Kyle peered out of his driver side window, into the emptiness of the night, as he questioned, “If they have been out there, why wait till now to attack?”
Dave tilted his head down some, as he tried to peer through the Trijicon scope attached to his rifle, but all it did was verify that it was dark out there, and he couldn’t see anything in it. A curse escaped his lips, coming out in a low mumbled at the fact of not having some NVG’s. It’s the little things like that you take for granted, those are the ones you miss the most when you don’t have them. Finally, he raised his head back to answer Kyle’s question. “My guess is they don’t have the equipment or manpower for that matter to dig up all the supplies. For all, we know they could have been following us from the beginning. Just waiting for us to get all the supplies out for them. Now, with the advantage of surprise and situational awareness, they can easily swoop in or pick us off one by one, till they are left standing with all of the supplies.”
Dave turned his head back towards the rest of the trucks, as he could hear people yelling and moving around. He knew that if they waited till daylight, they could be picked off one by one, or worse a rolling Russian patrol could pass by an attack. Yet, they couldn’t attack what they couldn’t see, they would be doing nothing more than spraying and praying. A foolish waste of ammo, not to mention it would dangerously give away their position to any snipers who might be set up. Dave looked back at Kyle and noticed the CB Radio that was mounted under the dash, near Kyle’s legs. “Can you raise the other trucks with that radio?”
Kyle looked confused at first, unsure as to what Dave was talking about, then he quickly realized what he meant and reached down for the handheld transmitter of the CB. “Everyone listens up,” He quickly said into it, his words hurried, as he held it up to his lips.
“Tell everyone to get in their trucks. I want all of the security personnel to be sitting on the backs and be ready for trouble from all positions. Make sure that the barrels are strapped down because we are going to be moving fast.” Dave stopped as he looked around then turned back towards Kyle. Filling this was as good a plane as any other, he nodded his head and ordered, “Pass that on.”
Kyle quickly depressed the transmit button and relayed the information to the other drivers. Reassuring them that Dave knew what he was doing and despite their concerns of trucks crashing or losing their way, Kyle reminded them, that they couldn’t just sit around and wait for the police to come help. They had to make a run for it. Once done, Kyle lowered the CB radio and looked over at Dave, “Now what?”
Dave quickly opened the passenger door, pushed himself into the cab and slamming the door shut behind him. “My guess is that its just a few Highwaymen. If there was a lot of them, or if they were Regionals, they would have rushed us by now. They don’t have the numbers so they are waiting for us to make a move. They will most likely assume we will crawl out of here, with there being minimum lighting available. Then as we limp along, they just take us one at a time, till finally, they have everything. That is why we have to do the exact opposite.” He paused as he better situated himself, pulling the extra mags out of his thigh pant pockets and placed them in an assessable location. “Our only chance is to rabbit. We, make a mad dash for the highway, once on the paved road, we’ll be able to put greater distance between them.” He looked over at Kyle, “You’re going to take the lead, so it’s going to be all up to you. Whenever you’re ready give the word and let's get out of here.”
This brought a big ‘ol country smile to Kyle’s face. “This is just like one of the old Westerns when the outnumbered Calvary is making a mad dash for the safety of the fort.” He even let out a little laugh of excitement as he raised the CB transmitter up to his lips. “Alright, Y'all listen up. We are going to do this Mad Max style. We are going to make an all-out dash for the highway. Gunners, strap yourselves down back there, if you can, it’s about to get a little bumpy.” He pushed in the clutch and threw the shifter into first gear, then paused a moment as he turned and looked over at Dave, “You ready boss?”
Dave kept his gaze outwards, his M4 partially hanging out of the open window, he paused for a moment as mumbled out, “I’m getting to old for this.” He flicked the indicator from Safe, to Fire, on his M4 then campy replied, “Send it.”
Then in one motion Kyle threw on the headlights and slammed his right foot upon the accelerator, as he dumped he clutch. The truck lurched into motion as its rear tires spun in place momentarily as the worn tread desperately grasped for traction. Then like a rock in a slingshot, the weathered and beaten truck launched forward, as the tires dug angrily into the dirt floor.
One by one rest of the trucks quickly fell into line. Kyle, who was driving the lead truck, had his brights on, while the rest of the trucks had only their running lights, in hopes of creating a smaller target. At first, everything seemed to be going smooth, except for the part that it was an extremely bumpy and rough ride. The road they were on was a fairly even stretch of ground. There was a slight downgrade in slope as they headed towards the highway, but it was a worn path, that presented very few impediments. It was going so well, that Kyle turned towards Dave and with a wide grin he called out, “Looks like we lucked out boss!”
As if on queue a half a dozen rounds stitched their way into the front quarter side panels of the truck. Instantly Kyle felt a pull towards the driver's side, as the front tire blew. A handful of more rounds found their way into the back siding of the truck, making very distinctive sounds as the lead rounds punched through the truck's skin. “Front drivers side tire is gone!” Kyle yelled out as he tried to keep the truck under control. Instinctively he released his foot off of the gas, as he fought for control the wondering truck, and it swayed and staggered like a drunk on a Saturday night.
Dave quickly maneuvered in the cab of the truck, then without hesitation, he slammed his right foot down hard upon Kyle’s. “Don’t slow down!!” He then positioned his left knee upon the truck bench seat and thrust the barrel of his M4 out through the driver's side window. The barrel was mere inches away from Kyle’s face, when Dave quickly pulled the trigger in a rapid scission, sending a three-round burst out into the darkness.
The sound from the rounds being fired, punched Kyle stiff in the face, causing him to scrunch his eyes shut tight. Even still, he could feel little particles of burnt gunpowder pepper his face, as the concussion of the rounds slammed him violently. Once the firing stopped he opened his eye once again, quickly realized he couldn’t hear anything. He shook his head as if he could knock something loose to help him hear better. He tried two more times, each time hoping that the shaking of his head would somehow reconnect the wiring and restore his hearing. He soon realized that for the time being, his hearing was something he was going to have to do without.
Kyle withdrew his attention from his hearing and refocused it on the road ahead. The bright head lights cut a silver lane into the darkened night air. Kyle momentarily panicked as the lights showed a Y in the road, quickly advancing upon their position. He yanked on the steering wheel to the right. With the blown front driver's side tire gone, the truck nearly toppled over from the sudden change in direction. He did all he could to keep it on its remaining three wheels, as he fought gravity, inertia as well as the unseen hostels. He let off the accelerator, just ever so slightly to weaken gravities desire to toss them onto their side. Once the road strained out, he punched it once again. The front drivers side tire was all but gone, leaving an exposed and rim, which dug deep gouges into the landscape as it did its best to pull the truck along. In a matter of moments, they could see the highway approaching rapidly and so was some aspect of success.
Even threw his muffled hearing, Kyle could still tell that rounds were impacting the truck. He looked over to where Dave was, just to see him sitting halfway out of the passenger window, as he continued to fire his weapon. For a split second he looked down at the CB and considered picking it up to make sure everyone was still there, but then quickly real
ized it would have been pointless, considering he couldn’t even hear himself think. He did notice that the closer they got to the highway, the fewer and fewer rounds he could sense hitting the truck. Finally, once the truck hit the dilapidated, yet paved highway, he cranked the steering to the right once again. The truck pulled and lurched, as it fought against Kyle’s direction. Much like an unbroken colt, bucking and kicking, trying to free itself from its rider. The exposed rim, dug into the highway, as it threw a showering of bright sparks into the sky. Before long though, the entire convoy was back on the highway, the threat seemingly fading, being sucked up by the pitch night.
Not want to count his eggs before they hatched, Kyle didn’t let up on the gas, as he continued to push the damaged engine to its limits. Dark gray smoke was already seeping into the trucks cab through the vents, smelling thick of burnt rubber, oil, and a burning clutch. It wasn’t till he felt Dave grasp his arm and shake him, that he realized that he was being spoken to. He turned sharply to looked at Dave. He could tell that something saying was being said, he saw Dave’v lips move, but no words could be heard. “WHAT?!” Kyle yelled. He then pointed to his ears, before he yelled out again, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU! WHEN YOU SHOT YOUR GUN, I THINK IT BLEW OUT MY EARS!”
Dave looked at Kyle, then motioned with his hand, “Stop the truck!! Stop the truck!!” Dave kept motioning with his right hand for Kyle to stop the truck, while yelling the instructions. Finally, after saying it for the third time, Kyle started to slow down the truck, till it rolled to a complete stop. With the truck finally in the neutral, and the engine turned off, Dave turned back towards Kyle and was about to say something, then realized it would be pointless.
Kyle looked over and watched as Dave began to exit the truck, he yelled out, “WHAT NOW?”
Dave turned, gave a sideways glare, his expression indiscernible, then proceeded to exit the truck. “I want a count! Is anybody wounded, is everyone okay?” Dave called out, casting a large net with his words, ensuring all could hear.
At first, there were just the sounds of people quietly chattering, and the ticking sounds of the multiple truck engines trying to recover from their sudden exertion. Dave to a moment to look at the truck he had just ridden in. Smoke continued to feverishly escape from under the hood. He also noticed that there more than a dozen rounds taken by the passenger side door. In all the excitement he never questioned if he, himself had been shot. He reattached his rifle to the single point sling and patted his body down, looking for any signs of blood. Once the self inspection was complete, and he felt that by some miracle he was still alive, audibly let out a long sigh.
Then someone in the second to last truck called, “Over here! Cody’s been shot!”
Instantly Dave took off running towards the trucks in the back of the line. As he got closer he could hear more and more shouting coming from the back of one of the trucks. By the time he got there, a full-on fist fight had almost begun.
“You are such an idiot!” Cody yelled out as he sat in the back of the truck, his hands grasped around his leg.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ted kept saying over and over as he stood hunched over, bent at his waist, in the back of the truck.
When Dave arrived at the scene he had no clue as to what was going on. Others in and around the truck began to start yelling as well, till there was just a full conglomerate of voices jockeying for superiority over one another. Finally, Dave reached his limit of patients and yelled out, “Everyone shut up!” With all of the voices suddenly quite he looked around and then pointed a stern finger towards Cody, “You, what happened, did one of the Highwaymen get you?”
With most of his natural adrenaline fading, the pain of being shot had begun to set in, deep burning pain, as if someone had just thrusted a red hot poker deep into his leg. Cody pushed harder upon the bullet hole in his left calf. He pushed out the word, “No,” nearly bitting the word in half, as he clinched his jaw hard. He took in a deep breath in, pulling the cool night air threw a fencing of teeth. “It was this idiot here,” He said as he motioned with a tilt of his head towards Ted.
Dave snapped his glance over towards Ted who had moved to the edge of the truck, his head down. “Ted?” Dave said, both as a question and a concerned statement.
Ted apologetically looked up, “I didn’t mean to, the truck hit a bump and I just sort of fired my gun.”
Dave felt himself get angry. He wanted to go up to the boy and slap him on the back of the head. He wanted to yell at him and ask him how many times he’s been told to watch his tiger finger. How tiger discipline is vital! He wanted to do all of those things and so much more. But he couldn’t, not now. Still looking down at the fresh leg wound, Dave angrily called out, “Ted! Go back to the lead truck. On the floorboard is my pack, grab it and come back here right away.” He then paused as he looked around. He saw a larger size boy and pointed towards him, “You, get over here and help put pressure on this wound. The rest of you we have work to do. We’re not out of it yet. Security, set up a perimeter around the trucks, now. Then I need about five guys to head down to the lead truck and move everything that you can from it to the second truck. I want to be back on the road in thirty minutes.”
When Dave stopped talking, everyone rushed into action. Once Ted returned with his pack, Dave was able to patch up Cody, and stem the bleeding, ensuring he would survive at least till they got back to camp and the Doc could have a look at him. Overall it took longer than the thirty minutes Dave had requested, but everyone did good and worked hard. Most importantly, they were all alive, for now.
Despite the minor hiccups and few moments of sheer terror, the trip was an overall success. They had retrieved needed supplies that would help sustain the group and allow them to get back on the road, plus they were able to do all of this without suffering any major losses. The lead truck was basically out of commission, and the only person really wounded was Cody. His wound, though painful, was not life-threatening, and he was expected to make a full recovery. So as Dave walked around the camp, he couldn’t help but feel a bit optimistic about their chances of survival.
“Well, you seem happy,” Ms. White said as she walked up to Dave.
Dave, allowed a smile to rest on his lips, “They did well out there.”
“You did well out there. Like it or not, you are a natural leader, and these people see that.” Ms. White said back.
“Ha!” Dave quickly answered. “Trust me I’m many things, but I’m no leader.”
Kyle walked up, cotton balls shoved into his ears. “WE DID IT, BOSS!” He yelled, still not figuring out that he didn’t need to shout to be heard. He then looked over at Ms. White with a big smile, “THIS GUY IS AMAZING! WE’RE LUCKY TO HAVE HIM ON OUR SIDE!”
Ms. White just gave a big smile and patted Kyle on the shoulder. She waited till Kyle turned and walked away before looking back at Dave. “You were saying? Like I said Dave, these people see you as a leader. They need one, a true battlefield leader. Now the only question is, are you going to step up and take that responsibility or are you going to run and hide from it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, really didn’t want one. She just turned and started to walk away. Then without looking back, she finished, “Get some rest, we have a lot to get taken care of before he heads out tomorrow.”
5 Memento Homo
The Kings Palace
The snapping pine logs intermingled with the constant beeping of the medical machinery, as the sounds filled the empty spaces of the room. They slowly danced with one another, casualty glancing off of the walls and furniture. Despite almost being noon, Edwin Magness, still wore his ruby red silk pajamas as he rested in his overstuffed leather chair. The fact that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet, was a clear indicator, even to himself, that the end was getting near. He had always been one for appearance as well as following a tight schedule. He always rose by 5:00 am, the would take a brisk shower, before dressing in his typical attire, before he made his way to have his b
reakfast by 5:30 am. He would typically be in his office no later than 6:30 am, where he would spend the rest of his day till late in the evening. Often he would have his personal chef deliver his dinner to him at his office so that he could keep working.
Now, as he sat there, watching the flames dance upon a log, he could no longer deny that his end was rapidly approaching. He knew that things had to be cleaned up now, no longer could he just wait for things to play out. For so long he had been setting up his pieces, ensuring that information was kept private from each player, limiting the flow of knowledge. Preventing cross-pollination, as he liked to refer to it. He did all of this for multiple reasons, one just because he had an overwhelming desire to be the one in absolute control. The other allowed each member plausible deniability, in case they were over captured by the resistance. Then there was the part, that he wanted all of this to have a natural, or organic feel to it. That when the pieces started to fall, crashing into one another, he wanted to make sure that tiles fell, exactly where he wanted them to. If those involved had no real knowledge of where said tiles were to fall, they could in no way divert them. It was a complicated and stressful game, but one that he truly enjoyed.
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