Black Site by Dalton Fury

the crest. They moved in a crouch now near the summit. Raynor spoke into the mike of his MBITR inter/intra team radio. “Sit tight. I’m going over to find a spot in the trees where I can get glass on the area.”
    Musket said, “How ’bout I go grab us an overwatch, Racer? You can come over when I call you.”
    “No worries. Low and slow, I’ve got it.” Raynor doffed his pack, scooted forward on his belly with his rifle slung tight across his back and his spotter’s scope in his left hand.
    Musket’s calm southern voice came over the MBITR. “Don’t get too far ahead, boss.”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    At the crest itself Raynor found the snowy brush too tall, so he turned to the right and lowered back behind the saddle, came back up at the small grove of pines. Here he could not get eyes on the valley either, because the high trees ran down the hill in front of him. So he advanced a few meters more and went prone again. He began moving west on the hillside. “Drop rucks and wait at the top of the ridge. As soon as I get an overwatch I’ll update you.”
    Raynor scooted forward. He estimated he was twenty meters below the crest now, farther away from the relative safety of the saddle than he would have liked, but the shrubs were lower with each meter of his descent, providing more opportunity for a clean view of the valley. He knew he was pushing his luck a bit, but his concerns about the HVT slipping through their grasp and slipping into Afghanistan to kill Americans drove him forward. When he finally did get line of sight ahead he realized the hillside had a military crest a little lower. Only from the military crest could he see the entire floor of the valley. He began crawling down, but Musket spoke again into his ear, his tone more emphatic now.
    “That’s far enough, Racer. I can’t see you. Come on back and we’ll try again farther south.”
    “I’m almost there. Ten meters and I’ll have the entire gorge in sight.”
    Forty meters from the ridge and his team, Raynor found a good spot in a tuft of snowy brush on the edge of a small outcrop of feldspar that hung over the valley. He settled in and brought his scope to his eye.
    The 40 mm aperture did not provide a wide field of view, but its variable 10- to 20-power zoom gave him all the enhancement he needed. He studied the canyon floor, saw it to be nothing but a continuation of the winding dry stream bed that he’d crossed back on the other side of the hill, though now it widened to the width of a small river.
    “This isn’t right. This looks like it fills with runoff during the rainy season. I don’t see how there could be an enemy fortification on the floor here.”
    On the far bank the terrain rose sharply, nearly vertically in some places, to fully twice the height of the hill he was now on. Searching through the narrow glass he saw ledges and defilades on the hill, scanned them carefully though they were still well covered in shadows. He looked up at the glowing sunrise to the east—it would be an hour before he’d get a good look at that hillside.
    “Could be something on the far wall. We’ll have to wait on the light.”
    “Boss, how bout you exfil and we get back to the first ROD? We can make it work. We’ll come back tonight and look for a better overwatch, hit it from another angle. Shouldn’t have any problem finding enemy signatures with NODs.”
    Raynor could hear the agitation in the master sergeant’s voice. Musket didn’t like it that his officer was so far ahead of the element over the target area. Raynor felt sure he wouldn’t be compromised here in his hide, but he also didn’t want to create any friction between himself and Musket.
    “Roger that, Musket. I’m heading back.”
    Raynor kept low, turned around on his knees, and began climbing off the shelf of rock. He’d gotten no more than five feet when his right boot broke off a thin plank of stone. The loud crack echoed in the wide gorge. Raynor tried to hook his