June 1, 5:50 A.M.
Yellowstone National Park
Major Ashley Ryan didn't like babysitting.
"Just stay out of our way," Ryan warned the Ute kid. He pointed to a boulder at the edge of a stand of pines. "Sit there. And make sure that dog doesn't lift his leg on my pack."
Jordan scowled, but obeyed.
The National Guard and the Indians in Utah did not get along-or, at least, not as far as this National Guardsman was concerned. Ryan still remembered the ruckus that had gone down before the explosion in the mountains. If the Indians just knew their place like everyone else did, they'd all get along fine.
Ryan stared across the field to where Bern and his mercenaries had staked a claim thirty yards from the hole. The blond giant had three men; so did Ryan. Even odds if you didn't count the kid and dog.
And Ryan didn't.
Bern stared his way, his hands on his hips, eyeballing the competition just as studiously. Then the big Aryan glanced toward the sky. A moment later, Ryan heard it, too.
Another chopper.
The constant bell beat of their rotors had already set his head to pounding, his eyeteeth to aching. A trio of choppers was circling above, ready with blast boxes. The pilots had already placed four insulated crates on the ground, preparing for fast handoffs and quick bunny hops out of the park.
Ryan checked his watch. Twenty minutes. That did not leave a lot of margin for error. As he listened, the sound of a second helicopter joined the first. He stared up as the first appeared, sweeping low over the ridge and diving down.
What the hell? Has something happened?
Then, from the back of the transport helo, heavy lines suddenly came coiling down, followed just as quickly by men. They wore the same black scare-gear as Bern's mercenaries.
Fuck.
Ryan swung and ducked, moving instinctively. He heard the crack of the pistol at the same time as a round buzzed over his head. Down on one arm, like a linebacker, he stared back at Bern. The blond man held his pistol pointed.
The gun blasted again.
One of Ryan's men flew off his feet and skidded on his back in the dirt.
He had a hole where his eye used to be.
Ryan bolted for the boulders where he'd sent the boy. His instinct was to protect the civilian. But he also had two men under his watch.
"Get to cover! Now!"
They had to find a castle to defend. The nest of boulders would do until he could figure out something better. Rounds blasted into the dirt around him. Ahead, Jordan had already ducked into hiding behind the rocks.
His two men-Marshall and Boydson-flanked Ryan, running low.
All three hit the boulders and dove down.
Ryan freed his rifle and found a crevice between two rocks to use as a roost. He stared as eight men vacated the first chopper. Moments later, the second dipped down like a deadly hummingbird and unloaded the same number.
That made it twenty to three.
Those were not good odds.