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mistake.
    •••
    The main road into Oneida was marked with the occasional car wreck. Many of them looked abandoned, some smashed from collisions, most left to rot after the EMP. All of them had been nudged off the road and onto the shoulder. That told John a certain amount of traffic passed this way.
    Approaching the town by vehicle would draw far too much attention, so John pulled off the road when he found an opening in the forest where he could stash Betsy. She didn’t need to be more than a few feet in, since the camo net would keep her from being seen by anyone passing by.
    Once stopped, John got out and opened the hatch at the back. George eyed him suspiciously.
    “I’m not here for you , big fella,” he told him, removing a box of 5.56 green-tipped rounds as well as some .40s for his pistol. Those were the only weapons they had and the few remaining rounds, but John knew their biggest asset would be the intel they were about to gather. The plan was to walk the few miles to town and find a nice spot from which to observe the comings and goings. Depending on how many residents they saw walking around, there might even be an opportunity for John to slip in amongst them undetected, his S&W concealed in his back waistband.
    Taking a page from his colleagues in the Special Forces, he understood that a successful mission was often one where shots were never fired. Bring the weapons along, sure, but pray you don’t need to use them. As soon as rounds went live, the chances for a successful conclusion dropped exponentially.
    John communicated the emerging plan as they walked through the forest, shadowing the road. He handed Brandon the keys as they went, keeping his voice low as he spoke.
    “ What are these for?” Brandon asked.
    “In case we run into trouble. You double -time it back to Betsy and get yourself to safety.”
    The flash of doubt that swept over the boy’s features made John wonder whether bringing him along was such a good idea.
    Nearby, a woodpecker knocked away at a dying tree.
    John pulled to a stop.
    “You hear something?” Brandon asked.
    “Just birds,” Gary answered, even though the question wasn’t directed toward him.
    John turned and faced the boy. His heart was telling him taking the boy along was a mistake. “Go back to the truck,” he said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean what I’m about to do goes against all of my training. My emotions are screaming for me to charge into Oneida and free everyone. My training is telling me to lie low and watch for the place for a few days.”
    “But you might need backup.”
    “Maybe,” John said. “But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you were hurt because of something foolish I’d done. That’s why I’m telling you to head back to Betsy and wait for me there. Take the pistol and these extra rounds. If I don’t show by dusk, then bring Gary back to our camp.”
    “You’re not the only one who lost someone,” Gary said, raising his voice.
    Brandon crossed his arms and nodded vigorously.
    “And what goo d will you do your family if you’re dead?” John asked. “Besides, you don’t even have a weapon to protect yourself.” He turned to Brandon. “This isn’t a debate. Do as I say.”
    John turned, continuing on while the other two stood and watched him leave. He was more than fifty yards away before he heard the sound of their footsteps heading through the forest in the other direction.
    He took this moment to steady his breathing. The intense summer heat was making it hard to breathe, sapping his energy, but not his resolve. The feeling reminded him of the call to move into Iraq back in the spring of 2003. It had been his first time in combat and his heart had been hammering a wild beat in his chest. Sweat from the sweltering desert heat had poured down his face in a never-ending cascade just as it did now. The only thing missing in this Tennessee forest was the distinct odor of diesel fuel kicked up by the Bradleys