Isaac just shook his head.
The Major sighed and held out the handcuff key.
Chapter 16
The radio crackled, and Pops picked up the mike. We were both in the surveillance room, checking all the camera feeds. Pops and the Major expected an attack from one or both of the two gangs with whom we had fought. So far, the monitors showed nothing to be concerned about and Myrna volunteered to keep watch on them for us. She enjoyed that particular responsibility for some reason. Jaime was there, too, with his hands on Myrna’s shoulders, lightly massaging them. We were all clustered around the radio.
Marcus’ voice came over the speakers. The reception was amazingly clear here because this was where our base station was located and it was connected to a high tower that had been erected on the fringes of our property.
“Yo, Dragon’s Lair. You read?”
“We read you, Barn. What’s up?”
“Be advised, I think something’s cooking out here. My people are reporting seeing some of those idiots in army uniforms sneaking around, peeking at us. Looks to me like they’re planning something.”
Pops closed his eyes and dropped his head. “Damn it! Does the fighting never stop?” He said it without pushing the ‘talk’ button. He pushed the button now, shook his head and opened his eyes. “Marcus, do you see any vehicles? Any signs of large numbers staging some place, getting ready to move in on you?”
“Negative. Just about a dozen people all around us, every direction. Looks like they are mapping out our position, getting ready for something. They’re being too sneaky for our snipers to get a bead on them.”
“Yeah, Roger that. I’ll get the Major down here, you can tell him what you see.”
Ten minutes later there was a meeting in the upstairs common room. The Major was standing up in the middle of us and everyone else was sitting.
“We heard from Marcus and his people a short time ago. They’re being stalked by the gang we tangled with. So far there are no signs of any vehicles or large groups massing near them.”
He shook his head. “Truthfully? I don’t know what to make of it. If I were a betting man I’d say they actually wanted Marcus’ people to see them out there. They’re being stealthy enough to avoid being shot but he said they seem to be going out of their way to be spotted.”
He gritted his teeth and nodded to Buck. “Buck and I agree this has all the makings of a trap. We’ve seen this in the ‘Stan. The enemy shows themselves just enough to attract attention. Then they stage an ambush along the route that the rescuers will use.” The Major swiveled his head until he spotted Isaac, sitting with Candace at his side. “Brenner, you see it that way?”
Isaac nodded slowly. “I do. It looks to me like something that was set up by a professional.”
Pops stood. “Let me interrupt here, Major. Everyone, this is Isaac and Candace Brenner. They will be joining us here in Dragon’s Lair. Isaac is an Army Ranger, and his training and experience should be extremely helpful to our cause.” He smiled in the young family’s direction and sat back down.
Everyone around the room nodded and welcomed our new additions, and a few of the women fawned over the baby.
The Major allowed time for all that then spoke up again. “Okay, back to the subject at hand. The question now? What, if anything, are we to do? If the consensus of the military professionals is that they are setting a trap for us, how should we respond? Understand me, people, Marcus and his group are friends, and we want to help them as much as possible, but not at the expense of getting all of us killed.”
I raised my hand until he pointed at me. “Okay, so it seems like a trap to lure us out of Dragon’s Lair where we are more vulnerable. To accomplish that, they are making it look like another attack on Marcus’ neighborhood is being planned. Do I have that right?”
The Major shrugged. “That’s our thinking.”
“Okay,” I continued. “And we have to figure that, after last night, they might have a pretty good idea of where we are. I mean, we have to add that into our thinking as one of the more likely scenarios.”
“What are you getting at, Virgil?” Pops inquired.
“Well, if that is true, then they will have all their firepower staged somewhere on the most likely routes from here to Marcus’ location. Am I right? I mean, they plan to jump us on our way to help him and his people.”
Buck was sitting on the couch, holding Gayle’s hand. He sat forward now with an interested expression. “What are you getting at, Virgil?”
The plan that was hatching inside my brain was getting me excited, so much so that I couldn’t remain sitting. I stood up and addressed the room. “Okay, just thinking out loud here, so somebody correct me if I’m reading this wrong. These guys must be planning on doing something to make us believe the attack against Marcus is happening. They think that will bring us running to his defense and they can hit us with everything they have while we’re on the road.
“There are only so many logical routes to get from here to Marcus’ block. The bad guys will have to cover all of them, and to do that; they’ll need to split up their forces. That leaves a lot of their people being out in the open.”
I could tell the Major was getting impatient, so I hurried along. “Is there a way we could turn this around on them? They think we will be leaving our stronghold and traveling to Marcus. What happens if we give every appearance that we are doing just that, but instead, Marcus and his people head towards us? I mean they have enough vehicles to get them all on board. Instead of taking an obvious route, we have him take one that is unexpected and unlikely to be manned by the bad guys.” I shrugged. “We have enough room for them all downstairs. Let’s bring them into the fold.”
The Major looked troubled. “That’s a lot more mouths to feed.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got that covered for a while,” Pops chimed in. “We could tell them to leave everything but their weapons and ammo. We can never have enough of those.” He stood up. “The alternatives are to race into a trap or abandon our friends to be slaughtered. I’m not ready to do either one of those things.”
The Major sighed and shook his head. “We might be able to pull off something like that, Dan, if we had adequate time and a complete understanding of where the enemy has its people staged. We don’t have that information, and we have no way of getting it.”
Another thought bloomed in my head. “Major, if we could get a good read on where the bad guys are lying in wait over the next few hours, would you be able to devise a plan?”
“Sure. But that’s impossible in the time that we have. We have no idea when those will want to spring their little trap, but it would probably be at least an hour or two before nightfall. No one wants to be out there with the crazies after dark.”
I pointed at him. “I have an idea. If you start planning a reverse sting on these guys, I might be able to get us the information you need. Pops? Give me a hand. You too, Pepper.”
I didn’t stop to ensure they were behind me because I was excited, so I limped to the staircase as quickly as I could manage. Pepper appeared at my side and slipped an arm around my waist.
“Let me help you, invalid. You can’t do anything with a set of broken legs.”
She helped me down the first set of stairs with Pops right behind us wearing a puzzled expression. I was proud that he had enough trust in me to play along without demanding a full explanation. We hit the landing to sub-level one, and I directed her to the set leading down to the warehouse level. We managed to get there without any spills, and I went to a laptop that was sitting on a small shelf just inside the warehouse. I opened it and powered it up.
“Now,” I said to both of them. “I spent many hours down here exploring while the construction workers built the mansion. One of my favorite pastimes was checking out all the cool stuff Pops had purchased for us. He used information from the prepper sites to include everything that could be used for long-term survival.”
I turned the lapto
p screen around so they could see it. “One of the coolest things I remember seeing was this.”
I showed them the display on the electronic manifest computer. Pops grinned as he rubbed his face. “I had completely forgotten about those.”
I hunted us down a couple of wheeled carts while Pepper and Pops used the numbering system we had implemented for finding the gear we might need from among the rows of shelving.
I heard the whine of an electric load lifter as it strained to reach a high shelf. A moment later it came rolling around a bank of shelves to where I waited with the carts. Pops was driving the lift and Pepper was sitting on the cab behind him. There were three large wooden crates on the forks.
Pops smiled and pointed at the crates. “Found ‘em.”
✽✽✽
Arlo sat with half of his remaining army in a four-door Chevy truck at the intersection of Ashlan and Academy Avenues, one of the most likely routes the Hilltop group would be taking if they decided to come to the aid of Marcus and his people. His left leg was starting to hurt again, and he reached for the big bottle of pills in his breast pocket. He was supposed to be taking two pills every six hours, but the burns were driving him to swallow four of them every two hours. The medicine was holding the pain in check, but the overdosing of codeine was playing games with his head, and he was continuously fighting the urge to sleep. The ex-army man didn’t want to think about what the pills were doing to his liver.
There were two Humvees lined up behind Arlo’s pickup, and each of them had machine guns mounted in their turrets. That left the only remaining M-240 with the second half of his army.
In addition to the machine guns, this group carried two IMI B-300 shoulder-fired rocket launchers. The Israelis produced the anti-tank system as an answer to the inaccurate but useful RPG grenade launcher that our army faced in the Gulf war. It was capable of firing three 82 millimeter high explosive rounds per minute. They were supplied with the weapons by Lobo and his band, but the gang banger leader only gave them four rockets for each team. Arlo thought that would be adequate for their task.
But, the former Army officer wasn’t relying solely on the rocket launchers. Behind the Humvees sat two M1126 Stryker combat vehicles. Both had fifty-caliber ‘Ma Deuce’ machine guns mounted in a revolving turret on top of the tank. The nineteen ton, eight-wheeled vehicles were armored and could reach speeds of sixty miles per hour. They had been left behind when Arlo moved against Marcus’ group because they were out of fuel. They were here now, fully fueled and waiting to wreak havoc on the Hilltop people if they were to take the bait.
Arlo was looking forward to getting a little payback for the grenade attack upon his people and, more importantly, the burns on his legs. There was a dirt lot on this intersection, and someone had been using it to display and sell wooden storage sheds. There were a dozen of them all lined up next to each other and ready to be examined by prospective buyers. Arlo’s vehicles were hidden behind those structures waiting for the would-be rescuers to come racing down from the big hills. They would think they were heading for a repeat of the event in which Arlo’s army had been humiliated and sent running.
Arlo grinned. They had a little humiliation of their own coming today. This intersection was the most direct route from the foothills to the pocket of survivors his army had been attacking that day. They were expected to come speeding down Academy Avenue with the aim of turning west on Ashlan and taking it to the site of the earlier confrontation. The second most likely route would be to speed past this intersection while heading for Shields Avenue. Either way would bring them in range of Arlo’s guns and rockets.
Arlo sipped a bottle of water and wished he’d thought of bringing a thermos of coffee along to keep the sleepiness of the codeine at bay. He was about to take another sip of his water when he paused with the bottle halfway to his lips.
What was that noise? Arlo leaned out of the open window and cocked his ear. Had he really heard something? He laughed to himself when he realized the sound was similar to that made by a lawnmower. There was zero chance that anyone was crazy enough to be mowing their lawns in this new world.
✽✽✽
At the intersection of Herndon and Fowler Avenues, Arturo and Lobo sat in a four-door Jeep Wrangler with the air conditioner blowing at full blast. Arturo had long marveled at his leader’s love of air conditioning, even when the weather was moderate like it was today.
The Jeep was one of seven vehicles lined up a half block south of the intersection. Anyone who was intending to use Fowler Avenue to access the Shields and Fowler intersection would be already into the turn before seeing the waiting trap. It would be too late because by then they would have come under attack by Lobo’s rifles and rocket launchers. He had four of the B-300s with three extra rockets for each one. Lobo had utilized the military knowledge of the ex-soldiers to learn how to operate the devices.
Lobo was excited as he waited. He didn’t think anyone would come this way as he considered it to be the least likely of the four possible routes. Even though the gang leader longed to see his enemies burning alive in their vehicles, Lobo was not opposed to letting his new allies carry the brunt of the attack. These Hilltop people were dangerous, and he had no desire to hash it out with them when he had others who were stupid enough to do it for him. He liked the idea of Arlo’s army losing a few people. It would make his eventual plan for co-opting the ex-soldiers easier.
So, he would sit here with his people and wait for the call from Arlo directing them to converge on the site of battle to render aid. Of course, it might take them a bit longer than expected actually to get there. Some things can’t be helped, after all. If the action was over by the time they arrived on the scene, well; sorry about that!”
Arturo was aware of Lobo’s plan for how today was going to go. It seemed like a good plan. This Arlo guy had military training and so did his men, most of them, anyway. He looked over toward the intersection of Bullard and McCall Avenues. That was the fourth route deemed most likely for the hilltop group to use. There were only four trucks there, all Arlo’s men. They had two pickups and two Humvees waiting there, and one of the hummers had Arlo’s last M-240 mounted on it. They would be close enough to call in Arlo and his rocket launchers if the rescuers decided to come up Bullard until they reached Fowler Avenue, then head south to Shields. Lobo was confident he had sufficient coverage of the area to see the Hilltop people regardless of the route they chose to take. He even had a man hiding in the weeds near the gate to alert them when they came through it.
The big man couldn’t help wrestling with something in his mind, however. He kept feeling like they might be underestimating the people on top of the hill.
✽✽✽
Juan Cerna had been anxious to get back into Lobo’s good graces after the Costco incident. His chance had come this morning when Turo sent fifteen people out to a place near the intersection of Shields and Fowler Avenues. His orders were to make themselves visible to the group of survivors there and make them think an attack was imminent. Later, when Turo gave him the word over the radio, he was supposed to draw everyone back and put them into vehicles around the intersection.
At some point he was to have the vehicles start racing around, shooting at the houses around there. They were supposed to be as loud as possible and try to convince the survivors that they were under attack from a larger group.
After an hour of playing peek-a-boo with the survivor group, Turo had passed the word to Juan to get the Mojados in the trucks and wait for the signal to attack. Juan had done that and was now squatting down by an older house on Fowler trying to keep the area under surveillance until their act was to begin. Juan knew this would be his last chance with Lobo. If he blew this one in any way, he wouldn’t survive the night.
Juan looked at the sky and frowned. There couldn’t be more than two hours of daylight left. He wondered what they were waiting for. He heard a woman’s voice behind him.
“Any word yet?”
“No, bitch, and what are you doing out of your…?”
His words caught in his throat and, for the second time in a week, Juan felt his bladder releasing itself involuntarily. The tall black woman standing over him was smiling and showing dazzling white teeth. She had a long and wicked-looking machete in her hand. Before Juan could grab the handgun from its holster, the blade flashed, and Juan felt the air in his lungs come rushing out of his severed throat. He fell back onto his elbows staring in horror up at his executioner.
The woman bent forward, putting her lips next to the dying man’s ear. “Who’s the bitch now?” she whispered.
Juan fell back onto the lawn while trying to keep his windpipe covered with his bloody hands. He tried to scream for help, but the air in his lungs didn’t reach his vocal cords. He reached for his holstered pistol again, but the woman stepped on his wrist, pinning it to the grass.
It took Juan three minutes to die from blood loss, and Dee stood on his hand for the entire time.
There were four trucks filled with fourteen of Lobo’s people parked near the intersection of Shields and Fowler. Juan had ordered them not to make any noise or show themselves, so they had hidden the vehicles in the long driveway of a dry cleaner store. They had parked facing toward Fowler Avenue and were waiting for the word from Juan to begin shooting up the neighborhood.
The groups in each of the trucks were talking softly amongst themselves and didn’t notice the three figures leaning over the top of the dry cleaners or the four additional people looking out from behind two nearby houses.
Dee lined up her sights from atop the dry cleaners. She was targeting the truck on one end of the line of vehicles while Marcus sighted in on the pickup at the other end. George was pointing his M4 at the windshield of the vehicle that was the closest to the road. When Dee hit her trigger, the rest of the Marcus’ people joined in using the full-auto function of the rifles the Hilltop group had given them.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 26