Both, probably.
“All due respect, ma'am, but you're not taking the risk here,” Denny said, just a hint of sharpness in his voice. “I'd appreciate if you didn't second-guess our decisions from inside the safety of your protected camp.”
Ouch.
Ellie stared back with wide eyes, looking unsure whether to be abashed or furious. “This is a tense situation,” she said carefully. “I just want to make sure you don't let your emotions get the better of you when you're going into a fight.” For just a split second, her eyes flicked to the McCleese brothers.
Denny nodded curtly. “We're here to defend Stanberry, full stop. We'll do whatever we can to stop Jay, but only act with force if he gives us no other choice.”
Nick couldn't help but think that an unhinged psychopath with a grudge probably wasn't going to give them a choice, but he kept that to himself.
Denny led the way back to camp, where he sent Nick and the other leaders off to gather up as many people as they could find who'd be any use in a fight, while he hurriedly scrambled to gather weapons and plan vehicles.
It didn't seem like something that could be thrown together in quicker than a half hour, especially since a lot of the people on patrol had been shirking caring for their gear. But Nick hurried to round up Val Brunswick, Charlie Lyman, and Chase Brighton from his own camp, as well as a couple guys from the volunteers assigned to him for patrolling the western side of Stanberry.
With the McCleese brothers, that made eight people in his team. Hopefully that would be enough; thanks to their scavenging they had enough rifles and shotguns for a dozen people, although some of those were on loan to people currently out on patrol.
Jay's current tactic was roaring around the perimeter of Stanberry in a convoy of half a dozen trucks, with an estimated twelve to fifteen people with him. Their main goal seemed to be intimidation, responding to the scouts they must've had surrounding the town and chasing back any of Denny's patrols that wandered too far from the safety of its borders.
Nick had been on the receiving end of that treatment himself, forced to cross terrain the Wensbrook vehicles couldn't follow him and his patrol over so they could escape the convoy's sudden arrivals. Thus far Jay's thugs hadn't done more than shoot their guns in the air to spur Denny's people to greater speeds as they fled, but Nick couldn't forget having a dozen guns trained on him outside that store his scavengers had tried to forage from, back near the beginning of the trouble with the Wensbrook survivors.
Or the bald lunatic's clear threat that his people would shoot if they were given an excuse. Such as a bunch of Denny's Zolos survivors ambushing Jay's convoy and trying to capture them at gunpoint; maybe Ellie wasn't wrong to worry that that might just turn this into open conflict with both sides shooting to kill.
On the other hand, there was also the chance they'd capture the people threatening their loved ones and destroying their friends' homes. Ending this fight for good was worth the risk.
“Are you going to go fight, Daddy?” Tallie asked, staring at him and the others gathering up their guns with wide eyes from where she sat on Aimee's lap by the fire.
Nick paused and dropped to one knee beside his daughter. “We're going to go defend our friends' houses, sweetie. But we'll try not to fight unless we have to.”
She looked at him with tears in her wide eyes. “Are you going to be safe?”
He felt a pang at the sight of her obvious fear, and carefully set down the gear he'd been holding to gather her up in his arms and hug her tight. “Of course I will, honey. We're going to be really careful.”
It was easy to forget what a big and scary place the world could be for a child. And far more scary for his children in these terrible times than it had ever been for him growing up, even with everything he'd gone through with his parents' divorce.
And Tallie wasn't wrong to be worried for him, considering Jay had specifically threatened to kill him after the shootout in the woods. Not that Nick had told his daughter that, of course.
“Will you be back soon?” she asked tremulously.
“In no time at all,” he promised, kissing the top of her head as he passed her back to Aimee. Tallie was reluctant to let go, which just made saying goodbye even harder.
He hurried to finish gathering his stuff, then led his group to the tent Denny used as an informal command center. There were already a few dozen people gathered, bristling with weapons and looking grim and determined. A few of the younger people seemed excited by the action, but mostly everyone seemed aware of what they were getting into and were taking it seriously.
That reassured Nick quite a bit; he'd noticed some of Jay's people seemed to treat terrorizing innocent people almost like a game, having fun with the destruction and intimidation.
But not on Stanberry's side of things. They were fighting for their loved ones, which hopefully made all the difference.
Denny spent a few minutes making sure everyone was divided into four teams (one of them Nick's group), and getting descriptions from Chet and Ben about the area where they'd be setting up, and how to get there. Then they all headed for the SUVs and trucks Denny had picked out for their use.
“Remember!” their leader called as everyone piled into the vehicles. “Radio silence until this is over unless it's an absolute emergency! We shoot out the tires of Jay's trucks, then once he's pinned down I'll demand he surrender. Do not shoot at anyone or anything but the tires unless I either give the order or things go south in a major way!”
Nick called out his understanding as he ducked into the passenger seat of the SUV his team had been given, with Charlie behind the wheel, while the rest of his team piled into the backseat or into Chet's truck. Then the vehicles were tearing off, hopefully unobserved by any Wensbrook spies as they circled around towards the northeast side of Stanberry.
With any luck, within the next few hours Jay and his thugs would be captured, and this fight would be over and done with.
Chapter Two
Answer
Nick's group was assigned to the hill south of the road, closest to the Drewsburys' house.
They approached on the orchard road the McCleese brothers had described, pulling past the other team assigned to their hill and continuing on to their own position. Leading the way in his truck, Chet showed his familiarity with the area, as well as a good deal of common sense, by parking them behind a hedge growing between the orchard and the beginning of the house's extensive yard.
They all piled out, Nick leading the way to the hedge to peer through the leaves. He held his rifle tight as he did, expecting to see vehicles parked around the nice ranch-style house a hundred or so yards away.
To his relief the place seemed empty. Better yet, it also looked untouched, no sign of any vandalism or looting like Chet and Ben had described.
Which meant Jay and his thugs hadn't gotten around to this house yet. And since it was reasonably close to the McCleese farm, chances were good the bald man's convoy would show up here before long.
“All right, let's set up ambush spots overlooking the driveway in,” he said, slinging his rifle across his back. He turned to the brothers. “You guys familiar enough with the yard that you're comfortable sneaking around the house to make sure the place really is abandoned?”
“Sure,” Chet said. “We used to play around this lot all the time with the Drewsbury kids.” His smile widened and his tone turned teasing. “Although more recently Benny was the one hanging around . . . all those long romantic walks with Elea?”
Ben took the ribbing cheerfully. “There's a bower with a bench she loves at the far end of the orchard, so we usually did more sitting than walking. At least until she broke it off and headed to college last year.” His smile abruptly faded, as if contemplating the grim fate his former girlfriend might've faced out in the pandemic. And the fact that he might never find out what had happened to her.
His brother clapped a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards an opening in the
hedge, and the two slunk away to scout.
Nick directed the rest of his group in lining up along the top of the hill overlooking the road, finding places where they had a good vantage behind cover. He caught glimpses of the other two groups across the road as they did the same, at least until everyone was in position and had stopped moving around; for a bunch of people with no real combat experience or training, they actually did a pretty good job of hiding.
After that it was just a matter of waiting to see if Jay showed up. And waiting.
And waiting.
Chet and Ben crept back after maybe a half hour, shaking their heads at Nick's questioning look. Apparently there was no suspicious activity around the Drewsburys' house. They settled down in positions on either side of him, grim and focused with their weapons.
And then they all waited some more. Nick discouraged the few attempts at conversation among his people; they were expecting Jay's convoy to come roaring up in trucks on the road below, but there was also a chance the man would send scouts ahead first. He didn't want his group giving themselves away by shooting the breeze and potentially giving Jay a chance to sneak up on them.
It made for a boring wait as noon crawled along into the afternoon. The heat was bad enough, even though most of their positions were under shade, but with them all lying motionless it was the insects that were truly maddening. The recent rains had made conditions ideal for mosquitos, and most of them had dressed in light clothing for the heat and had plenty of exposed skin for the little bloodsuckers to feast on.
Nick had always spent more time worrying about things than was probably healthy, and he couldn't help but wonder if they should be concerned about malaria. Zolos was steadily decimating humanity, but that didn't mean that other diseases didn't remain a risk.
Of course, from what he knew malaria wasn't really a problem in developed countries. Although if it were to have a resurgence, now would be the worst time since medical and emergency services were completely swamped dealing with the pandemic.
He was surprised to see Charlie, more pragmatic than most of them, smearing mud on his bare arms and the back of his neck and other exposed patches of skin to keep the mosquitos away. It also had the added benefit of providing a bit of extra camouflage.
Nick hated the sensation of dirt on his skin, but given the choice between that and being driven insane by biting insects he soon found himself mimicking the older man. He noticed the brothers and Val doing the same, while Chase and the other two volunteers looked at them as if they were crazy.
Judging by the sight of the others, Nick had no doubt he looked ridiculous. And while the mud felt almost soothing once he got used to it, once it dried into a gritty crust it began itching like crazy. Or maybe that was the bites underneath.
Either way, he was thoroughly miserable as midafternoon rolled around. Thankfully he kept extra water and jerky with his gear, but he wasn't sure if the rest of his group had thought that far ahead and wondered if he shouldn't send someone back to camp to bring back a proper meal.
Heck, before too long he was going to have to start thinking about shift changes, assuming they didn't just give up on this plan entirely.
It was feeling more and more hair-brained with every hour that passed, and he was feeling the pressure as the person who'd suggested they try this ambush. What had made him so confident Jay would immediately start trashing other houses when the man found out how Stanberry had responded to the McCleeses' home being trashed?
For all Nick knew the Wensbrook group had already torn apart every house in the area but the Drewsburys', and they were done with their destruction and moving on to some other mayhem. That would be just his luck.
Then again, some part of him was secretly relieved there'd be no fight.
He was toying with the idea of standing and waving across to Denny and the other groups, suggesting they put their heads together and decide whether they wanted to keep this up, and if so make long-term plans for it, when a distant rumble made him stiffen.
He went still, mind snapping into focus as he listened: Multiple engines, probably larger vehicles like the trucks Jay was using, coming up the drive.
The rest of his group were stirring to alertness. “Is that . . .” Chet hissed from his position beside him.
“I think so,” Nick hissed back. “Make sure you're hidden and sighted in on the road below, and be sure to shoot only for their tires. Pass the word down.”
The rumble of vehicles grew steadily louder, then for a tense half a minute almost seemed to be getting quieter. Nick was starting to feel almost certain Jay's convoy was on a different road, just traveling near them rather than on the drive below. To another nearby house, in which case they just needed to wait longer? Or had he somehow got wind of the amb-
A truck burst into view on the road below, quickly followed by another and then another until all six were in view.
Jay's convoy was here.
As the vehicles roared closer Nick had another sudden worry; what if one of his fellow patrol volunteers fired too early, tipping off Jay's people to the ambush? There was still time for the six trucks to reverse direction and escape unharmed.
Nick hadn't even thought to arrange a signal for when they should open fire, or discuss the best time to carry out their ambush. Denny hadn't mentioned it either.
In their haste to get here and set up they'd probably missed all sorts of details, but this seemed like a pretty important one. Nick thought of telling Chet to pass along a warning to hold fire, but it was too late.
The trucks passed the position of the first two groups on either side of the road, which hopefully meant that it wouldn't be a complete disaster if someone started shooting. Directly in between the four groups would be ideal, and the lead truck was quickly getting there, so Nick focused down the sights of his rifle at the road, trying to lead the front tire of that truck.
When to fire? Should he be the one to fire the first shot, before Jay's convoy passed them and exited the ambush in the other direction?
He was still debating the decision when the distant crack of a rifle echoed across the road. It was swiftly followed by a thunder of gunfire from all sides, including near his own position, as everyone who'd been waiting tensely for a signal joined in the shooting.
Nick squeezed off his own first shot just as the first vehicle skidded and veered off the road, nearly crashing into a tree. He wasn't sure if that was out of surprise at the sudden attack or because Denny's volunteers had managed to shoot out some tires, but either way his own shot sparked harmlessly off the asphalt.
Biting back a curse, he jerked his rifle around to target the next truck in line, which had screeched to a halt. It seemed to take forever for him to fumble his sights over the first tire he could find on the vehicle, and the crosshairs veered wildly as he struggled to still the barrel of his rifle and line up a shot.
He was almost surprised when he managed to fire before the stopped truck began moving again, and equally surprised when the tire sagged and began to deflate. Although with so many people shooting at six trucks it was possible someone else had hit it, not him; the asphalt all around the trucks was sparking with other missed shots and through-and-throughs.
Muzzle flashes from the windows of the trucks warned that Jay's thugs were shooting back, although Nick was relieved to see that so far there was no sign anyone on his side had shot at anything but the tires. He hunkered down a bit farther in his hidden position and checked the other tire on his side of the vehicle in his sights, but it was already flat.
This was going surprisingly well; all the trucks were either stopped or wildly trying to maneuver, getting in each other's way. He could already hear Denny, voice amplified through a bullhorn, bellowing for Jay and his men to surrender, throw their weapons out of their vehicles, and emerge with their hands up.
But the fight wasn't over yet. Nick shifted his aim to the next truck in the line, shooting at both tires in quick succession. He wasn't sure if
he hit them, but they went flat so somebody had. The truck behind that one was peeling out, or flubbling out on at least two flat tires on his side, as it tried to turn around. The two trucks behind that collided with a grinding shriek of metal.
All the tires had been shot out, as far as he could see.
The gunfire petered out, even from Jay's thugs in the trucks, as Denny's voice continued to roar orders over the bullhorn. A few volunteers were cheering, and Val and Charlie joined in as it sank in that they'd done it.
“Anyone hit?” he called to his group, briefly turning his attention away from the trucks. He had to repeat himself a few times before he got answers from everyone, confirming they were fine.
“Boss!” Chet abruptly snapped; the man was still hunched over his rifle, focused on the vehicles below. “They're driving off!”
“They're what?” Nick repeated blankly, whipping his gaze back down to the road below.
Sure enough, the six trucks hadn't given up their efforts to turn around in spite of their flat tires. They were now facing back the way they'd come, engines roaring as they struggled to escape the ambush.
Having their tires shot out hadn't stopped them.
Nick stared at the fleeing trucks, feeling a bit stupid. He was so used to the idea of a flat tire meaning a stopped vehicle that he hadn't considered that when bullets were flying, drivers weren't going to care about something as silly as destroying their rims by driving on a flat.
“What now?” Ben asked from his other side, face pinched in frustration around the scope of his rifle. “They're getting away!”
Denny was shouting after the convoy with increasing desperation, ordering them to stop. But when the gunfire started up again, from Chet and Ben and at least a few others from the sound of it, their leader turned his megaphone towards the volunteers. “Cease fire! Cease fire, everyone! We're done.”
At hearing him Nick reluctantly leaned back and lowered his rifle with a disgusted growl. “You heard him,” he called. “Cease fire, we're done.”
“What?” Chet demanded incredulously. He and his brother had stopped firing, thank goodness, but were still leaning over their rifles tense and ready to start again.
Isolation | Book 4 | Holding On Page 3