Determination

by Nathan Jones

  Lewis's voice came back sounding comforting. “I'll talk to Harmon and Davis, Trev. With the military's help it might be possible to mount a large scale rescue, get them all out and to safety.”

  “From a camp with hundreds of soldiers, less than a mile from an occupied town filled with thousands of soldiers?” Trent demanded. “This is awful to see, sure, but Erikson would have to send a brigade to help those people. Maybe even a division. All for a few hundred half-starved prisoners who might die in the fighting.”

  Trev lowered his binoculars. “I think I'm done here,” he said.

  “We'll keep an eye open for opportunities, Trev,” Lewis assured him. “Maybe if the blockheads send a work team of prisoners out close to the foothills we could stage a rescue. Or Davis might be able to catch some of those trucks in transit. We'll make it a priority.”

  He appreciated the reassurance, but he didn't respond. A moment later Jane lowered her binoculars too. “I think I've seen enough,” she said. “We know our route into and out of the camp, and the sentries and patrols have been regular as long as I've had an eye on them. I just wanted you to get a look at it too, see if you agree that it's a good target.”

  Trev had been ranging farther south these last few days, and his list of potential targets was pretty thin. “Yeah, I wouldn't mind hitting this place.”

  “I'd definitely say it's our best shot,” Trent agreed. He started sliding down the hill they'd been observing the depot from, roughly south and a bit west of it. The hill wasn't very tall, but it was close to a rise that ran southeast all the way from the southern slope to the base of the hill before petering out. The enemy to the east couldn't see anyone moving behind that rise, but from their higher elevation on the southern slope Trev's and Jane's sentries and patrols could easily see the rise and the terrain beyond.

  They'd moved along the rise reach this spot, and agreed it was fairly reliable. Reliable enough, in fact, that it would probably be their best bet for sneaking into the camp when the time came. It also helped that once they got closer to the slope they'd be in range of a few hills at its base. Trev had put Rob Jonas with a team on the southernmost one, to cover the last few hundred yards of their retreat and give warning of any blockheads approaching.

  Trev, Jane, and the other three members of their team followed Trent down, waiting until they'd made it behind the rise before getting to their feet. Then they started at a jog towards the hill where Rob's team waited.

  They were halfway there when the main channel abruptly exploded with chatter. Cutting over it came one louder voice he thought might be Graham, the demolitions specialist. “Is anyone out there?” the soldier yelled. “I repeat, is anyone south of Huntington?”

  Motioning for the team to duck behind better cover for the moment, Trev toggled his mic back to that channel. “Trevor Smith here, half a mile southeast of the slope south of 31's canyon.”

  There was a brief pause, broken by the sound of gunfire over the radio, before Graham answered. “We're about a mile east-southeast of you and running hard for the mountains. It's pretty bad terrain for vehicles so we don't have that problem, but a swarm of blockheads on foot are hot on our heels. Can you get to us?”

  “On our way.” Trev motioned to his team, feeling his heart begin pounding. This was his first engagement since the failed ambush outside Cedar Creek Canyon, and it sounded like Graham's people were in bad trouble. If they went after them they might end up in the same situation.

  Still, he had to try. He wasn't going to be like Vernon, watching people on their side fighting a stone's throw away while he stayed safely back. He reversed direction and ran back the way they'd come, trusting the rise to hide him and his lookouts to the northwest to give warning of approaching danger. His team followed in their usual formation, moving quietly in spite of the fast pace.

  He had a vague idea of where Graham might be. There was a place not far past where the rise ended where they could break south to meet up with him. Better yet, it led to a good vantage: a spot overlooking a ravine between two hills, where they should be able to lay down cover fire against the pursuing enemy and give the Marines some breathing room.

  After going for about five minutes Jane volunteered to pop her head over the rise and see what things looked like. Graham had been giving a running commentary on their progress, and Trev had directed him and his soldiers towards the ravine.

  When the redheaded woman scrambled back down her expression was grim. “Trucks are circling the bad terrain to cut Graham off. They can't really block our retreat to the mountains if we go due west from here, but they're going to reach the top of the ravine before us. The Marines are going to be in a shooting gallery.”

  Trev relayed the information to Graham even as he broke into a sprint, finishing with: “Keep your head down, but make sure they know they've got you pinned so their attention is on you.”

  “I'm guessing they won't be confused on that count,” the demolitions specialist replied.

  That didn't seem like it needed a response. As they ran Jane spoke to the team. “We're going to pop up behind the blockheads cutting off Graham's escape. They won't have any good cover from this direction, so we should be able to wipe them out and give the Marines time to reach us.”

  “Unless they know we're here and keep going right to the rise,” Hans muttered.

  Trev put on an extra burst of speed. “Hopefully Graham will let us know if they do.”

  The rise petered out ahead, and they found themselves ducking through clumps of sagebrush in deceptively flat terrain. In fact there were all sorts of bumps and dips in the ground, but using them to stay out of sight slowed his team's progress to a crawl. Ahead he heard the sound of gunfire.

  “Whatever you're planning, do it quick,” Graham said. “Blockheads are coming at us from both ends of the ravine, and as soon as they climb up the sides they'll be shooting down at us too.”

  Trev poked his head out of a low depression in the ground, then ducked down again quickly. The blockheads were less than a hundred yards away, now. As he'd guessed, they were focused on the Marines in the ravine with their backs to his team.

  He looked around at his companions. “Take them all out before they know we're here. We can't let this turn into a shootout.” He receive five nods of acknowledgement, and after a few deep breaths popped up with his rifle ready and opened fire.

  Under his team's barrage a dozen blockheads dropped within ten seconds, and Graham's soldiers cheered and bolted for safety, staggering up the ravine through the opening created by the cover fire.

  The position was terrible for the dozens of enemy soldiers pursuing them up the ravine, the same poor position Graham had been before Trev's team showed up. Even so, the chasing blockheads might have been a problem if they kept going after the Marines. Luckily instead they broke for any cover they could find.

  Trev supposed they'd already learned plenty of hard lessons about pushing hard into areas where the military was set up to push back. They had no way of knowing whether this was a desperate last ditch cover action to save Graham's men, or a carefully prepared ambush they were being led into.

  He kept shooting along with his squad, getting a few hits on any blockheads that couldn't find cover quick enough or had anything sticking out from their hiding spots that could take a bullet. He even hit one enemy in the head when the man popped out to shoot at Graham. It was the exact same spot the idiot had just popped out from, and Trev had the shot lined up before the blockhead even showed himself.

  In just over a minute Graham's people had safely joined Trev's team in the depression. After one last barrage to encourage the blockheads to keep their heads down, they all bolted back for the rise. It was risky going until then, seeking any cover available but mostly hoping to speed and their head start to stay ahead of enemy gunfire.

  To his relief the blockheads were slow to open fire again, and by then his and Graham's teams had reached the rise. At that point they'd bought themselves a
few minutes of breathing room with good cover, so now it was time to make themselves scarce. Some of the Marines were wounded, including Graham, so Trev's team moved to give them shoulders to lean on as they staggered towards the safety of the mountains ahead.

  Trev got a grateful look from the demolitions specialist as he got under the wounded man's arm. “Thanks. And for more than just the shoulder to lean on. We lost half our guys just trying to run.”

  Trev winced. Graham only had five men with him, but it figured they were part of a larger squad. The demolitions specialists were too useful to venture out without an escort. “Who was with you?”

  The Marine gave him a troubled look. “The entire 2nd Squad. Williams was escorting us as we put down mines on one of the roads the blockheads were using regularly. We were planning to blow up a convoy this time.”

  That was even worse news. Trev only saw two of 2nd Squad's Marines among the survivors. “What happened?”

  “The target convoy arrived early. Way early.” Graham looked away. “Williams wanted to go as soon as we heard the engines, but I insisted I could finish getting the explosives ready in under a minute and refused to leave. I didn't realize how fast the blockheads were coming, or how quick they'd respond once they saw what we were doing.”

  “Sounds like it was a calculated risk,” Trev offered, unsure what to say.

  “Yeah, sure.” The Marine stumbled, leaning more heavily on him. “Calculations shouldn't come into it. They've got vehicles, we're on foot. We should've run as soon as we heard the engines, like Williams wanted. Instead we tried to race half a dozen trucks to terrain they couldn't follow us through. Most of our losses came in those first few minutes, although it certainly wasn't a picnic when they started chasing us on foot, either.”

  Graham fell into grim silence, and Trev didn't pester him any further. He understood what the man was going through.

  “Keep coming, Trev. We've got you covered.”

  Trev perked up. Rob Jonas and his team were on the way. That was good, because if any blockheads were brave enough to sprint in pursuit his and Graham's teams were sitting ducks. “Straight west?”

  “You can come northwest a bit. I wouldn't stick to the rise with blockheads in trucks hot on your heels, but I think it'll cover you long enough if you make for the foothill south of our slope.”

  A quick look ahead revealed that the foothill in question was still half a mile away. “Are we going to make that before the blockheads?”

  “You should, but if not I've got more of our people coming. You can hunker down somewhere while we find a way to extract you.”

  Trev really didn't want to leave it at that. “Let's pick up the pace a bit, okay?” he told Graham, pulling the Marine into a quicker trot. The man grit his teeth around a yelp of pain, but he kept pace. So did the others.

  The foothill didn't seem to be getting any closer, and with every step they took Trev felt like they had a huge target on their backs. At any moment he expected to feel the pain of being shot, this time maybe in a spot his body armor didn't cover. As for Graham and his wounded, they were having a harder and harder time pushing forward.

  Jane and Hans lost their hold on the man they were practically carrying, and he dropped like a stone and curled up whimpering on the ground. It took them precious seconds to scoop him back up and keep going, and their pace slowed to barely over a walk. Trev glanced over his shoulder anxiously, searching the terrain behind them for signs of enemies taking aim. If he saw any he wouldn't be able to do more than shout for them to get down, but it was better than nothing.

  Then Rob's voice came over his radio again. “You can take it easy now, Trev. The blockheads aren't pursuing.”

  Trev slowed to a stop, and with a relieved gasp Graham slipped out of his grip and slumped to the ground, panting. Trev ignored his condition for the moment, turning to look behind him with a frown as he replied. “What do you mean they're not pursuing? We're still hundreds of yards away from safety and they were right behind us.”

  Rob responded in a pained tone. “I think they've got something else in mind.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Helpless

  Trev's and Graham's teams reached the hill Rob was keeping watch from with no further incidents, aside from having to go slow for the wounded. Lewis radioed in to let them know that Harmon was sending medics, which was a relief.

  But once Trev had done what he could for Graham and his team he couldn't spare too much focus on them, because although their wounds were a serious concern their conditions weren't life threatening. Which couldn't be said for everyone.

  He joined Rob, and through his binoculars watched as the blockheads set up on the rise that had covered his team's rescue and escape. It wasn't the worst spot to put a defensible position, he supposed, but it didn't really do anything for the enemy either. They'd just be wasting manpower guarding nothing.

  And it looked like they planned to waste a lot of manpower. Trev counted almost sixty blockheads hard at work digging emplacements on the rise and scouring the nearby area for threats. Trucks had made their way over the rough terrain to flank the position as well, ready to pursue anyone foolish enough to get close.

  All that effort, for only three people.

  “I want to see,” Graham growled. His face was gray and blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage on his arm, but he'd still found the strength to stand and join them.

  Trev wordlessly handed over his field glasses. He'd already seen as much as he could stomach of the sight anyway. Graham had to lean on him as he lifted the binoculars one-handed to inspect the scene, but within seconds he sucked in an alarmed breath. “Oh, no.”

  On the highest point on the rise the blockheads had planted three poles in the ground, smack dab in the center of their new fortifications. Just in the last few minutes they'd brought three men up to hang from them, their bound hands tied to the tops. In that position their entire weight rested on their stretched arms and the tips of their toes, at least for as long as they could hold that posture before slumping to hang in an agonizing position.

  The demolitions specialist had recognized the bound men as Williams and two other members of 2nd Squad. All three appeared wounded, the corporal so badly he couldn't keep his feet and hung suffering. The blockheads had bandaged the wounds but that was the extent of the mercy they showed. If you could call it that.

  What were they doing posting the Marines up on that rise, within binocular range of the foothills? It was almost like they were inviting a rescue, only with so many soldiers and the fortified positions they'd hastily set up around the rise any attempt would be nothing short of suicide. They seemed to be parading their prisoners for no purpose but to show they had them.

  He felt his blood run cold as a creeping suspicion dawned on him. This seemed like some sort of mind game, a demoralizing attempt for the benefit of those watching from the safety of the mountains. And whatever the enemy was planning, odds were it wasn't going to be pleasant for the three Marines.

  Graham had begun cursing, and Trev saw tears slipping down his cheeks from behind the binoculars. He reached out to take the field glasses from the Marine, but Graham stubbornly held on. “I'm not looking away. I owe Williams and the others more than that.”

  Trev nodded and thumbed his radio toggle. “Smith here,” he said, aware of how hoarse his voice sounded. “The blockheads have set up on the rise about a mile southeast of the slope my squad's guarding. They've got Corporal Williams and two of his men.”

  Harmon responded immediately with some emphatic cursing. “What do they want?” he demanded. “Some kind of prisoner exchange?”

  “I don't think so,” Trev said. “Whatever they're doing looks pretty messed up.”

  Davis's voice came over the radio. “I'm a ways out but I'm on my way. What exactly are they doing?”

  Trev reluctantly described the situation, noticing how Graham's gray face paled to nearly white as he did.

  Once he fini
shed there was a long pause before Davis responded, voice strained like he was running. “I'll be there soon.”

  “So will I,” Harmon said grimly. “Let us know immediately if anything changes.”

  * * * * *

  Lewis was feeling fine, now. Or at least that's what he'd insisted, when he hiked down to join everyone on the hill overlooking the rise where the enemy held their prisoners from 2nd Squad. And it was mostly true, since aside from a mild pain behind the eyes and slight vertigo he was pretty much completely recovered.

  Davis and Harmon stood not far away talking over an unencrypted channel on the radio. They were having a heated conversation with some officer on the Gold Bloc side, and Lewis was barely getting their side of the conversation.

  But from the sounds of it the negotiation wasn't going well. The sergeants were getting angrier and angrier, doing their best to control their tempers because they knew it wasn't them who'd end up suffering for a careless word. It was Williams, Peterson, and Anders on the rise.

  Finally, though, Davis toggled his radio off and slumped down onto the rock he'd been using as a seat for the last hour. “No exchange,” he said wearily. “No concessions, no hope of an agreement. They want our people to die, and they want us to watch.”

  Nearly fifty fighters had joined them on the hilltop. A handful of medics were tending to Graham and the other wounded, while everyone else swapped binoculars or used rifle scopes to follow the horrific events unfolding on the rise. In response to the arrival of so many fighters the blockheads had brought in another six trucks, dumping a hopeless number of troops onto the rise and even some heavy weaponry. It was obvious they didn't intend for their message to be interrupted.

  Graham looked up from where he'd been dozing against a rock padded by his combat vest. “Will they execute them?” he whispered.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Harmon spat. “Those monsters are going to leave them up there to die of thirst or their injuries, whichever comes first. All to send a message to us.”