by J. L. Salter
Shortly, the third missile — the shortest yet — landed on the roof of Earl’s enormous Cadillac. Nobody really heard that one coming. You never hear the one with your name on it. It splattered Earl, Art, and Bernie, despite all three ducking slightly too late. It also left an ugly beige dent in the Caddy’s yellow roof.
Not waiting for a signal from Pete, Kelly quickly phoned Roger with the three-round summary and her suggested correction.
Pete had studiously noted the enemy camp’s reaction, including the recent tense pow-wow among Baldy, Chico, and Toady. After Wade’s first barrage, the haulers who’d started dispersing again had all scurried back to the trucks. Good sign. Lawrence’s diversion is slowing them down.
****
Task Force Wade
After the first potato, Joe had waved frantically to get Roger’s attention and then held his hands nearly six feet apart, as far as his arms could extend. Good thing the binoculars have a neck strap.
Roger quickly translated for Wade. “Aim longer for the next two rounds. First one was too short. Aim longer.”
When Joe’s phone rang in Roger’s pocket, he put on his glasses to answer. “It’s Kelly. She says it nearly hit the barricade line. Add one-five-oh feet.”
Wade looked at him like Roger was nuts, but made a trajectory adjustment anyway. Wade dropped the second potato down the tube and flinched as it went sailing.
Roger fielded the information from their spotter and the barricade caller.
“Maybe I didn’t tap it enough.” So Wade bumped his invention once more.
Wade’s Warriors were functioning smoothly so far. Wade made a cursory sighting along the pipe and fired the third potato.
Kelly called back and Roger nodded before he hung up.
She got any other complaints?”
“That last one hit the barricade. She says the potatoes are deadly, too much collateral damage. Better stick to the softer food groups.”
Looking annoyed at first, Wade then sighed. “Everybody’s always griping to me about food groups.”
****
Barricade
Kelly leaned over to Pete, on her immediate left. “Just talked to Roger again. Wade has five bombs total, so four more. He doesn’t know the exact interval but guesses about ten minutes apart.”
He nodded and spoke over Irene to tell Ellie. “Four more.” Pete held up as many fingers. Irene was the woman he’d fallen in love with and married, the one who’d borne his children and helped raise their grandchildren. Pete loved Irene deeply. But Ellie was the woman he wanted by his side in a battle.
Irene could clearly sense what her husband was feeling.
Noticing blood on her knee, Diane touched it with a finger and tasted it gingerly. She’d worn knee-length shorts and what might be considered a golf shirt. White ankle socks and sneakers.
Ashley rolled her eyes, more about Diane’s fashion sense than her small wound.
Kelly just looked curious.
Diane didn’t wait for the question. “Just a little blood.” Diane looked back over her shoulder toward the presumed location of Wade’s Vegge-zilla. “Guess I scraped it on the street when all those potatoes started flying.”
****
Task Force Mitchell
When Mitch had heard the first of three faint, spaced-out whumps in the distant northeast, he rolled down the SUV’s window. “That’s gotta be Wade’s Vegge-matic.”
Gary grunted. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” Mitch scowled briefly. Sergeant Henley had a good idea. “I’ll explain later.”
Gary sped up at the distant sounds of battle.
Mitch found himself gripping Gary’s door handle as the eager driver took all the curves so fast the right side tires slipped onto the shoulder a few times. “North on Winston. It’ll become South Pleasant in a minute, about there at the rise.” It involved nearly as much time for Mitch to narrate as it took Gary to drive it.
Gary screeched to a halt when he spotted the eighteen-wheeler across the road. “What the…?”
“Oh. I didn’t mention that wreck because I thought we’d be on foot across the field.” Mitch wondered if they suspected he’d merely forgotten due to stress and adrenaline.
“I ain’t walking from back here.” Steve clamped his jaws.
Gary craned his neck out of the window and eased forward slowly. “Not to worry. This baby’s got four-wheel drive. We can curl around the edge, if you guys hold your breath a bit.” A faint smile appeared on his lips. Beads of sweat formed on his scalp and drifted toward the ugly crease of shaved skin just above his neck.
The SUV only barely got back out of the ditch and Mitch did hold his breath while they were briefly bottomed out.
Steve exhaled loudly as the SUV got re-situated up on the narrow pavement.
“What’s with all the construction?” Gary nodded toward the intersection of South Pleasant and Serenity on his right. He seemed to try sounding nonchalant after his ditch maneuver.
Mitch finally exhaled also. “Bear left. Head north on Serenity.” He directed first and answered second — it seemed like a leadership thing to do. “That’s some kind of accident where a heavy truck and trailer carrying a dozer and a grader crushed a culvert. That’s why Pete barricaded his street — both these other roads are temporarily closed and the only way those hoodlums can get through is right in front of the Henley place.”
“I see about a thousand stinkin’ cars at this big complex on the left.” Steve growled. “What the gee-gaw is that?”
“Nursing home is part of it. Assisted living. Offices. Not sure.” Mitch would have preferred to be certain. “It’s attached — associated with this Community.”
“I still don’t see any gangsters or moving trucks.” Gary looked around. “Guess I’ll keep driving.”
“Yeah, go on up past the big complex. Now there’s Cordial that’s blocked on the other end by a utility trench.” Mitch pointed. “Keep going. That next one’s where Pete lives. Placid has the barricade, down and around that curve. Might not be able to see it from this end either. Slow down a bit.”
Mitch, Gary and Steve all looked to their right as the SUV moved slowly north on Serenity.
Neither Elmer nor Ralph had spoken a word on the entire trip so far. Though each had his own family and home, they spent a lot of time together — just the two of them. However, they seldom spoke; mostly they’d sit quietly together, often not even looking at each other. Occasionally, one would say something like, You remember when ole Bugg Rezin would scare the school girls by wiggling his sixth toe? And the other would smile and say, Yeah, it scared me too. Most often, they would remember their young lives growing up in this area during the Great Depression. Each probably thought about different aspects or even different periods. But occasionally their brains would simultaneously retrieve data about similar circumstances or events and both would smile. Exactly the same time. Not a word had been exchanged. People who observed this phenomenon would swear the brothers were telepathic, though neither actually claimed that ability.
Ahead to the northwest, Gary spotted the iron gate and three huge mounds of dirt nearby. “Looks like we’re on foot from here. Those the woods you say we’re supposed to traipse through?”
“Yeah.” Mitch nodded. “Even if we could make it across this construction area and those excavations, we can’t because they’d spot us too easy. Pete said to stay low and out of sight.”
Steve looked out over the open construction site. “Well, Henley ain’t here. I say we just haul butt down there and mix it up with them guys.”
“Slow down, Rambo.” Only Gary could get away with that crack. “Mitchell here said they’re armed to the teeth with semiautomatic weapons. Remember?”
“Yeah. Pete said keep to the woods,” Mitch pointed, “and nobody sees us but ants and spiders.”
“Wish he hadn’t mentioned spiders.” Either Elmer or Ralph; nobody knew which one.
Gary looked around the inside of the vehic
le. “Anybody got a knife?”
There were four shrugs. But Elmer patted his pants pocket. Or maybe Ralph.
If Gary was going into the woods, he rightly wanted a knife.
Steve was agitated. “Let’s get this dog and pony show moving.”
All five out of the SUV, the Marauders looked at each other briefly and Mitch headed around the west side of the dirt mounds. Less than one-hundred-fifty feet to the north, the thick cuff of tall trees began. Mitch started out through the woods. The others followed, for about the first thirty feet.
“Look, this stinks!” Steve was no nature lover. “The rest of you can hike through these briars if you want, but I’m skirting around to the north. I know where I am now. That road over there connects 27 to Pine Mill, and there’s a creek somewhere between us and that road. If I can’t walk along the bank, I’ll just go through the creek bed. But I ain’t following this rookie through half a mile of thorns and spiders.”
Mitch tried to sound authoritative. “Look, Sergeant Henley specifically ordered me to keep you guys in the woods to preserve our stealth.”
Steve made a sound of utter disgust and turned to head out of the woods to the north. “You coming, Gary?”
Gary faced Mitch. “Steve’s got a point. Other side of the woods is just as stealthy as inside the woods. Lots quicker too. In ‘Nam we spent most of our time in the bush, but that’s because there wasn’t hardly any place that wasn’t bush. If there’s a clear bank over yonder, I’m taking it too. See you at the other end.”
Gary struck out, several paces behind Steve.
The two elderly brothers looked at each other. Elmer said, “Spiders,” and Ralph nodded. Or, the other way around.
“We’re going around the woods too,” said Ralph or Elmer. Both headed in the direction Steve and Gary had gone.
Mitch found himself alone again. Before, he was in the middle of a vast field of at least nine hundred acres. Presently, it was in the middle of a small patch of very heavy woods with briar, thorns, ants, and spiders. Mitch looked up at the trees. The sun was barely beyond midpoint. He checked his watch — 1:59 p.m. If you’re their appointed leader, you’d better catch up with them and get in front again.
So he did.
Mitch hustled out of the thick woods toward the north, hoping to intersect his four errant charges on the north edge of the woods. With considerable noise and a good deal of painful contact with inexhaustible briars which nearly suffocated the trees, Mitch finally broke out. He emerged slightly behind the surprised elderly brothers. “Spiders,” Mitch announced, which explained everything satisfactorily.
He made his way along the slope above the creek bed. Not much footing, but it was completely hidden from view by the gangsters. Steve and Gary had been correct. As he passed them, he said so. “Yeah. This is better. Good thinking.” Other good news: there were hardly any briars and thorns on that little shoulder of the cliff.
After Steve and Gary let him edge by, Mitch was in front again.
“Must’ve been a butter bar,” Steve muttered.
Mitch heard the comment and replied over his shoulder. “Nope. Never got past R-O-T-C.”
Gary chuckled. “Okay, I’ll follow Rot-Cee for a while.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wednesday at 2:01 p.m.
Boom! The second of Wade’s homemade bombs exploded loudly at the hay bales.
****
Task Force Wade
Wade flinched when his second bomb exploded, a minute or two off the predicted schedule. “Kelly still on the horn?”
“Nope.” Roger looked back toward the pillar of smoke and wondered when the third bomb would blow. “She’s probably hunkered down on account of our friendly potato fire.”
“Okay. Guess them taters don’t fly real straight, probably tumble a bit. Well, push the taters over into a little pile because we might need ‘em later.” Wade surveyed his ammunition supplies. “Right now, let’s us see where oranges fly to. Nice and round. Ought to go pretty straight.”
Roger signaled to Joe that Wade was about to fire again.
Joe focused his binoculars on the barricade, saw his wife hunched over behind the front of Wade’s truck, and felt a brief pang of longing. As much as he liked temporarily sharing the name Warrior, he really wished he was in his recliner watching the History Channel, with Diane reading in her nearby chair. Joe sighed heavily. Then he scanned forward from the barricade, as far as he could eastward before the roofs of Pete’s neighboring condos obstructed his view.
Wade had not intended to fire Vegge-zilla so soon after the bombs exploded, but he was itchy to pull the lever.
Whump! The second barrage began.
****
Task Force Mitchell
The Marauders worked their way along the north side of the woods until Mitch could see North Pleasant through a break in the trees up ahead.
They were considerably closer to the bomb site when they’d heard Wade’s second explosion, so it was a lot louder. It startled Elmer… or Ralph. “What is that? Irene said we needed to come over here and chase some rats away or something. I didn’t figure to get blowed up. I already been in one war.” The other brother nodded his endorsement.
“Relax. That’s just another one of Wade’s gunpowder bombs.” Mitch made a sideways waggle motion with his free hand horizontally flat. His other hand held the little .38. “It’s just louder over here because we’re closer. No shrapnel, just noise.”
“And smoke.” Gary looked wistful.
Steve just looked mean and impatient.
Not long after the loud explosion of the second bomb, they heard the beginning of the second Vegge-zilla barrage.
The two elderly brothers ducked at the first whump. “What’s that other thing?” asked Ralph or Elmer. “Sounds like a mortar.”
Mitch turned and quickly explained the action and purpose of the Vegge-zilla. Like the bombs, Wade’s homemade mortar was louder and more distinct here than where they’d been for the first barrage.
From the eastern tip of the cuff of woods — looking south-southwest — they could see the three enemy trucks and several hoodlums moving around. In a low crouch, the five flanking Marauders made their way to the large mounds of dirt near the locked iron gate on the east end of North Serenity’s new roadbed subsurface.
They could not see the barricade, however, or much of anything else besides the rooftops on the backs of the lower condos on Placid’s north side.
“Hey, there’s a pickup down there.” Steve pointed almost due east to the intersection of Great Vista Boulevard and North Pleasant Drive. “Wish I had a sniper rifle.”
So that’s the other vehicle Kelly mentioned. When Mitch started to aim with his snubby, Gary stopped him. “Whoa, Rot-Cee! You can’t hit nothing with that. Way too far.” Gary looked distinctly disappointed in their erstwhile leader.
Mitch was embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right. Plus it’d give away our surprise, wouldn’t it?” If he frowned right then, it would look like he was sulking. No good.
Gary nodded.
Steve tried to spit but hardly anything came out.
Elmer gritted his teeth; or maybe that was Ralph.
Task Force Mitchell finally realized the total number of gangsters was actually nineteen, with four trucks and a trailer. Mitch wondered whether Pete knew about the fourth vehicle.
****
Barricade
Except for Pete, everyone at the barricade had hunkered down when Wade’s second bomb exploded.
Pete intently watched the cluster of gangsters around the two front trucks and was pleased to note all of them ducked at the sound of the loud bomb. Okay, Lawrence. Make them keep their heads down. Buy us some more time.
“Oh!” Diane suddenly exclaimed.
Kelly reached over Ashley. “What? Are you hit?”
“No. Not hit. Not hit.”
“What on earth happened?” Kelly leaned closer. “You scared the beans out’ve me!”
“Sorry.” Diane’s eyes got red. “Today’s our anniversary.”
Ashley moaned, much louder than necessary.
“Your what?”
“Wedding anniversary.” Diane looked somewhere toward the southwest, where she assumed Joe was stationed. “Thirty-seven years.”
“Congratulations already.” Kelly’s hand actually turned her friend’s head toward the front. “Now get your attention back on those invaders out there or somebody’s going to get hurt.”
“We ought to be together.” Diane sniffled. “But I’m down here hiding behind a rusty truck wheel with a bloody knee and Joe’s up in a tree somewhere watching for the drop of produce rockets from Wade’s Vegge-matic.”
“Joe couldn’t even climb a tree.” Kelly cleared her throat. “Sorry. Came out wrong.”
“It’s okay. You’re right, he can’t anymore.” Diane looked back to the southwest. “So where is Joe spotting from?”
“Roger said Joe was in the rafters of that unfinished duplex on Cordial, up the hill.” Kelly nodded. “Good position for observing artillery or flying fruit.”
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Everybody ducked, except Irene, who shrieked because the sudden noise was so near her.
“What the blue blazes?” Pete looked first toward Irene and then beyond Ellie to Bernie.
Bernie held up his left hand momentarily, which nearly made him lose balance within the creaky walker frame. “It’s just my alarm.” He pressed a button to silence it.
Ellie slapped Bernie’s right shoulder. “Alarm for Bless George what?”