Thriller Thursday 11 2
Militant
The sun hung low in the Texas sky, casting long shadows through the dense thicket.
Gus Taylor had been waiting for hours, perched in his deer blind, rifle at the ready.
He was a seasoned hunter, but today, he was after more than just a trophy buck.
He needed the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of the kill, to escape the monotony of his life.
As the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled in.
It was a stillness, a heaviness in the air, that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
He glanced down at the watch on his wrist, its faint glow reminding him that time was slipping away.
He couldn’t afford to leave his stand.
The buck was rumored to be the biggest in these parts, and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.
He was about to call it quits, thinking about the sixer of cold ones floating in a cooler in the back of his pick up,
Gus caught a glimpse of movement in the distance.
A flicker of movement that set his heart pounding.
He adjusted his rifle, squinting through the scope.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
A group of armed men, camouflaged in dark fatigues, was silently making their way through the brush.
They moved with the precision of a well-trained unit, their eyes scanning their surroundings.
Gus’s instincts screamed danger, and he knew he had to make a choice.
The deer forgotten, he carefully eased himself out of the stand, his rifle gripped tightly in his hands.
Gus thought about his training, about the time he spent in Iraq and later Afghanistan.
Even though he wasn’t involved in briefs or intelligence any more, hadn’t been for awhile, he knew what was up.
He could watch the news and listen to his neighbors and put the package together just as well as an egghead at the Pentagon, anyway.
Militants.
Foreign militants.
Sneaking units across the border to wreak havoc on the American populace.
He moved with the grace of a predator, making his way through the underbrush, always keeping the mysterious group in his sight.
He’d read about it happening, even posting on some Facebook groups about it.
A million people snuck over the southern border every day.
It would be nothing to hide among the refugees, and meet up at some sleeper cell ready to be activated when the time came.
The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, but Gus’s focus was solely on the men ahead.
He wasn’t going to let them activate.
Not when he had the element of surprise on his side.
“Damn it,” he sniffed under his breath.
He should have stayed in the stand and picked off a few first, before he moved in closer.
Thinned the herd, as it were.
Too late now, of course.
As he got closer, he could see the subtle signs of their intent.
They weren’t here for a leisurely stroll; they were on a mission, and it had all the makings of a covert operation.
It was as if a scene from a thriller had sprung to life before his eyes.
Gus crouched behind a large oak tree, his heart hammering in his chest.
He watched as the group huddled together, conversing in hushed tones.
Their faces were obscured by black masks, dark eyes melting into dark skin.
He heard Spanish, fast and run together, and wished he had studied it more.
he could order tacos and burritos and say thank you and dos and that was about it.
This was no ordinary refugees.
Refugees didn’t carry AK-47’s with back up magazines in tactical vests over their black BDU’s
They were armed and dangerous.
His mind raced, thoughts of the deer now a distant memory.
He reached for his phone and dialed the local sheriff’s office.
“You won’t believe what I’m seeing out here,” he whispered into the receiver, providing his location and a brief description of the situation.
The dispatcher assured him that help was on the way, but Gus knew he couldn’t just sit and wait.
These men were inside the border.
What if they managed to slip through, who knew what they were planning?
Silently, he crept closer, using the terrain to his advantage.
The adrenaline coursed through his veins as he approached a better vantage point.
From there, he could see them more clearly, their weapons glinting in the fading light.
Suddenly, one of the men looked in his direction.
Gus’s heart stopped. Time seemed to slow as their eyes met.
It was a standoff, a deadly game of cat and mouse.
In that tense moment, Gus realized he had two choices: stay hidden and wait for the authorities or confront the intruders himself.
He chose the latter.
With a deep breath, he raised his rifle, took aim, and fired.
The shot echoed through the Texas wilderness, followed by a chorus of shouts and confusion from the armed men.
The element of surprise was on Gus’s side, and he didn’t waste it.
Bullets whizzed through the air as a chaotic gunfight erupted.
The cover of darkness fell fast, further complicating the situation. Gus’s training and instincts kicked in as he moved with stealth and precision, picking off the intruders one by one.
It was a deadly dance, a relentless battle for survival in the unforgiving Texas wilderness.
Minutes felt like hours as the firefight raged on.
Gus could hear the distant sirens of the approaching law enforcement, but he knew he couldn’t let up until every threat was neutralized.
The adrenaline surging through his veins, he pushed forward, relentless in his pursuit of justice.
In the end, the tide turned in Gus’s favor. The surviving militants fled into the darkness, leaving their fallen comrades behind. When the authorities arrived, they found Gus, battle-worn and exhausted, but victorious.
The threat had been eliminated, and the border was secure.
He watched the authorities take the surviving militants into custody, Gus couldn’t help but think of the irony.
He had come to these woods seeking the thrill of the hunt, but what he found was a battle for something greater.
As news trucks rolled up behind the Border Patrol, Gus adjusted his hunting cover all’s and wished he had a mirror to check his teeth.
He was about to become a hero.
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