Park Terror
By Jo Carey
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About this ebook
A park ranger, a sheriff, and an owl expert walk into a bar. It sounds like the start of a joke, but no one's laughing when they find out the government is willing to sacrifice a small town to keep a secret project under wraps.18,900 words.
Jo Carey
Jo Carey grew up in the Midwest but her curiosity and gypsy-spirit has kept her on the move. She's lived in eight US states and spent three years living in Ireland. She has always loved creature movies, so creatures and bugs often show up in her books. Jo, a former information security compliance guru, writes fast-paced, character-driven stories in a variety of genres from medical thrillers to space operas and cozy mysteries. Her novels are filled with humor, romance, and sometimes creatures or aliens, or maybe even all of the above. She often builds her stories around a strong female lead character surrounded by plenty of hunky male heroes. Jo's been under fire on a golf course and climbed out the roof of an elevator in the Netherlands. Life hasn't been boring. Now residing in Texas, setting often plays a huge role in her stories. Jo was intrigued by the League of Planetary Systems, a world her husband, Frank, created for his science fiction books, and she now writes mysteries and other types of tales sets in that world. Jo was bitten by a cat, a fire ant, and a snake, before succumbing to the bite of the writing bug.
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Park Terror - Jo Carey
CHAPTER ONE
You sure about this?
I asked.
Looking forward to it. I haven't played paintball since high school,
Dillon said.
These guys take it pretty seriously. Don't make me look bad.
I'll try to hold my own,
Dillion said as we geared up in the parking lot. Did you serve with any of these guys?
They're all in my guard unit, but only two of them were in when we were deployed.
After reviewing the rules of play, we headed into the woods. I usually played with two of my friends from my guard unit, but both of them had family obligations today, so I asked Dillon if he could find one of his deputies to be my team for the game.
I'm heading over the ridge,
I said into the radio.
Right behind you,
Dillon said.
Crap.
This is what I was afraid of. Dillon knows I can take care of myself, and this is a friendly game. I enjoy playing paintball. I don't need a babysitter. I like Dillon, and I know he's a catch—great looking, good job, solid. We share the same values and enjoy a lot of the same things, but sometimes his protector mode takes over and pisses me off.
We had 30 minutes to get into position before the game officially started. Being a law enforcement ranger for the park gave me a huge advantage since I spent more time out in these woods than any of the others, but everyone playing enjoyed the outdoors. I climbed a ridge and moved around behind the ruins of an old cabin that was now just a couple of walls. I could hear Dillon moving up behind me. I wasn't sure where my other teammate was, and that was a good thing. Our strategy was to spread out until we'd taken out two of our opposition. When they were down to one man, we'd band together and take him out. If we all stayed in the same area, it was too easy for them to take us all out in short order.
I checked my watch. We had about five minutes left to get into position. Dillon walked up and put a hand on my shoulder.
Back off, Dillon.
That's not what you said last night, Babe.
Check your situational awareness. This is definitely a different situation than last night.
Message received, Babe,
he said and trotted off.
Game on,
came through the radio, and I started through the woods. I saw movement on the ridge above me and moved around to track Hunt, one of my opponents. A couple of minutes later, I had him in my sights. I took the shot.
Hunt out,
came through the radio. I pumped my fist in the air. And headed off to an area where I thought I might find more targets.
I dropped down into a creek bed, climbed out on the other side, and headed uphill. Sanchez out,
came through the radio. That was Dillon's deputy. It was two against two.
I heard the sound of paintball gunfire from downhill, but there was no announcement of anyone being hit. I went uphill and cut back down through a rocky area that provided good coverage. I saw movement and double checked to make sure it wasn't Dillon. Nope. It was Brown. I closed the gap, but he saw me. I dropped to my stomach just as he fired, and the paintball hit a tree well above my ahead. I jumped to my feet and fired.
Brown out,
he announced. Another fist pump for me.
I had a pretty good idea where Dillon would be, so I moved off in that direction. Something flew over my head, but it was a bird not a paintball, so I kept going.
As expected, Dillon was where he could watch my back. We made our way over a ridge, and Dillon spotted our last target, Lawrence. With a hand gesture, I sent Dillon downhill, and I took the high line. We had our prey between us. It should be easy. At least that's what I thought, until I heard Dillon shooting.
What the heck was he doing? A couple minutes later, I heard Lawrence return fire. Raleigh out.
Well crap.
I headed for cover to figure out my strategy now that it was one-on-one.
I climbed to a high spot where I had good visibility and settled in to watch for movement. I could see Dillon heading for the parking lot. I spotted movement headed uphill and knew that should be Lawrence. Everyone else should be heading down. A splat hit the spire I was hiding behind.
Crap." We'd played in this area enough that Lawrence was starting to know my routine. I waited until he closed the gap, then I just stepped out from behind the rocks and fired. I saw the splat on his shoulder.
Lawrence out,
he said on the radio as he walked up and shook my hand. It wouldn't have been a kill shot,
he said.
Could have been, if my partner wasn’t shooting at every damn thing that moves. What was up with that?
I wondered about that too,
he said. The sheriff doesn't usually waste rounds.
He was right about that. A lot of paintball newbies go through tons of balls in an outing, but once you settled in and treated it like a real hunt you became stingier with your ammo. When we walked into the parking area, Dillon was sitting on the tailgate of his pickup and Hunt, who was a medic in the guard, was tending to a cut on his head.
What the hell happened out there?
I asked, walking over and dropping my gear in the back of