The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  My wife gasped. She knew Alex.

  “Alex gave his life to save Southard, Wilder and me,” I said. “He died a hero, son. Never forget that and wear that badge with pride.”

  “I will, dad,” he said, pinning it to his body armor.

  “Now, take care of your mom and brothers,” I said. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

  “Be careful,” said Karen, kissing me.

  “I will,” I promised after I came up for air.

  The boys all hugged me and I held them for a long moment, taking in their affection. I kissed each of them on the cheek and stepped back to the door. I paused there, letting the image sink into my mind. The image of my wife with her arms around the boys, each of them armed but vulnerable at the same time. It was a post-apocalyptic post card. An insane Norman Rockwell moment, forever etched into my brain. Despite the guns, it was a family moment. One I’d hold in my heart to see me through when times were dark.

  With that image firmly in my mind, I turned and walked out the door. I took the concrete steps two at a time and emerged into the parking area. Spec-4 was there with both Humvees and the entire crew. They were all loaded for bear and ready to go. They were standing together in a group, waiting for me to come out. I stopped at the landing of the stairs and marveled at the strange parallels.

  The way they were standing oddly mirrored the way my family had been. Spec-4 stood between the First Sergeant and Southard. The other two Rangers flanked them. It struck me then that they were my family, too. My Kindred. Old animosities were now a thing of the past. These men and women had shed their blood with me, fought beside me, and nearly died for me. I owed them as much of my soul as I did my own flesh and blood.

  The dead might have changed the world forever, but there was still good to be found. Here in the semi-darkness of a man-made cave system, we’d made a home. We’d made a family. Now we were off to protect that family from those who would do us harm and destroy everything we’d fought for. Now was the time to set things right. We wouldn’t fail our people.

  “You ready?” called Southard, impatient to get moving, as always.

  “Let’s roll,” I said, and headed for the lead Humvee.

  First Sergeant Gregory handed me a new headset. I took it and glanced at it.

  “We changed the encryption,” he explained. “That way they can’t listen to us. They have the radios they took from you and Wilder.”

  “Good call,” I said, slipping mine on.

  “We’ve all got one on that frequency,” he added.

  “Alright,” I said, “let’s move. It’ll be dark soon. I want to be well clear of town before dark.”

  As the First Sergeant headed for his Humvee, he turned and tossed something at me. I caught it with my left hand and looked at it. It was a rolled up piece of desert tan material.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A shemagh,” he replied. “You look like an idiot with a t-shirt wrapped around your face.”

  I shook my head and chuckled. Turning to get into my door, I tucked the shemagh in my cargo pocket. Once I was inside, Spec-4 slid into the passenger seat and Southard slid into the back. The Rangers all climbed into the other Humvee with Sergeant McDonald taking the wheel. Corporal Jackson took the back seat so he could man the turret, if it was needed. I hoped it wasn’t. Our best chance for success was in stealth.

  I fired up the engine and headed for the exit. Weasel-face was there and opened the gate with the big forklift. We shot through the opening and he immediately closed it behind us. The gate up topside was still manned. Winston and Webber were there and flagged us right on through. I shot them a salute as we drove by. Webber returned the salute but Winston just waved at me, grinning. Then we were past them and accelerating.

  It was almost dark as we turned out onto the road and headed south. I didn’t want to go through town. I knew the Freemen watched the main roads in and out of town, so it would be better to avoid it. I didn’t know if they still had the manpower to watch that much area, but I didn’t want to risk it. So instead of turning towards town, I headed east.

  We drove under blackout conditions, without using the main headlights. The blackout lights gave us just enough light to see by but couldn’t be seen from long distances. It was enough to navigate by so long as we didn’t go too fast. That kept our speed lower, but it was better in the long run. It wouldn’t attract too much attention, from the dead or the living. It was sad that the living had proven to be the worse threat.

  We stuck to the back country roads, skirting the city of Fair Grove, passing between the little towns of Willard and Pleasant Hope. Once we cleared Willard, we stuck to farm roads that would take us to our goal. Thanks to Spec-4’s escape and detailed notes, we now knew that the Freeman compound was on the back side of the Bois D’Arc Conservation Area. The “Boss” had been smart, purchasing land close to thousands of acres of Conservation Land.

  Most of it was inaccessible or restricted from hunting, keeping his remote outpost secret until it was too late. If they hadn’t taken us there, I can honestly say we’d have never found it. Not without the ability to look from the air. That wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway, since I’d seen them shoot down two aircraft, already.

  It was close to 2200 hours when we pulled into the parking lot of the shooting range. It was located in the Conservation Area and was one of the best ranges in our area. I’d taken my kids there dozens of times. It also had the advantage of being the closest place we could park to the Freemen Compound without driving down the road that it was on. They’d be watching that road, but I was willing to bet that they wouldn’t be watching for us to come in through the woods.

  We parked and concealed the Humvees behind the main building. There weren’t any other vehicles in the area, so I didn’t see anything that might draw someone’s attention if they happened by. Not to mention the fact that only an idiot would be out here after dark. I guess I know what that says about us.

  Once everyone was out, we shouldered our packs and secured the vehicles. Sergeant McDonald took point and Corporal Jackson took the rear. I checked my M-4, and then headed out right behind McDonald. Spec-4, Southard and First Sergeant Gregory followed along after that. There was a full moon out and seeing was easy. McDonald picked out a game trail and headed off into the darkened woods.

  We all had our suppressors on our weapons and staggered our weapons to cover both sides of the trail. I had to cover with my off-hand, since McDonald had his weapon in his right hand. I was watching where I stepped to minimize the amount of noise I was making. I grew up hunting the backwoods of Missouri. I could be very quiet when I wanted to be, but compared to the Rangers I might as well have been playing a drum while I walked. They were scary quiet.

  Several times we crouched in silence when McDonald would give us the signal. Each time, we could hear something moving off in the woods but we never saw anything. It sounded like it was on four legs not two, so I assumed we’d scared a deer. That was good since I didn’t want to encounter the living or the dead in the dark woods.

  It was close to midnight when I started hearing faint sounds of people. It had to be the Freemen. They had absolutely no concept of noise discipline. Hell, most of them had no concept of any kind of discipline. Although it was kind of ironic that a group that called itself Free Men would be so fanatically loyal to one man. The Boss was more of a David Koresh than a George Washington.

  When McDonald called for us to go to ground, I knelt down without hesitation. I crouched behind a bush and waited to see what was going to happen next. I didn’t have to wait long. In the darkness, I could hear the sound of someone walking. Then, almost right in front of us, someone lit a cigarette with a lighter. That effectively rendered his night vision useless. Obviously, we weren’t dealing with a trained soldier.

  We waited for him to move on, but he just stood there. I could smell the odor of his cigarette. It wasn’t tobacco. It was the unmistakable smell of marijuana. Not onl
y did he ruin his night vision, now he was getting high. Absolute and utter contempt for this idiot washed over me like a wave. I’d spent my career protecting the public from idiots like this and now, at the end of things, it was this moron and his friends who were threatening my family.

  I probably should have waited, but I just couldn’t contain it any longer. Shouldering my M-4, I sighted in and put one silenced round through his forehead. He pitched forward over the edge of the fence and into the bushes below. He never uttered a sound. McDonald turned to look at me and gave me a brief nod. Then he covered the distance to the fence and checked the body.

  The rest of us joined him in the deeper darkness at the base of the fence. The thug that I had shot didn’t look familiar, other than the usual trappings of the Freemen. In the darkness, I could only make out the vaguest of details. I didn’t want to risk being seen or ruining my night vision by using my tactical light to get a better look. It was good enough that he was dead.

  We quickly scavenged his equipment and ammunition. Since the big attack on our gate, we had seriously diminished our supply of ammo. We needed to resupply, in a bad way. It would be much easier to raid for supplies once the Freemen were gone. Hopefully, that would be taken care of tonight.

  We boosted Corporal Jackson and Sergeant McDonald up onto the fence. McDonald took a defensive position to provide cover, while Jackson pulled the rest of us up. Once we made it, I took a quick look around. Inside the perimeter, it was fairly well lit. There were fires going near the tents and both of the houses blazed with light. I could see people moving around inside the perimeter, but only a few guards on the walls.

  The walls were about ten feet high and made mostly of earth and wood. There was a walkway around the inside of the wall. It was about three feet lower than the outside top of the wall and about three feet wide. Fence guards could walk all the way around the compound and only have to climb down at the gate.

  From where we stood, I could see the gate on the far side of the compound. Parked just inside it were numerous vehicles. Most of them were the patchwork jobs that Sanders had labeled “jingle trucks.” There were other vehicles as well, but nothing that compared to our Humvees and Hemmitts. Once we found the old man, we’d extract the same way we came and leave in our own vehicles.

  I took a moment to remove the map from my cargo pocket. Then I got out my compass. There was enough light from the compound that I could see by as I worked. It didn’t take long before I worked out the coordinates for the camp. My map reading skills might be a bit rusty, but I was about as certain as I could be that they were correct. Without a GPS to double check my work, I was going to have to call it close enough.

  Once we slipped down inside the compound, we kept to the darkness. We stayed clear of the people inside, as much as possible. Only once did we have to go to ground when a wandering drunk staggered too close to us. He stopped within ten yards of us to relieve his bladder. It was the last thing he’d do in this world.

  Southard slipped up behind him with a drawn knife. He cupped his hand over the man’s mouth and pulled his head to the left. Then he drove the knife into the base of his skull and twisted. Immediately, the body went limp in his hands. Wiping the knife on his victim, Southard tossed the body into the bushes. He landed with a splash in a puddle of his own urine.

  I didn’t see any buildings or anything that looked like it might be used to house captives. Nothing looked secure enough to use as a holding facility. I figured that most of their captives died in the fighting pit. The thought of them forcing that old man into the pit about made me lose my cool. He wasn’t a threat to anybody, much less a challenge for anyone in the ring.

  As we approached the barn where I’d been held, I had sudden flashbacks of the pain I’d endured there. Spec-4 put her hand on my arm and looked at me.

  “Are you ok?” she whispered.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her.

  She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue the point. I forced myself to ignore it and continue on. As we approached the door to the barn, I heard the all too familiar sound of a whip rending flesh. This time, there was no horrifying scream to accompany it. I slipped up to the door and peeked around the corner. What I saw sent waves of rage through me and pushed me to the point of exploding.

  There, hanging in the wheel of torture that had been mine for so long, was the old man. His body was limp and lifeless. Just for good measure, the thug that held the whip sliced another savage blow across the old man’s withered frame. Only the force of the blow caused him to move.

  “The old bastard must have passed out,” muttered one of the men.

  “You’d better not have killed him,” snapped a second one. “If the Boss finds out you killed him, you’ll be taking his place.”

  “He ain’t dead,” snarled the one with the whip. “He just passed out.”

  The one who had spoken first walked over to the old man and checked his pulse. Then he stepped back and shook his head, chuckling.

  “Looks like you’re gonna be taking the old bastard’s place,” he said, suppressing a laugh. “He’s dead.”

  “No!” I bellowed, leaping into the room.

  I had completely forgotten the assault rifle in my hands. I stepped up to the first one and drove my fist into his face with jaw crushing force. He went over backwards, firing his weapon into the air as he fell. The sound of the gunshots in the quiet of the night might as well have been explosions. Everyone in camp would have heard it.

  Spec-4 leapt into the room and shot the second one before he had a chance to raise his weapon. Corporal Jackson shot the third one as he ran for the other door. I straddled the one I’d hit and proceeded to punch him in the face, over and over again. I couldn’t tell you how many times I hit him before I was yanked off of him by the First Sergeant. I could see that my fists were covered in blood and what was left of the man’s face was unrecognizable.

  “Get it together, Grant!” snapped the First Sergeant. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here. The entire camp is on alert.”

  “Not before I check the old man,” I replied.

  “Make it fast!” he shouted, shoving me towards the old man.

  I stumbled, but went to him. His frail old body had been severely beaten. The old scars on his body told the story of many such abuses at the hands of the Freemen. I confirmed that he was dead. I had to know for sure. I cut him down as tenderly as I could and lay him on the ground beside the fire pit. Gently I covered him with a piece of cloth that was draped over a board. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do for him.

  “Grant, we’ve got to go, now!” called the First Sergeant.

  Grabbing one of the lanterns from a hook on the wall, I smashed it in the pile of hay near the old man. It was as close to a Viking funeral as I could give him, under the circumstances. I hoped that it was good enough. I knew that he deserved far better than that. As the fire engulfed the hay and began licking up the wall, I muttered a quick prayer that his soul find its way into the halls of Valhalla.

  Recovering, I headed back to the group. They were already exchanging fire with several of the Freemen. I could hear voices all around camp, sounding the alarm. We didn’t have long before we’d be surrounded. The danger that we were in must have snapped me out of the haze I was in, because suddenly I was moving.

  “Alright people,” I bellowed, “let’s get the hell out of here. Jackson, McDonald, you two cover us as we break for the fence. Once we’re there, we’ll cover you while you catch up.”

  Without any argument, they took up positions beside the door to the barn. Instantly, they opened fire on movement in the darkness. The rest of us sprinted for the fence. I paused occasionally to fire at movement. Seconds later, we reached the fence and turned to provide cover for the two Rangers.

  The time for stealth was long gone, so I drew a grenade out of my pack and threw it at a group of Freemen that were attempting to flank us. The explosion tore through the group and I could
hear the screams of the wounded in the darkness. As Jackson and McDonald made their way towards us, Spec-4 threw a grenade of her own. It landed next to a tent and shredded it. The occupants of the tent didn’t fare any better.

  Jackson and McDonald had almost made it to us when Jackson went down under multiple hits. McDonald turned and went back for him. The rest of us opened fire on the crowd that had gotten Jackson. Spec-4 and Southard opened up with their M-203’s and launched grenades into two different buildings. The small house that Spec-4 hit shuddered under the force of the explosion and fire could be seen erupting in one room. It must have kicked over a lantern. Southard’s shot hit a small shed. The only thing I could figure is that they used the shed to store fuel, because it exploded in a massive fireball that rolled skyward and rained down liquid fire on the area all around it.

  The camp was devolving into chaos. Since we were using suppressed weapons, most of the Freemen had no idea where the attackers were at. They began firing out into the darkness in almost every direction. I could hear the sound of the Boss’ voice calling out orders, but most of them either couldn’t hear him or were ignoring him. They continued to fire in random directions, despite the fact that they weren’t coming under fire.

  McDonald dragged Jackson to the fence. He’d been hit in both legs, but the interceptor had kept him from the worst of it. He was bleeding heavily, but it didn’t look to be arterial. McDonald pulled out his Direct Action Response Kit[28] and went to work on the wounds. Quickly, he applied pressure bandages to the wounds, staunching the worst of the bleeding.

  “We’ve got to move!” bellowed the First Sergeant.

  “Get them over the fence!” I called, changing magazines.

  Spec-4 and Southard climbed the fence and helped to pull Jackson up on top. Once he was up, McDonald went after him. First Sergeant Gregory and I continued to provide cover fire as they went over the fence. As soon as they were clear, I motioned for the First Sergeant to go. Without hesitation, he was up and on top of the fence. Then he covered me while I climbed.