Static in the Attic

[snow-death.livejournal.com]

"Lynx to Longshot," he said quietly, finessing his Codec to the inbetween-frequency that should have hosted no signal at all. "I'm approaching your bivouac."

They had three of them for sleeping, tan canvas painted with black shadows and slung with branches- undiscernible deep inside the cave they'd staked their ops in. Hammocks inside. Cozy.

One for him, one for Lemsky, and one for the sniper and his spotter, who quietly had begun the practice of becoming one in other kinds of wetwork, and no one objected or made a single comment. That was how it was.

He ducked beneath the slung and draped net dark brown camoflauge that served to block the mouth of the cavern and obscure them from view. It was set in about fifteen feet, making the deep cave look like a shallow grotto. Not that it was easily visible.

At the Grad, he'd pieced his silent way across the snowbound vehicle yard, tracked in the direction in which he thought he'd seen the glint of Leshovik's rifle, but once he got there, he found the probable nest deserted.

The Longshot had packed it in, and flown back to their roost.

No Codec, no nothing.

Must have been in a hurry.