Bishop's Song Read Free Page A

but their society was immune to the carnage and motivated by religion. I’m not sure our fledgling little community can or will pay such a price.”
    Nick nodded, familiar with the debate. Looking at his watch, he announced, “Let’s continue this conversation later. Right now, I’ve got a class to finish up.”
    After patting Bishop on the shoulder, Nick rose and began motivating the troops. “All right, girls! Time to mount up. Straighten out your skirts, and let’s get moving!”
    The grumbling of tired, sore men rose from the group, sounds Bishop had heard a hundred times before. It didn’t matter if it were the pine woods of Fort Bragg or the oil fields of Iraq, it was always the same. Men with sore feet and aching backs would bitch and gnash, creative curses forming in their throats. Just like always, they finally began moving, eventually forming up, and standing ready to accept more pain.
    Bishop took his place at the rear of the column, watching as the single-file line of citizen-militia began to stretch out along the trail. Where it not for the task at hand, the vista would have been glorious. A sea of pinion pines covered the valley below, their dark green foliage in abstract to the blue sky and white, billowing clouds beyond. Had it been winter, they might have seen snow from this vantage. In the spring, fog would have blanketed the valley, the gray soup so thick that the single road traversing the area would have been impassable in the early morning. Not today, though. Today, the air was crisp and the sun hot. Today was the perfect day to train for an impending conflict that everyone prayed could be avoided.
    As his gaze traveled up the mountainside, the scenery transformed drastically. Fields of limestone boulders competed with the pines, scattered gray outcroppings of rock and small strands of Navajo grass replacing the thinning trees as the altitude increased. Plant life finally gave up just above his position, replaced with towering, ominous walls of bare rock guarding the crest of the mountain.
    Slowly the column snaked its way up… always up. Time seemed to creep slower than distance gained, a fog of mind-numbing fatigue and monotony falling over the men.
    Bishop watched Nick, patiently moving up and down the line, coaching, encouraging and pushing with an energy no one else possessed. He’s done this so many times , thought Bishop. He knows what they absorb today might mean the difference between a battlefield grave and going home… if war comes.    
    Nick’s voice seemed to always be in the air. “Don’t bunch up... Always scan for the likely avenue of approach! Where would you hide if you were on the other side and getting ready to hit us? Think people… damn it, think!”
    Up ahead, Bishop saw the lead element approaching a narrow gap. Large rocks lurked above the trail, a scattering of foliage strewn below. Instinct slowed his footfalls, a warning forming in his throat. Nick saw it too, but for some reason didn’t move to slow the column. Instead, he stood beside the trail and crossed his arms in annoyance.
    A small, white paper bag arched through the air, a whiff of smoke trailing in its wake. Before it landed, two other similar objects joined it in flight. The three devices landed in the middle of the column, the closest man staring blankly, unsure of what to do.
    A second later, the bags exploded.
    Cries of battle rang down from the rocks, blood curdling screams of savage volume paralyzing the startled trainees. Clouds of choking, white smoke filled the air, burning already starved lungs and reducing visibility to a few feet.
    The homemade flash-ba ng grenades were immediately followed by a hailstorm of paintballs raining down from the rocks above. At the same time, human figures rose from the vegetation below the trail, ghostly images appearing through the fog of battle smoke, shooting pointblank at the stumbling trainees.
    Ambush , Bishop knew immediately, and a damned good one