At least one other person, maybe more, would be in the house, league had no idea who lived there, didn't care. What mattered was that Creed would assess the situation and then pull back to a more secure location. He sure as hell wasn't going to simply walk out the front door - so that meant he'd be going out the back.
Teague's pulse jumped at the idea of being able to pick off Creed like a cherry on a tree. Of course, he might already have pulled an Elvis and left the building, but not that much time had elapsed, maybe ten minutes, and being Creed, he would have first organized the people inside the house. Teague chewed his lip, then made a decision and pulled out the radio, keyed his buddies' radios. "This is Hawk. I'm moving to the right, trying to get into position to see behind this first house." Keeping them apprised of his movement was a good idea, so one of them wouldn't accidentally blow his head off.
He repeated the same information to Goss, who gave one sharp nod of the head before returning his attention to his post. Teague was sort of impressed by Goss, not because he'd done anything spectacular, but because he seemed to immediately grasp the why of anything Teague did.
Teague couldn't move all that far to the right, maybe seventy yards or less, before the ground sharply dropped away to the river. This side of the road was nothing but treacherous boulders on a steep incline; if he put a foot wrong, he was risking a sprained ankle or knee at the least, and maybe a broken bone. Moss made the boulders slippery, and the going slow, plus he had to carry the rifle and take damned good care of the heavy scope mounted on it. He couldn't use a flashlight without pinpointing his own position, which made the going even slower. With every passing minute, he was aware that Creed could be slipping away, but there was nothing he could do to hurry. Damn it, if Blake had just told him where Creed was before the bridge blew -
At last, when he put the rifle to his shoulder to check the angle, he could see the back of the house, or at least part of it. The angle wasn't the best, but he'd gone about as far as he could go. He settled behind a boulder and rested the rifle barrel on the rock to steady it, put the scope on the house, and waited.
No shots had come from this location. Creed would have automatically noted where the rounds were being tired from, so if he wanted to eyeball the situation, the most logical position would be from the near back corner of the house. He might allow for the possibility that they'd have starlight scopes, but he wouldn't expect infrared because it was so damned expensive, and not exactly convenient. He would be moving cautiously as he approached the corner...
An enormous heat signature burst out of the house, moving fast, then diving behind something and vanishing. Swearing under his breath, Teague tracked with the scope, trying to get the crosshairs settled, but he'd been caught off guard and if he fired now, he would essentially be firing blind - and alerting Creed to his position. He'd have to wait for a better shot.
Jesus, that heat signature had looked weird, like some huge spider. Still unsettled, Teague's brain took another moment before it interpreted the signal his eyes had sent and translated it to two people, moving practically in lockstep, with the big one in back right against the smaller one in front. Four legs, four arms, extra-thick body: two people.
Right now he could have used a starlight instead of the infrared, so he could tell exactly what they'd dived behind. A car, maybe; made sense to park one there, close to the back floor. No heat signature emanated from the black bulk that was all he could see, though, so if it was a car, it. had been sitting there long enough for the engine to get cold. Too bad; the engine block of a car was damn good armor, certainly enough to stop any round they had.
But by holding his fire, he'd given Creed a false sense of security, 'league figured. Thinking they were unseen, Creed wouldn't be as careful in his next movement. This time, Teague would be ready.
A sliver of light in the scope caught his attention; then it bobbed out of sight. Shit. What were they doing? Changing position maybe, shifting around and getting ready for another run. They' wouldn't be running back toward the house, and they wouldn't be coming toward the bridge, so that left only two directions. Creed had someone with him, someone he was trying to protect - someone smaller. A woman? Logically he would be trying to put more cover, more walls, more distance, between them and the shooters, which meant he would be pulling back, toward the river.
Time passed - way too much time. What the fuck was Creed waiting for - Christmas? Teague checked the luminous dial of his watch and saw that thirty-four minutes had passed since Blake had radioed with the info about Creed, making it maybe forty-four, forty-five minutes since the bridge blew. The rifle shots now weren't being fired at anyone, because all the inhabitants were either down, behind cover, or had withdrawn beyond the range of the scopes. The occasional shot now was meant to remind them to stay where they were. Maybe that was what Creed had decided to do.
No, the cover of the vehicle - Teague was almost certain that was what they were behind - was too restrictive, and offered no shelter from the cold, no food, no water. Creed would move, but he was a patient bastard, more patient than Teague would ever have guessed.
The minute hand on his watch clicked off another minute, then another, then another. Fifty minutes since the bridge blew. He could be just as patient, Teague thought - more patient, because he knew they were there.
Fifty-three minutes.
Yes. There! The heat signature filled his scope, clear and bright, both of them bent low and moving fast. He took a breath, let half of it out, and pulled the trigger just as the glowing figures disappeared.
A split second later, a flare of light brighter than any he'd seen appeared in the bottom half of his scope, and the boulder in front of him exploded in his face.