“Situation- nine people were killed three days ago, under unusual circumstances, their blood was drained, three were buried today at Holy Cross Cemetery. Friendly- we are a two-person sniper team; you are the sniper, and I am security and your spotter. Enemy- I expect normal risers, however, we have to consider The Devil’s Seraphim will be out looking for us, and tonight is a full moon, I will handle any close range werewolves, but if you have a distant shot call it. Our Mission- to conduct sniper operations in the vicinity of Holy Cross Cemetery; your primary targets are first risers, followed by Devil’s Seraphim, and werewolves. Execution- we travel by truck north on Brink Rd for a distance of three miles where we will take the on ramp east four-eighty for five miles. There is a small service road on the left prior to the cemetery, we take the service road south of the cemetery and park and camouflage the truck. We move on foot and find a patrol base where we take a listening halt, and tune in to the environment.
“What do you mean tune in to the environment?”
“You live in the city, your whole being is tuned to the city, including your night vision and your hearing. Trisha, just like your appendix, which your ancestors used to digest raw meat, there is a sack behind your eyes that will inject what is called liquid purple, after around thirty minutes with a lack of ambient light; the injection of liquid purple would give you limited night vision. You no longer need these organs in our modern society, but they still exist in our anatomy. If you locked yourself in a closet, after thirty minutes you would start to be able to make out shapes. We take a listening halt for thirty minutes to allow your eyes to adjust to the pitch black, the lack of ambient light that you would get in a city, and we listen and tune into the normal sounds of the area we are operating in. We’ll come in from the south, pick a hide position, one that has good observation and fields of fire, but it also has to have good cover and concealment. We low crawl to the hide position, and I will spot for you, as you make any necessary adjustments, and you fire on my command.”
Ryan looked at his G-shock Casio watch. “We have an hour and a half before we move, let’s go over some hand and arm signals, and look up any weather and light data that we can find, then you get cleaned and packed up.”
Later that evening Ryan and Trisha were heading north on State Rd, their gear and weapons stowed in the back. Ryan took a left on west four-eighty and drove the five miles to the service road that took them to the backend of Holy Cross Cemetery.
Ryan parked the truck; Trisha pulled the gear out, as Ryan cut branches to cover the truck. The two took a knee, “Trisha, from here out, no sound. We use only hand and arm signals.”
Ryan placed his rucksack on his back as Trisha picked up the twenty-eight pound fifty caliber sniper rifle and followed five yards behind. Ryan led her to a small cove of trees, the two moved in for a listening halt. Ryan covered the direction to his front, twelve o’clock; as he applied his camouflage, he checked his map with a red lens flashlight, because it doesn’t take away your night vision.
Trisha striped down to her shorts, and put on her ghillie suit, tying her jungle boots. She had Ryan apply and check her camouflage, he then motioned for her to take six o’clock, and get down in the prone. Ryan reached into his rucksack after he finished his camouflage, and pulled out his ghillie suit, much older; he put it on and crawled out of their hide site. Ryan did a cloverleaf recon, the center of the cloverleaf being the hide site. He moved clockwise in overlapping loops to search the area around the site, for security.
Trisha got down in the prone and turned on the PVS-7 night vision scope mounted on the fifty. She scanned their rear at six o’clock to see if anyone or thing followed them. Her firing eye was pressed up against the aperture, while she kept her non-firing eye closed. Ryan told her that using the night vision device, which amplifies existing light from moon and stars, would rob her normal night vision. The light green illumination that she saw through the scope intrigued her, “What other fifteen year-old is running through the woods with a commando, a sexy one at that,” Trisha thought to herself. Trisha continued to scan overlapping each pass as Ryan approached her position.
“Halt, who goes there? ” Trisha asked.
"Ryan,” The Sgt. Maj. responded.
“Advance to be recognized,” Trisha said. “Halt…Barbie doll.”
“Playhouse,” The Sgt. Maj. replied, you could see him seething. “That’s a stupid password, Trisha.”
“I know, I just love to see you squirm!”
“I wasn’t squirming,” Ryan countered. “Sergeant Major’s don't squirm."
“Was too, Do too,” Trisha replied.
Ryan turned around, and gave the thumbs up, as Trisha responded in turn, he went to ground and started to low crawl to a six-foot wall that enclosed Holy Cross Cemetery. Trisha closely followed while scanning her sectors with a head mounted PVS-14’s mounted over her firing eye. She had left, right, and up; as the point man, Ryan only watched the front. He scaled the wall with ease as Trisha waited on the other side for a signal to cross.
Ryan stayed in the shadows and low crawled to various vantage points making sure no thing was in this sector. After scanning the area, Ryan went back to the wall and clicked twice. Trisha was up and over the wall with ease, keeping lowest at the top, so she wouldn’t skyline herself, just like Ryan had taught her to. She dropped to the ground as Ryan, down in the prone, was peering to the side of a tombstone, looking for his route to one of the largest mausoleum in the cemetery, a two story granite building, a perfect vantage point. The two low crawled the football field’s distance from the wall, wearing their ghillie suits, staying in the shadows, moving along side buildings, virtually invisible to the human eye.
Ryan took his ruck off of his back and pulled out an one hundred foot rope, a single knot tied every two feet the full length, with a grappling hook on the end. He threw the hook the thirty feet to the top of the mausoleum, making very little noise, because Ryan had dipped the hook in liquid fast drying rubber to lessen the noise. The two shadow soldiers took up position on the top, side by side; Ryan had out his spotter AN-PVS 10’s scope. Trisha waited dust cover over her scope until Ryan found a target.
Ryan scanned their front overlapping and increasing the distance out, until he made out some movement. He reached down and switched on the Motorola that was connected to a headset, as Trisha did the same.
“Target at eleven o’clock, three hundred meters, first riser, wearing Sundays best, confirm.”
Trisha flipped the dust cover up on her night vision scope, and turned to eleven o’clock, going out three hundred meters, “Got him, target confirmed.”
Ryan scanned the area to make sure that they were alone and whispered into the Mic the go code, “Green light.”
Trisha placed the green crosshairs on his solar plexus and moved up and to the right, breathing in and slowly squeezing the trigger. The new riser was smiling, touching his forehead and fangs, as he stretched and knocked the remaining dirt and clumps of grass off of his suit, when he was hit with a force that picked him up and flung his body like a rag doll, dusting in midair.
“Good shot, target destroyed, let’s roll.”
Trisha closed the dust cover and the two of them slowly low crawled back wards towards the rope. They were going to a new vantage point, because Ryan said you never fire twice from the same spot. Ryan climbed down and secured the area, as Trisha made it down and took a knee. Ryan shook the grappling hook off of the wall and packed it away, and then spotted a good place for a second shot. Ryan leaned up against Trisha and pointed to a first level Mausoleum, two hundred meters to there right. They high crawled to the wall and followed it until they were parallel to the Mausoleum.
To Be Continued*****