by J. L. Salter
“They’ve seen it.” Herb caught back a little of his breath. “Definite. I saw Baldy and Chico pointing right at it.”
“Baldy and Chico?” Hmm. Nice to I.D. your enemy.
Herb nodded with extra adrenaline in his movement.
“Okay, Herb. Fine, Fine. Did you close Art’s garage door?”
“Forgot. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Art’s gonna be stationed pretty close. Maybe he’ll get a chance.” Pete turned to Ellie. “Okay, get everybody moving. They’ve spotted our line.” He stood at the edge of his own garage and looked toward the gathering enemy.
Ellie dashed inside to gather those not already out. “Okay, let’s get outside and show them hoodlums they cain’t come up in here and push old folks around. Everybody ready?”
Chet cleared his throat loudly. “I guess.”
They all filed out through the garage, most hunkered down somewhat. Except for Kelly, Diane, and Ellie, none were very steady on their feet.
The relocated vehicles — Earl’s Cadillac, Leo’s Crown Victoria, Chet’s pickup, and Wade’s truck and trailer — nearly filled the expanse between Pete’s garage and Leo’s across the street. In flagrant violation of the Community Association’s standing rules, three garage doors were left all the way open.
Chet was the first to exit Pete’s garage. “This barricade won’t keep them from breaking through, but it’ll expose them ta field of fire while they’re doing it.” He nodded with approval.
“Plus, their big trucks can’t get by.” Diane pointed in the direction of the intruders’ vehicles even though she couldn’t see them.
Their neighborhood defenses finally spotted, Pete realized it was time to sound the alarm so both task forces would know there was a dramatic shift in status and momentum. He wondered if Force Mitchell remained a one-man team or if the Legionnaires had arrived by then.
Pete reached for Chet’s M-1, clicked off the safety, and fired the first of three blanks, aiming toward the high, un-named knob to his west. In his practiced hands, he quickly reloaded, singly, from the cartridges in Chet’s open palm.
Bang… Bang… Bang.
Pete would have preferred to fire his deer rifle, but needed to conserve the available live ammo.
The noises startled Diane even though she’d watched him pull the trigger. Obviously, even Deaf Leo heard the shots, but he seemed considerably less affected.
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-One
Wednesday at 1:30 p.m.
Opposing Force
Foss and Herve ducked at the reports from three rifle shots up the hill and around the curve.
“What was that, man?” Herve scurried toward the back of his largest truck.
Foss was right behind him. “Blitz! Blitz! Blitz! I ain’t believing this!”
Herve could not resist stating the obvious. “Hey man, one of them old dudes has a gun!”
“Blitz! Blitz! Blitz!” Foss was thinking it could be more than one gun.
“I don’t think them wheelchairs is rolling away, man.”
“Shut up and let me think! Blitz! Blitz! Stinkin’ blitz!”
****
Task Force Mitchell
As the sole current member of Mitch’s Marauders had nearly reached the limit of his mental, physical, and emotional fidgeting, Mitch heard three rifle reports; they were blanks, without the sharpness of live rounds. Blanks or not, for a moment, standing on the back slope of no-name-knob, he had the oddest feeling that he was being fired upon.
Pete’s signal meant the most forward enemy had finally spotted the Community defenders’ impromptu barricade. Mitch wondered what the young thieves thought as they watched a handful of octogenarians hobble back and forth behind a string of ancient vehicles blocking the road.
He stood on his toes, as if that would get his eyes high enough to see over no-name-knob’s substantial height and breadth. Nothing to climb except the church steeple. But by the time he did, the Legion men would probably arrive. Where are those guys, anyway?
He looked down at his snub-nosed .38. Mitch suddenly wished he was on top of no-name-knob with a scope and Pete’s deer rifle. Nope. That .308 wouldn’t be accurate over such a distance. To hit those punks from that knob, you’d need something high-tech. Maybe that new M-24 battle rifle the military was testing. Or some laser-guided super-sniper weapon like the M-48. He’d read about both in his NRA magazine.
But if he had such a weapon, would Mitch use it?
To protect himself, yes. To protect Kelly, definitely. Mitch would shoot all of those criminals if they were hurting Kelly. Or probably if Ellie was in danger. Maybe he’d shoot to save Chet… or Diane.
So maybe Mitch would take a life to save the lives of people he valued, plus some of the ones he knew. But what about those people who’d barely acknowledged him as he walked into the luncheon? Would Mitch kill to protect strangers? Not sure.
In a brief moment of clarity, Mitch realized he ought to write down that question to share later with Kelly. It might be a key to her Veterans Day articles. What’s the motivation to kill some enemy, in order to save the lives of strangers you’ve never met?
****
Task Force Wade
When they heard Pete’s sequential rifle shots, all three Warriors looked up. Only Joe faced the wrong direction.
“The enemy spotted our barricade.” Roger turned to Wade. “That clears you to blast your hijacked fireworks.”
Unable to restrain a grin, Wade started the grouped fuses with a cigarette lighter, watched to see they were burning properly, and then called out. “Okay, guys. Five minutes ‘til show time!”
They loaded up quickly and Wade drove the cart about a hundred feet east to a protected spot behind a small knoll, where he had previously begun setting up Vegge-zilla.
Joe — the designated spotter — saw an elevated place in the rafters of the only unfinished duplex on Cordial Lane, about one-hundred-fifty feet west toward Serenity Drive. Plenty of distance from the bombs. The site of that framed-up condo was nearly the highest part of the hill within the retirement complex, although still considerably lower than the unnamed knob to the southwest.
Wade had given Joe some basic signals to use: aim longer — hands all the way apart; aim shorter — hands close together. Come right — both hands swept right; come left — both hands swept left. Right on target — hands clasped together. “Got it?”
Joe practiced all five and Roger narrated as though Joe were already far away up in the observation post. Then Joe ran through all five motions again.
Roger looked over his shoulder. “You figure the workmen left a ladder?”
“Not likely. You better go help Joe get situated, while I finish putting this bad boy together.” Wade stopped him. “Oh, give Joe them binocs from my buggy.”
Roger complied and followed Joe toward the framed-up two story condo. It was one of only seven units with two levels — all were along the east side of Serenity Drive and faced the nursing home complex.
Since Diane had the only other working phone at present, Joe tried to reach her at the barricade. No answer so he left a message. Then he gave his phone to Roger who could make any firing order corrections noted from the barricade but missed by the apprehensive spotter.
****
Barricade
Pete had scarcely ejected the third casing of his warning shots when his peripheral vision registered two figures moving toward them from the rear. Instinctively he positioned the borrowed, empty M-1 rifle.
Ellie noticed and pushed up his barrel. “It’s your Ashley, and that’s Prophet bringing up the rear.”
Pete gasped and handed the Garand back to Chet. Then he collected himself enough to trot — doubled over — back to the D-8 dozer, about a hundred feet behind the defenders’ line. He was out of breath when he reached safety. Ashley got there first, tears in her eyes, and hugged him urgently.
While Pete struggled for words, Isaiah arrived with something of a stumble and then be
nt over with his hands on his knees. The old black man was completely out of breath.
“What the big blue blazes…”
“Settle down, Pete. I saw her heading this way and figured she ought not to be by herself.” Isaiah breathed raggedly. “Didn’t know if there were enemy patrols on your sides yet.”
“It’s not his fault, Grandpa.” Ashley was slightly winded, but trotting down a curved hill had a much faster recovery for someone nearly eighteen. “I’d waited like… as long as I could up there and got worried.”
“Irene said Florence was watching you.”
“She was, but she like… got busy with something. I figured that was my chance to get away.”
“I tried to catch up to her, Pete, but she’s quick for a girl.”
“For a girl?” Her face was about to form a pout until she saw that Isaiah was deliberately ribbing her.
“It’s too dangerous down here. They’ve spotted our barricade and they’re bound to probe soon. Maybe worse.” Pete looked around the bulldozer toward the other defenders on the line. Irene was approaching.
Irene tried to double over as she walked quickly, but with her age and girth, it was more of a quarter-over. Her stride wasn’t all that quick either. She hugged Ashley tightly and looked at Pete with large moist eyes.
“Too dangerous here. Take her back up to the complex, Isaiah.”
“Don’t think she’ll go back.” Isaiah wiped sweat from his smooth black scalp, mostly surrounded by the cuff of curly gray/white hair. “Besides which, I’d decided to come back down here anyway when I saw her slip out.”
“Well, you can stay. We need an extra hand.” Then he faced Ashley. “But you’ve got to go. Things are about to bust loose down here, honey.”
“You just said you like… need more help. I can help.” She paused for a reaction, saw only his concern, and then continued. “You taught me how to shoot, Grandpa. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Then get back up to the complex, where you’ll be safe.”
“Except that, Grandpa. I heard you say earlier they’ve got a superior force… or something. I’ll help.” Then Ashley remembered. “Oh, Grandma, I was finally able to send word to the State Police, like you said. I texted them.”
“That’s nice, honey.” She was still hugging her youngest granddaughter.
Pete perked up. “Ashley, say that again, about reaching the troopers.”
“Well I couldn’t like… get any phone service down here and nobody had Internet. But up on that hill, like somebody said, I did get a low signal — one bar — from somewhere. I guess it was the edge of a fringe area for service.” She held up her device. “And I finally reached a friend in Bowling Green, but it was too garbled on both ends. Just about every third syllable. So I like… gave up with the phone. But I remembered one of my other friends said she could sometimes text even if she didn’t like… have enough bars to make a call.”
“Honey, you need to cut to the chase.” Pete looked over his shoulder hurriedly.
Ashley sighed. “Okay. That fringe signal was evidently just enough for me to text. So I texted my friend and asked her to look up a cell phone number for like… anybody at the Kentucky State Police in Frankfort.”
Pete was extremely confused.
“Because land lines can’t receive text messages.” Ashley was trying to be patient.
There was sustained confusion in the huddle.
“You know on their websites, some companies list their top managers and sometimes like… give other contact points besides office phones?” She saw no reaction from her rapt audience, so she continued. “So my friend like… found a cell phone number of some Captain Somebody. And I texted him.”
“What did your text say?” Irene was still hugging her.
“Here, I saved it.” Ashley tapped a few squares on the small screen and showed the message to her grandparents.
Pete rarely attempted to read small print so he motioned to his wife.
Irene adjusted her glasses and read it out. Emrgncy Pulaski Co S. Somerset Placid Ln Atackd by creps w guns. Not drill. Henley. Then she positioned the tiny screen right in his face.
Pete mulled over the message. Though confusing from abbreviated spelling, it was accurate as far as it went. “Honey, did anybody write you back?”
She shook her head.
“So we can’t be certain they actually received it?”
“No. But I know it went though because after I pressed send, it like… went back to my home screen.” She shrugged.
Pete closed his eyes briefly. “So it probably went through, but we don’t know if anybody opened it or whatever you’d do. Plus, if he did see it, whether he’d do anything about it.”
“Grandpa, if you were like… a State Police captain who got an emergency text, wouldn’t you do something?”
“You’re right. No need to borrow trouble. Well, anyhow, that’s a lot better than anybody else has done. Nice job, honey.” Pete stuck out his chin. “Now get back up that hill to the complex, please.”
Ashley stuck out her own jaw.
“Pete, she’s got all that stubbornness from your side of the family. Might as well let her stay.” Irene tightened her embrace. “I’ll keep her on the line between me and Ellie.”
“That’s no good.” He shook his head. “I’ll need Ellie. She can’t be baby-sitting.” The hurt expression on Ashley’s face was ignored because the sergeant had refocused on tactics. He took another look around the dozer. “Put her between Misses Randall and Sutton. Me and Chet are on either side of that pair. That’s probably as safe as she can be down here.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.” Her expression was relief mixed with fear as she realized that she was now committed to stay.
“Ashley, you stay real low and try to get behind the engine block area of Lawrence’s truck. Irene, take her on down before things get worse. Find her a shovel or something. No guns.” He momentarily forgot they didn’t have any guns to spare, nor very much ammunition.
Irene let go of Ashley’s shoulder and tried again to double over, as her granddaughter was easily able to do.
“Zigzag, Irene!” Pete sighed heavily as his wife and granddaughter headed in a mostly straight line toward the barricade. Ashley arrived first by a considerable margin.
“Looks like the apple doesn’t drop far from the tree, Pete.” Isaiah also watched.
“You mean ignoring orders?”
“No, stepping up to do her duty.”
Pete nodded and continued to watch until his family members were situated behind the barricade. “Now go back to why you’re down here again.”
“I started to stay to begin with. But a tiny voice was saying, This isn’t your neighborhood. Go up there and wait it out.” Isaiah took a deep breath. “But then I got to thinking: that’s part of the problem I’ve had my whole life. And my ancestors before me. When we — all of us — think about things in terms of neighborhoods and boundaries and other details that can divide us, it just drives us further apart.” The old black man looked into Pete’s eyes. “You’ve been a good friend to me. If you’re in trouble in your neighborhood, then I can’t sit up in a safe complex and wait ‘til it’s over. Friends help friends.”
Pete’s eyes grew moist. He grasped Isaiah’s shoulder with one hand and held up his rifle with the other. “Don’t guess you brought any shooting irons.”
“Matter of fact…” He reached into his back pocket. The small revolver was barely visible until he turned over his hand with his light-colored palm up. “Kit gun. From my tackle box.” It was a blued-steel Smith & Wesson Model 34 in .22 caliber. He smiled proudly.
“Loaded?”
The smile faded. “Only four left, Pete. I shot at a moccasin the other day out fishing on the lake.”
“No moccasins in Pulaski, so they say.”
“That’s what I hear, too. But this was one huge, aggressive water snake. As big around as my wrist.” Isaiah had the wrists of an ex-boxer.
> “Did you kill it?”
“No, but surely did make it mad.” Isaiah scratched the back of his neck. “Anyhow, guess I forgot to reload when I got back home.”
“You had this in your pocket during Irene’s luncheon?” Pete was incredulous.
Isaiah shook his head. “In my tackle box. I got it on the way up to that nursing home. Only thought about it when I passed by my truck.”
“Good, good. Another revolver and four more cartridges, even if they are .22.” Pete nodded as he looked toward the barricade. “Every bit helps.”
Isaiah kicked a section of the D-8’s track. “What’s this dozer for?”
“Our barricade’s pretty flimsy and these aren’t exactly troops on the line. The dozer’s to plug the first significant hole.”
“After that?”
“I doubt we can hold this position if they really want it.”
“So what is the plan here, Pete?”
“Stalling action, pure and simple. We don’t want to fight these punks unless we have to. We’ve got people still trying to reach the authorities, if they can ever get though and if the dispatchers won’t automatically think it’s part of the drill. Who knows, maybe Ashley’s message will get somebody’s attention.” Pete groaned. “So we figure to hold them here at the barricade. They can’t get through any of those other intersections.”
“You think maybe they’ll settle for clearing out the condos down there on Pleasant and then just back out of here?”
“Right now that’s best case scenario, for us anyway.” Pete shook his head. “But somehow I figure they came here for the whole enchilada and they won’t be content to leave with only the valuables from about two dozen units.”
“Greed’s going to do them in, Pete.”
“You think so?” He had to catch himself. It felt reassuring to hear someone else speak encouragingly. That was usually the NCO’s role. “I mean, you’re right, Isaiah.” Pete looked around. “We got high ground and we’re dug in, so to speak. Plus, this is home turf. They’d need a few B-A-Rs and their own bulldozer to get past us.”