When Devin turned his head, Marnie had already donned her helmet and flipped the night vision goggles down into place over her face. He followed her lead, and they started scanning the brush along the shore. About a hundred feet from the tree-packed shoreline, Jared cut the speed to idle, and they glided quietly across the smooth water. He nudged the engine a few more times, until the front of the pontoon boat gently nestled into a snarl of thick scrub under a canopy of low-hanging branches.

As the boat floated back a few feet, Devin opened the gate and jumped down, landing in thigh-high water. He took the coiled line Marnie had tied to one of the bow cleats and slogged through the brush to reach the nearest tree trunk, where he secured it the best he knew how. Marnie joined him a few moments later, undoing and redoing his work without saying a word. Rich and Jared pushed past them once she was finished and disappeared into the bushes.

“Jared and I are heading about fifty feet inland, due north, to secure the area.”

No response was required, unless acknowledgment was a request. This group worked together smoothly, saying very little, which suited him fine. He and Marnie had agreed to stay out of their way, and talk over the radio net only if it were absolutely necessary. The less of a distraction the two of them provided, the better chance they had of getting out of this unscathed.

The second boat arrived a few seconds later. Devin and Marnie grabbed the line on their bow and tied it to a solid tree. With the boats secured, the nine of them fought through the thicker shoreline undergrowth until they reached a more passable forest floor. They knelt in a tight 180-degree perimeter centered on Rich, while Devin and Marnie covered the far-right side.

“Turn your cameras on. Then check your gear one more time while we wait for OVERWATCH to do their thing,” said Rich over the net.

There wasn’t much to check. Rich wanted them going in light for maximum stealth and maneuverability. His gear consisted of a basic plate carrier with front and back armor inserts, four double-rifle magazine pouches giving him eight spare magazines for his HK416 A5 5.56-millimeter rifle. No knife. No pistol. No first aid kit. Comms worked. Night vision worked. Helmet was tight. He activated the side-mounted camera and mumbled, “Good to go.”

Marnie elbowed him, and a quick glance told him he should at least pretend to pat himself down—which he did. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. No words required.