by Javan Bonds
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“One Humvee, a similar vehicle, at least three MRAPs following. All broke off eastward between Days Inn and the gas bank. Rajesh was not able to terminate the Humvee driver. Over.” One of The Phantoms–Randy was positive it was Kumar–gave a brief report to the general audience and over the radio to their fifth Indian comrade.
The assault had begun.
The mayor whistled. “MRAPs are mean sumbitches. Did you see the mounts?” Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles (a.k.a. US Military Cougars) were heavily armored monsters that could easily brush off 50 cal rounds and were impervious to almost everything besides rocket launchers. They were being faced with some heavy machinery. Randy wished now he had taken the time to learn how to operate the Bradley when Hammer was around.
Kumar lowered his binoculars. “At least one 40mm grenade launcher.”
Mayor Collins dropped his chin and began lifting his radio. “I think we might need to call for reinforcements.”
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The convoy came to a halt when Bobbitt felt they had reached moderate safety. He knew that with more than one Humvee and possibly access to Earl’s radio, the insurgents were bound to be listening. Eavesdropping? The captain needed to communicate with his men but too exposed outside. And yet he said, “Earl has obviously been compromised, we’ve been expected. It’s time to give them what they’ve been waiting for!”
Bobbitt assumed Earl was dead; at least he knew the spy would wish for death rather than face the enraged captain. The military convoy circled the gas bank, well out of the line of sight of their enemy. The convoy stopped in the Top O’ the River parking lot to dispense eight grunts from each Cougar. These boots on the ground would dish out havoc from all directions. The mounted guns would ruin the enemy’s shit. Bobbitt hoped all these distractions would lead to the defeat of the INSURGENTS.
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39
Designated Targets
SALLY WAS OVERWHELMED with joy. She could only imagine how great it was going to be to watch these deranged libertarians suffer at the hands of her federal benefactors. They stopped at some grimy old restaurant and the trucks of soldiers unloaded. The men had been instructed to stay in well lit areas while peppering the island with small arms fire. All of them carried a rifle, pistols, and most had several grenades.
The secondary betrayer was glad they did not make her tote one of those devices of death. Sally Dick had been told a gun could just randomly fire like it was actually malicious. Guns did kill people and they should only be used by the military or by policemen–people who were professionals trained by professionals. That Hammer lady that had been the sheriff had been in the military and a couple of the police on the island were real cops from before, so she didn’t mind their carrying weapons.
Even if most of the survivors on the island were stupid rednecks clinging to their guns and religion, firearms were dangerous and you needed training to operate them. What really pissed her off was that damn Mayor with a fucking hand cannon on his hip that thought everyone had a right to bear arms. Fucking constitutionalists. The former social worker couldn’t wait to see this bastard get what he deserved–a bullet from the people that give out the privilege of rights.
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The call for more defenders was answered by the majority of island dwellers who showed up with basic civilian armaments. Their home was under direct attack and they were not going to go gently into the night. The Phantom squad’s long-range marksman, Dr. Philip George, was among several defenders in or surrounding the Best Western. He was using a 308 backing up the islanders who had hunting rifles of various calibers. The Medicine Man rested the barrel of his rifle on the lip of an upper story window when he heard the motor of an MRAP rev. The vehicle came to rest squarely facing the causeway and the defenders behind the barricades. It opened fire and decimated the Humvees, striking several of those who had just answered the call for reinforcements.
Some plunged into the water to avoid being minced, others sent rounds harmlessly back at the cougar. His Indian brothers and the mayor used the engine blocks of the never-to-run-again vehicles and the reinforced wall of the guardhouse as cover; dozens of shots pinged uselessly off the armor. It only took a split second for the doctor to sight in and fire into the barrel of the cougar’s mounted weapon. This clearly would not injure the gunner; the doctor was just happy to have turned the cougar into nothing more than a defenseless APC.
Mayor Collins accompanied the commandos onto the gravel bank on the western side of the causeway. They hustled back to the island with no assaulting rounds from behind. Carnage surrounded them; the barrage had been unleashed for only seconds but was nonetheless devastating.
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The SOF sharpshooters were in position and had direct line of sight all the way to Publix at the hotel across the highway. Rather than take out the several visible targets and risk compromising their location, the team chose to wait and lineup on the civilian closest to the enemy commandos; a man talking on a walkie-talkie who carried himself as a person in command.
The sniper had his 50 lined up just above the man’s sternum and fired.
Dr. George scanned the opposite side of the lake, looking for targets beyond the occasional foot soldier. He caught a flash in the far distance, near his 2 o’clock. The Phantom cardiologist knew before he heard the heavy crack of the large round that the opposition had brought their own long-range snipers. He raised his rifle to pinpoint where he had seen the flash and finally found the shooter perched on an outcropping of the mountain. He had no clue what the enemy sniper had just targeted or if the target had been hit. The Medicine Man nearly smiled as he knew it would be this particular enemy’s last shot.
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Dropping back down from the recoil after his initial shot, Sgt. Huggins peered out and was more than surprised to see nothing where his decimated target should now be laying. There was no eviscerated body, no blood, absolutely nothing. He almost asked his spotter how the fuck that happened. The Sergeant heard a single shot from far away.
“Did you see–” was all the SOF shooter got out before his brain exploded through the back of his skull. Bone fragments and what looked like gray and bloody scrambled eggs littered the ground behind his body.
Below, Captain Jonathan Bobbitt rested safely behind his Humvee as he strategized with his commanding soldiers. He forced Sally into the open MRAP to keep her protected and from interrupting sensitive plans. She would have liked to see more of the stupid yokels slaughtered under the mighty fist of the US military, but she was content to remain safe.
Bobbitt looked up through the thin covering trees as the men around him discussed where the grenade launcher would be of the greatest use. “The troops could begin massing to the east while a heavy machine gun cougar strafed back and forth across 431, harassing–” The commander was interrupted by an echoing shot from the enemy. The leader of The Villains could see the muzzle flash of a lone sniper from a top floor window in the hotel and pointed. “Cougar, send some grenades into the top floor of the hotel!”
The gunner of the MRAP launched a steady barrage of rocket propelled explosives at the area where Bobbitt pointed. Whoever the sniper was, he would never take another shot at THEM.
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40
Flanked
THE SOF TEAM had just radioed that they’d lost their sniper. Bobbitt was guessing he had seen the kill shot from the enemy’s only military trained long-range sniper. That problem had just been removed…permanently.
One cougar still made its harassing strafing runs past the causeway. The Captain ordered the driver to halt in an open position and was delighted to see that the sniper who had damaged the other cougar was silent. The subordinate commanders rushed into the grenade launching APC. Sally hurriedly rushed out as the vehicle moved to launch some heavy rounds across the causeway.
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“–I ain’t got no idea. I gues
s I just tripped. It was almost like somebody shoved me down, but nobody was that close.”
One of The Phantoms listened to the unexplainable miracle that had just saved the mayor’s life. “It is a good thing whatever it was happened when it did. A sniper bullet destroyed your radio as you fell.”
This had to be divine intervention. Randy looked up, thankful to The Screenwriter, where ever he was.
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Captain Bobbitt opened the Humvee driver’s door and Sally began walking around the front to the opposite side. From behind him, he heard the slap of bare skin on asphalt. The Villain slowly turned around, confused as to why a soldier had taken his boots off. What the fuck? It wasn’t a soldier at all, it was a dirty and naked child walking casually through the sunlight. This child had something of a blue tint to its skin; it looked at the captain calmly with its animal-like, yellow eyes. Bobbitt could see the LATV parked and empty only steps away. It was a higher lift and the mounted gun was enclosed. It would be safer than this tin can on wheels. He realized he and his concubine needed to have a plan quick if the zombies were suddenly tolerant of sunlight.
His girlfriend froze upon hearing the sound as well. He spoke to her calmly without taking his eyes from the peevie. “Sally, get into the LATV. Slowly.”
The captain slowly lifted his pistol from its leg holster as they both began creeping to the truck. The infected cannibal turned, tracking their movement. It was clear this small monster felt no ill effects from the sunlight. It let out a monstrous howl that Bobbitt wouldn’t have thought could come from such a small former-human. Suddenly the blue child charged.
The thing dropped after five rounds but its forward momentum slid the carcass almost to Bobbitt’s feet. He turned and ran, pushing Sally along. “Go, go, fucking go!”
They secured themselves in the LATV. “Why was that thing out in the daylight, Jonathan?”
The Villain began to lift his radio as he responded, “Fuck if I know! Can they all do that now?”
Sally shrugged as he made a call over the radio. “Cougars: this is Bobbitt coming to you from the LATV. We just had an infected charge us in the daylight. Be ready for anything. And the zombies are the new priority for the MRAPs.”
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“Yeah,” the mayor joked. “Sure would suck to be on the other side of the water.” Dr. George had told them of this development in the infected. He had radioed that the enemy combatants would likely be attacked by the infected before he sedated the captured peevie and came to join the fight himself. Mayor Collins pointed up to the top story of the Best Western. “Who you think was up there?”
All of the defenders had tactically withdrawn to at least the distance of Bottom Dollar. That cougar was spitting out grenades like it had an infinite supply. Randy nearly chuckled, his oldest son would probably accuse them of using cheat codes.
They were now on the far side of the building and could no longer see the destroyed window. Kumar knew where he was pointing and grew somber. “I think it was our sniper.” They were all thinking about the only professionally trained long-range shooter defending the island. Aware of Philip George’s marksmanship, the mayor swelled with pride. “Well, maybe he took a few of them bastards out first!”
The Phantoms felt like sadly cheering. They hoped their squad mate had dropped some of the military lunatics. It was at least an honorable death.
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The military vehicles started receiving dozens of radio calls. Literally all of the soldiers on foot were desperately running away from the naked monsters. Sporadic gunfire could be heard over the radios. This catastrophic symphony was mixed with bursts from the LATV and heavy machine gun of the MRAP mowing down occasional peevies. All the while, the 40mm pounded grenades across the causeway. The soldiers were on their way and they needed cover or they were just going to break into the armor.
“I need one man from the cougar to drive the MRAP with the disabled gun and pick up the troops,” Bobbitt called over his radio, “and don’t waste time or I’ll just call out a name at random.”
The back door of the rocket launching cougar flew open and a man walked out. He stopped to either wave or flip off the Captain. Just as he did this, something hard hit the ground at his feet and bounced into the crew compartment of the MRAP.
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41
Mo Journal Entry 16
AFTER TAKEOFF AND the removal of our attempted stowaways, the journey home was relatively silent. Smokes almost deserves congratulations for not incessantly jabbering. I wrote in my journal to keep myself occupied. Hammer repeatedly checked that every weapon was locked and loaded. Aka watched out the window like she had not flown across the fucking ocean to get to this country. Easy was probably thinking about steroids or muscle milk or protein bars or tanning lotion. Actually, I knew my brother was just as worried about our father as I was. His fiancée had to be worried about her future father-in-law. And The Expert was simply trying not to think about her secret, straight-crush being killed. I imagine Smokes was picturing chocolate covered sugar butter or something equally unhealthy.
We reached familiar landmarks and were nearly to Albertville and we all knew we would soon be at death’s doorstep. Easy questioned, “We can roll these windows down, right?”
“Mufuckin’ white people,” the prophet sighed. “DIS ain’t no git-er-dun 4x4! We in a advanced piece a machinery–”
I cut in with a laugh. “But you can’t lower the windows? Yeah, advanced.”
My rotund friend glared daggers at me. Our own Kathy Bates impersonator spoke up, “I think there are MRAPs in that group of enemy vehicles.” She paused and squinted her eye before continuing, “One of them is opening its backdoor! Roll down the window!”
Smokes was incredulous. “Lady, was you not just fuckin’ in here when I told that other cracka–” he was cut off by the explosion of a pistol. Hammer had just shot out the small window on his door.
I saw The Oracle’s mouth move and knew it had to be another one of his strange exclamations. Something about “colic nuggets.”
I could not hear myself talk after another explosion. “Was that really fucking necessary Cap? You could have given the pilot a heart attack!”
I think we’re all going to have long-term hearing problems anyway, but I don’t think she had to add to it. Somehow Smokes was able to remain conscious and even kept the plane steady with a bullet traveling just past his head.
We were lined up with the highway and would soon be on top of the enemy. The Expert dropped a live frag out of the permanently rolled down window just as we flew over the opened APC.
The grenade bounced neatly into the vehicle and exploded, nothing more than a puff out the back. I stared blankly at Hammer after seeing the excitement of nothing more than a smoke grenade going off. She shouted over the roar of the engine and the wind, “What? I wasn’t expecting fireworks. Just taking care of the occupants.” She then added to make it sound even better, “Oh, and it didn’t mess up the guts, so we’ll be able to use that vehicle after.”
Yeah, but I don’t want to be the first person to go in there. I’m the only one that laughed at her mention of guts. Smokes had brought us to a ridiculously low altitude and speed for Hammer to pull that off.
That had to be it, this wasn’t really a movie. Before I was able to make a comment on the new paint job on the inside of that APC, the little truck beside the now silent rocket launcher sent a spray of machine gun bullets up at Alex.
After a few snaps and smoke pouring from the engine, I looked at my compatriots expecting to see someone dead or dying. I shouted, “Anyone’s ass bleeding!?” All passengers and the pilot responded in the negative. Every one of us remained miraculously not dead yet.
Smokes fought the controls for a few seconds, but eventually began bringing the plane down over the water on its final descent. Wow, the three of us actually made it home with our intended goal on board. I am still surprised The Oracle did not plow u
s into the ground on the outbound or return trip. This plane may never fly again but it did more than I expected; it kept me from dying an excruciatingly horrible death. If I’m able to survive the swim from the plane to land without getting Ebola or some kind of super AIDS from the open sewer that is now the lake.
I’m going to have to see about turning Alex into a memorial. Wouldn’t that be cool? It could be some kind of statue of a single engine plane with water skis. In generations, people can take their kids to it to learn about a dude named after a comedienne who flew hundreds of miles to save his brother. Of course then the brother would become the main character of the story and it would focus on how everything he did was great and how he saved the world.
Smokes was able to bring her down on the south side of the eastern causeway. We landed close enough to the island to be out of sight of the enemy jeeps and maybe near enough that with a long jump we wouldn’t even have to fully immerse ourselves in raw sewage.
Man, it’s good to be HOME.
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