Fire From the Sky: Friendly Fire

by N. C. Reed

  “I did, but I hadn't really thought about it,” she admitted. “I mean we've had our hands full around here from almost the start of things. That hasn't left a lot of time to worry about anything else.”

  “Exactly, and I admit that when I hatched this plan I didn't care about the rest,” he nodded slowly. “Thing is, like I told Leon, I'm starting to think that wasn't the smartest move. It looked and sounded good at the time, but now . . . ”

  “Now you're second guessing it,” Lainie nodded slowly. “I get it. But honestly, what can we do about it, regardless of whether we know or not?”

  “Leon said the same thing,” Clay told her. “And he's right. There's plenty of worry laying around here, as he put it, without me borrowing worry from somewhere else. The thing is though, I can't help think about it now that it's been brought to my attention.”

  “My poor Cowboy,” she stood, allowing the covers to fall away. “I take it you aren't going to be able to get back to sleep?” she caressed his face.

  “No,” he sighed in aggravation. “And I really wanted to sleep, too.”

  “Then let’s do something else,” she looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It will be light in an hour or so. We’ll get ready and just enjoy the sunrise and early morning until your friends get here. How's that sound?”

  “It sounds like a fine plan,” he smiled dimly. “One I can get behind.”

  “Good.”

  ***

  “You two are out early,” Gordy said as Clay and Lainie made their way down toward the radio room. Gordy was on ground watch.

  “Tell me about it,” Clay nodded. “Can't sleep.”

  “I hear we're getting some company?” Gordy asked.

  “Supposed to,” Clay nodded. “Possibly even in the next few hours depending on whether they make good time or not. The rest of my old team from my Africa days, in fact.”

  “Man, that will be a big help around here,” Gordy gave a low whistle. “Between that and the group going through training now, that will strengthen this place a lot.”

  “And we may need it, listening to Rattler talk about why they're running this way,” Clay nodded.

  “Rattler?” Gordy asked.

  “If you hear him, it's too late,” Clay nodded. “He's fast. Inhumanly fast it seems sometimes. Carries knives all over him and can hit you with one before you can blink.”

  “Damn,” Gordy nodded in appreciation.

  “Exactly,” Clay chuckled slightly. “Anyway, that's where he got the name. He says that things are bad to the west and getting worse, which is why they're headed here instead of staying in their own area like they planned originally.”

  “Define bad,” Gordy frowned.

  “Can't until he gets here,” Clay replied. “He didn't elaborate, and the longer you're on the air the more time someone has to find you. We’ll know later on today unless something keeps them from getting here.”

  “Could something stop them?” Lainie asked.

  “It would take more than a lot of stopping,” Clay admitted, “but they are just four guys. Six if you count the 'plus two', guys with them we may not know.”

  “Well, I hope they make it in okay,” Gordy said thoughtfully. “I'd really like to know what's happening.”

  ***

  It was just after eleven o'clock when Jody called.

  “Bossman, we got traffic. From Jordan. Multiple vehicles.”

  “Roger that,” Clay called back. “Plate, sound the alarm, just in case.”

  “Plate copies,” JJ replied at once and seconds later the alarms began to go out. Soon people were running to places with rifles in hand. Clay was joined by Jose Juarez and the two of them walked out to the roadway to await developments.

  “Think this is them?” he asked.

  “Hope so,” Clay nodded. “If not then we're in for a fight, most likely.”

  “Surely we can get a day or two without that now that the good Citizen's Committee is gone,” Jose rolled his eyes.

  “Hope so,” Clay repeated. “But I can't count on it, much as I'd like to.”

  They waited in silence after that, each keeping his own thoughts as they listened to the sound of approaching vehicles. Several of them. Finally, the first vehicle came into view.

  “Now where in the hell did he get that?” Jose broke the silence first.

  'That' was an M1117 Armored Security Vehicle, still bearing the shield of the MP unit it had belonged to. It was fully armed apparently, with barrels of an M2 Browning machine gun and a Mk 19 40mm grenade launcher visible protruding from the turret of the armored vehicle.

  “I don't know, but I like the look of it,” Clay admitted. “I wonder what else he stole.”

  “You just jump to the conclusion that he stole it,” Jose raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he bought it.”

  “Like you bought two Cougars?” Clay raised his own eyebrow. “Please.”

  “Hey, we paid for those,” Jose objected. “All right, fine,” he amended at the look he received from his boss. “He probably stole it. But he did buy some stuff. In fact, if I remember right they bought two four-by-four model Cougars the same time Big Bear got ours. From the same guy Big Bear used as a procurement officer.”

  “Well I hope you got a group discount,” Clay chuckled lightly.

  They watched as the collection of vehicles made their way to the farm.

  “Rat needs to learn how to count,” Jose remarked after a minute. “Didn't he say eleven vehicles?”

  “And there's thirteen,” Clay nodded. “I'm willing to bet . . . here comes another Guardian,” he nudged Jose and pointed. “Want to bet he didn't count them?”

  “No,” Jose laughed outright.

  “So now I'm wondering how many people he didn't count,” Clay mused.

  “You know there’ll be at least one or two,” Jose was still laughing. “Let’s go and greet our weary travelers.”

  ***

  Shane wasn't sure he'd ever been so glad to see anyone or anything as he was to see two familiar figures standing on the road side of a beautiful farm with cattle visible in the background.

  “I hope they eat those,” Sienna said over the intercom. “I'd love a good steak right about now.”

  “They're all meat eaters,” he assured her. “Bring us to a stop where those two are standing.”

  “Got it.” She began to brake and winced at the sound. Their vehicles had made a long trip with little service and it showed. She managed to stop right where Shane wanted her to, though.

  “Sir, we're a bit lost,” she heard Shane say. “I'm looking for the Sanders' farm? Ever hear of it?”

  “They used to live around here,” she heard a soft, drawling reply. “Lousy neighbors so we ran 'em off.”

  “You can't count, can you, you redneck dumb-ass,” she heard another voice, this one with a Hispanic lilt to it.

  “I can count just fine you wetback dickhead!” Shane called back.

  “Eleven vehicles, you said,” the first voice spoke again. “We counted thirteen.”

  “Huh?” Shane's puzzled expression was comical even if she couldn't see it.

  “We've got thirteen vehicles, dumb-ass!” she called from the driver's seat, opening the hatch now that she was certain they were in the right place, and welcome.

  “See, she knows right off what I'm talking about,” Jose nodded. “You, on the other hand . . . ”

  “Bite me,” Shane shot back. “We started with eleven so . . . the number just kinda stuck in my head. Sue me.”

  “It's good to see you, hermano,” Jose smiled up at him. “You guys okay?”

  “We're wore out, my brother,” Shane admitted. “Dead on our feet. Have you got somewhere we can de-ass? Even temporarily?”

  “Yeah,” Clay laughed, smiling. “Follow us around behind the barns,” he waved. “We've got a vehicle park back there. We can unload your trucks later.”

  “Uh, how safe is this vehicle park?” Shane was suddenly nervous.


  “Very,” Clay assured him. “Why?”

  “Uh, we sorta . . . found . . . happened upon, you might say . . . ” Shane fidgeted.

  “What did you do?” Clay might have sighed. Just a little.

  “We got two armored rigs loaded with ordnance,” Shane blurted it out all at once, making it sound like one long word.

  “Heavy?” Jose asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Shane nodded, his head looking like a bobble-head puppet.

  “It's safe enough,” Clay promised. “And we've got a bunker built for stuff like that. We can build another if you've got two trailers full. We've got working equipment. But for now, let us lead you to a parking area. I bet you guys are tired. And hungry.”

  “You should be a gambler,” Shane snorted. “You'd win that bet, no question.”

  ***

  Lainie was joined by Abigail and Samantha as the older woman was standing back, watching the new arrivals moving to the parking area. The vehicles showed signs of wear so obvious even they spotted them.

  “Are those bullet holes?” Samantha asked as one of the semi tractors went by.

  “They sure look like it,” Abigail almost breathed the answer.

  “Clay said they had been down a rough road,” Lainie told them. “They've traveled a long way to get here, too.”

  “How far?” Abigail asked.

  “Somewhere in Arizona, I think.”

  “Wow,” both younger women said in unison. In this new world, that was indeed a long way.

  “And we think going to Jordan or Peabody is a risk,” Abby added. “Man, here we've been thinking we had it so rough.”

  “No kidding,” Samantha nodded.

  “C'mon,” Lainie jerked her head toward the rear of the building. “Let’s go see what we can see.”

  ***

  Slowly the small convoy broke apart and vehicles moved into parking areas, guided by Clay, Jose and Big Jake, who had come out to find the source of so many diesel engines. As each vehicle was parked, the drivers and few passengers gathered to the front, where Shane and Sienna Newell were already standing.

  “So you have a plus two somewhere and nine dependents?” Jose asked Shane as they watched the rest of the vehicles pulled into place.

  “Well,” Shane scratched his head slowly. “I might have, kinda, by accident mind you, maybe left out one or two-”

  “For God's sake, Shane,” Clay sighed in exasperation. “We're not selling tickets or checking invites. If you vouch for them it's fine. How many of you are there?”

  “Well, it's not so much how many there are as how I might have described them,” Shane admitted. “The plus two would be Lieutenant Newell,” he pointed to Sienna, “and Wilcox,” he pointed to the brown haired man climbing out of the Hummer. “But, there's also Lieutenant Ledford and Captain Thatcher, but . . . neither one of them is a combatant, so-”

  “Captain?” Clay and Jose say said in unison. “Seriously?” Jose continued. “Bad enough you've got el-tees but you got railroad tracks too? What the hell?”

  “Hey man,” Shane held up a hand. “Sienna got us the Guardians,” he pointed to one of the squat armored vehicles, “and Kandi got us a shitload of goods-”

  “Kandi?” Jose looked incredulous.

  “Yes,” Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes. “And Captain Thatcher is a doctor.”

  “What?” Clay was suddenly paying more attention to what Shane was saying. “Did you say 'doctor'?”

  “Yes,” Shane nodded. “That,” he pointed to a tarp covered load one of the flatbed trailers, “is a tore up Stryker outfitted as a field ambulance and she has it stuffed to the gills with medical . . . stuff,” he waved a hand to cover the entire cargo with that one word. “I didn't really want to bring it. I don't know if it can be repaired or not, but she seems to think it can, and anyway, like I said it's full of her gear so . . . seemed like a good risk.”

  “Absolutely,” Clay nodded vigorously. This is the best news he has had in . . . a long time it seems. He turns to see that everyone in Shane's group has assembled in front of their parked vehicles. He considers what he's going to say carefully before speaking.

  “So . . . hot showers or home cooking first?”

  That one question has made him new friends for life.

  ***

  As the ragged cheer went up from the small group, Abby furiously elbowed Sam, nearly knocking the smaller woman over.

  “What?” Sam demanded, rubbing her ribs. “Enough already!”

  “Sam, look!” Abby pointed, literally reaching out and turning her friend's head. For an instant Sam is ready to fight back but suddenly she sees what has Abby so excited.

  “Mattie?” Sam almost whispers. “Oh my God, MATTIE!” she yelled as she and Abby both took off at a run for the small group.

  Among the newcomers a very tall woman, broad shouldered though gaunt now, heard her name and turned in that direction to see two of her old school mates running toward her, arms wide open.

  “Look at you two!” the bigger girl beamed, hugging her friends tightly. “I thought this was your folk's place, but was afraid to hold out any hope,” she said to Abby.

  “We're still here,” Abby assured her. “It's been touch and go at times, for sure, though.”

  “It's worse elsewhere,” Mattie Simmons told them grimly. “And while it's great to see you, I was just promised a hot shower and hot food and that's too rare a commodity to pass on these days.”

  “Don't be stupid,” Abby replied at once. “They're probably going to be in Building Two. Come on,” she tugged on Mattie's hand. “You can come to our place. Got any clothes?”

  “I've got three suits of clothes that are pretty threadbare and two uniforms, all dirty,” Mattie replied with a grimace. “I was on a road trip with the team when the lights went out. Literally.”

  “How did you end up with these guys?” Sam asked.

  “You can tell us all about it while we go get your clothes,” Abby interrupted. “We can wash them at home and look for something else for you to wear.”

  “What I'd really like is to find my folks,” Mattie replied.

  “That will require some help from Clay,” Abby informed her at once, her lesson long learned. “But we’ll go with you to ask him.”

  “Clay as in your Uncle Clay?” Mattie sounded hesitant. “I . . . uh, I heard he . . . I mean that he ki . . . ”

  “Killed a guy at Lorrie's?” Abby finished helpfully. “Yep. He did. Some gang guy attacked Amy Mitchell just as Clay came home and when Clay stopped him he pulled a knife on Clay. Big mistake.”

  “Understatement,” Sam nodded.

  “Anyway, we’ll ask him, but I'd say nothing is going to happen in the time it will take you to get squared away, so come on.”

  ***

  “Introductions can wait until you guys get taken care of,” Clay was saying. “We can get you some clean clothes, just BDUs probably but they're clean. You can wash your own in Building Two once you've settled in. By the time you get cleaned up the food will be ready. It's plain, but it's good. After you guys are set, we’ll start getting to know who you are and . . . ” he trailed off as the sound of muffled screaming could be heard.

  “Does anyone else hear that?” he asked. “Maybe you overlooked someone?” he asked Shane.

  “Oh,” Xavier realized what Clay was hearing. “Ah, you and Shane may want to come with me while they get started,” he said calmly.

  “Do I want to know?” Clay asked with no small trepidation.

  “We shall just have to see,” Xavier just shrugged.

  “Pancho, carry them in and let them get started while I see what X has done now,” Clay sighed. Suddenly it was like they'd never separated.

  “Got it,” Jose grinned. “Let’s go, people!” he raised his voice. “Inside and up the stairs. Soap, hot water and clean duds!” Another ragged cheer broke out as Clay and Shane followed Xavier to the Guardian he and Kevin Bodee had been using.

  �
�Hey, where is Bear?” Shane asked suddenly and Clay almost froze.

  “Bear's waiting in Elysium,” he said softly. “He’ll meet us there.”

  Shane and Xavier both slowed and then stopped, looking at each other and then back to Clay.

  “We've seen some action here, too,” Clay told them. “We’ll fill you in once you get settled. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Shane nodded, and the three started again for the armored car.

  “Seriously, X, do I want to know this?” Clay asked, wanting the subject changed from John Barnes.

  “I think you will,” Xavier nodded. “We took a prisoner from the ambush,” he then told Shane. “I didn't want to put it over the air. And she was apparently the leader of their little group, too.”

  “She?” Shane asked.

  “Very much so,” Xavier nodded again. “Had all this with her when we caught her,” he handed over the notebooks and map the woman had been carrying. Clay gave a low whistle as he read through the notebook that carried what had to be radio frequencies. He reached for his radio before he made the third page.

  “Deuce, how copy?”

  “Go for Deuce,” his nephew answered at once.

  “Come see me at the Shack in about ten,” Clay ordered. “Got something for you.”

  “On the way.”

  “Deuce?” Shane asked.

  “My nephew,” Clay explained. “He, his twin sister and a couple more genius kids run our radio room under my brother Robert's supervision. This,” he held up the small notebook, “will help them find and listen in on whoever your shadows work for.”

  “Cool,” Shane nodded as the three of the reached the rear of the armored car. The yelling was still muffled, but louder now. Xavier lowered the ramp to reveal a very angry woman, part of her hair singed away and her uniform showing signs of having been through a fire, lying face down on the floor, her wrists secured to her ankles with zip cuffs. She had fallen quiet as the ramp began to open, but now started in again, cursing all three of them. Xavier listened for about ten seconds before leaning down and backhanding the woman across the face, stunning her into silence.