Emerald-Hammer

The ambush site was once a small gas stop and maybe somebody’s home out in the middle of nowhere. The underground tanks were long since dry, abandoned as the gas shortages force the owner out of business. It was just a little spot where useful idiots would leave a little food and water, maybe some sunblock. The immi’s coming over the wall followed maps or signs left in the desert, found the cache and maybe they lived to walk through the desert another day.

Of course after the Wall Act, It’d be a year of community labour for anyone caught supplying the immi’s, but it didn’t stop the bleeding hearts of California.

We dug in, found dark, shady nooks in the buildings and waited the sun out,dozing fitfully in the heat of the shade. Finally the sky turned red, and the sun dropped beneath the far horizon, the blazing heat of the day became the chill cold of the night, and our threadbare uniforms didn’t keep us that much warmer.

If we’d had night vision gear, we’d have seen them coming from miles away, a handful of scrawny Aztlanners, carry their worldy goods in scruffy backpacks. They were as nervous as a pack of coyotes, stayed on the edge of the lot for a good long while, scanning for any threats. Then finally they came up to the buildings, started nosing around for food and water.

PFC Jeffers broke cover first, he hated Immy’s, something to do with his parents, and as soon as one came through the door of the restroom, he stepped up and hit the guy right in the kneecap with the butt of his rifle, the guy folded and started screaming. That set the rest of them off, and they rabbited.

Lucky it was a clear night, and we were far enough away from the city that the big old moon and a fair few stars where shining down, they were fast those immy’s, but we’d had rest most of that day, and some of them were old.  Me and Hughes chased one down the side of a scree slope, kicking up dust and whooping for the fun of the chase, when there was a sharp BANG and a flash of light that had me seeing stars. I could hear Hughes hit the dirt next to me, and i readied my worn out AR as I blinked and tried to clear my vision. All I could see was the Immy, lying in the dirt in front of me clawing weakly at his chest, where a dark stain started to spread.

“point those guns at the sky fellas, we’re friendly”

Came a local accent from up ahead, and we both goggled as an honest-to-god flashlight clicked on, red filter making the desert floor into a little bit of hell.

He got up from the ground slowly, dragging a lot of it with him, our intruder had a full Ghilli suit on, it was like watching a piece of the desert just stand up and start talking. A little smoke came from the muzzle of the rifle he had clamped in one big hand, pointed somewhere between us and the Immy, who was moaning slightly.

“Sgt Philips, 75th Rangers, you boys sling those tired old things and grab this guy, we need to question him, and he ain’t walking back to that truck stop by hisself.”

We didn’t argue, they guy was wearing ACU’s, had more gear than our sorry platoon had ever seen, including a brand new SOPMOD sixty-eight that he could wave around single handed. Nobody argues with that much muscle and a command voice.He was massive, built like an old time football player, with a square jaw, and the biggest, wide eyes. His face was pale between the stripes of cammo face paint, and he had white, sharp teeth. He didn’t smile.

We dragged the groaning Immy back to the truck stop,  and found the rest of the platoon there, with half a dozen more Rangers, in full battle dress; flexible body armour, individual comms gear, helmets with working NVG’s and battery operated gear that still had batteries. Their uniforms even had the catseyes sewn in the back to avoid blue on blue incidents during night ops, probably the infrared absorbing material too, although we lacked the IR gear to tell.

Kneeling on the dusty concreate were eight captured Immy’s, plasticuffs binding their arms behind them, and sacks over their faces. One of the Rangers, another sergeant, from the subdued rank markings on his shoulder was “discussing” the siuation with our LT.

“Sergeant, I have standing orders that all Illegal Immigrants are to be returned to base, for questioning by the case commander, before processing by the BNI and other relevant civilian authorities.

“Lieutenant, I dont care what your standing orders are, my fireteam has specific orders to detain and question these illegal combatants, now are you men going to provide security while we do that, or are we going to have an issue?”

Our Loo took a deep breath and squared up to the giant Ranger, and then took a look round him; the other Rangers had spread themselves out in a loose semi-circle, each of them facing a small cluster of our guys, most of whom had sat down to take a smoke, and brag about capturing an immy.They all had their hands on their weapons, one or two were even smiling, a little too widely. They had the drop on us, and my guys didn’t even know they were being threatened. Those rangers had death in their hearts and they looked like they wanted to let it out, on us.

The Loo slumped, and asked “what do you want us to do?”

“Just provide a perimeter, and keep an eye on the rest while we question these, one at a time,” The Loo started to turn away, to give the orders to dig in for a few more hours ” oh, and L.T.? None of your men are to enter the rest room during the questioning. None of them. Our Techniques are Eyes Only.”