Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Two miles north of Hoeryong

North Hamgyong Province, North Korea

April 30, 4:35 a.m.

 

Choe turned the van’s steering wheel gently as they rounded a curve. They were closing in on their target. In a matter of minutes they would reach the bridge, and Carrie would lay the explosive charges.

Their insertion so far had proceeded without any major problems. They had mostly kept to back roads, avoiding villages and towns, and had run into very little traffic. North Korea did not have many cars, and some estimates placed the number of vehicles in the country of nearly 25 million people at about only 60,000. But they had passed a number of donkey- and ox-drawn carts and two old battered trucks that ran on coal. Their chimney stacks produced a cloud of thick gray smoke, but the sardine-packed crowd of men, women, and children hanging precariously from the sides and the back of the truck stoically endured the choking toxic fumes.

The most dangerous moment had come when a convoy of military vehicles overtook them as they were coming near an army base. The front Jeep had continued on its way, but the driver of the second vehicle—a large military truck full of soldiers—had honked its horn numerous times, since Choe apparently had not been driving fast enough for his liking. Then the truck had brushed past the van, almost knocking off its side mirror. Choe had been forced to drive to the edge of the road, near a cliff that ended up in jagged rocks about a hundred feet below. The soldiers had given Choe and Hong hateful glances, they explained later to Justin, but at least they had not stopped.

About an hour later, Hong, Choe, and his son had met up with Hong’s family, just outside of Hoeryong. Justin had given them the coordinates and the time of their rendezvous near the border with China. He warned them to be there on time and not a minute later. Then the van had continued on, passing around Hoeryong and heading toward Camp 37.

This was going to be the next most dangerous moment during the operation. The rainstorm had stopped and with the nearing twilight hours, they were bound to see more and more activity on the roads and the countryside. Without their two North Korean guides, they had to hope and pray they did not run into any roadblocks, army troops, or locals stopping them and asking questions.

The road snaked around a few hills and the van came within a direct line of sight to the camp. Four tall watchtowers were visible, their square shapes lit dimly by faint lights. They drove about forty yards away from a ten-foot-high barbed-wire fence crowned with more barbed-wire coils. A patrol truck was lazily driving near the other side of the fence. Eve, who was in the passenger seat, looked in that direction out of the corner of her eye. The truck driver paid no attention to their vehicle.

The van reached the southern entrance to the camp. Justin did not look at the watchtower twenty feet to his right, but kept his foot on the gas pedal as the van went down the gravel road at a steady speed. He kept his eyes on the side mirror until the van rounded another curve and they left the camp behind them.

He heaved a sigh of relief and looked at Eve. She gave him a nod, then looked down at the set of photographs in the binder on her lap. “You got to love the NSA. These images are crystal clear.”

“They’re useful to us, but I doubt many Americans love the NSA,” Justin said.

“When the scandal erupted about the agency spying on the top diplomats accredited to the US and other heads of state, some guy started selling these t-shirts on the Internet. They had the NSA logo and the inscription: The NSA, the only part of the government that actually listens. I bought a couple before the website was shut down,” Rex said with a chuckle.

Justin smiled. “Yeah, I remember that.”

They drove for the next few minutes in silence. Justin’s mind was reviewing their plan and working out potential solutions for any kinks.

“We should be getting near the bridge,” Eve said, and tapped one of the photographs. “I would say about half a mile.”

“Hiding spots?” Justin asked.

“Perhaps here.” She handed the photograph over to Justin. “Left side by those trees.”

Justin nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. Carrie, you ready?”

Carrie nodded and reached for her rucksack. “Yeah, ready. Let me know when we roll.”

They neared a truss bridge that was about a hundred yards long. It was quite narrow, and two cars would have to slow down in order to pass without crashing into each other. Some of the beams had large brownish yellow rust marks on them. Gravel covered a large portion of the bridge deck and a small hole was in the middle. The bridge rattled as the van crossed over it, and Justin wondered if the explosive charges were unnecessary and the bridge would simply collapse if a series of military trucks rumbled over it.

He turned left and parked the van at the bottom of the hill, near some scraggly bushes. “This is it,” he told Carrie. “Rex, give her a hand.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex said.

Carrie said, “Should be back in five.”

They both jumped out of the van and disappeared into darkness.

“So, how did you learn Russian?” Eve asked.

“Huh, what? Oh, the language.” Justin shrugged. “I grew up with Russian friends and had a talent for languages, I guess. My parents, well, my dad enrolled me in a Russian language course.”

“And you speak Arabic as well.”

“And you’ve read my file.”

“I’m sure you’ve checked out ours, haven’t you?”

Justin nodded. “If you want to know something, just ask.”

“All right.” Eve shifted in her seat and turned to face Justin. “How do you feel about this operation?”

Justin frowned. “Quite good, thank you for asking.”

“I don’t mean to be—”

“I wish you would cut to the chase. How do I feel about killing my brothers? What do you think?”

Eve looked away. “Sorry. It came out the wrong way.”

Justin shrugged. “No worries. I . . . we, we’ll get our job done. That’s the important thing. The feelings? They’ll heal. With time.”

He stared out of the window into the darkness. He thought he saw something crawling among the bushes, so he asked Eve, “Eleven o’clock. See anything?”

Eve peered through the windshield and shook her head. “No.”

Justin stepped outside, holding his SIG pistol low at his side, and began to tiptoe toward whatever had caught his attention. His boots crackled over a patch of rocky ground, and a small furry creature scampered through the bushes and the trees. Justin was not sure what type of animal it was, but it was not a human and that was important.

He returned to the van and stood by the door, breathing in the brisk fresh air of the morning. He and the rest of his team had changed into their camouflage fatigues a while back. The clothes were still damp and they stuck to his body. But they were going to make him almost invisible as he slithered through the plains and the hills.

Rushed footsteps came from behind the van. Justin flattened himself against the driver’s door and slinked in that direction. Before he could take a peek, Eve said, “It’s Rex and Carrie.”

“How did it go?” Justin asked when they were near him.

“Perfect,” Carrie replied. “Fewer charges than I thought, but they’ll do the job.”

Justin nodded. Carrie was trained as an explosives expert and had studied many improvised explosive devices during her two tours of duty in Afghanistan. She had served with the Joint Task Force Two, the elite counter-terrorism unit of the Special Operations Forces, before joining the CIS.

Carrie had used Russian-made PVV-5A plastic explosives rigged to be remotely controlled. PVV-5A explosives were available throughout the former Eastern Bloc countries once under the influence and the control of the Soviet Union. Any North Korean investigation would reveal no traces of a Canadian or British team having a hand in the destruction of the bridge. Initially, Justin had thought about using only Russian-made weapons but he had decided against it. The team members were trained to use their own weapons, and this operation demanded the utmost precision. A handful of spent cartridges alone were by no means conclusive evidence to incriminate a particular country.

They all climbed back into the van and continued toward the north. The road zigzagged through two valleys, then climbed a set of rolling hills. The outpost where Schultz and Park were being held was on the right side of the road, but Justin and Carrie would have to cover the last mile on foot, circle around the outpost, and start the raid from the north.

Justin gunned the engine, rushing to make full use of the last minutes of darkness before twilight would make their jobs much harder. He and Carrie needed to be in position before sunrise, then wait for full daybreak before attacking the outpost. Rex would need plenty of light to make his kill shots.

They checked their communication gear before making their last stop about two miles south of the base. Their throat mikes and earpieces worked without any glitch. Justin checked his emergency satellite phone batteries, and they were fully charged.

Then Carrie and Rex quickly laid a series of explosive charges along the side of the road. It was an open space without trees or any other natural protection, which would give Rex a clear shot when the detonation stopped the runaway convoy. Justin parked the van behind a small hill, out of sight of anyone walking or driving on the road.

Then it was time to split up. Justin shook Rex’s hand, then gave Eve a big bear hug. “See you soon and without a scratch, okay?” he told them.

“Same for the two of you,” Rex said. “You don’t want to see me angry.” His face struck a serious expression, then he broke it up with a toothy smile.

“Take it out on the NKs,” Justin said.

Carrie gave Rex, then Eve, a tight embrace. “I want to get to know you guys better. So let’s all meet up for drinks once this is over.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Eve said with a nod.

“You’re buying.” Rex smiled.

Justin picked up the RPG launcher and three warheads along with their booster cylinders. Carrie took one of the PK light machine guns and two long bandoliers of bullets. They slithered through the darkness, cut through the terraced hills, and advanced toward the outpost. The layout of the terrain was clear in Justin’s mind, as he had analyzed a set of detailed aerial images.

As they neared the base, they came to a small creek. It formed the natural separation of this part of the hillside from the base beyond the menacing barbed-wired fence. Justin and Carrie crossed the knee-deep creek and dropped to a low crawl as they secured positions in a dry irrigation ditch. Behind them and to the left side there was an open stretch of rice paddies.

Their position offered them a good view of the two north watchtowers of the outpost. They were little more than shacks built about fifteen feet off the ground. The silhouette of a soldier was somewhat visible, illuminated by a faint light coming from inside one the shacks. A large machine gun sat at one of the corners of that watchtower.

“I’ll blow up the nearest tower.” Justin pointed at his target about a hundred yards away. “You’ll take out the other.”

Carrie nodded. “Be careful,” she said.

“You too.”

Carrie gave him two thumbs up, then began to crawl along the ditch. The sky had begun to turn a pale blue and there were only a few minutes until sunrise. But Rex would need more light than just the first shimmering sunrays over the horizon.

Justin placed his RPG launcher in front of him and readied the weapon. He screwed the rocket propellant cylinder into the warhead and loaded it into the RPG’s muzzle. Then he checked his C8SFW assault rifle and made sure he had ten magazines within easy reach.

Then he waited and listened.

It was quiet. Too quiet. He wondered why he could not hear birds or other sounds of nature. Then Carrie’s voice came over his earpiece. “I’m in position.”

“Roger that,” Justin said via his mike. “Rex?”

“In position.”

“Eve?”

“In position.”

Justin looked up at the top of the mountain to his right. The pale blue had started to turn to gold. The fence, the watchtowers, and the other structures of the base were more visible, their features still blurry but not for long.

“Ten minutes,” Justin said.

He took a few deep breaths and tried to relax as he counted the slow crawling moments. Daylight was exposing the valley gradually. A couple of soldiers came out from one of the gray barracks—the one Justin suspected was a dormitory—and marched toward the nearest watchtower.

Justin flattened himself to the ground. He whispered into his mike, “Movement near the northeast tower. Two targets. Looks like shift change.”

“Roger that,” Carrie said. “I’ve got two other targets approaching my tower.”

“Roger,” Justin said.

Rex and Eve were silent. The outpost was beyond the effective range of their rifles. This theater of operations was solely Justin’s and Carrie’s. Unless they were specifically addressed, Rex and Eve were to observe but not respond to communications.

Justin examined the watchtower through his binoculars. The two soldiers whose shift had just ended looked completely exhausted, their bleary eyes and yawns showing the fatigue from the sleepless night. The new soldiers looked equally worn out, perhaps dreading the prospect of spending yet another day perched upon a shack staring at fields and hills in boredom.

Well, today’s going to be different, Justin thought.

“Thirty seconds,” he said in his mike.

“Roger that,” Carrie replied.

Justin waited until all four soldiers were standing and talking at the watchtower balcony. He climbed to his right knee and shouldered his RPG with a swift move. He aimed it at the watchtower and looked through the weapon’s optical sight.

Then he pulled the trigger.

The projectile hissed and cut a trail through the quiet morning air. It slammed right into the middle of the watchtower. The powerful explosion blew everything to pieces, which rained over that area. The bodies of the soldiers were tossed into the air like rag dolls along with the wood and metal debris.

Justin dragged his RPG launcher behind as he crawled away from his position along the irrigation ditch. The gray smoke from the RPG’s cone-shaped breech was a dead giveaway. He heard the distinct thunder of Carrie’s PK machine gun. Bullets were tearing the northwest tower to shreds.

He stopped when he was about twenty feet from the thinning cloud of smoke. He peeked over the ditch. A small military truck was rushing toward the destroyed watchtower. Soldiers in uniforms and some in regular civilian clothes scurried around the yard. Some were looking in Carrie’s direction.

Justin aimed his C8SFW assault rifle and waited for the right moment. The truck neared what remained of the watchtower—the metal staircase and a couple of twisted posts—and five soldiers climbed out.

Justin fired a quick burst before the soldiers spread out. He struck two of the soldiers in the chest and a few bullets hit the truck. Justin fell back in the ditch and crawled to his left, again to confuse the enemy about his location.

Return fire echoed from the yard. He heard no thumps of bullets around him, so he assumed his location was still safe. He crawled another few feet, then he stopped and listened. More gunshots, but the grass and the shrubs around him remained untouched.

He took a quick glance. Soldiers were searching along the fence line. One was standing near one of the fence posts. He held the barbed wire with his hand, then stuck his head between the wires to search the other side. The fence is not electric—or did they shut down the power to let the soldiers through?

The soldier moved his head left and right, studying the terrain. He stopped when he was looking at the place from where Justin had fired the RPG. Then the soldier began to shout to the others as he pointed beyond the fence.

Justin fired a single shot. The bullet pierced the soldier’s chest. He slumped to his right and got tangled in the barbed wire. The other soldiers looked at the fallen man, then turned their heads and looked beyond the fence.

Justin dropped back in the ditch. He hoped his rifle flash suppressor had done its job, and the rest of the soldiers still did not know his exact position. But it was only a matter of seconds before they would figure it out by the trajectory of the shots.

He crawled further to his left. A bullet zipped past him and stopped him in his tracks. Justin was not sure if it was a stray bullet or if the soldiers had discovered his position. Gunshots rang very close and more bullets whizzed by a couple of feet away. They found me.

He flattened himself to the soft ground of the ditch as bullets began hammering everything around him. They lifted clumps of clay and chunks of dirt and grass. Broken bush branches began to fly around him and fall on his shoulders.

Justin crawled forward at a fast pace as the volley seemed to slow down for a moment. He advanced four or five feet. The bullets were still striking his previous position. He breathed a bit easier, then popped his head a couple of inches over the grass.

Two soldiers kept firing through the fence. Justin fired quick, calculated three-round bursts and cut down both soldiers. They fell on their backs. One tried to go for his rifle and Justin fired another shot, hitting the soldier in the head.

He turned his attention toward the military truck, and saw a larger truck approaching from one of the barracks further to the south. Justin estimated it was carrying about twenty soldiers or so if it was full, but he could only see the heads of six or eight of them.

“Carrie, the fence is not live. I’m advancing to the truck.”

“Roger that.” Carrie’s voice came amid loud machine gun fire.

Justin edged toward the fence and fired a rapid burst toward the incoming truck. A couple of bullets struck the truck’s hood and windshield, but the driver kept going. Justin pushed down the last barbed wire of the fence with the stock of his rifle, then snaked inside the yard.

He planted his knee on the moist ground and mounted another warhead into his RPG launcher. He shouldered it and cocked the weapon. The truck was coming toward him. Justin aimed the launcher at the truck and pulled the trigger.

The projectile speared up from the mouth of the launcher and screamed through the yard as it whooshed toward the target. It pierced the front of the truck on the driver’s side. A thick cloud of gray smoke blanketed the truck, which came to an abrupt halt.

Justin lay on his stomach and waited for the smoke to clear. A group of soldiers appeared on both sides of the truck. Justin opened fire. He hit two of the soldiers who were stumbling around, confused by the explosion.

Someone fired back at him but the shots were off target, kicking up dirt and pebbles a few feet to his left. Justin fired again and emptied his magazine. He replaced it with a fresh one from his chest rig and squeezed the trigger. The barrage of bullets sprayed the area around the truck, hitting another soldier who was peeking from behind the back wheel.

Bullets began to strike closer to his head, a few times within a couple of feet. Justin fired a long barrage and replaced the empty clip. Then he rushed to his right, toward the small truck, the only cover within a fifty-yard area. Bullets followed his spring, stitching up a crisscross pattern around his feet. Justin fired back blindly and rolled onto the ground, about ten yards behind the small truck.

He was still within enemies’ reach. He was now closer to them, and their firepower had redoubled. A couple of rounds lifted specks of dirt that hit the right side of his face.

Justin fired two- and three-round bursts. Then he crawled forward as fast as he could, trying to reach the safety of the truck. A bullet bounced against the RPG launcher’s metal breech and ricocheted off to the side. The launcher saved his leg, as the bullet would have blown off his kneecap or shattered his femur.

Two bullets struck up ahead, smashing the side windows of the truck. Another one whirred passed his head. More bullets spread around in front of him.

Then Justin felt a hard blow to his back, as if he had been struck with a sledgehammer. The impact sent him flying forward. He fell to the ground, just a couple of feet away from the truck.

He stayed there flat on his stomach for a long moment under enemy fire. The world was upside down and he was breathing with difficulty. His back burned with an agonizing pain.

A round thumped against the truck’s cabin. The metal clang prompted Justin to pick himself up and inch forward. A sharp pain erupted from his lower back but Justin kept wriggling his body toward the back wheel of the truck.

Another bullet banged against the door, then ricocheted off his helmet. Justin shook his head, pushed hard on the soft ground with his hand and his elbows, and gave his body a last good push. A moment later, as round after round rained upon him, he rolled behind the truck.

He took a few small breaths and felt as if his lungs were on fire. He was not sure of the damage the bullet had caused but he knew the rucksack and the bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow. Perhaps he had a bruised or fractured rib or a bruised lung.

He dropped the rucksack near his feet as more bullets pounded the truck. Justin found his rifle, hooked onto his left hand by the strap. He fed the rifle a fresh magazine and crept to the other side of the truck.

About six or seven soldiers were advancing toward him. They were alternating their firepower so that two or three of them were shooting at all times.

Justin aimed at the nearest soldier—about a hundred yards away—and planted two bullets into his chest. Then he shot the two soldiers to the left side, the ones who were firing at him. They took a bullet each to their heads and toppled to their backs.

“Friendly advancing to your right, at four o’clock.” Carrie’s voice came loud and clear in his earpiece.

“Roger that,” Justin said. “Can sure use a hand.”

“Roger,” Carrie replied.

Justin dropped back behind the truck as a long barrage hammered it. Glass shattered and the tires exploded. The truck sank as other bullets peppered its metal frame.

He glanced around the other side. A bullet smacked the truck and skipped inches away from his face. Justin retreated, reloaded, and winced as a stab of pain cut through his back.

He cursed as his eyes searched to his right. Carrie rushed through the open yard and secured a position next to one of the shacks near the fences. She studied the terrain in front of her, then rushed toward the gray one-story barracks that hosted the camp’s offices or its gym. Carrie was going to be relatively safe, since there were no windows in the wall facing her. And that area was out of the soldiers’ line of sight.

He looked at the rest of the barracks and noticed a head popping out of a window. Justin fired a shot that missed the head, but shattered the window glass. The man disappeared.

A group of soldiers burst out of the barracks’ side door and filed along the wall. Justin squeezed the trigger. His volley hacked down the two front soldiers. The third one turned his rifle toward Justin and fired a few rounds off the mark. Justin shot back and double-tapped the soldier, who fell against the wall.

The last three soldiers were still out in the open, but they had taken up positions around the uneven yard. Two were hidden behind a small mound and a cluster of straggly bushes. The third one was nowhere to be seen, and Justin suspected he had crawled into a small hole about ten feet away from the barracks.

Muzzle flashes erupted from the bushes, and Justin fired the rest of his magazine. He went for a new one from his chest rig as a hail of bullets rained from the other side.

Justin slithered underneath the truck and turned his attention to the old front. Muzzle flashes came from two different positions: the first one was near the front wheels of the large truck; the second was about twenty feet away where the land formed a natural mound.

Justin aimed his rifle and fired single shots. He clipped the arm of one of the soldiers who had slipped too far away from his hideout. Then he struck another soldier who peeked over the mound. His third burst missed his targets but was enough to send all the soldiers to seek cover.

He took advantage of the momentary pause in the skirmish to reach for his RPG launcher. It had fallen on the other side of the truck when he was shot in the back. Justin dragged the launcher and did a quick check. The weapon seemed fine, but for the dent in the breech caused by the bullet.

“Providing cover fire.” Justin heard Carrie’s voice in his earpiece. “Rush to my position.”

His eyes found Carrie near the corner of the barracks. She was lying on the ground, the PK machine gun set up on its tripod in front of her.

“Roger that,” Justin replied.

Carrie’s PK machine gun began to roar as she fired a long barrage. Her bullets sawed through the large truck.

Justin fired a short burst toward the soldiers holed up in the second front by the wall, then picked up his rucksack, rifle, and RPG launcher and darted toward Carrie.

Someone fired a couple of rounds and their bullets lifted up dirt in front of him.

Justin ignored them and kept running in a zigzag path.

Carrie swung her machine gun to cover both fronts and blasted round after round.

Justin kept up his quick pace, regardless of the searing pain exploding in his back. He closed the distance as Carrie’s gunshots began to dwindle. He sighed and took short breaths that did not overexert his flaming lungs. A couple of moments later he slid next to Carrie behind the thick concrete walls.

Carrie emptied the last of her rounds, then tossed the PK machine gun to the side. “You okay?” she asked as she sat by Justin.

“Yeah. A bullet got me in the back. The vest stopped it.”

“Fractured ribs?”

“Maybe. I feel fine. Well, mostly.” He let out a small cough.

“Could have bruised your lungs.”

Justin nodded.

Bullets splintered the wall near them as Justin placed a new clip in his rifle. “Ready?” he asked Carrie.

She nodded.

Justin said, “We’ll circle around to the other side, and use those two shacks as cover. Then, we’ll advance to the fence line.”

“Good plan.”

They got to their feet and advanced along the wall. Justin was at the front and occasionally checked upwards, in case someone appeared at the rooftop. Carrie covered his back, following two steps behind.

They reached the other corner of the barracks and Justin took a quick peek. It was fairly quiet on this side. No shooters, but two large army trucks with canvas tops were heading out toward the south. Soldiers were sitting on two rows of benches in the back of the trucks. Justin could not tell if any prisoners were among them because the trucks were too far away in the distance.

Justin spoke softly into his mike. “Rex, Eve, two trucks coming your way.”

“Roger that.” Rex’s voice came loud and strong in Justin’s earpiece. “Targets onboard?”

“Unconfirmed,” Justin said. “Go ahead with the plan.”

“Roger,” Rex said.

“Roger that, sir,” Eve said.

Carrie glanced at Justin. “It’s working.”

Justin nodded. “I hope so. Let’s reach the shacks and hold our ground until Rex confirms the targets have been eliminated.”

“I’ll cover,” Carrie said.

Justin ran toward the shacks. The yard on this side of the camp was broken and uneven, with many dips and mounds. He was almost halfway to the shacks when a long barrage came from behind him. It did not sound like Carrie’s C8SFW assault rifle. Bullets struck around him. Justin rolled on the ground, ignored the pain shooting from his back and his shoulders, and slid behind a mound. Dirt clods hit against his helmet and bullets flew overhead and twanged around him, tearing the ground on both sides of the mound.

Justin readied his rifle, then said, “Carrie, I’m safe.”

“Roger,” Carrie said.

“Now, I’ll cover you.”

“Roger,” Carrie said.

Justin waited for a pause in the volley. When it came, he glanced over the mound. Three targets were positioned on the other side of the barracks and near another smaller, two-story building.

Justin fired at the man reloading his weapon near the barracks and struck the man in the chest and in his left leg. Then Justin fired another two-round burst at the other man, hitting him in his right arm and the lower right part of his body. The third man slipped behind the corner of the small building, but not before Justin fired four more shots that pierced the wall inches away from the man’s head.

Carrie had already crossed most of the distance to Justin’s position.

The third man came up again and fired a quick volley. Justin replied with two single rounds, but he missed both times. “Lucky bastard,” he cursed.

He waited for the man to show his face again, swearing to himself he was going to nail the soldier this time around.

Carrie was about six feet away from Justin when two soldiers appeared at the other side of the yard, near Justin’s and Carrie’s previous position. One of them was carrying an RPG launcher over his shoulder. The other one had an AK in his hands.

“Down, down, down,” Justin shouted at Carrie as he pointed his rifle toward them.

Carrie hit the ground.

Justin squeezed a quick volley but the man still fired his grenade launcher. The warhead cut across the yard as Justin dropped down and behind the mound. A moment later, the warhead smashed into one of the cinderblock shacks ten yards behind them, scattering concrete chunks and other debris over the area.

Justin peeked over the mound. The soldier with the RPG had fallen to the ground. The other one was out of sight.

“Carrie?” Justin said. “You’re hurt?”

Carrie shook her head and crawled behind the mound. “Thanks.”

Justin shrugged. “Good thing we didn’t hide behind the shacks.” He cocked his head in that direction.

“Yeah, but we still need to get out of here.”

Justin nodded as he picked up his rifle. “And let’s hope Rex gets his men.”