Excerpt from the book

In the quiet of dawn, sound carried for miles. Turning toward the low rumble, Clark saw headlights on the only road leading to his campsite. He’d been so engrossed with the beauty of the early morning desert, it took a while to refocus.

Something was out of place. Who would be on the road at this time? He hadn’t been expecting anyone. The lights of the vehicle came into view again. Rounding the side of a hill, they were less than two miles from Clark’s perch. An idea plummeted his mind. Was Bob having a medical emergency? Had his wife used their cell phone to call an ambulance?

Clark’s attention focused on the approaching vehicle. He stuffed the partly eaten granola bar in a pocket of his jacket and retrieved his binoculars from the backpack. Removing the lens cover, he raised the binoculars to his eyes. As the vehicle drove around the next curve, up from a side canyon, Clark would be able to see it. He berated himself for not bringing his cell phone.

Wait, he reasoned, Bob’s condition, even if there was an emergency, was something his wife could handle. After all, she is a nurse. Clark breathed a little better. He realized there hadn’t been enough time for an ambulance to come seventy miles from the nearest medical facility at Wilcox.

When the vehicle came into view, there was enough light to see a pale colored SUV. Whoever it was, the driver was in a hurry. Clark watched as it came to a stop above the camp. The headlights turned off. A chill raced up Clark’s spine.

 

•     Santiago spoke just above a whisper. “Okay, we were supposed to have been here when it was dark. My army brother said it was best to attack in the early morning hours when people are in their deepest sleep.”

Jose protested, “Hey, I drove as fast as I could!”

“I know, I know. It wasn’t nobody’s fault. The point is we wanted to be able to sneak up on ’em and be in their campers before they knew we was there. I’m gonna look things over. While I’m gone, check your weapons and put on the rubber gloves.” As he opened the door, Santiago ordered, “Don’t put any shells in the chambers. We don’t want an accidental firing that would alert ’em.”

The gang leader left his men. He walked cautiously to a point where he was able to look down on the campsite. It was just as he’d shown the others in the aerial picture he’d been given. Even the positions of the car towed by the motor home and the pickup that pulled the gooseneck trailer were the same. Everything was as still as the desert around him. Santiago glanced to the east. While he had seldom seen the sun rise in the morning, he judged it would soon flood the area with light.

He walked quickly back to the Explorer and got in. They were still too far from the camp to be heard, he surmised.

Santiago began to give new orders. “Listen to me. Everything is exactly as this picture showed us. They don’t expect no trouble.” He grinned, adding, “That’ll be their fatal mistake, right?”

The others nodded.

“Okay, we’re not going in on foot like we originally planned. It’s too late. We’ll drive right into the camp.”

Jose couldn’t resist. “Yeah, man, we’ll go chargin’ in at full speed like they do in the movies. I like this.”

“This is no drive-by shooting. We have to get in the campers and bring ‘em out. We got crowbars in case they locked the doors. So we got to act quick while they’re sleeping. Remember, we gotta make it look like a robbery. Any questions?”     

The other three shook their heads. They were glad they didn’t have to walk in.

 

•     Alarm bells began sounding in Clark’s head. He didn’t like what he was seeing. He had to fight to keep fear from overpowering reason. Watching a man step from the vehicle and walk to the ridge overlooking the camp, his fear mounted. The stranger stood for a few moments and then went back to the vehicle. Clark realized this wasn’t normal. Someone lost might have driven in to see the campsite. Realizing it was occupied, he’d decide what to do from there. But the average person wouldn’t drive into a strange, isolated camp during early dawn.

Forgetting to place the lens cover on his binoculars, Clark thrust them in the backpack and threw it over his left shoulder. He picked up his rifle and grabbed the camera. For a moment, he considered leaving his camera, but decided it might come in handy. Turning, he broke into a run. Momentarily he lost sight of the vehicle moving toward the camp. He berated himself for not bringing his cell phone so he could alert Bob.

Hurrying as quickly as possible through the rocks and cactus plants, he remembered, friends had warned him that he needed to watch his back. He countered, “Who would want to bother with me?” Sure, Gun Rites had enemies in high places as did any organization opposing the powers that be inWashington. But his few thousand followers only raised a little stink now and then. They had the loyalty of precious few congressmen. Compared to the overall dissension about guns in America, his was one of the smallest pro gun organizations, both in numbers and money.

Some of Clark’s closest friends didn’t agree with him. While they readily admitted the small numbers of his organization, they pointed out that his was one of the most distinct voices of truth in the struggle. The influence of his writing went far beyond his immediate membership. He had not compromised an inch on the key issues. At the same time, Clark didn’t stray into anything considered extreme, which the liberals loved to harp about. Yet he knew that some good men had ended up victims of “accidental” deaths.

Although he didn’t take his friends’ cautions seriously, he sharpened his gun skills. He’d grown up with guns. He also served as a combat infantry grunt in Vietnam and later hunted a variety of animals after his military experience. Still he didn’t pay much attention to self-defense. While he believed in conspiracies on a worldwide scale, he didn’t want to become paranoid and live in a constant state of alert as did many of his friends.

Clark was definitely alarmed now. His heart pounded in his chest. The adrenaline gave him strength and an agility he hadn’t experienced for a long time. While he kept his six-foot lean frame in good tone with regular exercise, he admitted to Shirley that he was beginning to feel his age. Although the sun had not yet topped the horizon, momentarily, he would be able to look down into the camp.

Should he fire a warning shot to wake up Bob? Wait, I don’t know if there is any real danger. Perhaps these are hikers or bird watchers looking for the perfect spot. Firing over their heads would terrify them. Such an action would also give the environmentalists something to harass me about.

Topping the ridge, he climbed up behind a rock ledge where he had an unobstructed view of the campsite. “Darn, why didn’t I bring my cell phone? I’ll never do that again.”

 He saw the Explorer move at high speed into the camp.

“Whoa,” Clark said aloud. “What’s going on?”

Laying his rifle on the rock ledge in front of him, he spread the tripod and set the camera down, quickly focusing it on the camp. He hit the record button just as the Explorer slid to a stop between the motor home and trailer. Four men leaped from the vehicle. Two ran to the trailer and two, toward the motor home. Each carried a gun. Clark could see that the men were arming their weapons as they ran.

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