tree line and from the shadow that was sure to shroud their form. Garcia forced himself to calm down, then drifted off to sleep.

Reveille

James sat vigilant as the sun began peaking over the Highwood Mountains. He stared in awe at the destruction that was lit in twilight before him. He shook Garcia awake and they began scouting with the scope and rifle. They took note of distances and locations of enemy squads positioned throughout the town. There was a route they knew of that could work as long as Kinley and Voodoo stayed low and moved deliberately. They radioed in and relayed the plan.

Initially James wanted to wait until nightfall but they settled on moving before the enemy had more time to structure themselves. They decided James and Garcia would stay in their position to act as overwatch and guide Kinley and Voodoo to safety. Their next move was life or death.

... to be continued

Snowmelt

Winter was ruthless in Montana. For some, the cold was too much to handle. But it doesn't last forever. At the first sight of spring, James was excited to take time away from work and enjoy the bloom of May when the snow had melted. He decided the first week he'd take time off to go camping in the mountains. While far from any form of civilization, he knew he'd be at peace, after all, that's all he needed, just a little peace.

The first week of May had arrived. James woke before the sun and set off in his midnight blue diesel truck, two hours from his home. The drive went by fast from the excitement and breathtaking views. He'd made this drive a few times before but never got used to the beauty. By the time James made his way to the trail head, the sun was just peaking over the horizon behind him. He checked his GPS and smiled at the four mile hike ahead of him. He took only what he needed for a three day camp in the backcountry: a pack with the essentials for survival, a tent, a sleeping bag, and his 45-70 lever gun slung over his shoulder. It was May 3rd, 2031.

James enjoyed himself out in the mountains. He spent the days collecting samples of soil, water, and other things in the wilderness. While he was no professional researcher, he loved conducting various experiments. On his last day, he hiked up to a ten thousand foot peak, high above all others. He sat quietly admiring what mother nature spent eons growing from plate tectonics. As he surveyed the surrounding peaks, he noticed large columns of black smoke rising in several different locations, all from directions of major cities. James knew this region was prone to wildfires but this felt... off.

Smoke on the Horizon

He decided it was time to head back down to camp, there was nothing he could do from a mountain peak. The day began like all the others, the air was cool, foliage was damp from the morning dew. James woke up well rested and satisfied with his trip, it was time he returned home. The whole time he was packing, he couldn't help but notice the lack of wildlife in the area. He felt slightly unsettled as he packed his things and began his long hike back. Through the trees he could finally see the glint from the chrome on his truck. He checked his phone for any messages from friends or family but he had no signal.

He knew he was back to a point where he should but also knew the area was spotty. He didn't find anything weird about that until he noticed the smoke again. As he was loading the bed of his truck, James looked up at the clear sky and saw a plane, then two, then hundreds. Small specks of black began falling from the planes, then James saw the parachutes. Standing motionless in the truck bed, his heart sank. He had close ties to the military and knew every time there was training in Montana. Parachutes could only mean one thing: his country was under attack.

Planes and Parachutes

James stood in the bed of his truck as he watched the foreign paratroopers gliding gracefully to the sovereign ground. The only thing he could think of was his friends in the town he called home. James knew at this point that his way of life was over, never to return again. Though a pit grew in his stomach only comparable to the size of mountains, he forced himself out the truck bed, closed it all up, and climbed into the driver's seat to begin his new life. He must get to his friends. James then remembered his HAM radio in his pack. He and his friends swore to keep them on and charged and had extended range antennas for them to communicate while hunting and shooting. He called out into the void praying for a response. There was only static.

The truck roared to life as he threw it in drive and hit the gas. He raced down wide open country roads keeping an eye out for any signs of danger. A few miles outside of the nearest town, James decided to stop and survey the area ahead. He deployed his drone and flew well above the ground where he knew it would be out of sight. James flew out above the town and saw squads of soldiers setting up checkpoints on the edge of the town. He sighed as he recovered the drone and turned away from the road. Going off road was unfavorably slower but it was his only option. James carefully made his way toward his home.

Home?

He was only a couple miles away from the border to his property by the time dusk began settling in. He hoped night meant safety. While he couldn’t confirm a country of origin, he didn’t recognize any of the uniforms or aircraft the occupants used. He only knew they weren’t American. His mind couldn’t stop racing. He could only land on one question: where were the Americans? His train of thought broke when he finally saw the fence that marked his land. James felt the biggest sense of relief when he saw that gray F-250 in his driveway. It was Garcia.

... to be continued

Winter was ruthless in Montana. For some, the cold was too much to handle. But it doesn't last forever. At the first sight of spring, James was excited to take time away from work and enjoy the bloom of May. He decided the first week he'd take time off to go camping in the mountains. While far from any form of civilization, he knew he'd be at peace, after all, that's all he needed, just a little peace. And so it was. The first week of May had arrived. James woke before the sun and set off in his midnight blue diesel truck, two hours from his home. The drive went by fast from the excitement and breathtaking views. He'd made this drive a few times before but never got used to the beauty. By the time James made his way to the trail head, the sun was just peaking over the horizon behind him. He checked his GPS and smiled at the four mile hike ahead of him. He took only what he needed for a three day camp in the backcountry. A pack with the essentials for survival, a tent, a sleeping bag, and his 45-70 lever gun slung over his shoulder. It was May 3rd, 2031. James enjoyed himself out in the mountains. He spent the days collecting samples of soil, water, and other things in the wilderness. While he was no professional researcher, he loved conducting various experiments. On his last day, he hiked up to a ten thousand foot peak, high above all others. He sat quietly admiring what mother nature spent eons growing from plate tectonics. As he surveyed the surrounding peaks, he noticed large columns of black smoke rising in several different locations, all from directions of major cities. James knew this region was prone to wildfires but this felt... off. He decided it was time to head back down to camp, there was nothing he could do from a mountain peak. The day began like all the others, the air was cool, foliage was damp from the morning dew. James woke up well rested and satisfied with his trip, it was time he returned home. The whole time he was packing, he couldn't help but notice the lack of wildlife in the area. He felt slightly unsettled as he packed his things and began his long hike back. Through the trees he could finally see the glint from the chrome on his truck. He checked his phone for any messages from friends or family but he had no signal. He knew he was back to a point where he should but also knew the area was spotty. He didn't find anything weird about that until he noticed the smoke again. As he was loading the bed of his truck, James looked up at the clear sky and saw a plane, then two, then hundreds. Small specks of black began falling from the planes, then James saw the parachutes. Standing motionless in the truck bed, his heart sank. He had close ties to the military and knew every time there was training in Montana. Parachutes could only mean one thing: his country was under attack.

James stood in the bed of his truck as he watched the foreign paratroopers gliding gracefully to the sovereign ground. The only thing he could think of was his friends in the town he called home. James knew at this point that his way of life was over, never to return again. Though a pit grew in his stomach only comparable to the size of mountains, he forced himself out the truck bed, closed it all up, and climbed into the driver's seat to begin his new life. He must get to his friends. James then remembered his HAM radio in his pack. He and his friends swore to keep them on and charged and had extended range antennas for them to communicate while hunting and shooting. He called out into the void praying for a response. There was only static.

The truck roared to life as he threw it in drive and hit the gas. He raced down wide open country roads keeping an eye out for any signs of danger. A few miles outside of the nearest town, James decided to stop and survey the area ahead. He deployed his drone and flew well above the ground where he knew it would be out of sight. James flew out above the town and saw squads of soldiers setting up checkpoints on the edge of the town. He sighed as he recovered the drone and turned away from the road. Going off road was unfavorably slower but it was his only option. James carefully made his way toward his home. He was only a couple miles away from the border to his property by the time dusk began settling in. He hoped night meant safety. While he couldn’t confirm a country of origin, he didn’t recognize any of the uniforms or aircraft the occupants used. He only knew they weren’t American. His mind couldn’t stop racing. He could only land on one question: where were the Americans? His train of thought broke when he finally saw the fence that marked his land. James felt the biggest sense of relief when he saw that gray F-250 in his driveway. It was Garcia.

... to be continued