‘Like your thinking, boss,’ Smithy shouted and climbed back up through the back roof turret.
Gibbs followed and stood below the front roof turret. Reaching up, he pulled the standing platform away from its position against the sidewall. It folded out into a footrest and metal seat, with a small flat tray on the side for an ammunition box. Placing the box of grenades on it, he pulled himself up, reaching for the bolt of the closed turret. Flicking it across, he pushed his way through, taking a seat as the metal door banged on the roof of the truck.
‘Here they come,’ Smithy said.
‘Let me have a crack at the vans with grenades,’ Gibbs said, lining up the M320 launcher. ‘We need to save the GAU19 ammo. You focus on the main windscreens of the first truck.’
The two vans were approaching at top speed and side by side. Behind them, in the dust, was the Roadster battle truck. A man peered out of the roof turret, goggles and mask covering his face, fighting the wind as he tried to line them up with a machine gun. Gibbs smiled as he slowly squeezed the trigger. The plopping sound from the grenade launcher rallied against the wind. He waited. The front of the truck lit up in a fireball, then it dipped slightly before veering to the right. The cab of the truck was blown open with the remains of the driver flung through the side window. The shooter on the roof had no head anymore and bobbed from right to left as the truck went into a tail slap then veered right again into the desert. It hit a gully and rolled over, throwing sand and truck into the air.
Gibbs opened the side loading barrel and reloaded another grenade.
‘Is your aim off, or am I now supposed to target the vans instead of the trucks?’
‘Shut up and just kill something, will you,’ Gibbs shouted, looking down to the left and seeing Fingers standing outside of their van, shooting while leaning across the van bonnet like a pool player.
The truck started to jerk as Smithy opened up on the first van which had taken the lead. The 50BMG cartridges ripped into the metalwork causing the driver to brake and veer off to the left, through dead scrub and bushes, and onto the desert sand beyond the tarred road. Smithy swung the GAU19 around on the movable ring inside the turret. Sand flicked up in a line as he ranged in on the turning vehicle. The pinging of metal rang out as bullets strafed the back covered section of the van. Turning left again, the van disappeared into its dust cloud, reappearing as it drove away, the back doors open as a masked gang member stood in the open doorway, yellow muzzle-flashes from the M4 he was holding. This gave Smithy a target, and he filled the back of the van with bullets, watching it slow to a roll.
‘The other van is turning back. Focus on the second truck,’ Gibbs said, trying to shout over the firing coming from Fingers below.
Gibbs focused on the retreating van and fired the grenade. The van launched up to its left as the grenade exploded on its right-hand side. Landing with a bump, it swerved back to the road, and towards the second truck that was being slammed by the GAU19. Turning left, the van steered away from the truck and disappeared into the dust. Smithy whooped with delight as the front windscreen shattered on the truck, and the driver and passenger were pinned back into their seats before falling forward onto the dashboard. The truck slowed and rolled forward, bumping into the burnt-out remains of the old truck.
‘Watch for stragglers,’ Gibbs said.
Fingers was already stalking forward, M4 raised as he scoured for survivors. Blondie joined him, and Gibbs looked across to the back of the targeted truck. Driving off into the desert towards a shell of an old farmstead was the last van.
Smithy turned in his seat. ‘We going after those bastards?’
‘No. Let’s get back to the enclave and see if we can draw old Rebus away.’
‘Fair enough. I need to reload anyway,’ Smithy said, ducking down through the turret.
Turning the truck around on the three lanes of the old motorway was not a quick job, as the tyres were covered with special armoured plates. Eventually, Gibbs weaved past the old burnt-out truck with its new companion, still in flames. He pulled up behind their van, which had stopped just past the gang members’ truck.
‘Survivors are running back along the road, boss,’ Fingers said over the radio.
‘Are they gang members?’
‘Two men wearing 38s colours, with cloth masks and goggles. And there’s a blonde woman with them.’
Gibbs slapped the steering wheel. More distractions. He steered through the dust and pulled up to where Fingers’ van was parked. He was already outside the vehicle with a long sniper’s rifle, leaning against the van.
Gibbs picked up the radio handset again. ‘Kill one of the bastards. Wound the other. I want to talk to him. Don’t kill the woman, obviously.’
Fingers gave him a thumbs up and went down behind the long-barreled rifle. The first shot rang out. The lead gang member dropped where he stood, and the second veered left and right. Five metres further on he twisted as a round hit him in the hip, and he collapsed onto a group of dead shrubs. The girl dropped to one knee and kept her head lowered.
‘Take Blondie and bring them back to the truck,’ Gibbs said. ‘We’ll cover you from here.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Fingers said, as he jogged away from the van.
Gibbs stepped through to the back of the truck and walked to a supply cupboard. Grabbing a bottle of water, he swallowed half of it.
‘Gibbs, you’d better get out there,’ Smithy said.
‘What is it?’
‘More bloody stragglers for you.’
‘What?’ Gibbs said and went to the door. As he opened it, he saw a blonde teenager, carrying a baby. Behind her stood Fingers, who pushed her forward.
‘Come on in then,’ Gibbs said, stepping aside. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Casey,’ she said as she stepped up into the cooler truck interior. The baby had black hair and was staring up at her, chewing on its hand. No more than a few weeks old.
‘Let me guess. You were given to one of the gang members,’ Gibbs said. She nodded.
‘And he’s the father?’ Smithy said to the girl, who swung around to face him, blinking away the tears as her bottom lip trembled. ‘It’s okay, honey. You are safe with us. We will take you to the closest enclave, and they will take care of you both.’
‘Now take a seat over there and have a sip of water,’ Gibbs said, handing her the metal bottle. She smiled and gulped it down.
‘We are going to have a chat with one of those men. So you wait here,’ Gibbs said. ‘And don’t look out of the windows.’
‘Okay,’ she replied.
Gibbs jumped out of the truck and walked around the back to the van. Fingers had dragged the gang member from the desert and seated him against the left front wheel. He was holding a handful of the man’s hair and whispering something to him.
‘Has he said anything, Fingers?’ Gibbs said.
‘Nothing of importance. Moaning about keeping his girlfriend and baby safe.’
‘And because we’re gentlemen, we’ll do that, of course. We’re nothing like the scum he is,’ Gibbs said, squatting down in front of the man. ‘Actually, Fingers. Would you mind giving this man a haircut, please? Not so close that you draw blood as you usually do.’
Fingers slipped his knife out from the leather sheath on his belt and yanked the man’s head back.
‘Not the dreads, man. It took me years to grow them,’ the gang member said, looking at Gibbs.
‘Too late for that now. We have your little family. Soon I’ll have your leather jacket with all your colours to use as toilet paper, and Fingers will have your hair.’
‘Please don’t. What do you want?’
‘Why is Rebus attacking the enclave back there?’
‘I don’t know.’
Gibbs nodded to Fingers, who slid the sharp blade from the forehead backwards, slicing through the greasy dreadlocks. Throwing down the handful of hair into the dust before the man, Fingers grabbed a handful from the side.
‘Stop it, you idiot.’
‘Tell me what Rebus is up to, and I’ll let you keep your dirty old jacket,’ Gibbs said.
‘All I know is that he’s after the Hooded Man. He wants him dead. Although we are not allowed to kill him ourselves.’
‘Do you even know what this Hooded Man looks like?’ Gibbs asked.
‘Of course I do. We all do. It’s why we’re scouting for him.’
Gibbs looked up at Smithy, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘So why are you targeting the enclave?’
‘I don’t know.’
Gibbs took his hunting knife out and bounced it on his open palm. ‘How is that bullet wound feeling?’
‘Burns like hell.’
Gibbs leaned across and placed the tip of the blade on the man’s bleeding hip. He pressed forward as the knife went into the wound. The gang member screamed.
‘This is only going to get worse unless you talk to me. Fingers here is itching to get at you with that sharp stick of his. So why are you targeting the enclave?
‘Because that’s where the Hooded Man is. He’s helping the scum who live in the enclave like he always does,’ the man said, as Fingers grabbed another handful of hair. ‘We also need more prisoners to trade with other gangs. That is all they have told me. I swear.’
‘He failed to get into the last enclave. Why does he think that he can get into Constance?’
‘He struck a deal with those Bison bastards. They gave him more heavy artillery. Shoulder mounted rockets and an M777 cannon.’
‘Thanks for that,’ Gibbs said, taking a step back. ‘Fingers. I have no more use for this man.’
There was a stifled scream then silence as his throat was pierced by the blade. ‘Cut up that jacket and leave it on his body as a message. We have to get back to the others. The game has just changed.’
Chapter 29
Constance, Tennessee, USA – 2043
The sharp ammonia and chlorine irritation to the nostrils took some getting used to. Gibbs wrinkled his nose as he walked towards the gaping hole that once held two metal gates. Seven inches thick, and twelve feet high, the protectors of the enclave of Constance were no longer there. Bent metal hinges hung flaccidly in the gate frame. It took a lot of explosive power to obliterate these defences.
‘Jesus, there was nothing we could have done here,’ Smithy said, rubbing his nose. The smell of explosive material filled the central square they had just walked into. Gibbs spun around, staring across the perimeter wall, then up to the towers that stood overlooking the gate. Looking back, he saw where the school and admin offices were based. All silent and riddled with holes. Black burnt patches dotted around the inner walls of the square. ‘How were we to know they had this level of weaponry?’
‘I know,’ Gibbs said. ‘We’d all have been here stood up on that wall.’
‘Kissing our arses goodbye.’
The deathly silence of the aftermath of war still affected Gibbs. There was nothing like it. He caught sight of twisted shapes he dreaded, lying across the entrance of Big Sal’s office. ‘Loads of burnt bodies. They don’t look like the effects of an explosive round.’
Smithy walked to two bodies, pressing the back of his hand to his nose. ‘All male by the look of it. Think they were part of Big Sal’s team?’
‘Look how the black carbon marks balloon in an outwards direction. It’s even singed the road and bushes behind them.’
‘A flamethrower? Surely not. Do they even still exist nowadays?’
‘Who knows with Rebus. There were plenty of old army surplus facilities about. Maybe he got his hands on one.’
‘But the fuel propellant would be impossible to source,’ Smithy said. ‘Only he’d be sick enough to use it anyway.’
‘There are more bodies on the other side over there. See the burnt wall of the building behind.’
‘The fucker blew the gate and torched the few who engaged,’ Smithy said, turning back to face the gate. ‘Not a soul on the wall. I can only see one body up there.’
‘This enclave should have held out for weeks. It takes a lot of effort to haul that cannon about. This wasn’t a chance event upon hearing that we were here. This was planned,’ Gibbs said.
‘That 38 did say that they needed more prisoners to trade.’
Gibbs’s stomach churned. What about Stuart?
Fingers and Blondie had walked to the right of the square and entered a building. ‘The canteen is empty. Nobody here,’ Fingers said from one of the balconies overlooking the square.
‘Bodies?’
‘None that we can recognise.’
A faint voice called out.
‘Ssh…’ Gibbs said.
‘Hello,’ the voice called again.
Gibbs ran into the building and turned left into the large communal canteen. Abandoned food and drinks littered the tables nearest the door. In one corner, a large explosion had occurred, displacing the metal tables and flipping chairs across the room. Pictures had been blown from the walls, and a part of the serving hatch of the kitchen was now a gaping hole. Near that, a large black burn mark radiated outwards from a central point in the corner. Gibbs flinched as he saw body parts, strewn around the outer perimeter of the blast. Death filled the air.
The voice again.
‘Upstairs,’ Smithy said, exiting the canteen and taking the steps two at a time.
‘In here, gents,’ Fingers said from the third floor. Gibbs’s heart raced as he climbed upwards.
Entering the room, they found Martin tied to a metal-framed hospital cot, covered in only a thin blanket. The bed had been shoved to the side, below an open window frame. Three metal cabinets had been pulled from the wall and lay in a heap in the centre of the enclave clinic.
‘Martin, are you okay? Where the hell is everyone?’ Gibbs said, taking his knife out to cut the arm and leg restraints.
‘They took them all. Even the wounded,’ he said, his voice hoarse with thirst.
Fingers pulled a small bottle from his webbing and let the man sip on it. ‘Why did they leave you alive?’
‘To give the Hooded Man a message,’ Martin said.
‘What’s the message?’ Gibbs said.
‘Rebus said he now has the weaponry to destroy any enclave. A coalition with another gang means more men and weapons are on their way,’ Martin said, taking another sip. ‘He says that you cannot hide anymore. He is going to destroy you for killing someone called Luka. He begs you to keep hiding in enclaves and guarded cities because he needs the slaves, and you will keep providing them for him.’
Gibbs walked towards the open window and looked out at the black burnt areas covering the cream colour of the paving in the square below. Toby hopped his way in through the gate and over to the corpses. Sniffing at them, he walked to a small bench and lay underneath it. Gibbs clenched his teeth. His plan had failed because all he wanted to do was leave these poor people behind in safety. Now more people were dying. Rebus had teamed up with another gang and was baiting him. Smart move. He’d underestimated the madman.
‘Stuart and Karen? Are they okay?’ Gibbs asked, facing the bed as he sat on the window frame.
‘Stuart tackled a few of the gang members and was beaten down. He’s okay, I think. Sal picked him up, and they were shepherded out with the rest of the enclave folks. Karen was up here with me when they came,’ Martin said.
He shifted his position with a grimace and drank more water. ‘Karen was here when the tall black woman came with a few gang members. White paint on her face and black tattoos all over her body. Scary looking woman with dreadlocks and feathers stuffed in her hair.
‘Karen attacked with a knife, and there was a struggle. She took a few blows from the staff of the tall woman. Then one of the 38s jumped her from behind, arms around her. She stabbed him in the dick, and he let go, but she another gang member laid her out with the butt of a rifle. They dragged her down the stairs.’
Gibbs closed his eyes. His jaw clenched tight.
�
��Sure she’ll be okay, boss,’ Fingers said. ‘What happened to Grace and Warren?’
‘Grace ran off as soon as the first shell hit. Warren limped after her but couldn’t get down the stairs,’ Martin said.
‘Is he alive?’ Gibbs said. Martin stared at Gibbs, shaking his head.
‘Fucksakes,‘ Smithy said, punching the wall.
‘Warren was a true hero. He stayed here to look after Karen and me. When they came, it took six of them to subdue him and drag him out. Then the explosion shook the building,’ Martin said. ‘The fuckers never searched him. Got what they deserved.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gibbs said.
‘He had a few grenades on him, and the idiots didn’t search him. I heard the blast from here.’
Gibbs swallowed hard at the thought of one of his oldest friends sacrificing himself. He looked across at Smithy who was staring at the ground, tears in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Martin.’
‘Brave man, that Warren,’ Martin said.
‘You said it,’ Smithy said.
‘I have a favour to ask, Martin. We have picked up a young woman and her child. There is no place for them where I am going now.’
‘I wish I could help, Gibbs,’ Martin said, pulling back the dirty blanket that covered his body. Blood had stained his brown shirt and pants. A lot of blood. ‘One of the gang members, a slimy little fucker, stabbed me in the gut with a thin blade. I might have a day or two.’
Gibbs walked over, looking at the bloody mess. The old man was a doctor, so he would know that the internal bleeding was too far gone. ‘Is there anything that we can do to help?’
‘Carry me down to the square and seat me on that old bench under the big tree. That will be a good place to die.’
Gibbs nodded to Fingers and Blondie.
Anhur Page 19