Now temporarily safe, Chris struggled to climb out of the pit. He glanced back—those corpses lay motionless. Moments ago, he had almost become one of them.
Chris ran a bit farther but finally had to stop, completely drained. Once again, he took out his radio—his last hope. If no one came to rescue him, it was only a matter of time before he was caught. He had to contact carrier command. But communications had been jammed all this time.
He turned on the radio—and to his surprise, the signal was normal. Elated for a moment, he quickly realized what that meant and immediately shut it off.
Chris broke out in a cold sweat.
Though exhausted, his mind was unusually clear. The lack of signal interference meant he could finally call for rescue from the Carl Vinson. Surely, they'd send a team to extract him. But it also meant his position was now exposed. The enemy could easily triangulate the signal's origin. Don't underestimate the Serb militia—this wasn't exactly a difficult task for them.
Then Chris considered another possibility. He had just successfully tricked his pursuers. But if they caught that same signal, they might realize they'd been fooled and double back. Given the distance between them and himself, he might not get lucky a second time.
It was that thought that made Chris shut off the radio. He decided to put more distance between himself and the danger before calling headquarters. What he didn't know was that this single decision saved his life.
Not far from the mass grave, the Serb search team's junior leader also caught sight of that fleeting signal. The tracker clearly displayed the location. He immediately realized they'd been duped and let out an angry shout. The team turned around and raced back toward the mass grave, barking orders as they moved.
Near the jamming vehicle site, Owen had also noticed the brief signal flash on his PDA. But by the time he tried to reach out, the signal was already gone.
The signal's source wasn't far. Owen checked the coordinates on the PDA and turned to the guide. "What's two kilometers west of here?"
Herman thought for a moment. "No military installations—just a forested area..."
Owen waved his hand. Omega began moving toward the source of the signal. It was the first signal they'd received so far, but unfortunately, contact hadn't been established.
The team continued to travel through the forest. It slowed them down a bit, but it offered maximum cover. Herman, still unarmed and with his hands bound, had a Serb militia radio hanging from his neck—recovered from one of the corpses. Occasionally, voices came through in Croatian. Herman's job was simple: lead the way and listen in on the radio. If he heard anything valuable, he was to tell Owen.
Up ahead, the forest came to an end. They had reached their destination. Based on the coordinates, the signal had been sent from here.
Ahead lay a clearing, with a dilapidated, long-abandoned house. Half the surrounding wall had collapsed. The window frames were gaping black holes. The building's walls were pockmarked with bullet holes—this place had seen combat, but clearly not recently.
The group observed from the forest's edge. No suspicious activity was visible. Though the guide insisted this wasn't a guerrilla stronghold, Owen still carefully studied the ground, just in case Herman was trying to lead them into a trap.
After a while, Herman reluctantly stepped out of the forest first. Owen followed close behind, the rest of the team further back.
Herman wasn't happy, but he had no choice. Owen was worried he might try to lead them into a minefield—a story he'd heard plenty of times as a kid. Only now, it seemed they were playing the villains.
The group stuck close to the ruined wall. Their first goal was to cross the open space and reach it—if anything went wrong, it would serve as decent cover.
Herman, grumbling inwardly, walked in front. No one likes being sent ahead to test the path. He kicked at small stones as he walked. They spun and clattered in front of him.
A quick dash later, the team reached the broken wall without incident. The place really did seem abandoned. They entered the house.
Inside was a complete mess. It had clearly been left to rot for a long time. Heartbeat and Bayev stayed outside on watch while the rest searched. They quickly swept through the building. When they regrouped, it was confirmed—the navigator wasn't here. Maybe he had been earlier, but now the place was empty.
Owen was just about to try the radio again when Heartbeat's voice came through his earpiece: "We've got movement."
Everyone went on alert. They crouched and moved toward the broken wall, peeking through the gaps to observe. Near the edge of the forest, several figures appeared.
Owen gave a series of hand signals. Ghost and Bayev spread out, while Swagg and Fred took position covering the opposite direction.
Behind the crumbling wall, the team watched through their optics. Ghost, using his ACOG 4x scope, clearly saw figures cautiously moving through the forest. The snipers on the other side had spotted them too.
Ghost's gear was specialized for mid-range combat. Owen and Heartbeat, by contrast, were focused on close-range, using EOTech 558 holographic sights. But that didn't mean they were ineffective at longer distances.
To adapt, they'd both equipped G33 magnifiers, mounted to the side. When needed, they could flip the G33s into place for a combined 558+G33 system—giving them both holographic and magnified views.
This was one of those times the magnifiers really proved their worth. Everyone on Owen's team could see the enemy clearly. The enemy, however, hadn't spotted them at all.
Judging by their careful approach, the enemy clearly believed someone was inside the building. It was possible they were also responding to the navigator's signal, just like Omega.
More and more enemies emerged at the edge of the forest. Omega stayed quiet behind the wall, waiting for Owen's command. With the forest no longer providing concealment, the enemy's appearance became clearer—dark green uniforms, some wearing black balaclavas, some not, all armed with AK-series rifles. They advanced stealthily toward the central part of the building, some flanking wide to the sides.
There was no avoiding this encounter. Owen picked a target, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. His AK-12 kicked gently. Through the scope, he saw blood erupt from the man's chest as he dropped.
Owen's shot was like a starting bell—Omega opened fire in unison.
"...*%&*（*&*（））*"
A burst of shouted Croatian. One man screamed a warning to his companions. Owen shifted aim and fired again. Another bullet snapped through the air, cutting the shouting man down.
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