by SP Durnin
Cho wrapped her arms around his neck. “Deal. Fair warning: if you renege on that promise, the devil himself won’t be able to keep me from kicking your ass. So you better make good.”
“Yes, dear.”
Her gaze turned serious. “I mean it.”
“I know you do.” Jake kissed her. “Now, let’s show Hess what happens when you fuck with folks from the Midwest. Because the ocean is waiting, and I’m thinking you look like a goddess in a bikini.”
Cho reached into a pouch on her belt, pulled out a little Hello Kitty keychain—complete with fatigue pants, red headband, and a tiny little toy rifle—and clipped it to the rear-view mirror.
“Okay, I have to ask. Where do you keep getting those things?” He used one finger to set Kitty swinging. “We’ve never looted a toy store. And I’m pretty sure Amazon doesn’t have two-day shipping in the apocalypse, so-o-o…”
“Can’t say.”
“Seriously.”
With a beatific smile, Kat held up the keys to their Hummer. The same ones O’Connor knew damn well knew were just in the right front pocket of his Kakis. “How did you…?”
“Ninja, remember? My skills are vast, and I contain multitudes. Especially on Thursdays.”
She passed him back the keys and blew him a kiss, then they waited for the festivities to begin.
* * *
As Hess and his forces came to a halt, Ted “Jackkson” glared at them from his spot on the wall.
The RUST army looked like a modern-day barbarian raiding party sitting out there in their hodge-podge collection of vehicles. The hulking MATTOC’s driver stopped the transport a hundred yards from the Pecos gates, virtually on top of the spot where George had sent Gale on to judgment in the afterlife. More than dozen civilian trucks and nearly as many again Deuce-and-a-Half’s took positions on either side of it, and the remaining five school busses turned caddy-corner behind them.
“Je-sus! Look at that fucking gun!”
Ted looked over at one of the Pecos defenders. “Don’t worry about it. We stick to the plan and everything will be just fine.”
“That thing is bigger than my old car!” The shaken man in the overalls and Cowboys baseball hat exclaimed.
“Hey! Zip the lip, pal!”
Mr. Stylish was still going. “They could bomb us back to the Stone Age!”
“Hey! Shut it!” Ted took a fistful of the man’s coveralls and yanking him closer. “See all the damage on that thing? It’s been put through the wringer! Hell, the front end looks like the blasted surface of the moon for fuck’s sake. Foster was right: they did a number on it up north. There is no way that big-ass gun is operational. If it was, General Dickhead out there would’ve blown holes in our walls from a mile away, not from a couple blocks up the street.”
Coveralls didn’t look convinced. “Maybe… But—”
“Relax.” Ted patted the man’s shoulder. He looked around, catching the eyes of numerous other nervous defenders and raised his voice. “We got this! Foster’s plan is gonna work, because: 1-He’s a crazy bastard, so Hess won’t be expecting what we got in store, and 2-There’s nothin’ else we can do. Unless all of you wanna surrender, and hope…”
“Fuck no!” came from someone farther up the wall. That prompted more people to begin calling out in agreement.
“Screw that!”
“I ain’t layin’ down for those assholes!”
“They can suck it!”
“Kiss my ass!”
“Those pricks can eat shit and die!”
“Spoon!”
Ted raised a quizzical eyebrow at the last, but went on. “We’re all in agreement then.”
The buses started to empty out from the rear. There had to be sixty men on each of them alone, packed in shoulder-to-shoulder like sardines. Three hundred men, right there. More exited the deuces and from the arrayed civilian trucks. It was like watching a bunch of clown cars in a circus spit out a crowd of grease-painted jokers, only these clowns came equipped with fully automatic weaponry and digital-pattern battle armor.
When their vehicles had emptied the attackers and stood in groups behind the Deuces, with an even larger one lining the street at the rear of Hess’s MATTOC. External speakers on the ragged-looking behemoth came to life and Hess’s voice crackled across the barren road to Pecos.
“You all know who I am, and why I’m here. It’s well past time for your leaders to stop with the foolish posturing. Unless we as a people unite, unless this sanctuary and others like it to the east is added to those of the Reintegrated United States Territories—whose forces you see outside—our country simply will not survive. That cannot be allowed to happen, so we are here to place this town under our management and protection. Any citizen attempting to thwart said action is committing nothing short of treason and will be dealt with per the regulation outlined for use after the declaration of martial law. I ask you now to lay down arms and open your gates. This has gone on long enough.”
“Do you mind?” Ted asked. “I’d love to talk with him.”
Willow gave a wicked grin and passed him the mic for the radio George had given them. The one hardwired to Rae’s spare platter-sized, high-powered transmitter dish from the Mimi, and a quartet of speakers along the town’s north wall. “Oh, be my guest. I’m actually looking quite forward to hearing this.”
“Thank you, darlin’.” Ted keyed the mic. “Well, hello general! Councilman Ted Jackson here. I have to say: we’ve all been wondering what was taking you so long. What happened? Have some problems with your ride on the way? The front bumper of that thing there looks like a big ol’ hunk of chewed bubble-gum.”
Hess replied after a few moments. “There are setbacks in every campaign, Mr. Jackson, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. You concern is, however, duly noted. My people tell me you have some misgivings about what it means to reclaim your town’s place within our organization of survivor colonies. I’d like to address those, so your mind can be put at ease and we can begin working to rebuild our nation.”
“Your people?” Ted drawled slowly, just to be annoying. “O-o-oh. You must be talking about that Elle chick. The one that helped murder members of our salvage team, pretty much right where your stupid RV is parked? Is she with you by any chance?”
“If you’re referring to Sergeant Pierce, then, yes, she is. With the death of my second in command, the sergeant has proven herself to be a valuable member of our new military. I’ve recently added her to my advisory staff.”
Ted winked at Willow. “Could you put her on the horn? Someone here wants to talk with her. It’ll only take a sec.”
“I can hear you, Jackson.” The blonde’s voice echoed back.
Holding the mic out, Ted keyed the transmit button.
Bee spoke up. “What’s up, Skank-a-licious! How’s your day going? Bad, I hope? Hot enough for you in that ugly-ass tin can over there? For the record, Leo is doing okay after that messed-up crap you pulled. We were up pretty late last night talking about it and his brains are a little scrambled, since I jumped his bones till they rattled, but he’s okay. Boy, he’s got some stamina… Anyway! Just wanted to wish you all the joys that come with a raging case of Chlamydia. And—so there’s no ‘grey area’ between us girls—to also let you know: My mission in life, is to put a shot through your stupid, lying, whore face, the second you step out of that sorry excuse of a transport. Hugs and kisses! And go suck a donkey’s dick, you two-faced, shit-eating bitch.”
“Foster has ruined you.” Willow shook her head.
“Like hell. If I was thirty years younger, I’d propose. No offense kid.” Ted winked at the speechless Leo and spoke into the mic again. “So! General, I think we’ve said everything we need to say. We’ve been told—by survivors of your attack up at Pensacola Dam and one of your own people—about your little ‘fundamentally modified society.’ We’re well aware of what kowtowing to you means. We’ve heard all about your ‘Recreational Program,’ and no one inside these
walls wants any part of it. We will fight you. So, why don’t you and your butt-buddies out there get into your little cars, point them back the way you came, and fuck directly off?”
Hess didn’t sound amused by Ted’s words when he came back on the speakers again. “You’re under the false belief you have a choice in the matter, Councilman Jackson. As you can see, I have in excess of six-hundred men. From what Sergeant Pierce tells me, you have perhaps a third more able bodies, but your people are not soldiers. You’ll lose. I also have the distinct advantage this vehicle provides. If need be, I will shell this enclave. That will soften you up first, then I’ll blow large holes in that container wall.”
“Really?” Ted seemed to consider that. “Okay.”
“You acknowledge my authority?”
“Not a chance in hell.” Jackson said brightly. “Go on. Shell away.”
There was a pause in the conversation. It seemed the general hadn’t planned for that reply.
“Councilman Jackson, you do realize how powerful this transport’s weapon is? Do you truly wish to subject the people whose lives you are responsible for to the danger of such a bombardment?”
“Do your worst, chicken-shit.”
Ted handed Willow the mic back and threw up a lanky arm to give Hess and his followers the bird. More middle fingers came up all along the wall, and defenders began stomping in time on the containers.
Bee saw a nervous ripple move through their opponent’s ranks. “I seriously hope that thing’s gun is in as bad a shape as the rest of it looks,” she said.
“No question about it. Look at the barrel. You can see where at least one hole got melted somehow, through both sides of the turret! Hell, I think it’s even bent.” Willow used a pair of binoculars to study the MATTOC.
“That would’ve been the thermite,” Leo told her.
“What?”
Bee chuckled. “Uncle George pretty much demolished the Pensacola Damn when these guys showed up to keep them from following us. He set charges on the lake-facing side, and Brainy-boobs slapped together a remote minigun with tungsten rounds on some hydraulics. That was after the two of them cooked up barrels of homemade thermite, and rigged them to blow at the same time as the demolitions. Once the demolitions ignited, the geyser from the charges spread the thermite all over the place. A little even splattered the MATTOC out there, which is why it looks like someone took acid to a few places on the hull. Kat told me the thing was on fire when it started shelling Langley, but the thermite must have missed the fuel lines and more important bits. If not, it would just be a pile of fragged metal and bad memories right now.”
“Damn. Remind me not to piss your uncle off.” Ted concentrated on the men behind the machine. “We still have an army outside the gates though. And Hess could drive that thing right on into our bailey. Maybe even through wall itself.”
Leo shook his head. “George said he could take care of it. He hasn’t been wrong so far. And Kat trusts him, because he seems pretty good at planning for things like this. Like right after we fought the Purifiers? He had us go through the rear storage bins, and-”
“He made you…?” Bee took a nervous eye away from the scope of her Long-Arm. “Shit! Did he find my bong?”
“What?” Salazar looked confused. “No. We sorted out the bins to inventory the food? Remember, when we stopped at that cache near Fiskburg?”
“Oh. Right. I used it since then, so we’re all good.”
“Councilman, I’m going to ask this a final time: Lay down your arms, open your gate, and surrender control of this town. I wish to secure the Pecos enclave intact and without bloodshed, but make no mistake, it will be absorbed into RUST. Pecos may either submit, or face the consequences. You have ten minutes to come to the reasonable decision after which—if you continue your retain your defiant stance—I will bring your enclave to heel by force.”
“Here we go.” Willow stretched out beside Bee and readied her rifle.
Ted pulled the hand held, digital HAM radio from his belt, keyed in the proper sequence, and put it to his lips.
“Hey, you sexy thing. Hope you’re ready to cut rug, because the band just tuned up.”
* * *
“Who’s he callin’ sexy thing?” Foster began the Mimi’s start-up process. “I don’t care how famous he used ta’ be, ol’ Ted needs ta’ keep them sweaty mitts off to himself, or cut his—”
Norris waved him into silence, switched channels, and began broadcasting. “Thunderbolt, this is Hot Rod. Say again: This is Hot Rod calling Thunderbolt, over.”
“Hot Rod, go for Thunderbolt actual, over.”
“Thunderbolt, Custer is at the Pearly Gates. Is Lucifer ready?”
Another voice came through. “Hot Rod, this is Lucifer. Archangels soaring and halos are live. ETA, eight minutes. Where’s the cavalry?”
The buxom fixer smiled at her radar display. “Lucifer, cavalry are north of Alamo. Sending imagery now. Be advised; Hot Rod is in state of grace. No chance of sunburn. Repeat; no chance of sunburn. Little Big Horn is a go. Bring the wrath.”
“Copy that, Hot Rod. Archangels are inbound, ETA now seven minutes. You’re about to get yourself some divine intervention.”
Rae shut down communications and scurried into the navi-guesser seat. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of Ted.”
“Woman, do you remember last night?” George cycled the hydrogen drive to life. “The scooter back there?”
“Of course. I’ll admit, that was pretty impressive work. For someone who remembers what life was like before combustion engines were invented.” Rae strapped herself in. “I should feel guilty asking this, but can your back take another round? Tonight, if we survive this?”
Foster gave a satisfied smirk and took hold of the wheel. “Bet yer’ ass it can. Let’s deal with Hess, so we can make with the heavy breathin’.”
-CHAPTER TWELVE-
“Time’s up, Councilman. Are you prepared to see reason?”
Ted didn’t bother replying to Hess’s inquiry. He was too busy praying. “I hope your uncle’s right about this, girl.”
Eye glued to her long arm’s optics, and rifle centered on the MATTOC outside, Beatrix smiled. “Do it.”
“You want the honors?” Ted held a small transmitter out to Willow.
“Absolutely.” She took hold of the box, activated the power source with her thumb, flipped up the safety cover up, and put one finger below its single toggle switch. “I’ve always wanted to try something like this. Fire in the hole!”
* * *
As the Pecos demolition teams constructed the barriers to either side of Route 285, Foster had placed a surprise within.
The aging man had been quite upset he hadn’t been given the chance to use some of his deadlier toys in the Mimi over the course of their trip. Oh, he’d blown up Pensacola Dam well enough with a boat-load of C4, but most of the “collateral damage” inflicted upon the general’s forces had been due to Rae’s minigun, and he was a little envious. So when anticipating Hess, George had gotten sneaky. It always made Jake nervous when he’d do that, but the idea of giving the RUST army an epic butt-fucking was an opportunity George simply couldn’t pass up.
The M181A is a convex, green plastic case, with “Front Towards Enemy” embossed on the face. Two pairs of scissor legs are attached to its base, allowing the device to be aimed when placed through a simple open sight on its top edge. Internally it contains a layer of C4 behind a matrix of roughly seven-hundred 3.2mm steel balls within an epoxy resin. Upon detonation, the explosives within drive the matrix forward out its face at 3937 feet per second, while at the same time breaking it into individual fragments. The balls are forcibly projected in a sixty degree, fan-shaped pattern two meters high and fifty meters wide. Its effective range is fifty-five yards for optimal lethality and general area coverage, with a thirty percent chance of hitting a human sized target in said area.
In laymen’s terms: anything within half a football field in front o
f a Claymore mine has a very good chance of getting dead.
Foster had placed six of them, so when Laurel’s sister flipped the switch, her transmitter activated electronic receivers George had attached to each of the mines.
Over four thousand steel balls tore into the RUST force. Many of the attackers became nothing but unrecognizable pieces of meat and broken bone in the steel cloud. More were literally thrown from their feet, legs blown from their bodies, leaving them to die of shock. More yet were holed through limbs or their vital organs, taking them out of the fight and tossing them to the dusty, Texas earth to await medical aid their fellows were in no position to give. Nearly half of the general’s fighters lay dead or screaming at the tops of their lungs as they bled-out as the smoke began to clear.
The RUST vehicles hadn’t made it through unscathed either. Nearly all of the civilian transports, being on the outer edges, had suffered catastrophic damage, and only a handful of the deuces remained in working condition. Even the buses at the rear had been turned into metallic Swiss cheese, leaking blood and bodily fluids of the now-dead within from the holes all along their sides.
The MATTOC remained operational. Being at the head of his spear-shaped column, Hess’s transport had been struck by some few of the projectiles expelled by the claymores, but withstood the impacts. The monster machine’s armor was too thick for even explosive-driven steel to penetrate its thick hide. Its driver brought the MATTOC to life with a throaty cough that stabilized quickly. Something rattled inside it, but there didn’t seem to be any damage at all from the claymores.
“Well, shit.” Ted frowned at the loud machine. “I was hoping that thing would catch it through the engine. Or maybe the fuel tank. Shit.”