I’d been moving through the thick forest west of the Factory since sunrise. Using counter-tracking techniques was slowing things down more than I had wanted, but this is no time to get sloppy. The woods were wet—it’s has been raining lightly all morning—and the sound of dripping water was everywhere. I decided not to stop until I arrived at my final position and had a chance to make pre-engagement changes. Maps are fine, but nothing is better than putting your own eyes on a target area. I walked like I was on patrol—weapons loaded, rifle in the ready-low position (for the most part) and suppressor mounted. My hat and gloves were just starting to soak through and I’m pretty sure the old waterproofing on my jacket would finally fail sometime soon. I had accepted such things as fact. “Get comfortable with being uncomfortable”, my old instructors would say.

Arriving in my target area, I carefully maneuvered through this small patch of forest, looking for the right combination of elements: A relatively clear view of the Factory’s mostly hidden back fence line and either a sufficiently large fallen tree or a shallow depression. The depression was what I found first. At perhaps only a few inches deep, it was all I needed to setup a low camo-colored tarpaulin over some salvaged branches, cover it thickly with leaves and crawl inside. I was careful not to strip any single part of the forest floor around me of leaves, as it would be a dead giveaway. I was equally careful not to step in anything what would cause my boots to leave mud or soil residue behind, either. A foam-rubber pad would keep me off the cold, wet ground and was vastly more comfortable than the alternative. It was starting to snow.

Peering out of my now-sheltered position with my notebook beside me, I started mapping out the area, sketching the features of the Factory I could see, pinging them with a laser rangefinder and making detailed notes on any interesting elements. Within an hour, I had my map drawn, committed to memory, and detailed for posterity in my notebook. I had finished off a protein bar and a bottle of water while I worked, but I wouldn’t be risking any more such activity tonight. No litter will be left behind—everything I carried in will get carried out. Even the now-empty water-bottle will be used for urination later.

Once the daylight fades, I won’t be using flashlight or rangefinder again as would likely compromise my position. I had to remember to maintain strict field discipline from this point forward: No lights. No sounds. No scents. The heightened sense I the Orcs was damned inconvenient and forced me to slow everything down lest I start making stupid mistakes. The temperature had slowly dropping all afternoon. I used carbon-powered hand-warmers inside my jacket to help stay warm. At least I had some cover from the snow, which was increasing in volume. I liked this idea—the rain had previously added a layer of white noise to the forest that helped conceal any small noises I might make by accident. The deadening effect of snow would do the same. This whole setup was exactly what I use to hunt deer-- mostly because I detest tree-stands and prefer to stay on the ground. This had the added benefit of providing better shelter from the weather when I wanted a power nap.

Engagement ranges were rather close, with everything in my target area being less than 150 yards away. I can use my existing 100-yard zero without further adjustment. However, this short distance puts me very close to the normal paths of movement of the Orcs. If I cared to, I likely would have been able to see them leave out later for nightly hunt for resources, knowing they’ll be intercepted before they return. Consider that a mere few hundred yards is easily within the performance envelope of my clip-on thermal scope adapter, which works especially well in the cold. As the daytime slipped away and my eyes adjusted, I turn the brightness settings on the thermal adapter as far down as I reasonably could. Flip-up scope caps work well to hide any light leakage, but the adapter would stay powered off until I needed to shoot. My electronic ears had a port for an audio cable which was now connected to a radio scanner, already pre-programmed with the frequencies the police will use once they get here. I still had a few hours to wait.

I closed the gap in the tarp I’d been using for observation, closed my eyes and tried to relax and remain as still as much as possible. I went over my map mentally again and again, considering various engagement scenarios. I had just begun to really relax when the sound of a very distant helicopter prompted me to open my eyes and very, very carefully open my concealed position up to face my target area. Radio traffic indicated the ground operation was about to commence. The Orcs were close enough to hear now (my electronic ears have at least a little amplification built-in). Panicked sounds indicated they were clearly agitated by the helicopters and had dropped any pretense of stealth, picking up their pace to try to get back home as quickly as possible. It didn’t work, of course.

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Within a few minutes, helicopters had landed in the Factory’s large parking lot, dropped off a dozen armed troopers and dusted off. A second chopper was already orbiting the area. The high-power spotlight lit up the forest nearby and radio traffic indicated the hunt was on. Barely five minutes later, the forest was alive with gunfire and yelling. The Orcs were putting up a fight but were no match for trained Troopers using modern weapons and equipment. I switched on my thermal scope and waited. Casualties on both sides were mounting, but radio traffic clearly indicated that the Orcs were on the losing side.

I didn’t have to wait long before I saw a mega-Orc approach the Factory’s fence line. My speculation appears to have been essentially correct, but, of course, he was tearing through the fence in a spot behind brush where I couldn’t see him fully. This was also something I’ve grown to accept when hunting out in the woods—there’s always a tree or a limb or some other obstacle in the way. I continued to scan for the Orc leader, but no joy. Escape was his plan, right? So, where was he?

Considering the Orc leader is the one and only high-priority target on my mind, it occurred to me that I really didn’t need to do anything terribly dramatic—I just needed to prevent the escape of a certain Orc leader and maybe his goons. If I can keep him pinned down, the Troopers will do the rest, just as their planned outlined. I very definitely wasn’t going to chase them through the woods at night or some other equally insane plan. If other Orcs manage to get away, I’m not concerned. Facing reality means sometimes the enemy’s planning is better than your own. Sometimes they manage to get away. Sometimes they win the day. Sometimes something completely unexpected occurs to ruin everyone’s day.

My scans continued as the rather substantial gunfire from the Trooper’s assault was coming to an end. Radio chatter indicated they had suffered some serious injuries and the wounded were being escorted back to the parking lot for pickup and evacuation. Additional chatter indicated that the local Sherriff’s Department was also arriving on-scene, albeit somewhat late. The teams on the ground were being ordered to “dead check” every fallen Orc they could find. The Troopers are doing all the heavy lifting and I’m happy to let them continue to do so. However, a few strategically placed actions on my part seemed appropriate.

I fired a round into the base of the throat of the big Orc as he started to pull down the fence from the top. I wasn’t sure how well the bullet would maintain its trajectory through brush, but I wasn’t disappointed with the results a fraction of a second later. Upon impact, the big Orc stiffened comically, arms and legs locked, and fell over. This is usually a sign of major spinal injury—live or die, he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. I continued scanning and caught a glimpse of someone scrambling to get away from the fence line from a previously unnoticed hiding spot. It was a split-second sighting, and I took the shot. A stifled yell of pain told me I inflicted enough injury to make it worth the gamble. Sadly, not a kill-shot, but it seemed likely this was the Orc leadership I was after. Maybe he’ll stick his head out from behind cover and give me another opportunity? A guy can dream, right?

But my shots didn’t go unnoticed—and nor was I expecting them to. Radio traffic quickly confirmed that the Troopers had noticed suppressed gunfire that was not their own and they opted to skip their previously planned perimeter security step and hit the Factory complex immediately after running a quick check-in of able-bodied Troopers. That surprised me a bit. Could I get out of here before they had Troopers in the woods back here? Could I put enough distance between myself and the choppers overhead to avoid detection by their thermal imaging systems? One chopper was still on the ground loading wounded cops and the other was covering, so I had a very small window of opportunity to exploit for my own escape. Besides, I’d rather by caught on the run than hiding in a hole. So, off I went.

With my retreat into the woods well underway, I could hear renewed gunfire behind the incoming choppers behind me. It took them a bit longer than expected to get their collective act together—but then again, this is not a military operation and I shouldn’t have expected military-level efficiency. I had time to put many hundreds of yards of thick and empty forest between myself and the inbound helicopters. I found a shallow, hollow area under a large fallen tree and used an emergency thermal blanket, brush, branches and fallen leaves to cover myself as thoroughly as I could manage. I should be effectively invisible to aerial thermal imaging at this point.

No doubt, the fearless Troopers are far more interested in their mop-up operations and rescuing hostages than pursuing some unknown contact through the deep woods at night. I am reasonably certain that I’m far enough away and sufficiently well-hidden to escape their attention. This is good; I have no interest in answering questions tonight. Luckily, the choppers never really got close to me. I grinned when I heard the recall order over the radio. After that, I didn’t have to wait long until silence returned to the forest. I speculated that my mysterious law enforcement contact had manipulated this situation to perhaps help me, but it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever know for sure.

At sunrise, I made my way back to my well-concealed truck and then home. Mission accomplished.