Hornet's Nest: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (The Blackout Series Book 5)

by Bobby Akart

  He frantically searched through the heavier rain and the smoke-filled air. He sought out Junior, the man who was responsible for all of the deaths and torment in Savannah. Stubby wanted to kill Junior himself.

  The gunfire continued with few casualties on either side. While it was impossible to be exact, Stubby felt like the bulk of the rounds exchanged were coming from his side of the battle. He began to be concerned with ammo discipline as his unseasoned fighters could quickly run out of bullets if they weren’t careful.

  From his vantage point, Stubby could see that little damage was being inflicted on Junior’s men, so he took an unusual step. He queued the microphone button.

  “Cease fire. Repeat, cease fire.”

  He turned and signaled for Tristan Wyatt to join him. Tristan slid down the last twenty feet of the slope as he lost his footing.

  “Young man, I want you to give your father these instructions. Tell John to circle around the back of the cars and block the road. We need to close off their retreat. Tell him to prepare to advance toward the rear of Junior’s men. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Tristan. The boy glanced towards the shot-up vehicles below their position. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. Now go to your dad!”

  Junior’s men stopped shooting as well and they were reloading their weapons. Stubby cursed himself for not considering this contingency. At this rate of fire, his men could run out of ammo!

  Running at a low crouch, Junior’s men were scrambling back and forth. What were they planning? As the smoke began to dissipate, Stubby noticed something that he’d missed in the melee. Junior’s car was hidden behind the lead vehicle along the grassy shoulder of the road. He quickly studied the other cars’ tires. They were shot out, thankfully, but what about the blue LeMans.

  Stubby closed his eyes and recalled the early moments before the gun battle began. How many tires had blown? Did Junior’s driver swerve to avoid a rear-end collision and, as a result, miss the nails?

  Think, Stubby!

  He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. He had to assume that the LeMans could still move, and a decision had to be made. Should I position myself to take it out if it does move or take my horse and intercept Junior around the bend?

  Static from his two-way radio broke his train of thought.

  “In position.” It was John Wyatt’s voice, reporting as Delta One.

  Stubby could instruct the men to commence firing again, giving him the needed cover to scamper up the hill and take his horse to catch Junior trying to escape. However, this might provide Junior the distraction he needed to get out of there before Stubby could react.

  The Jeopardy song played in his head. “Time’s a wastin’,” Stubby mumbled.

  He carefully lifted himself out of the crouch and worked his way up the ravine to the top of the ridge. Using the large oak trunks as cover, he slipped away undetected. From the high ground, he could still survey the field of battle although details escaped him. He had a new mission—a face-to-face with Leroy Durham Junior.

  He quickly mounted up and walked his horse along the trails used by Confederate and Union Generals alike. A walk turned into a gallop as the cars slipped out of sight. Time was of the essence now. He had to find a concealed position to take aim at his prey.

  Stubby reached the bottom of the trail and secured his horse to a tree. He walked out into the middle of Hamburg-Purdy Road and surveyed his options. Stubby jogged down the incline toward a granite marker designating the wooded thicket labeled the Hornet’s Nest.

  Two vintage civil war cannons flanked the carved granite monument, which stood fourteen feet tall. A single soldier, musket by his side, stood hovering over the cannons, rain dripping off the bill of his cap.

  Stubby liked the position. It provided several hundred feet of unobstructed line of sight down the road, and the granite would stop or divert any bullet. Stubby took a moment to read aloud the words of Captain Andrew Hickenlooper found on the placard.

  “Then the supporting infantry, rising from their recumbent positions, sent forth a sheet of leaden hail that elicited curses, shrieks, groans, and shouts, all blended into an appalling cry.”

  In a hushed voice, he whispered to himself, “I’m with you, brothers.”

  Stubby steeled his nerves and got into position. Soon, Junior would come roaring around that bend with as many as four men with him. Five on one.

  Then he shouted, “Rangers lead the way!”

  Chapter 30

  Late afternoon

  Veterans Day, November 11

  The Woods

  Shiloh

  The rain was steady now as Stubby reached for his radio. “Gentlemen, maintain ammo discipline but open fire. Let’s finish this!”

  The sounds of weapons discharging echoed through the woods. It was impossible to determine whether Junior’s men were firing back, and Stubby began to regret leaving the field of battle. He would regret Junior escaping toward a relatively unsecured Shiloh Ranch even more.

  He rested his body on top of the monument and waited. He had a spot in the road where Junior would have traveled too close to Stubby’s position to change course. Now, Stubby would rely upon his military experience and his weapon of choice, the powerful AR-10, to overcome what might be five-on-one odds.

  Through the hail of gunfire being exchanged between the two sides, Stubby heard the powerful engine of the vintage LeMans roar, and the dual exhausts rumbled as the car approached. The distinctive chrome bumper entered his field of view and he forced himself to remain disciplined.

  “Come to papa,” Stubby snarled. The Pontiac was approaching sixty when it came into full view, and Stubby gently pulled the trigger twice, smashing the windshield and instantly killing the driver.

  Junior, riding in the passenger’s seat, grabbed for the steering wheel but was unable to gain control of the car as it careened out of control and up an embankment. The right front fender crashed into a rock outcropping, causing the vehicle to roll over onto its hood before landing upright in a ditch.

  Stubby didn’t hesitate. He poured more rounds into the vehicle, killing one of the occupants who attempted to crawl through the back window.

  Several shots rang out and sailed wildly past him. He searched for a target, but the remaining men stayed hidden within the steel of the car.

  CREAK!

  The passenger doors were opening and groans indicated movement. Stubby fired twice more into the windows, sending pieces of glass flying through the interior. There was no response.

  The frequency of gunfire in the background had slowed, making Stubby wonder if one side or the other had gained an advantage.

  Without warning, a figure rose from behind the trunk and opened fire on Stubby with an automatic weapon. He ducked as the bullets ricocheted off the granite, chipping out holes in the sturdy structure. As Stubby rose to return fire, he caught the silhouette of a man entering the thick woods to his right—the Hornet’s Nest.

  Without fear, he remained slightly exposed with his weapon focused on the spot where the shooter had popped his head up before. Stubby waited, confident in his abilities, but keenly aware that another man might be circling around him.

  Movement to his right. But he stayed focused. Eliminate one threat at a time.

  Stubby got his chance as the head of a man rose to get a look at his target. A fatal mistake, as the heavy .308 bullet blasted through his skull. He turned his attention to the man who had eluded death thus far. Stubby’s gut told him it was Junior. The Hornet’s Nest would once again see bloodshed.

  Stubby scanned the woods for movement before he keyed the radio.

  “Delta One, Sitrep.”

  “They’ve retreated into the woods, running in your direction. Giving chase.”

  “Roger that, Echo One. Alpha One, do you copy?”

  “Go Alpha One.”

  “Send two men up the road to the monument. One hostile on the loose.”

  “Roger.”

&n
bsp; Once again, Stubby had to remain patient. He wanted to give chase after the elusive sheriff, but he also didn’t want to leave an opening to his rear for Junior to get through. So he waited.

  The rain continued to fall and it was getting darker. Two figures approached him through the woods on his left, which caused him to lower himself behind the monument. They quickly scurried across the road in a low crouch.

  “Stubby,” said Jake in a voice just above a whisper, “it’s me and Javy. You’ve got four dead plus the Pontiac. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, come here and get down.”

  Jake and Javy quickly joined his side and provided Stubby an update of the battle down the road. Their side had some losses, but so did Junior’s men. Everyone on both sides began to run out of ammo, causing Junior’s men to retreat for the woods. John Wyatt and Tristan chased down one of the stragglers and beat him into submission.

  “Where are our guys now?” asked Stubby.

  “They checked for survivors in the vehicles and took weapons containing ammo. Our ammo levels are low, but so are theirs. Several guys heard the click of empty chambers. Empty rifles and spent magazines are strewn all over. At this point, it’s sidearms or hand-to-hand combat. In any event, they’re awaiting orders.”

  “How many escaped into the woods?” asked Stubby.

  “I’m estimating a dozen or so. We have the numbers and the guys are ready to go in after them. Just give the word.”

  Stubby thought for a moment. He didn’t want to let go of this opportunity to take down Junior. Also, he needed to buy time for Coach Carey and the Tiger Resistance. If he didn’t stop Junior, they could be overwhelmed over there.

  Stubby turned to Javy and pointed up the hill towards Shiloh Ranch. “Javy, find a place where the road opens up into the field. Watch for the sheriff.”

  Javy nodded and took off.

  “Echo One, Alpha One. Over.”

  “Go, Alpha One.”

  “Echo One, maintain your position and guard the rear. Send the rest of our unit after Junior’s men. Be careful, no friendly fire. Let ’em fly!” Stubby resurrected the infamous Rebel Yell, which was echoed from mouth to mouth during the Battle of Shiloh.

  “Roger that. They fly!” replied Wyatt, who was also an avid student of Civil War history.

  “Jake,” said Stubby, “hold your position here and watch for anyone trying to cross the road. You’ve got a clear line of sight in both directions. Just shoot them. Don’t bother notifying me on the radio. I’m gonna turn it off anyway.”

  “You are?” asked Jake.

  The rain began to pour down, but Stubby was undeterred. He pulled his boonie cap out of his ruck and wrapped a shemagh around his neck for warmth. He also switched his optics from daytime to night vision. This gave him a huge advantage over his prey. As night set in, his rifle would illuminate all threats.

  He took one more check of his ammo levels and confirmed to himself that he was ready. He patted his AR-10 and whispered to Jake, “It’s time to go hunting.”

  Chapter 31

  Late afternoon

  Veterans Day, November 11

  Savannah

  Two by two, the Tiger Resistance teams took their positions around Savannah. Each team was assigned to the secondary targets identified by Coach Carey for the purposes of neutralizing Junior’s guards stationed there. At locations like the hospital, Lowe’s and Walmart, Junior’s men could be monitored for their reactions, or engaged as a method of diversion. After Coach Carey initiated the attack on the west bridge leading across the river, his primary objective, the teams were instructed to immobilize their targets’ transportation first and then shoot to kill if necessary.

  Most of the secondary targets were located on the east and north sides of town. Once they took the fight to the west gate, and ultimately Cherry Mansion, it would take too long for Junior’s men to jog across town to have an effect. Disabling their vehicles was a first priority and it was something the Tiger Resistance could do quietly through slashed tires and sabotage.

  The first order of business was to take control of the Detention Center. They kept a constant watch of the facility anyway, but had maintained a two-man team across the street, hidden in the old hotel, since Alex’s rescue.

  This afternoon, there were two of Junior’s men, actual deputies prior to the collapse of the grid, that stood guard. Coach Carey knew them both. One was a prolific smoker and the other a consumer of copious amounts of alcohol. Based upon their observations, the smoker stepped out front every hour on the hour. Sometimes the drinker would join him, but not always.

  Coach Carey wanted to eliminate the guards and commandeer the jail first, but quietly. Their attack on the west bridge would raise alarms across the town, but it would be over quickly. They needed control of the jail and its contents, which included the armory, access to operating vehicles, and the jail cells for their prisoners. Coach Carey only considered one possible outcome of the day’s events—winning.

  At the last smoke break, the drinker was already in full swing. He was boisterous and thirsty. Twice during the seven-minute outing, the drinker offered his companion a swig of bourbon, but the smoker declined. Every man had his vice, Coach Carey surmised.

  After the men went inside following this break, Colton and Alex moved into position on the left side of the building, securely hidden around the corner of the brick structure. Beau flattened himself against the wall outside of the building to the right and waited. Their goal was to tackle and subdue them, lock ’em up and throw away the key, as they say.

  Within thirty minutes, the smoker brusquely swung open the double glass doors and strolled into the damp air, blissfully unaware of what awaited him. He was alone.

  His feet shuffled along as he moved his shoulders side to side to crack his back. He pulled out his pack and found it empty. With a couple of curse words for effect, he slung the empty pack like a Frisbee into the parking lot. He pulled another pack out of his shirt pocket and began to wander down the sidewalk in front of Beau.

  The smoker began to pack his smokes by smacking the top of the pack into the palm of his left hand.

  SMACK—SMACK—SMACK.

  THUD!

  The smoker never knew what hit him. Beau charged the man, lowered his head, and rammed it into the man’s rib cage. With the breath knocked out of him, the man was neutralized, but still a threat.

  Beau and the Bennetts had watched mixed martial arts, MMA, on FoxTV from time to time. The fighters were consistently warned against punching their opponent behind their ear and near the spine. Even a light strike could result in a knockout, but a more powerful punch could cause death.

  Beau whaled on the man, throwing punch after punch in the so-called forbidden zone. Pent-up frustration combined with anger, mixed with a little fear, resulted in the first casualty of the evening. Tiger Resistance—1. Scumbags—0.

  It was Colton who stopped Beau from killing the man. He ran across the entry to the jail to intervene just in time. They dragged the deputy between two late-model cars and cuffed him to a door handle. Then they ripped his sleeve off his bloodied shirt and gagged him.

  As a trophy, Beau was rewarded with the man’s service weapon and his duty belt, which included a holster, another set of cuffs, a baton, a mini-mag flashlight, mace and extra ammo. Colton grabbed the man’s jail keys and the sheriff’s department radio, which now gave the Tiger Resistance a great tactical advantage. They could monitor chatter between Junior’s guys.

  Alex remained in a crouched position, awaiting the drinker. Beau and Colton moved to a spot closer to the door, tucked on each side of the looted soda machines. Colton held the baton while Beau readied the flashlight. When the drinker came out looking for the smoker, they’d be ready.

  At least ten minutes passed before there was any sign of their target. Alex stuck her head around the corner of the entry.

  She whispered loud enough for the guys to hear her, “Should we go in and get him?”

&n
bsp; “Just a little longer,” replied Colton. “I don’t want to hunt him in unfamiliar surroundings.”

  “It’s familiar to me,” Alex shot back.

  Another minute passed and then Beau whispered, “Movement! He’s coming.”

  Deputy Drinker wasn’t nonchalant like his partner. He approached the doors with caution and his weapon drawn. The glass door slowly opened.

  “Johnson, ya out thar?” the man said, slurring his words.

  The door opened a little more and his arm stuck through with a pistol leading the way. Colton raised the baton over his head and waited. The deputy emerged a little more and the arm was ripe for the crushin’.

  THWACK! CRUNCH!

  Colton swung down with all his might, knocking the service weapon to the ground and causing the two long bones of the man’s forearm to break cleanly. Deputy Drinker fell forward through the door and Colton swung again, striking the man squarely in the back and driving him to the concrete. It was the final blow to the base of the skull that likely killed Deputy Drinker.

  Tiger Resistance—2. Scumbags—0.

  Alex rushed into the opened door and raised her weapon, waiting for anyone else to join the fray. If their intel was correct, these two losers were the extent of the jail’s guard crew that day.

  “Daddy, we have to clear the building. You and I will do it while Beau disposes of this guy.”

  Colton collapsed the baton and slipped it into his belt. He pulled the Kel-Tec Sub 2000 off his shoulder and nodded to Alex. They moved into the dark hallway of the jail.

  Colton followed Alex’s lead. It hadn’t been long since she’d been bullied up and down the hallways of the small facility. Room by room, they entered each doorway aggressively with the intent of startling anyone present and prepared to shoot anything that moved. By the time they reached the end of the hallway at Junior’s office, they were satisfied their intel was accurate.