Fight Like Hell [America Falls Series | Books 1-6]

by Medbury, Scott

  “I'm Brother Simon,” he said.

  “Oh, you're the one who Luke and Isaac let go,” said Paul.

  “Yes, I was humbled by their kindness.”

  “Do you think that your Council will decide to help?”

  “I don't speak for the council. You put forward a good case, so I hope they do because it doesn't sound like this New America will stop at Concord.”

  They didn't have long to wait; the council returned after a few minutes.

  “We have our answer. We have unanimously decided to send a fighting force of three hundred men to assist you in resisting this army. The rest of our forces will stay here in Portland to protect our territory. If God is willing, we will have victory over these barbarians and can then sit down in the spirit of cooperation with your cities.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Paul. “You won't regret it.”

  An hour later, Paul and Lockwood, we're on the way back home.

  “That went surprisingly well,” said Lockwood.

  “You mean apart from you getting shot?”

  The soldier laughed and then winced immediately.

  “Yeah, apart from that. That part sucked.”

  They were headed back to Concord with a commitment from the brotherhood to send three hundred troops. The would be depart that very evening.

  21

  Cyclops had started out life as a kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Chicago. He often wondered if he’d still be alive if China hadn’t attacked the US. He’d been fourteen when that shit went down, and already a big, man sized kid, who’d been drawn into gang life. The answer to that ‘what if’ question was, he’d almost certainly have been dead or in prison.

  Now, here he was, six or so years later, leading a troop of five hundred men into battle. He and his contingent had crossed the Merrimack well south of Manchester via Raymond Wieczorek Drive two hours before and were now holed up in the Manchester-Boston regional airport.

  The report given to Orton by Eshman had indicated that four of the bridges over the Merrimack in Manchester and within the northern and southern limits had been barricaded or destroyed. The only one left crossable was, according to their reports at the time, lightly guarded but it would also be an easy rallying point for the enemy.

  Orton had devised a plan to cross onto the eastern side further south and attack Manchester from the south and the east.

  “Station yourself in this airport,” Orton had said, pointing to the Manchester-Boston regional airport on the map. “Separate into two units and head out at dawn, attacking from the east and one from the south. Have three-hundred and fifty men attack from the south while you and a team head in from the east. Leave Khan in charge of the bigger force but have them hold off while you try and negotiate.

  “I want you to head to the tower. Eshman thinks it will be hard to defend and that they won’t be inclined to risk their women and children when faced with a decent sized armed force. Offer them terms but smash them if they resist. After Manchester is taken care of, I want you to head north to Concord and attack at will. We’ll be coming from the west.”

  Cyclops, who had captured William Orton all those years ago, still resented the fact that Orton had risen through the ranks to become general. He hid it well, though sometimes when on the end of a tongue lashing from the blonde general he wished he’d shot him in the face back then. Still, he did respect Orton… the way a burglar respects a dangerous Rottweiler.

  Perhaps his patience was to be rewarded though? As they were leaving the briefing, Orton had pulled him aside and made him an offer. A dangerous offer, but one with a big payday.

  Cyclops agreed to it, but he also knew that Orton had handed him power by just making the proposal to kill the president. He would play along for now, and when the time came, he would be the one to decide whether President Riley or General William Orton lived to see the triumphant end of the battle for Concord.

  ***

  Isaac and Ben beat Paul back to Concord to tell Colonel Randall about the commitment from the Marauders. Isaac was impressed by the cool but determined attitude of the Concord people. Their team for the ambush had already left, and when they arrived Randall was busy organizing his remaining forces into two contingents. One to seal off the bridge, the other a defensive failsafe should they not halt the progress of the New Americans.

  “Will you command from Concord?” asked Isaac.

  “No, Son. I'll be holding the line at the bridge. If your Marauders and the Brotherhood do show up, the Brotherhood will bolster the defense of Concord.”

  “And the Marauders?”

  “Well from what you’ve told me, the Marauders are the more ruthless fighters, and it sounds like they’re spoiling for a fight. I have a plan for them.”

  “Okay, well they should be here sometime tomorrow. I hope it’s soon enough.”

  “It’ll have to be,” said Randall. “My man Saracen will be in command of the forces here when the Brotherhood arrives.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to send anyone?”

  “No,” the older man said, shaking his head. “You’re in just as much danger as us, you look after your neck of the woods and keep them off our tails. While they might not have any military expertise on their side, I have the feeling Aidan Riley is no dummy and might split his forces. Our best advantage lies in attacking them before they get here. They won’t be expecting that.”

  Isaac and Ben said their goodbyes and left for Manchester.

  Paul and Lockwood arrived in Concord barely ten minutes after the other two had left. The Brotherhood were the ones that Randall had doubted would come to the party, and he was extremely happy when Lockwood reported they would be.

  “That’s fantastic news!” said Randall, clapping him on the back causing him to wince and double over. “Sorry Locky, what’s wrong?”

  “He got shot,” blurted Paul, feeling a little bit like a kid trying to talk with the adults at a barbecue. He cringed when Randall turned his intense gaze on him.

  “What?!”

  “It’s okay Colonel. I was wearing my vest. One of their boys got a little trigger happy and tried to ventilate me, but I’m okay.”

  “Show me,” said Randall.

  Paul edged behind Randall to have a look too.

  Lockwood turned around and lifted up his shirt. The mottled green and purple welts that marked the impact zones of the bullets had spread and merged at their perimeters, almost covering the soldiers back.

  “They gave me some painkillers, but I won’t be wrestling anyone for a few days.”

  “Right. I’ve got just the job for you. I have something planned for when these marauders, and I need someone with experience to pull it off. Come to see me off; I’ll give you my instructions while we walk.”

  The two men left his office, and Paul stood where he was unsure if he should follow. By the time he decided he should, he felt like it was too late to do so without looking like an idiot. That’s when the decision was taken out of his hands. The pretty dark-haired girl who had seen them into the office poked her head through the door and smiled at him.

  “Don’t you think you should go with them?”

  “Oh, sure,” said Paul, attempting to sound nonchalant as he headed past the smiling Becky with his face burning.

  He caught up with Lockwood and Randall as they headed out the main doors.

  “Ahh, Paul,” said Randall. “Locky was just telling me what a big help you were with the Brotherhood. Would I be able to convince you to stay and help him? You’d be his aide-de-camp until all this is settled.”

  “Yes! For sure, Sir. I’d love to.”

  “You sure the people back home won’t mind?”

  “Well, I think my sister would be fine with it, and I know she’ll be looked after by Isaac and the rest. So yes, I think it’ll be fine.”

  “Excellent. So, I was just telling Locky…”

  22

  Even though the wind whistled through the broke
n passenger side window of the Mustang the whole journey back from Ashland, it was only halfway back to Manchester from Concord that Isaac remembered it.

  “Oh, crap. Luke is going to kill me.”

  Ben laughed.

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that, but he is in for quite a nasty surprise.”

  When they rolled up to the tower ten minutes later, Luke was, of course, the first one down the steps to greet them. He cradled Erin in his good hand as he took the steps two at a time, holding her out in the superman position.

  “There’s Uncle Ben!” he said, and Ben rushed over cooing as he took his niece in his arms.

  “Whoa! What happened to you,” said Luke, the smile on his face fading when he saw the crusted blood on Ben’s shirt.

  His eyes widened when he looked at the car and saw the jagged glass around the window and realized it wasn’t just down. Isaac came around the front of the car.

  “Sorry, Luke.”

  “Dude,” his friend said, shaking his head ruefully. “You had one job!”

  Isaac looked at the ground.

  “I know.”

  “It’s fine man, I’m just messing with you,” Luke said, lightly punching him in the shoulder. “What the hell happened though? Ben looks like he went ten rounds with Edward Scissorhands.”

  Isaac and Ben explained everything after they’d gone inside and cleaned up. They also informed the council of the latest news from Concord.

  “So, it’s really happening?” said Indigo.

  “Afraid so,’ said Isaac. “The good news is we have an experienced military commander on our side and a fair sized contingent of soldiers here in Manchester.”

  “Do you think they’ll attack us?”

  “Well, it’s hard to say for sure, but I don’t think so. I think the colonel is giving them too much credit. I think they’re itching to roll right over Concord. If it was them the night Ben and Diana got shot at, I think they would have seen that we don’t pose much of a threat.”

  Luke wasn’t so sure, and he didn’t think Isaac believed it 100 percent either. His reasoning seemed to make everybody else feel better though, so he kept his mouth shut.

  Their core group spent a peaceful few hours eating and talking together before everyone went to bed.

  ***

  Bowman and half his men made a clearing and set up camp about 50 yards into the forest. The other half were sent to work on the edge of the forest digging light trenches and building hidey holes. The trees wouldn’t offer much cover once the shooting began, but it would definitely keep them out of sight until they chose to start the party.

  It was hard work once the sun had gone down, but after a few hours, they had achieved what they had wanted. Three hours earlier they had left the smaller team behind to begin building the combustible barricade. Everything was in place; it was now just a matter of timing their retreat right. He would need to engage the enemy enough to stop them in their tracks and thin them out before he and his team made a hurried retreat along the forest edge and back to the barricade.

  It sounded easy enough, but Bowman knew there was a very good chance that he and a lot of his men could die when the New American army finally rolled through.

  His last task before bedding down was to send his fastest man, a skinny kid called Lachlan, on foot to wait on the western edge of the forest. He was to run back as soon as the enemy army was sighted. If the New American’s were travelling as slowly as they had been when he’d spied them two days before, the men would have plenty of time to get back and raise the warning.

  A three-man team took the first watch and he bedded down for the night in a flattened area of grass under a pine tree. That night, for the first time in a long time, Daniel Bowman dreamed of his parents.

  ***

  Isaac’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark. He needed to whiz but knew if he got up to relieve himself he wouldn’t get back to sleep. In the end, his restlessness was disturbing Indigo, so he got up anyway. After visiting the bathroom, he felt wide awake and decided he’d go up to the roof and get some fresh air.

  He snuck out of the room as quietly as he could and headed up the stairs. When he stepped out onto the roof, he took a surprised step backwards. Someone else was up there leaning over the rail and looking to the west. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized the familiar figure.

  “Luke! You scared the hell out of me.”

  His friend turned from the rail as he walked over.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Worried about what’s coming?”

  Luke thought for a second, then nodded.

  “Yeah. From what Bowman was saying, this army makes the Marauders and the Brotherhood together look like a boy scout troop.”

  “Guess it doesn’t help that Becky is still in Concord too?”

  His friend turned away and grasped the rail again.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Isaac nodded.

  “You should go get her tomorrow. Between me, Ben and Indigo I’m sure we can look after Erin.”

  “Nah, she won’t come. The sense of duty and all.”

  Isaac put his hand on Luke’s shoulder.

  “Then you go to her.”

  “Maybe. Just to make sure they’re all prepared. Then I’ll come back.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  They talked about the possible outcome of the confrontation west of Concord for a little longer, and then Luke said goodnight and went back downstairs. Isaac stayed a while, looking up at the stars like he used to before his parents died. It seemed so long ago now that it was almost like someone else’s life.

  He wondered what they’d think of the man he’d become. He remembered them being genuine and pragmatic people and decided they’d probably be quite proud of him. He went back downstairs feeling a little sad, but also at peace. He fell asleep quickly.

  23

  After breakfast, Isaac and Jamal walked Luke out to the Mustang. Jamal had a screwdriver and brush to take the trim off the door and clear away the broken glass.

  “I think I can replace the glass in your door,” said Jamal. “We just need to find a similar age Mustang somewhere. It would be good to have one for parts anyway, but we can start with the glass.”

  “If you can manage to do that,” Luke said. “I’ll have to give you 50 percent ownership.”

  Jamal laughed.

  “No need to go that far, I’d be satisfied with taking it for a spin once a month…”

  From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Jamal jerk violently backwards. He was still smiling as he turned, wondering what his friend was doing. The crack of a rifle reached his ear a millisecond later. That was when his brain caught up with the data his senses were relaying too it.

  Jamal lay unmoving and staring into the sky. There was a hole in his chest, and an obscene red spatter painting the concrete around him. A terrible red snow angel.

  Luke fell to his knees trying to scream. Nothing came out but a gasp. Suddenly hands were on him, and Isaac was pulling him up by the shoulders of his jacket, dragging him towards the cover of the car.

  Sobs wracked Luke’s chest as they fell to their knees.

  “Jamal!”

  He tried to get back up.

  Isaac pulled him back down. Luke shook him off and tried again.

  “We have to… we have to help him…”

  Isaac knew his friend was in shock and pulled him into a bear hug. The shooter was still out there.

  “There’s nothing we can do for him Luke,” he said quietly and urgently, gripping him as tight as possible.

  His eyes caught movement over Luke’s shoulder, and he spotted people inside the tower coming to the plate glass windows. Isaac waved frantically, shooing them away from the window. He heard muffled shouts and screams as they realized the danger they were in. That didn’t matter. What did matter, was that someone in there took charge and appeared to be ushering them back from danger. Not ten seconds l
ater, the general alarm started to sound.

  “I was just talking to him…” said Luke. “We were… he was…”

  “I know buddy. Luke, I need you to focus. The shooter is still out there.”

  Luke nodded sniffling and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and pulled away from Isaac’s embrace.

  “What direction was it from?” he said, putting his head up a little to look through the broken window of the Mustang. Three hundred yards to the left he could see the sentries at the gate were nowhere to be seen.

  “From the east, from across Elm Street.”

  Jamal had been hit directly in the chest and thrown backwards. It had come from the buildings directly east of them.

  “How the hell are we going to get out of this,” said Luke, unable to prevent himself looking back at Jamal’s body.

  Isaac warily rose to his knees next to Luke and looked across Elm street through the glass on the driver’s side. Luke’s hand grabbed his wrist.

  “Movement!”

  Luke was right. At first, he didn’t see, but then from the shadows between buildings, he saw soldiers in black began to emerge into the daylight. Lots of them. They gathered slowly on the sidewalk on the other side of Elm street, quiet and well organized. One stepped forward. A big guy with a shaved head and an eye patch.

  He put a bullhorn to his mouth.

  “We’re here in the name of New America!” he said, and a cheer went up from the soldiers around him. “We claim the old city of Manchester and demand that you surrender to us.”

  While he spoke Isaac and Luke looked at each other. Luke looked angry enough to go and take them on himself, in fact as the bald man finished his spiel Luke began to stand up.

  Isaac grabbed his arm.

  “Cool down; it won’t help anyone if you get your head blown off.”

  “If you surrender,” continued the New American. “You will be welcomed as citizens of New America!”

  “Where are Randall’s men?” Luke said, frustrated.

  “I don’t know, but we’re here, and they’re not. Let me do the talking, and I’ll try to buy us some time.”