“Crap!”
Tony knew at that point that he wasn’t dealing with a bunch of rube farmers. These were people who’d anticipated their next move, and who took steps to stop them.
That meant they were aware of the original intrusion and were expecting another. Which meant that there were probably other surprises in store for them.
Tony had never shrunk from a fight before. For him, it was a matter of pride. Raised the way he was, there wasn’t much for him to be proud of. But one thing he valued above all else was his reputation as a tough guy. He wouldn’t back down. Couldn’t back down. He needed for his circle of friends to see him as their fearless leader.
That’s why he’d have to conquer this compound. And just to show his displeasure at their resistance, he’d make a point to kill every single person in the compound. Even the women.
There were other women in Junction, after all, that they could steal away from their families and bring to the compound for their pleasure. They didn’t need the ones currently residing in the compound.
It was much more important to show to his men and to the world that bad things happen to people who resist Tony Pike or screw up his plans.
“Now what?” Spider muttered.
Tony already had an answer.
“Now, we let the bastards live another night. But only one more. Tomorrow, we come back, better prepared this time. And we’ll show them no mercy.
“In fact, anybody who survives our assault will suffer my wrath. I’ll cut them to pieces while they’re still breathing.”
-41-
In the compound, no one had any idea they’d almost been attacked again. There were no cameras set up at Tom’s old ranch. The camera on the northeast corner of the high fence was aimed at the fence itself. Had it been directed at the north field, it night have detected some movement through the dead mesquite trees. Enough to know there was someone out there.
But the most logical place for the camera to be aimed was at the fence, and so it was.
Tom Haskins left his bungalow at first light, kissing Linda’s cheek on his way out.
His first stop, as was his usual habit, was at the security desk.
“Good morning, sweet and lovely Sara. How’s stuff and things?”
Sara giggled. Tom always had a way of making her smile, even when the baby kept her up half the night and her regularly scheduled shift on the security console kept her up the rest.
“Fine, Tom, and good morning to you too.”
He looked over her shoulder as she said, “Nothing going on out there at all. The highlight of my shift was watching two cows humping in the back field.”
Tom laughed.
“Funny, I never figured you to be the type to enjoy cow porn. I guess you never can tell about some people. You want some coffee?”
“Sure, I’d love an espresso with double sugar. But don’t tell Jordan, okay?”
“Why not? Is he still being a caffeine Nazi?”
“Yes, and he will as long as I’m breastfeeding. He’s always right there to remind me that when I drink caffeine, the baby does too.
“I have to give him credit, he’s trying his best to be a good father. And he’s succeeding. But darnit, I need my morning fix. And the baby was up most of the night, so I expect him to sleep most of the morning. Hopefully by the time he wakes up the caffeine will already be out of my system.
“He was up last night? Is he feeling okay?”
“Yes, I think so. Hannah and Joyce both got up and looked at him, and agreed that it’s probably just colic. And that it should pass within a day or two. It just tears me apart to see him in pain, you know? I feel like such a bad mommy.”
“Oh, hush. You’re a great mommy. There are just some things you can’t control.”
“Tom, do you think those men are coming back?”
“Honestly? I think they will. Now that they know what we have, they’re going to want it. I mean, I’m sure they’ve been scavenging for food for nine long months now. Going to bed when the sun sets because they have no lights. No creature comforts they’ve become used to their entire lives. I think they saw what we have and want it badly. And I think that eventually they’ll come after it. Then what it boils down to is, are they better prepared to take it than we are to defend it?”
“What can I do to help?”
“The first thing you can do is to protect the next generation. If we lose any of our members, it’s imperative that someone survive to carry on. To tell the story of what happened here. As soon as it looks like trouble, I want you to take little Chris and go to the basement and stay there until it’s over. Take care of little Chris and Rachel and Misty. That’s going to be your job, and don’t sell yourself short. It’s a very important one.”
Hannah walked into the room with a smile.
“Who’s selling themselves short? Sara? Well, the little angel is only about five foot nothing, after all.”
“I’ll have you know I’m five foot one, thank you very much. Good morning Hannah.”
Hannah kissed Sara on the top of her head and said, “Five foot one of beautiful sweetness.”
It occurred to Sara that these people had shown her more love in ten short months than her own parents had in many years. She felt at home here, and at peace.
And she wanted to contribute more.
“Tom, I didn’t mean when the men came back. I meant now. What can I do now to help prepare?”
“Well, I’ve got some ideas for some more booby traps. Can you use an electric drill and hammer nails?”
“I used to help my step father fix things around the house before… well, before he turned evil. I can’t hammer a nail as straight as you can, but I can do it.”
Tom turned to Hannah and said, “There’s the helper you were looking for.”
Sara was puzzled.
“What did I miss? What did I volunteer for?”
Hannah said, “I was going to spend all day today and all day tomorrow drilling holes in two by fours. Every four inches, all the way down the center. And then hammering nails into them. It’s going to be tedious and slow, and I asked Tom if he knew of anybody who was looking for something to do. So yes, in a way, you did volunteer to help.”
Sara smiled, and held up her hand for a high five.
“All right! Girl power.”
Then she got a puzzled look again.
“But why drill holes? Why not just hammer the nails in? Wouldn’t that be faster?”
Hannah looked at Tom for the explanation. After all, it was his idea.
“If you hammered that many nails in a line down the middle of a stud, it would crack and break in half. Drilling holes just a little bit smaller than the nail is a lot less stress on the wood. There’s much less chance of the wood breaking. And as a bonus, it’ll be a lot easier to hammer in the nails too. And when you’re talking several hundred nails, anything you can do to make it easier will help you out a lot.”
“But what are we going to do with the wood when we finish?”
“We’re going to line the fence line with them. We won’t have enough to go around the entire fence, of course, but we have enough to cover most of the north side. And we’ll focus on the areas they’re most likely to come over. Like the place where they set up the ladder last time. Behind the buildings and sheds where they’ll have cover. Places like that.”
“Will the nails stop them?”
“No, but they’ll likely slow them down. You see, they’ll likely have ladders to get them to the top of the fence, but won’t have a way to climb down on the other side. So they’ll have to jump down.
“I don’t know if either of you ever jumped from a height of ten feet in gym class, but it’s pretty much impossible to land on your feet and stay there. Your body’s momentum keeps you going after your feet hit, and you roll.
“The idea is this: these guys won’t be able to see the two by fours with the nails sticking up and won’t know they’re there until after they ju
mp. Hopefully, they’ll land just right, and the nails will go through their shoes and into their feet.
“If that doesn’t happen, the next best thing would be for them to fall onto the nails and get a deep puncture wound every four inches over their entire body. Even if they only get a couple of punctures, they’ll be casualties. They’ll be bloody and move slower, and we’ll have an advantage against them.
“And if their buddies slow down to try to help them, well… even better for us.”
“Are we going to have to kill them?”
“I won’t sugar coat it, sweetheart. The answer is probably yes. Once they’re inside the fence, they won’t be able to get back out again. There won’t be any ladders they can use to retreat. And even when it becomes apparent that they’re going to get their asses kicked, they can’t run.
“So they’ll do the same thing a caged animal will do. They’ll corner themselves up in the compound somewhere, probably hiding behind one of the sheds, and make us come after them. And at that point they’ll figure it’s kill or be killed. And they’re not likely to be very friendly.”
“But what if they lay down their weapons and surrender?”
“Then we’ll let them. But that will present its own dilemma. You see, there’s no longer a working justice system. Kerr County doesn’t have a sheriff anymore, and Kerrville and Junction no longer have police departments. If we captured any of them we wouldn’t have a place to take them.”
For now, it was merely a hypothetical dilemma. None of them knew there would come a time when they would face a very real choice. They’d have to struggle with their consciences and make a dreadful decision: whether to let the men go, or shoot them down in cold blood.
-42-
It wouldn’t be long now. Preparations for the battle they knew would be coming continued inside the compound. Hannah started her project alone while Sara took a short nap and then joined her. Tom and Jordan used the rest of a pallet of plywood in the workshop to shore up the bulletproof walls in the upstairs bedrooms. Then, for added measure, they went into the feed barn and removed the interior plywood sheets from the walls there.
One by one the plywood sheets were carried into the house and put into place. The exterior walls in the entire structure were already lined with four extra sheets of half inch plywood. The extra protection stretched from floor to ceiling and had become a permanent, if not slightly ugly, feature of the house.
Only the windows were uncovered. But they still had protection. Each window had a two inch wall of plywood, with a narrow shooting port cut out of the center of it. The wall was on rollers and off to the side of the window. It was kept from falling by tracks mounted on the ceiling and the floor, and could be rolled into place at the first sign of trouble.
For Tom, the first sign of trouble had already passed. He’d already spent half an hour earlier this morning rolling the window fortifications into place in case they were needed in a hurry. Now, the only sunlight coming into the house was through the upstairs firing ports. The downstairs was pitch black save for a couple of lamps. The sparse sunshine coming into the upstairs rooms made it appear dingy.
Joyce commented as she walked through the house that it resembled a dungeon. And in a way it did. But it also represented their best chance for survival in a firefight.
The additional plywood Tom and Jordan carried into the house went to further fortify the upstairs bedrooms. They all hoped that the four sheets already there, in addition to the brick façade and exterior walls, would stop all bullets from penetrating to the inside of the house.
And Tom and Scott had done firing tests earlier that year to see if it was so. The two inches of plywood sheets indeed stopped bullets from common hand guns and assault rifles.
But common sense also dictated that the more bullets were fired into the plywood walls, the less effective they’d become.
Tom subscribed to the philosophy that you can’t be too careful. So as long as additional plywood was available, they’d keep packing it on.
In addition to an additional layer of plywood upstairs, they built a fortified firing point in the corner of the den downstairs. The downstairs doors and windows were heavily fortified, by the same four sheets of plywood, and by metal braces and heavy furniture. They didn’t expect their attackers to be able to breach the house. But if they did, they’d be ready.
Their war plan was sound. At the first sign of trouble, Sara and the kids would evacuate to the basement. It was the safest place in the house once the bullets started flying.
Sara would man the backup security system from the basement, and would tell everyone upstairs where all the bad guys were. Until they got smart enough to shoot out the cameras, at least. Tom hoped they were stupid enough not to notice them.
Besides Sara and the children, everyone else would man the windows upstairs, shooting anything that moved from the firing ports on all four sides of the house. All lights would be extinguished on the first floor, and since the downstairs had no firing ports there would be no sunlight coming in. It would be pitch black.
At the first sign that the first floor might be breached, someone would run downstairs and man the new fortification in the den, wearing night vision goggles. The hope was that intruders bursting through the doors would be blown away before their eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness.
At least it sounded good in theory. No one wanted to find out if it was going to work in practice.
-43-
In nearby Junction, Tony and Kevin were making their own plans and preparations.
“This time we leave early enough so we have some daylight. We take our own damn ladder and rope. We’ll also take some bolt cutters and some pruning shears. If that fence has a gate with a padlock on the outside, we won’t even bother going over the damn fence.
“And if it’s easier to cut our way through that mesquite tree than to drag it, then we’ll have that option too.
“We’ll time it so we get there with at least an hour of daylight. We’ll try to pull the tree again, like we did last time. If we can’t, because they still have it attached to the tractor or whatever they pulled it back with, then we’ll see if we can cut our way through. The guys that aren’t doing the cutting and pulling can provide cover.
Once it’s dark, we’ll send in a couple of guys to scout the area. They can walk the entire perimeter of the fence and see if there are any padlocks anywhere. If they can find one, they’ll use the bolt cutters and cut it off, and that’s how we’ll get in.
If we can’t go through a gate, we’ll go over the fence.
The eight of them gathered at a bar in Junction in mid afternoon. Most of the good stuff had been looted, but they managed to find two bottles of cheap whisky in a cabinet in the manager’s office.
Tony poured each of them a shot.
“This is just to calm everybody’s nerves. We’re gonna kill a lot of people tonight. Some of them will probably be kids and old people. I don’t want anybody backing down. If you back down, you’re no longer one of us. If you show them any mercy, you’ve become one of them. Anybody who shows them mercy will be shot dead along with them. If you can’t abide by those terms, now’s the time to walk.”
No one walked. It didn’t necessarily mean they liked his demands. It mostly meant they were afraid to cross him. And that if they walked they might get a bullet in the back.
The group’s hesitance to cross Tony or to dispute his instructions meant something else, too. If they were able to successfully breach the compound and take it over, everyone inside of it would die.
Tony put the two bottles of rotgut into his saddlebag. The reason they’d chosen this particular bar as their rendezvous point was the six foot aluminum ladder Tony had seen not long before, standing in the back corner of the store. Once upon a time, it was used to put Budweiser Styrofoam coolers and Miller Lite blow-up easy chairs on a high shelf for display.
These days, it just collected dust.
Getting it on hors
eback was an adventure unto itself. Tony had one of the more experienced riders mount up first, and then tried to hand the ladder to him.
The horse, of course, wanted nothing to do with the ladder and bolted. The horse was terrified, and the rider was almost knocked off his back by the ladder.
They tried the same thing with a different horse. This one didn’t bolt, but was very uneasy. As soon as she knew the ladder was aboard her, she lowered her head and moved it from side to side, fighting the reigns. They removed the ladder and the rider got off to calm her.
The rider waited a few minutes and mounted up again.
This time they brought the ladder up from the rear and were in the process of handing it to the rider to lay across the front of the saddle. They almost succeeded when the horse sensed something was amiss and kicked. Her left hind hoof caught one of the men square in the shoulder and sent him flying.
Tony went over to the man and said, with not a hint of sympathy, “If your shoulder is broken, you’re staying behind. I don’t want no damn cripples on this trip.”
The man stood up and was able to work his arm. Although he was in agonizing pain, he said, “Screw that. It ain’t broken. I’m going.”
For almost an hour the group more resembled the Keystone Kops than vicious marauders.
In the back of a nearby stable they finally found Betsy. Betsy was an old Bay that had been turned into a pack horse when she started to go blind. She was used to being led instead of ridden, and didn’t much mind what was strapped across her back.
Not even a six foot aluminum ladder.
Betsy was slow, but they weren’t in any hurry. Most of their crew was more comfortable on a Harley than a horse’s back, and two had never been on a horse at all.
Tony was aware of this going in, and it was the reason he’d insisted on meeting so early. Even with the delay and their slow pace, they’d still be back at the old man’s ranch with an hour of daylight to spare.
The ladder securely in place, Tony told the rest of them to mount up, and they set off.
Rise From The Ashes: The Rebirth of San Antonio (Countdown to Armageddon Book 3) Page 16