by Victor Zugg
***
Tiff heard the sound of boots crunching on loose sand over asphalt. The group was getting closer. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound, trying to estimate the number of people. Three, maybe four.
The group was within twenty feet when she finally saw their silhouettes. Four people; probably men, based on their size. They were quiet, and they moved with discipline, so they knew what they were doing and they had a plan. And they carried rifles.
She moved her finger to the trigger of her rifle, and remained perfectly still, as the four men crept past her position. She was not capable of ambushing these men, of shooting first. She suspected their intention, but she could be wrong. She did not want to take the chance of ending up with innocent blood on her hands. She figured Chet felt the same since he wasn’t shooting.
When the group had passed her position and was twenty feet or so down the road, she saw the silhouette of an arm rise into the air over the head of the man leading the pack. The group stopped. Tiff heard a whisper, but couldn’t make out the words. Probably last minute instructions. The group resumed their advance.
When the group was fifty yards farther away, Tiff heard a slight rustle from Chet. He stepped from behind his tree and leaned toward Tiff.
“I say we bring up the rear,” he whispered.
“Right behind you,” she said, barely audible.
Chet stepped out to the edge of the side road.
Tiff eased up next to him, and then they both started off in a crouch. She had the men in sight. They were bunched together, moving along in a dark hulk.
***
Sam couldn’t bring himself to shoot first. He would wait until the group of men fired on the barricade. That was the decision he made as he watched the group of eight, probably all men, as they crept past his position. Their silhouettes crept slowly along until, suddenly, they stopped right in front of Sam. He could hear them breathing.
The man in front whispered to the man next to him. It sounded like they were trying to decide whether to continue creeping along, or rush the barricade. Sam thought about which he would choose. Both options had advantages and risks. Closer would mean more accurate firing. But it also meant more exposure to return fire from the barricade.
Sam looked at the barricade. From what he could see from between the trees, the barricade offered no obvious targets. This group might be wondering if there were any defenders at all.
When Sam heard the sound of a truck engine and saw pinpoints of light in the distance, coming toward the barricade from town, he knew this group would have to make a decision. The truck’s headlights were still too far away, around a curve, to illuminate the barricade or the group of men advancing forward. And the trees surrounding Sam and Andy were still dark enough to provide good concealment, even though they stood only a few feet from the invaders.
Sam heard a whisper and then the group leaped forward, trotting toward the barricade in a crouch, rifles shouldered. They suddenly dispersed, spread out in a line, rapidly advancing toward the barricade.
The first blast pierced the quiet night so suddenly that Sam jumped, even though he was expecting it. Several more booms followed the first. Then he saw fire burst from a rifle barrel behind the barricade.
There was a pause that returned the night to quiet for an instant, and then all hell opened up as the advancing group began firing in earnest. The guys behind the barricade returned fire.
Almost immediately, gunfire erupted over by the barricade’s left flank. The muzzle flashes illuminated a small group rushing for cover against the far end of the line of cars forming the outside line of the barricade. If those men made it around the far end of the barricade, the invaders would have Jay, Tim, Steve, and Tom in a crossfire.
Sam saw one of the defenders rise up to fire over a car hood when he suddenly jerked back and fell out of sight behind the car. Sam yelled for Andy to move forward, to the edge of the wooded area, but to keep a tree between him and the invaders. Sam followed his own instructions.
The approaching truck headlights were close enough to illuminate the barricade and the men behind it. The invaders remained low, in the shadow cast by the barricade. Some were firing from a prone position.
Sam aimed for the one man still in a crouch and pulled the trigger twice. The man fell. Sam moved the sight to the next man, laying prone, and fired. The rounds flew high. The man rolled twice, twisted his body, and began firing in the direction of Sam and Andy. Rounds smacked the branches around Sam. One splintered the tree trunk Sam was behind.
Sam peeked back round the tree and saw gunfire erupt behind the invaders, at the far end of the barricade. Chet and Tiff. The invaders returned fire to their rear.
Sam and Andy opened up on the men prone on the asphalt in front of the barricade. One man jerked and then went still. Sam continued pulling the trigger until the thirty-round magazine was empty. Sam ejected, pulled a mag from his leg cargo pocket, and slammed the new load into the well. He resumed firing.
From the light of the approaching truck, Sam saw one of the invaders push his rifle out in front of him and then raise his hands as best he could while still in the prone position. Sam ceased firing, tapped Andy on the shoulder, and motioned for him to stop.
Within seconds, all firing ceased. The only thing Sam could hear was a muffled ringing in his ears. From behind the tree, Sam waved his arm, yelled for the men behind the barricade to not fire but to keep the men on the ground covered. He stepped out of the tree line, followed by Andy, and they trotted to the invaders lying in the road.
Of the eight invaders, three were dead, including the leader, and two were wounded. Sam told Andy to retrieve the invaders’ rifles and to check the men for any other weapons. Sam started zip-tying the hands of those left alive. With that completed, and all weapons secured, Sam walked toward the far end of the barricade. He approached Tiff and Chet standing over four men, all dead.
“You two alright?” Sam asked.
“Fine, no injuries,” Tiff said.
Sam nodded and then walked to the center of the barricade. He found Jay, Tim, and Steve bent over Tom on the ground, his body lifeless.
Jay stood, emotion disrupted his speech. “Could have been any of us,” Jay said.
“Or all of you,” Sam said.
Sam turned to the truck as it pulled to a stop just behind the center of the barricade. The headlights remained on as Bill jumped from the driver’s seat and rushed between the barricade cars. He knelt next to Tom, put his fingers on his throat, and then stood up, next to Sam.
“What happened?”
“Assault,” Sam said. “Twelve men all together, two groups. They tried to flank the barricade over there.” Sam pointed to where Chet and Tiff stood.
“We’re all sorry about Tom, but we need to maintain vigilance,” Bill said, as he looked around at Jay, Tim, and Steve. “There could be another force coming up.”
The three of them walked off to three separate points on the barricade.
“How many casualties on their side?” Bill asked.
“Seven, plus two wounded,” Sam said.
Chet and Tiff walked up carrying the weapons from the flanking force. They dropped the weapons and then looked down at Tom.
“I didn’t know Tom well, but he seemed like a good guy,” Tiff said.
“It could have been worse,” Chet said.
CHAPTER 13
The sun was above the treetops when Chet pulled the Hummer into the drive and clicked off the engine in front of the cabin.
“I’d like to clean up a bit and then find our special forces pot grower,” Sam said.
“I could sleep for a day,” Tiff said as she climbed out of the back.
“You got a good two or three hours sleep last night, back there curled up on the seat,” Chet said.
Sam slid out of the passenger seat and then turned his head toward the hammering coming from the garage. He walked over to the doors, peered in, and saw Charlie driving a n
ail while Juan cut a board with a handsaw.
“Excuse me,” Diego said, as he squeezed past Sam, carrying another board.
“Where did you find the lumber?” Sam asked.
Charlie stopped the hammer in mid-swing. “We disassembled part of your neighbor’s garage.”
“What are you building?” Chet asked.
“Kind of room within a room,” Charlie said, as he stood up and joined Sam, Chet, and Tiff at the open doors. “I just wanted to close off the back section. It will be warmer in the winter.”
Juan walked over and kicked a kerosene heater. “We found this over there, some extra kerosene, and we took some beds and stuff.”
“Should fit okay,” Charlie said.
“I’d love to help,” Sam said, “but I need to clean up a bit, maybe get something to eat, and a couple of hours sleep. Then we need to head back out.”
“Where to this time?” Charlie asked.
“The hills. Looking for that Toby Thomas fellow. Apparently, he’s a pot grower up there. I’m hoping to convince him and his men to help us defend the town.”
“What happened last night?” Charlie asked.
“Assault on the barricade,” Tiff said. “The invaders were killed, wounded, or captured. Hank is trying to figure out what to do with the ones still alive.”
“You guys okay?”
“Yep, just tired and dirty,” Sam said.
“I’m going to hit the shower,” Tiff said.
“I’ll do the same down by the stream,” Chet said.
Sam headed toward the cabin. “I’ll check in with Emma. Did you guys eat already?”
“Yep,” Charlie said, “oatmeal.”
Sam nodded and then stepped inside the cabin.
***
“Another dirt road coming up,” Chet said, as he eased the Hummer along the two-lane asphalt of Rudd Hollow Road.
“Looks promising,” Sam said. He motioned to the side road.
“You said that about the last three dirt roads,” Tiff said. “They all ended at a stream, with no bridge.”
“A lot of streams in this area,” Chet said.
Sam had been able to review a map of the area when they stopped at the police department to check on Pete. Pete was out doing something with the militia, but Andy was able to produce a map from a file cabinet in the back. Rudd Hollow generally ran north and south. Miles of uninhabited forest spread from the road to the east and west, mostly to the east. Hills, gullies, streams, marsh, and thick forest dominated the entire area, so most dirt roads, probably originally cut by lumber companies, ended soon after they started. Even the Hummer would not be able to traverse very far off of the dirt roads. Sam focused on the roads off of Rudd Hollow because that was the best information he had for finding Toby Thomas. They had already explored three dirt roads that ended up leading nowhere, and Sam was beginning to question the logic of spending time and diesel to find someone who obviously didn’t want to be found. And even if they did find Toby, what were the chances he would be willing to drop everything, risk his life and the lives of his men, to protect the town. Slim to none, Sam figured. Sam was just about to call off the search when he saw Chet point ahead.
“Looks like a bridge up there,” Chet said.
Sam squinted to get a better look down the road through the low light of the thick forest canopy. Sam saw the rough cut timbers forming a makeshift bridge over a narrow stream.
Chet crossed the bridge. The dirt road immediately became little more than a trail hacked through the forest. Sam noted that the trail was wide enough for the Hummer, which meant the trail was wide enough for a flat bed truck.
“How do we know Toby and his men won’t shoot first?” Tiff asked.
Sam glanced back at Tiff. “We don’t.”
“In fact, we should presume they will shoot first,” Chet said.
“Maybe we should park the Hummer and walk in,” Tiff said.
Sam nodded. “Let’s pull over.”
Chet pulled the Hummer off the road and into the forest several yards. He brought the truck to a stop on the back side of a thick clump of young fir trees.
Tiff opened her backpack and pulled out a Pocket Boy folding camp saw. “We should add a little foliage to conceal the Hummer.”
Sam opened his door and scanned the immediate forest floor for snakes. “Watch for snakes.”
“He doesn’t like snakes,” Chet said to Tiff.
“I know.”
Sam stepped out and continued to survey the area.
Tiff immediately began cutting branches and let them drop to the ground.
Chet gathered the limbs and dragged them to the Hummer, where Sam placed them strategically to cover the sharp lines of the body and anything that might glint in the few rays of sun filtering through the leaves.
Sam walked toward the trail several yards and looked back. “That should do it.”
Tiff finished the limb she was working on, carried it to the Hummer and threw it on top of the brush already placed by Sam. She then folded her saw and stuffed it back in her backpack. She slung the pack over one shoulder and grabbed her rifle.
Sam and Chet grabbed their packs and rifles and then the three of them stepped out on the trail.
Chet looked back at the clump of fir trees and then picked up a limb and leaned it against a tree trunk at the tree line.
“I remember a time, not so long ago, when we lost the truck in the woods,” Sam said.
“You guys lost the Hummer?”
“Temporarily misplaced,” Chet said.
“I might’ve expected that from the air force, but not an airborne trooper.”
“Always mark the spot,” Chet said.
“Why didn’t you mark the spot the last time?” Sam asked.
“Well, I had a particular tree picked out, but it was pitch dark when we got back to that area,” Chet said. “Couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, much less that tree.”
“Uh-huh,” Tiff said.
With packs on their backs and rifles in their hands, they marched east, single file, deeper into the forest.
As they walked, with Chet in the lead, Sam searched the ground for any signs that anyone had been down the trail recently. The trail was mostly covered with a thick bed of leaves, some old, some new, with a spot of bare soil from time to time. On one such spot he saw an unmistakable partial tire print, which he pointed out for Tiff’s benefit.
She nodded as she stepped over the spot, and then resumed sweeping her head from side to side.
Every few minutes Chet stopped suddenly and cocked his ear in various directions.
Sam followed suit, listening for any sounds other than those made by the natural forest. There was a light breeze through the leaves. Birds chirped. Squirrels rummaged. Sam saw an armadillo in the distance. The odd looking critter was becoming more prevalent. Naturally nocturnal, but they did come out during the day. Without natural predators, their latest expansion into the US had gone unchecked as they made their way up through Texas and into the mid-west. Sam read they had already made their way into southern Indiana, from South America where they originated. And worst of all, the US variety, the nine-banded armadillo, carried leprosy. Sam added armadillo to his growing list of animals to avoid. Snakes topped the list.
Sam glanced at Chet and then back to Tiff. They both had their heads on a swivel, checking in all directions as they walked. Sam watched the ground as much as he surveyed his surroundings. As Chet and Tiff pointed out, he didn’t like snakes. That alone was a good enough reason for him to join the air force, rather than the army or marines.
They had walked about a mile when Sam noticed the area ahead getting brighter, less dense, through the trees. They continued along around a bend, until finally, another two hundred yards or so farther, they stepped from the dense foliage behind them into an open field covered with low scrub and tree stumps on both sides of the trail. The trail continued across the field and into another stand of dense foliage beyond.
“Must be a hundred acres or more,” Chet said. “Probably cleared by some timber company.”
Sam notice that around the circumference of the open area, on both sides of the trail, dark green plants, about the height of a man, stood a few feet out from the edge of the forest. This ring of plants had direct sunlight, but also cover from the trees along the edge.
Sam walked over and plucked a leaf from one of the plants. “I think we found their pot field.”
“A few feet around the edge of a hundred acre field adds up to a lot of pot,” Chet said.
“This may be just one field,” Tiff said. “None of this has been harvested.”
A glint of light caught Sam’s attention from across the field, just inside the dense foliage. “I just saw a flash of light from across the field,” Sam said. “Could be binoculars.”
“Could be a scope,” Tiff said.
Sam edged himself closer to the trees to his right, without being too obvious about it.
“Okay, now what?” Chet asked, as he moved closer to the trees.
“We came here to find this Toby character,” Tiff said. “Let’s go find him.”
“You’re betting he won’t shoot first,” Sam said.
Tiff took a few steps toward the open field. “I am.”
Sam thought for a few seconds and then followed Tiff. “Okay, but spread out.”
“And hope they miss,” Chet said.
Sam glanced back at Chet and nodded.
The three of them started out across the open field, walking on the trail.
They had gone about half way when Sam heard the sound of an engine turning over and then catching. A flatbed truck pulled out from the tree line ahead and proceeded in the trio’s direction.
“At least they didn’t shoot first,” Chet said.
The three continued walking until the truck was twenty-five yards in front of them. The truck stopped. Sam, Chet, and Tiff stopped. The engine went silent.