The warehouse roof exploded in fireballs as the first volley of mortars detonated, sending chunks of steel into the sky. Another series of whumps from behind him followed, with a second series of blasts ensuing moments later – and then the grenade launchers came into play, and the area that had been the front entrance of the long building disappeared in a shower of rubble.
The percussive bark of a heavy machine gun began from the second floor of the tenement as the gunners strafed the warehouse façade, and the armor-piercing rounds peppered the walls with awe-inspiring destructive power. Divots of cinderblock bounced off the sidewalk from where the bullets were cutting through the structure. The gunner adjusted his aim and sent several hundred rounds through a high row of windows, now dark gaps through which, because of the firing angle, they would ricochet inside the warehouse.
Bullets snapped past Lucas’s head, and he yelled to his snipers, “Someone’s got a fix on us. See if you can pin them down.”
The shooters obliged, and after several long seconds of incoming assault-rifle fire that killed two of Lucas’s snipers, the enemy gunmen were neutralized by a barrage of gunfire.
“Crap,” Sam said, surveying the dead men, their blood already coagulating on the tar paper.
“I’m going below. Hold your fire until I get back.”
Lucas ran to the roof entrance, down the stairs, and into the room where Terry was methodically stitching the warehouse. He yelled over the deafening roar, but Terry didn’t hear him and jumped in surprise when Lucas reached him and tapped his shoulder to signal for him to stop.
Lucas’s ears were ringing like church bells when the room fell silent. Motes of dust floated lazily in a narrow sunbeam that filtered through what had once been the window, and he shook his head to clear it before speaking.
“Hold until I get back, understand? Don’t shoot any more unless I give the word.”
Terry and his partner nodded, and Lucas returned to the roof, where Sam was watching the building with a pair of binoculars of his own.
“Anything?” Lucas asked.
“No.”
“Let’s give them a few minutes to figure it out.”
“They might not.”
“Then we’ll help.”
“10-4.”
After a long wait, Lucas cupped his hands and called out over the roof. “You’re surrounded. There’s no way you’ll make it out alive. This is your one chance to surrender. If you don’t, we’ll destroy your building and everything in it.”
Farther down the street, another man repeated Lucas’s words through a cone-shaped megaphone, the resonance of his voice ringing off the water as he finished.
More time passed, and then a white shirt tied to a broom handle waved from the gutted entrance, which was now a cavernous rent in the side of the building. Lucas exhaled. “Bingo. We have contact. Everyone hold your fire.”
After a long beat, a Chinese man in dusty black cargo pants and a flak jacket stepped from the opening and looked around. Lucas glanced at Sam. “This is it. I’ll signal from down at the street. If they don’t surrender, wipe them off the face of the earth.”
“You got it.”
Lucas descended the stairs and ran out of the tenement to where a score of his men were holed up on the ground floor of another building. He took the megaphone from their squad leader and raised the bullhorn.
“Tell your men to come out without their weapons, or you’re all dead,” he warned. “You have one minute.”
“We want to negotiate,” the Chinese man yelled.
“There’s nothing to negotiate,” Lucas said. “Either surrender or die.”
“We have ten of the invasion army with us. They’ll never surrender.”
“Convince them. You have two minutes. Anyone who doesn’t want to die needs to be on the street with their hands in the air, because the building’s going to disintegrate when we hit it with our artillery. This was just a taste.”
“That isn’t enough time.”
“It’s all you’ve got. Clock starts now. Make it happen or you’ll be in hell within three.”
The man turned and ducked into the building. Lucas lowered the megaphone and checked the time on his mechanical watch, and looked over at the waiting gunmen. “Now we’ll see if they’re suicidal.”
Seconds ticked by, and Lucas handed the bullhorn back to the squad leader and retraced his steps to the staging building. He was back on the roof before the two minutes expired, and frowned at Sam.
“I’ll give them another minute. They may not have a watch,” Lucas said.
Sam nodded, but his expression said he thought it was a waste of time and that the attack’s conclusion had been foreordained.
They waited in tense silence, and when nobody reappeared, Lucas sighed and called to Sam, “All right. Hit them with everything. I’ll signal Brad.”
The bombardment resumed, and Lucas raced to the far side of the roof and waved to the office building. In an instant another twenty mortars soared through the air in lazy arcs, and the warehouse transformed into an inferno, with most of the roof destroyed by the incendiary projectiles after the first volley.
Lucas raised the glasses and studied the warehouse, and then shifted his focus to the water beyond it, where he could make out a few dark shapes dimpling the surface. He shouted to Sam to stop shelling and signaled to Brad to cease fire. The explosions stopped, and Lucas called to Sam.
“Send a runner to the men. We’ve got some swimmers in the water. Commandeer a boat and see if you can save any of them, and have the rest of the men rush the warehouse after the next round of shelling.”
Sam barked orders to one of the snipers, who rose with his rifle and sprinted for the roof-access doorway. He was gone in a blink, and Lucas shook his head.
“Hit them again. I don’t want to see anything left but a smoking crater.”
A score of enemy gunmen emerged from the warehouse and began spreading out, firing indiscriminately at the buildings in front of them. “Fire at will,” he told Sam, and then made for the second-floor machine-gun nest to tell them to cut down the resisters.
Terry didn’t hesitate, and moments later all twenty Chinese were dead in lakes of their own blood, their gesture futile. Lucas signaled to him to stop, and they waited as volley after volley of mortars pummeled the building, sending clouds of dust and smoke skyward.
“We’re done here,” Lucas said, and Terry nodded. Lucas climbed back up to the roof. Sam stopped the shelling, and they waited for the coming wave of their infantry to make its way to the warehouse to finish the job.
Lucas shook his head in frustration. “Damn fools.”
“You did everything you could,” Sam replied.
“I suppose,” Lucas said. He took in the pair of dead snipers near Sam and his brow creased. He pushed the brim of his hat up an inch and turned to the mortar operators. “Good shooting.”
Gunfire rattled from the street below as Lucas’s main force ran toward the warehouse while a few straggler Chinese snipers futilely shot at them before being silenced by overwhelming return fire. Lucas watched the surge of men without expression, and when the first reached the waterfront and began to pour through the smoldering ruins of the warehouse walls, he turned from the scene with a stony countenance.
Chapter 24
Seattle, Washington
Lucas trod along the street that fronted Art’s headquarters, his boots making a steady tattoo on the asphalt and his M4 slung over his shoulder. The assault on the warehouse had ended, and a column of smoke spiraled into the air from the site, which was now little more than a pile of rubble. Two sailboats had been deployed from the nearby marina, but by the time they made it to the waters off the wharf, most of the swimmers had succumbed to hypothermia in the cold, unforgiving tide. A few had been rescued, but none were part of the invasion force as far as Lucas’s men could tell, and they’d been locked up in a chain-link area that had served as a warehouse security cage in pre-collapse time
s, and were awaiting a medic’s attention.
Two guards waved a greeting to Lucas as he entered the headquarters, and he handed one of them his rifle and pistol.
“He in?” Lucas asked.
“Yep. Getting ready for the council meeting in a half hour.”
Lucas walked down the hall to Art’s office and knocked on the jamb. Art looked up and offered a smile. “Ah, the returning conqueror! Come on in. I’m just finishing up.”
“Not sure I’d frame it that way,” Lucas said as he entered and pulled up a seat. He sat down heavily. “Pretty much went as I was afraid it would.”
“I heard. Wiped them off the face of the earth. Good riddance. You may just make it as a military commander yet.”
“We wanted to capture some of the invasion force. We failed.”
“Your primary goal was to eradicate a treasonous group of murderers. So you succeeded. You’re just not willing to admit it.”
“Wasn’t a very fair fight.”
“The best ones aren’t supposed to be. Would you feel better if you’d lost a hundred men?”
“We lost two.”
Art sighed. “Which is never easy, as we both know. But it is what it is.” He sat back. “While you were off on your adventure, we’ve been trying to reach Salem to let them know we’re on our way soon. But they’ve gone dark. Nobody home.”
“Dark?”
“They have four radios, and none of the channels they monitor are answering. That’s all we know.”
“What do you think’s going on?”
Art’s expression darkened. “Nothing good.”
“Could it be a transmission problem? Sunspots or something?”
“Anything’s possible. We’ll certainly keep trying. But my instinct is that we should plan on moving out sooner than later. They’re hopelessly under-defended there with their skeleton crew. Most of their fighters are with us, and when word gets out Salem’s off the air, the guys are going to want to ride hard for home. A lot have families they left behind.”
“I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
“I figured. That’s why I called the council meeting. I’m going to break the news that we’re moving out tomorrow morning, so they’re on their own.”
“Going to seem abrupt.”
“They’re big boys. Time to ride without training wheels. We’ve got things to do. We can’t play cops for them forever.”
“I’ll be glad to hit the road.”
“That’s no secret.” Art smiled. “You should sit in on the meeting in case it gets contentious. I could use the backup.”
Lucas returned the smile. “Like you need it.”
“You’ve got a certain moral authority that comes with your reputation.”
“You really need me there? I’m beat. No sleep last night, remember?”
“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you skipped it, but I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“Did you just passive-aggressive me into going?”
“Depends. Did it work?”
The council entered the meeting hall, with Levon trailing behind the rest. He and Lucas nodded briefly to each other, and everyone took seats. Art sat on the edge of the stage and surveyed the council members while Lucas stood by his side.
“Thanks for coming. As you probably heard, we tackled the Chinese gang problem this morning…and now there’s no more problem.”
“I really wish you’d consulted us about that,” Eric said. “As the head of the defense force, I’d have thought I’d have the right to know.”
“We needed to move quickly, and you were nowhere to be found. So it wasn’t intended as any sort of slight.” Art hesitated. “What’s the status of the force, anyway? Haven’t heard much about it.”
Eric sighed. “We’re recruiting. But it’s hard to get people who’ve spent years watching their own backs to step up and do something for the rest. They’re naturally distrustful.”
“As they should be. But you need to assemble a credible militia or Seattle will fall. We all know that.”
“Same for the police force, Eric,” Lucas said. “Time’s run out.”
“That’s a little easier. We have about fifty men who signed up to do it. Which is a start.”
“We’re going to leave you about two hundred of ours who can do double duty. Between them and your men, you should be able to keep the peace. Especially when word spreads about the Chinese and how bucking the council’s authority went for them.”
Art resumed his exposition. “Now that we’ve solved that problem for you, we’re going to pull out tomorrow and head south. So you’re going to be on your own from then on. I’d step up your recruiting for the defense group. There’s no telling when the Chinese will show up again, and when they do, if you haven’t got an army to fend them off, you’re toast.”
Levon’s eyebrows rose. “Tomorrow? Just like that?”
Lucas smiled. “We’ve got things to do. You’re more than capable of running the place. You just need to come up with incentives for your people to participate in their own defense. Starting with wanting to avoid being slaves for whoever invades.”
Eric nodded. “I’m making my pitch to everyone who’ll listen. Maybe once you’re gone, it will increase their urgency.”
Art waved a hand. “Whatever. Not to be harsh, but it’s not our problem anymore. Whoever chooses to stay in Seattle has a stake in seeing that it’s safe. The idea that someone else is going to do all the heavy lifting to keep it that way isn’t going to fly, so best to point out that the only thing standing between you and the bad guys is each other. People don’t want to play, that’s fine – come up with a system that excludes them from protection. Probably easiest to start with the police force. If someone able-bodied isn’t willing to pitch in to protect their turf, make it clear that when something bad happens to them, they’re on their own. That might convince some who’re on the fence to join up.”
“Good idea,” said Greg, one of the members. “That could work.”
Lucas cut in. “Think of it as paying taxes. You want cops to show up when it gets ugly, you need to pay them. Requiring involvement in the defense force is a good way of doing that.”
The meeting meandered for about an hour; the logistics of the handoff were covered as well as a discussion of basic housekeeping issues, and when it broke up, Lucas and Art headed back to his office.
Lucas yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m beat. Going for some shut-eye. Let me know if you hear anything from Salem.”
“You’ve earned your rest. I’ll let Sam know we’re mobilizing, so he can get everything ready. He’s got a lot of prep to still do, even though we’ve all known this was coming.”
“Good deal. I’ll be up and around within a few hours, and I’ll stop back in.”
“Perfect. You know where to find me.” Art paused. “Thanks for everything, Lucas.”
“Same right back at you…General.”
Chapter 25
Amber Hot Springs, Colorado
Elijah’s advance scouts returned to where the army had made camp a few miles from the hot springs, and Benjamin and Elijah went to meet them. The three scouts dismounted and lashed their animals to a tree.
“Well?” Elijah demanded.
“No signs of life.”
“What?” Elijah blurted.
“That’s right. We didn’t go into the springs, but from a distance it looks deserted. No fires, most of the cabins burned to the ground, nobody to be seen.”
“Burned to the ground?” Benjamin asked.
“Looked that way. Hard to say for certain till we’re there, but that’s my bet.”
Elijah paced in frustration. “Someone must have warned them.”
Benjamin tried to keep his tone agreeably neutral. “Obviously.” He didn’t point out that Elijah’s strategy of razing everything he came across practically guaranteed that word would travel faster than his army could, and if anyone was in communication w
ith Shangri-La, they’d have let them know. He’d tried to reason with the man over his policy, but he couldn’t tell Elijah anything – Elijah did as Elijah pleased. Benjamin had suspected they might come up empty when they arrived for that very reason, but not wanting to incur Elijah’s wrath, he’d kept his mouth shut after their initial discussions.
“Tell the men we’re moving out,” Elijah said. “I want to be at the springs by nightfall.”
Benjamin winced at Elijah’s high-handed tone but tilted his head in assent. “We’ll move out within the hour.”
The column of thousands of men worked its way along the trail like a giant centipede, led by Benjamin and Elijah, who’d insisted on riding point in spite of the risk of sniper fire if the scouts had misread the situation. As with most of his decisions, this one had been impulsive and designed to assuage his ego more than anything – Elijah, at the head of his army, bringing God’s wrath to the heathens.
The procession rounded the final bend and found the hot springs completely deserted, just as the scouts had reported. The inhabitants had burned the structures they’d built, presumably to deprive Elijah’s men of shelter in the event of inclement weather, and there was little to glean from what was left.
Elijah swung down from his horse, and Benjamin did the same. Elijah handed his reins to one of his subordinates and strode to where the large central fire pit sat, and glowered at it like it had insulted him. Benjamin joined him, and Elijah cursed under his breath before speaking.
“How long have they been gone?”
“I’ll ask our trackers to sort through the wreckage and see if they can figure that out. But judging by the condition, at least a few days. Maybe a lot more.”
“Do it.”
Benjamin looked up at the sky, which was beginning to darken. “First we should make camp. It’s doubtful we’ll be able to do much in terms of finding a trail until daybreak.”
“No. I want them working until nightfall.”
The Day After Never - Legion (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller - Book 8) Page 13