Cy cringed after he jerked the wheel too hard in an effort to follow Tom’s direction and sent the bucket swinging to the right.
“Sorry,” Cy mouthed as Tom shot him a look and hung onto the bucket to keep from falling over.
Less thinking, more driving, Cy thought. But that was a tall order. That was all there was to do these days: think. Think about what had happened and what would happen. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the former, and nobody had any way of knowing about the latter. Cy spent a lot of his time thinking about his mother and girlfriend back in Washington. Although he wasn’t sure he could really call Kate his girlfriend anymore, thinking about the way he’d left things made his stomach churn. If he’d known that might be the last time they would see each other, he would have done so many things differently. For all the arguments and disagreements they had about the path their lives should take, he still loved her, and he liked to think she still loved him—assuming she was still alive.
He pushed the thought from his mind as best as he could and tried not to think about home, Kate, or his mother, all things that might not exist anymore. His eyes began to water despite his efforts to push his feelings down deep in his chest.
Cy cleared his throat and leaned out of the loader’s cabin. “How much farther?”
“Not far. Just a couple more minutes,” Tom yelled back. That wasn’t the answer Cy was hoping for. He felt like they had been driving for half an hour already, and it might well have been that long. It was slow-going through the littered streets.
Cy glanced at the radio he’d stashed in the built-in cupholder. He was becoming more and more uneasy as they drove farther away. If they ran into trouble out here, his dad and the others wouldn’t be able to get to them very fast. They were pretty much on their own, and it wasn’t a good feeling. This was really the first time he’d been away from the relative safety of the group. It was good to be trusted, but also a little nerve-wracking, if he was being honest with himself.
Cy had been so focused on avoiding obstacles on the way to the substation that he wondered if he could find his way back without Tom. With nearly every building and house burned to the ground, one street looked like the other, and he’d lost track of the lefts and rights they’d made so far. God forbid something happened to Tom, but Cy’s sudden realization that he was technically lost without him was unsettling at best.
Chapter Nine
Cy took a deep breath. He was worrying unnecessarily now, and he knew it. They’d be fine. All the trouble they’d had with the gang happened at the other end of town. He and Tom would grab the wire and be back before they knew it.
He was glad to see Tom rise to his knees in the bucket and point. The substation was about a hundred yards straight down the road. Other than a small building the size of a backyard shed, there was nothing more to the place than a fenced-in yard housing several large spools of cable and wire. It was easy to see now why they needed the loader. Most of the spools were wound with large-diameter cable, but a few smaller-gauge spools were stacked at the rear of the yard. Rounding everything up wasn’t going to be as easy or as quick as Cy had hoped. They would have to move some of the spools out of the way to even get at the ones he assumed they were after.
Cy brought the loader to a complete stop outside the front gate, remembering what his dad had said about taking it slow and easy. But before he proceeded to push his way through the gate, he first needed to let the bucket down so Tom could climb out.
Tom turned to look at Cy from the bucket and pointed. “In the back corner, see the smaller spool with the orange ribbon tied to the loose end of the wire? I need to check the size, but that’s the one, I think.”
Cy was right in his assumption about the wire, unfortunately; the one they needed was blocked by a few larger spools, and it would take some time with the loader to clear a path.
“Hang on. I’m gonna let you down before I knock the gate down,” Cy yelled.
Tom nodded and braced himself as the bucket began to drop.
Zing. Cy pulled his hand away from the lever while he tried to figure out what was happening. Had he blown one of the hydraulic lines? Realization soon sunk in, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through his body when the second shot whizzed by the cab. The bullet sent sparks flying off the rusty bucket just inches away from where Tom was crouched. They were being shot at.
“Get down!” Cy yelled, but Tom was way ahead of him and had already gone prone inside the bucket. Cy looked around frantically while he grabbed his AR and prepared to shoot back. If only he knew where the shots were coming from.
His heart thumped in his chest as his mind raced and he tried to figure out what to do. One thing was for sure: he needed to get out of the loader. Hiding behind the bucket when people were shooting from the front was one thing, but without knowing where the shooter or shooters were, he was exposed up here in the cab.
He needed to let his dad and the others know they were in trouble. As he reached for the radio, a bullet slammed into the side window of the cab. He stopped short and instinctively pulled his hand to his face. A web of cracks formed on the glass, meaning the bullet hadn’t gone through. He grabbed the radio with one hand and held his rifle tightly as panic set in and he leaped from the loader.
He hit the ground hard and lost his balance; his knee took the brunt of the fall and drove into the gravel. It hurt, and he was pretty sure he had ripped his pants and was bleeding, but there was no time to worry about that. He collected himself quickly and scrambled for the backside of the shed, although he wasn’t really sure if that was a safe place to take cover or not.
Cy stayed low and tried to steady his shaking hands enough to turn on the radio and cue the mic.
“We’re being… We’re being shot at. Come in. We need help.” Cy barely got the words out between heavy breathing and trying to swallow away the sudden dryness in his throat. He waited for what seemed like forever before the radio crackled to life in his hand.
“Come in, Cy. What’s going on? Over.” Cy was relieved at the static-heavy sound of his dad’s voice until the reality of the distance between them came to mind.
“We’re at the substation. They’re shooting at us.” Cy blew out a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “Over,” he added. It was important to remember proper radio etiquette. It wouldn’t do them any good if they tried to talk over each other. It was hard enough to communicate with the static interference.
“We’re on our way. Sit tight. Over.” The sound of his dad’s voice was reassuring, but Cy knew it would be a while before help arrived. A cold chill crept over him as he realized that he’d left Tom stranded in the bucket more than six feet off the ground. How could I be so stupid and forget about Tom? Cy squeezed his eyes closed for a second and shook his head. He needed to get it together—right now. No more mistakes. Otherwise, he could wind up getting himself and Tom hurt or maybe even killed.
“How many are there? Do you know where they’re located? Over.” John’s voice came over the radio this time, and Cy could hear the wagon’s engine roaring in the background. He pictured his dad driving as fast as he could, weaving in and out of the wrecks strewn along the road.
“Not sure how many. I can’t see them. Over.” Cy thought for a second. The last shot struck the side window of the loader, so based on how the loader was positioned, he assumed they had to be across the street somewhere. Plus, they hadn’t fired since he’d taken cover behind the small building. It was safe to assume they were somewhere on the other side of the road, hiding in the ruins of a burned-down house or maybe a ditch. They were probably farther than the ditch, though, or else one of those bullets would have found its mark for sure.
“I think they’re across the street from the substation. The shots came from behind us. Over.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. The last thing he wanted was for his dad and the others to drive into this mess completely blind and end up getting pinned down like him and Tom.
“Tom, y
ou okay?” Cy called out toward the loader. He waited for a response but didn’t hear one.
“Tom, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Tom finally answered. Cy was relieved to hear his voice, but it didn’t do anything to alleviate the guilt he felt about leaving his friend stranded in the bucket. Just then, another shot rang out and pinged off the bucket.
“I can’t move or I’m dead. You gotta get me out of here!” Tom cried out.
“My dad and the others are on their way. Just hang in there.” Cy should have let the bucket down before he bailed out of the cab, but that would have meant staying exposed for too long while he operated the lever. It would have also given the shooter enough time to take another crack at him. Cy was second-guessing everything he’d done up to this point, and his confidence, along with his expectations of a good outcome, was eroding quickly.
The bucket rang out again as another shot ricocheted off the steel. He couldn’t wait for his dad to get there. He had to fight back now, before the shooter got lucky and hit Tom. Cy steadied himself and blew out a deep breath, building up the courage to peer around the side of the building. He stayed low to the ground and watched for any signs of movement across the street. From his position, he could see under the body of the loader and to the other side of the road, but not much beyond the ditch and fence that ran alongside it.
He had to get closer or at least move to a place where he had a better vantage point. That was easier said than done, especially when he didn’t know where the guy was hiding. What if he exposed himself and was shot? For Tom’s sake, it was a risk he was going to have to take. Cy tried to imagine how he would feel if he were trapped and helpless in the bucket.
He clipped the radio to his belt and held his AR tightly as he prepared to make a move. One…two…three…go! Half-crawling and half-running, he scrambled across the gravel, doing his best to ignore the pain in his knee until he was behind one of the loader’s oversized tires. He made sure he was covered by the rim rather than the tire itself, just in case he’d been seen and their attacker decided to take a shot. Cy held his position for a minute while he thought about his next move.
Another shot hit the bucket and made him jump.
“Cy, get me outta here!” Tom yelled.
“I’m working on it,” Cy answered. Using Tom’s cries as motivation, Cy pushed himself to keep moving. He needed to crawl under the loader and take cover behind one of the outboard tires. From there, he would have a clear line of fire—and so would the shooter if he wasn’t careful. Hopefully their attacker’s attention would remain on the bucket. Then Cy could get a fix on his location the next time he took a shot.
He laid the rifle across his arms and crawled prone under the loader as fast as he could, making his way to the tire on the far side, where he took a position behind it and waited for the sound of gunfire that would surely follow. But the shot never came. It was time to find this guy and shoot back. Of course, this would also expose him and potentially draw fire if he was spotted under the loader. Surprisingly, his first thought was of the loader tire being hit in the process and how disappointed his dad would be about that.
As another shot rang out and struck the bucket, Cy knew it was time to position himself so he could see where these shots were coming from. If the shooter continued this pattern of taking a shot every minute or so, it shouldn’t be that difficult to pinpoint his location. Even if Cy didn’t have a shot at the guy, he could at least let his dad know where the shots were coming from.
He pushed the AR out in front of him and readied the weapon while slowly peeking out from behind the tire. He had been more nervous before when he was hiding behind the building. Now a strange calm came over him. Maybe it was because he knew he had to do this, or maybe it was because he knew that if he got it wrong, none of this would matter anymore. He hated to think that way, but he found himself doing just that more and more these past few days. In a way, he took some solace in that.
Chapter Ten
Cy waited with the AR at the ready. He didn’t aim down the sights just yet; instead, he kept both eyes wide open and focused on no particular point as he scanned the landscape for any signs of movement. Unless the shooter changed his strategy, he’d take his next shot soon.
There were two burned-down houses across the road, one closer than the other, but both seemed like a reasonable place for a person to hide and shoot from. Cy didn’t see anything, although he could have easily overlooked a person hiding among the rubble. Occasionally, he glanced down the road toward town. He hoped he could figure out the shooter’s location before his father arrived. If he and John drove straight in the way Cy had come with the loader, they would be easy targets. More time had passed between shots, and Cy began to worry that he’d been spotted and that the shooter was moving into a better position to take him out instead of wasting another round on the bucket. Maybe he’d run out of ammunition, but that was just wishful thinking, and he’d have no way of knowing that for sure.
The bucket clanged again, followed by the gunshot a split second later. A small swirl of dust and ash rose from the remains of the house farthest away from the substation. Found him. Cy leveled the AR and aimed down the open sights. What he would have given for a scope. Even a low-powered optic would have been better than the flip-up sights mounted to his AR. He still couldn’t see anybody, but he knew where he was, at least. Cy picked a spot he thought was close to the origin of the small dust cloud created by the last shot and blew out the remaining air in his lungs. His heartbeat was the only sound as he held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
Crack. The report of his rifle echoed under the loader and reminded him of two boards being smacked together. He pulled back from the edge of the tire and took cover. There was no way of knowing if he’d hit anything, and there was no point in exposing himself any longer than he had to. The shooter would just as easily be able to spot him from the dust the AR had kicked up, especially if he was already watching the loader. He could only hope to spook the guy and show him he couldn’t keep taking free shots all day.
Cy pulled the radio from the holster on his hip. “I know where the shooter is. I think it’s just one guy. Over.”
“We’re not far now. Another couple minutes maybe. What’s his location? Over,” John responded immediately.
Before answering, Cy thought about the best way to describe where the guy was shooting from. “There’s two houses across the road from the substation. Both are burned down, but he’s at the one farthest from the road, straight across from us. Over.”
“Copy that. Sit tight until we get there. Over.”
Cy clipped the radio into the holster and put both hands back on his rifle. The information he was able to provide wasn’t much, but it made him feel better. It was something, at least, and better than hiding behind the building and feeling helpless. That sentiment didn’t last long, though. Another shot rang out and hit the ground just to the right of the tire Cy was hiding behind. He needed to move to a new location and fast.
Knowing the shooter’s location gave him some options and the confidence he needed to move. If he could get behind the body of the loader, he would be safe, and he could also lower the bucket, assuming he could reach the lever without climbing all the way into the cab. This would give Tom the ability to move into a better position to return fire, something he couldn’t do from the bucket. If he so much as peeked over the top, Cy was sure he would be shot instantly. If Cy timed it right, lowering the bucket would also serve as a distraction and probably draw the shooter’s fire. His dad and John could capitalize on that and hopefully take this guy out.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he could think of, and it beat lying here in the dirt, waiting to be shot at again. The only problem was that the shooter now knew his position and was watching.
Cy began to crawl out from under the loader, careful to keep the large tire between him and the shooter. Once he was out, he crouched behind the tire he’d first h
id behind and prepared to cross the five or six feet to the ladder leading up to the cab. He took two large strides and jumped the rest of the way, landing on the bottom rung.
Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused the radio to pop out of its holster and land on the ground below him. He was about to reach for it when another shot sounded. The bullet landed close to the fallen radio, leaving a small crater and spraying dirt and gravel in all directions.
Cy yelped and attempted to shield his face from the debris kicked up by the bullet.
“You okay?” Tom called out from the safety of the bucket.
“Yeah, dropped the radio. This guy is really starting to tick me off,” Cy huffed. Without the radio, he was cut off from his dad and wouldn’t know what the plan was when they arrived at the scene. But he wasn’t about to reach for it again and risk getting his hand blown off. He would have to climb up into the cab while trying to stay out of sight. Luckily, the loader cab had glass clear down to the floor in some areas.
Cy could look out of this bottom window just enough to see down the road in the direction he expected his dad to come. He could also reach the handle that would release the hydraulic pressure and drop the bucket. He’d have to be careful, though, and keep the bucket tilted back; otherwise, he would dump poor Tom onto the ground and leave him exposed.
“They should be here any second now. When I see them, I’m going to lower the bucket to the ground. So stay put, because I’m sure he’ll shoot when I do that. I’m hoping that will distract him long enough for my dad or John to take him out.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not moving,” Tom answered.
“We’re here. Where are you guys? Over,” Cy heard his dad say over the radio. He peered over the floor of the cab and tried to spot them through the lower glass, but he didn’t see anything. Cy wondered if he should risk trying to retrieve the radio from the ground. How else would he let them know that he and Tom were at the loader?
Cloverdale (Book 4): Confrontation Page 5