Strike Force

“We’re located in a wooded area of about ten square kilometers, bordered by Vermillion Lake to the north and east, the state park highway to the east, and Highway Twenty-four to the south and west — if you come across any of these major landmarks, you’ll know which way to travel to get re-oriented and headed back to the objective. We’ll drive you to starting points on different sections of the exercise area and set you loose at the same time. The markers are located in camouflaged metal ammo boxes marked on your maps. When you find the can, each flight takes one marker only from the can and leaves the rest.

“To make it more interesting, you have the capability to capture another flight’s markers,” the CAP commander went on. “You are all wearing laser targets and carrying eye-safe laser guns. If you come across another flight, and if you can hit the flight leader before he hits you, you capture his markers. The guns have a range of only thirty feet or less, so you need to be fairly close to your target to hit him. You can return to a previously discovered can to get another marker, but remember, only one marker from each can per flight.” He answered a few questions, made sure his four flights of nine cadets each were equipped and ready, then split them up into vans that took them to their starting points.

The exercise proceeded throughout the afternoon. The terrain was flat and rolling, with numerous hiking trails, outhouses, signs, and other landmarks to make the test challenging without letting anyone get lost. Harlow’s staff acted as referees and would assist any cadet flights who were having real difficulty, but most of these cadets, all from northern Minnesota and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, were experienced outdoors enthusiasts, and Harlow didn’t expect any emergencies.

In fact, the flights were so evenly matched that as they approached the four-hour cutoff time, three of the four flights were approaching the objective point in the middle of the exercise area all at once. Harlow had set out each flight’s guidon in the clearing, and as the cadets got closer they started running through the woods toward their flag. “Once you enter the clearing, no more laser guns,” Harlow announced over a bullhorn as he saw the three groups converging on the objective point. “C’mon in and let’s count ’em up.”

This was strange, he thought as the three groups ran in — the fourth flight, Delta Flight, nicknamed “Red Dogs,” was nowhere to be seen. All of the flights were evenly matched; Delta Flight was perhaps slightly less “outdoorsy” and more intellectual than the others, but this was rather surprising — with only a few minutes left to go, the Red Dogs still were not anywhere in sight. Usually they were able to keep up with whatever else the rest of the cadet squadron did, but it didn’t appear to be the case today. Harlow raised his walkie-talkie and clicked the mike button: “Anyone seen Delta?” he asked. The answers all came back negative.

Well, Harlow thought, perhaps this will take a little steam out of Delta Flight’s fiery commander, fifteen-year-old Cadet Lieutenant Katelyn VanWie. She had this annoying air about her. She was cocky but wasn’t a braggard; she was smart but not a know-it-all; quiet but not shy; self-confident but not pretentious. It was as if she knew she was better than everyone else but simply chose not to prove it. She had infused the other eight members of Delta Flight with the same assuredness to the point that the team took on the same personality as its commander, which didn’t exactly endear them to the rest of the squadron.

To be honest, Harlow thought, Katelyn wasn’t an annoying kid — but she was different. He could sense it. It was as if she had some sort of magnetic attraction that drew people to her side somehow. That kind of personality turned some people off. Moreover, she knew she was different, that she had this power, but she chose not to exercise it for some reason — even though she did employ it. Frequently.

Harlow scanned the treeline once more, shook his head in confusion, then keyed the mike button: “Let’s bring the rest of the flight in, then we’ll organize a search,” he radioed. “We’ll concentrate our search on Route Twenty-four and the forest service road. If they somehow crossed the service road without realizing it, they could be outside the park in…”

At that moment he heard a cacophony of high-pitched buzzers. The cadets heading in from the forest slapped their hands over the laser sensors, trying to block the incoming laser beams, but it was too late — in seconds, every flight leaders’ target alarm was sounding. “Hey, I said, no more lasers!” he shouted. “Who is doing that?”