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

by Medbury, Scott

  26

  All too rarely in battle, some plans work to perfection - almost as if the guy upstairs scripted it that way. For Isaac and his people, this was one of those occasions. The M134 began spitting 2,000 rounds per minute into the enemy soldiers across the plaza. The stream of death began in the middle of the line of men, and he swept the weapon left, mowing down every man he could see.

  The leader threw his bull horn away and ducked behind a light pole as his men fell like ragged dominoes. Isaac hammered the power pole for a few seconds, his fire sending sparks flying off the wrought iron and spitting red dust from the bricks on the wall behind.

  Somehow the man remained standing and unscathed. Isaac swept the rotary machine gun back to the right scything down the men who hadn’t fled for cover and were now shooting back. Their return fire pinged into the concrete around the windows, and one struck the ceiling over his head, dusting him with plaster.

  With the help of the others, Isaac managed to take down at least a hundred men. When his gun finally chewed through the 4000 rounds of ammo they’d loaded it with, the road and sidewalk were littered with broken bodies. Isaac’s hands were numb from the vibrations of the gun. The leader had disappeared.

  Isaac released the weapon and sat back on his legs. He felt a little sick at what he’d just done but was glad that it was he who had to bear the burden, not one of the others. Luke walked across to Isaac and held out his hand, pulling his friend to his feet.

  “Good shooting,” he said, his face serious. “Come on we need to mop up.”

  Isaac nodded.

  “Oh well, I didn’t get to fire the rocket launcher,” said Ben, as they turned from the windows. “Perhaps I should…”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. The crack of a distant rifle sounded again. One of the volunteers, a 20-year-old called Geoffrey Kolinski took a bullet in the back, the high caliber round blowing out his sternum and throwing him to the cold floor like a rag doll.

  Everyone fell to the floor, except Ben, who looked down at Kolinski in horror.

  “Ben,” yelled Isaac. “Get down!”

  Diana reached up and grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, pulling him to the floor. Isaac cursed himself for forgetting the danger of a long-range shot.

  “I saw him! He’s in the window of that tall gray building,” said Diana.

  “What window!” asked Ben, getting to his knees and hefting the rocket launcher. His face was pale but angry.

  “It was two down and three from the right.”

  “Right. Isaac, in a minute I’m going to need someone to distract the shooter, so I can blow his ass out.”

  Normally Ben trying to talk like a badass and messing it up so royally would have had Luke and Isaac in gales of laughter, but the situation was too serious. Just feet away, one of their own was dead, and the killer still had them in his or her sights.

  “Okay,” said Isaac. “Go right to the far corner of the building and take your shot from that window. We’ll distract them. Keep your head down.”

  Like a hero in a movie, Ben leaned over and kissed Diana on the top of the head and then scurried to the south eastern corner of the building. When he was in place, he turned and gave the thumbs up from underneath the window.

  Luke looked at Isaac.

  “How about I stand up in front of this window, then duck back down. Then you take a turn in front of yours. It should keep them interested while Ben does his thing.”

  “Okay, don’t stay up too long. I’ll go first. Count of three. One, two, three!”

  Isaac hoped they weren’t risking their lives for nothing. He knew Ben had been given training by the team Randall had placed in Manchester, but it would still have to be a lucky shot.

  Luke took a deep breath and got to his feet. He pretended he was looking for the sniper then quickly moved to the side and nodded to Isaac.

  Isaac stood almost as soon as Luke was out of danger. He saw Ben was leaning against the sill with the launcher against his shoulder. He counted to three and stepped back from the window just as another round cut the air near his ear and struck the wall behind them on the western side.

  WHUMP!

  Ben fired. A split second later there was an explosion. They all watched Ben for a reaction. He was still in place at the window, the smoking weapon at his shoulder. After a second he slowly turned his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

  “I think I got them.”

  Luke and Isaac risked a peek. On the other side of the square, a smoking black hole in the brickwork had swallowed the windows on either side. One of them happened to be the third window, two down from the top.

  “Nice work!” said Luke.

  Diana sprang to her feet and joined them at the window they were looking from.

  “Yep, you got ‘em Dead Eye Dick,” she said to Ben as he approached.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Diana laughed, took him in a warm embrace and kissed him on the lips.

  “It’s just what my grandpa used to call a good shot.”

  They could still hear gunfire south of the tower which meant Randall’s men were still fighting.

  “Come on,” said Isaac. “We’re going to need everyone who can carry a gun.”

  A short time later Luke and Isaac led around a hundred of their citizens out of the building. Half had guns, the rest anything they could find in the poorly stocked armory, swords, axes, baseball bats, even a slingshot or two. The remains of the New American force that had been sent to secure their surrender had fled.

  Isaac gathered his people around.

  “I don’t know how many there are, or how well armed. We have the element of surprise on our side, but we need to come up on them quietly. Follow our lead.”

  Isaac and Luke led them down their side of Elm Street a hundred yards to avoid the dead New Americans before crossing to the other side and making their way quickly south towards the sounds of battle.

  ***

  Cyclops, once a boy named DeShawn Darnell Jordan, fell heavily to the ground. He had broken into a building a half mile down the road from where his men had just been massacred.

  He was bleeding out.

  From Isaac’s vantage point it had looked like none of the bullets had struck their target, but in fact, one had. High in the left arm, just below the shoulder. The wound was a ragged, bloody mess. DeShawn had tried to stem the blood from his nicked axillary artery but had barely managed to slow it, and now, as he leaned his head back against a steel filing cabinet in an abandoned store’s office, he felt a deep heaviness in his limbs and knew his time was up.

  So much for deciding who would lead New America.

  In the seconds before he died, he remembered his mammy on her death bed.

  God has a special plan for all of us. We must be thankful for the part we play and head off stage quietly when our part is over.

  When his remaining eye glazed over a few minutes later, DeShawn’s face was peaceful.

  27

  Bowman and the remains of his team ran through the forest, thirty yards deep but parallel to the Franklin Pierce highway. He tried to count his men, but it was difficult, his best guess was fifteen. That meant he had lost half. There had been more when they began their retreat, but the enemy had done the unexpected, pursuing them on foot and shooting at their backs long enough for Bowman to fear that none of them would make it. Luckily, they were finally called off.

  Approximately 20 minutes after they began their retreat they reached the road block that was to be set on fire. The men that Randall had stationed their emerged from the brush on either side of the road with their guns at the ready.

  Bowman ran straight to the commander, bending over double as he tried to get his breath back.

  “We slowed them down some, but they still have one tank.”

  “Shit!”

  “I know. Don’t waste any time. Let’s move to the Concord side and light this baby up.”

  Bowman and the rest climbed the ba
rrier. It had already been doused in gasoline and stood around eight feet tall, stacked with tires, assorted rubbish, trees, branches and heavy timber beams scavenged from houses in the immediate area. It spanned the entire highway, then snaked into the brush on both sides.

  “Do you want to do the honors?” asked Sashi Patel, holding up a match.

  “No way!” he told the leader of the small team. “You built it, man; you get to have the fun.”

  Patel grinned.

  “Okay, sweet.”

  It only took one match. Within seconds the barrier was a raging wall of flames. The fire quickly spread into the trees. They didn’t hang around to watch any longer, the heat was intense, and they had their orders to get to the bridge as soon as it was alight.

  ***

  “Well, if that’s the best they can throw at us, this will be easier than I thought,” said President Riley after they gave up the chase and returned to the scene of the ambush. “How many did we lose?”

  Orton had been supervising men to drag the dead bodies off to the side of the road. He thought Riley was casual for the benefit of the men. He had seen the shock on his face when the attack had begun and knew he couldn’t be happy about the losses they’d sustained. More in a few minutes of fighting than in all the smaller conquests as they swept across New York State over a period of three years.

  “Including the men in the tanks, forty-four dead. Two tanks out of commission and ten horses killed.”

  “A shame to lose the tanks, but we still have one. They have none. Hurry the men up; I want to move out…”

  A shout from one of the men interrupted him. He looked across to the group doing the last of the clean up and saw them pointing to the east. A dark column of smoke was rising into the clear blue sky. Even in the few seconds he watched, it grew rapidly.

  “What are they up to?” said Orton.

  “We’ll soon find out,” said Riley. “Come on! We’re moving out!”

  Within ten minutes they were on the move again, the lone tank leading. This time they left the Mercedes behind. Riley decided it made them too an easy target. He had already swapped his suit for the black uniform of a dead soldier. The kid had been shot through the eye, and there was only a little blood on the collar. He and Orton went on foot with the other men while the remaining horses brought up the rear.

  As they marched along the Franklin Pierce Highway, the smoke in the distance thickened and spread until it was covering half the eastern horizon.

  “I think they set a brushfire.”

  “That they did William,” said Riley, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Clever. But the thing about fires is, they go out.”

  ***

  Within two hours of igniting the barrier, Bowman led the remains of his team and Patel’s across the Contoocook and joined Colonel Randall and his small army. The colonel led him into the command tent.

  “What’s the sitrep?” Randall asked, as his lieutenant enjoyed a well-earned bottle of water.

  Bowman gave him a rundown of the ambush and their escape.

  “Dammit. I was hoping we’d have no tanks to worry about. That changes things a little. But at least you gave them a bloody nose. Did you salvage the RPG’s?”

  “We have two. Our third man was shot in the head and we left it when we retreated.”

  Randall nodded.

  “We’ll need to make use of them again. Make sure they are front and center when that convoy arrives. Come on, let’s go and give these troops a pep-talk.”

  28

  The Concord contingent had managed to fight off the surprise attack of the New Americans and turn their battle into one of attrition, killing two new American’s for every Concord man they managed to take down.

  They were ensconced on the bridge, managing to get behind the barriers that were supposed to protect them from an attack coming from the other direction, and pinning the invaders down in the valley between buildings that led up to the bridge. Still, they were outnumbered, and their leader, Lipman, knew before long they would be defeated, even as the casualties on the other side mounted.

  The hundred from the Tower hit the rear of the New American forces hard and had an immediate impact on the battle. The invaders turned and began to fight as the Concord contingent laid down suppressing fire at their backs.

  Luke and Isaac and the others with firearms speared the charge, shooting as they went. Luke, screamed his battle cry, shooting and swinging his vicious hook as he went. He was indiscriminate, shooting and gashing anyone within sight or range. Isaac followed, carefully taking down anyone that looked like a threat to his friend.

  Ben and Diana were alongside them as well, watching out for each other and adding to the tally of New American casualties. The enemy rallied as the second wave of Manchester people began their close quarter's attack with hand held weapons. In the thick of the battle, Isaac saw his people being shot down.

  Their charge had the desired effect though. The enemy was in disarray, sandwiched between two smaller forces. The well-trained Concord soldiers took advantage of the situation and jumped the barriers, charging from their position to hit the New Americans with close range fire.

  Isaac and the rest of his gun wielders renewed their efforts when they saw the New Americans falling, and he dared to hope they might eke out a victory. That lost any importance for him when he realized Luke was gone though. He shot a man in the face and strained to see over the heaving bodies.

  He finally spotted Luke. He could only see his head and his bloody hook rising and falling as he took turns shooting and slicing the enemy. Isaac let off a burst of rounds at the men in front of him and rushed over the fallen bodies to help his friend.

  A man came at him swinging his empty rifle at Isaac’s head like a club. He ducked and put the barrel of his gun against the man’s stomach and squeezed the trigger. When he rose, Luke had disappeared again.

  “We surrender!” a voice called, and suddenly the black clad men around them began laying down their arms. Isaac ordered them to drop to their knees with their hands on their heads. He found Luke bent over a man, his chest heaving with recent exertion.

  It was the leader of the New Americans. He’d been shot through the chest. Luke had a bruised cheek and bloody lip. The dead guy looked worse, his demise at the hands of Luke the obvious reason for the quick capitulation of his troops.

  After the dust had settled, there were seventy-nine surviving New Americans. The Concord contingent had lost thirty-one men, and another five were suffering bullet wounds. Of the one hundred that Luke and Isaac led into battle, twenty-two had been killed.

  There were no celebrations. The Concord soldiers collected the enemy’s weapons and secured the prisoners in their base while Isaac and his team tended to their dead. As they worked at their gloomy task, they quietly discussed the next steps. It was clear that the key to their survival was the outcome of the battle for Concord. They had been lucky so far, but there was no way they could fight off another attack.

  Diana and Ben pulled, Isaac, Luke and the commander of the Concord contingent aside.

  “You should take our remaining people and head to Concord with the soldiers,” she said to Isaac. “They’re going to need every person at their disposal, and together with these guys you can bring at least sixty, all armed now that we have the New American’s weapons.”

  “I was thinking the same,” said Luke.

  The commander nodded his support.

  “I can stay and oversee clearing up the bodies and treatment for the wounded with the rest. Ben, you should go too.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she said, taking him by the hand. “Go, if we don’t win Concord, we’re as good as dead.”

  An hour later their combined group of sixty-two, all armed with guns, headed towards Concord by road in the Mustang, three pickup trucks, a Jeep and two Hummers.

  ***

  When the New American army led by its sole tank rolled up to the first roadbloc
k, the air was thick with smoke. Most of the fuel had been exhausted except for tires and larger beams of timber. What remained would smolder for days. The woods to either side were blackened and smoking, but the fire had moved on leaving a swathe of charred devastation.

  With a kerchief tied around his face, Riley inspected the burnt barrier.

  “What are your orders, sir?” asked Orton.

  Riley didn’t waste breath answering him. Instead, he turned to the tank and gestured at the barrier.

  “Barge your way through that!” he yelled.

  Orton spoke into his walkie talkie, and the tank lurched forward as he and Riley stepped off the road. The tank crunched and pushed its way through the smoking rubble. The items that it didn’t move from its path were crushed and compacted onto the road. Within seconds his men had a way through. It would have been much more difficult to traverse or go around if they’d lost the last tank.

  “Tell them to pick up the pace,” said Riley. “I want this over with.”

  ***

  “Here they come,” said Bowman, an hour later.

  He stood with Randall in the back of a pickup a hundred yards back from the final roadblock. He handed the Colonel his binoculars. The older man was bitterly disappointed they hadn’t managed to buy more time. Now they had to hold out for as long as they could to give Lockwood time to implement his plan.

  The tank moved steadily along the highway leading the cavalry and infantry. There was no sign of the limo Bowman had mentioned.

  “Get the men with the RPG’s ready.”

  The enemy wasn’t to be surprised this time though. Barely two minutes after the tank was sighted, it came to a shuddering halt, still a mile and a half out. As they watched curiously, its turret turned to face the bridge.

  “Christ,” Randall muttered. He hadn’t given the New Americans enough credit- they were obviously aware of their gun’s range and were going to use it to their advantage. His rocket launchers were as useless as water pistols at that range.