by Vance Huxley
“What exactly do you want, Maurice? We can’t allow the scum to threaten the Army posts just because of one problem enclave.” Joshua pointed at the screen. “That place is barely outside the exclusion zone so any firearms at all in there are dangerous.”
“Well, that’s partly true since that depends on both the firearms and the shooter. In this case the local gang boss is ex-Army so any firearms face the other way. Even if that wasn’t the case, just how dangerous would firearms be? I agree we don’t want rifles aimed at the Army, but what are the chances of some nutter actually harming a soldier from three hundred yards if he’s using a handgun?” Maurice spread his hands and raised his hands, palm uppermost, in a question.
“Virtually nil.” Vanna frowned. “But those fields are wider than the exclusion zone so hand weapons won’t help any attackers either.”
“They’ll mix rifles in with the handguns, but won’t turn them on the Army since that’ll mean artillery or napalm.” Maurice smiled. “A couple of hundred nutters blazing away as they close should interfere with the resistance. Once they reach the walls it’s all over.”
“You want us to tell this Army post to allow handguns? Won’t that show our interest?” Owen frowned. “That’s a bit pointed, especially if the Army are friendly. Something might slip, a warning.”
“We can send Vanna’s people to relieve the Army just before the attack?” Joshua looked at the picture. “I’d rather put someone disposable there since the scum might not stop at the enclave.”
Maurice altered the screen to show views of six cities, each with a spot highlighted. “These are the worst six, but we have similar problems elsewhere so the rules need relaxing across the board. That also disguises the specific reasons?”
“We need a feasible reason to do something like that.” Owen scowled. “Not one of Nate’s starving squirrel reasons. He got too clever for his own good with those excuses. Now nobody believes a word on the TV.”
“I have a good reason for you, Owen, one that is at least partly true. Announce that the criminals and revolutionaries are preying on the honest citizens with illegal weapons.” Vanna smirked. “Because we worry about the innocent we will allow handguns as personal protection for everyone.”
Joshua spoke up quickly. “Though with a proviso that pointing them at the Army will mean severe repercussions.”
All four considered that for long moments, then Owen nodded slowly. “That works, Vanna. Will that be sufficient, Maurice?”
“Perfect, thank you. Better still, the Army can take note of just how many firearms the enclaves nearby actually have once they are on show.”
Joshua nodded as well, but wasn’t quite finished. “How are the trauma victims coming along, Maurice? Especially since watching a few hundred innocents being killed and not being allowed to help might have a bad effect on some of my younger soldiers.”
“There is enough progress to deal with light trauma such as that. We’ll need more time and a few more experimental subjects to really get the job done.” Maurice glanced at Vanna. “Vanna’s people did find York a good source as the place fell apart.”
Joshua frowned. “Are we still clearing another city this winter? After all York is a bonus plus Henry claims to have brought in a good harvest this year?”
“Yes Joshua, because that will help with the protein situation. We can test both Maurice’s capabilities and the feasibility of clearing an already almost empty city. Your comments about clearing populated cities worry me.” Owen clicked the map to show the target. “After what you said about using terrain, we will follow your idea but only once the conditions are right. We’ll start starving the place after the first snow, then Maurice will trigger the breakout after there is a heavy covering.” Owen looked around the table. “Everyone keep on with your preparations, to ensure this runs as smoothly as possible.”
“Now I’d better get back before someone wonders about unscheduled meetings.” Vanna smiled and stood. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking they weren’t in the loop.”
* * *
Meanwhile, back in Orchard Close, Harold greeted Roy’s squad on their second rest break. After a short discussion he took them out into the derelict housing with the single shot hunting rifle Gofannon supplied. A few test shots showed that Roy had the best eye, in Harold’s opinion. Harold didn’t wait. He started the training immediately. The first job was to break bad habits, especially a tendency to shoot too quickly. To make Roy’s job a little easier, Harold improved the accuracy of Gofannon’s rifle. Roy promised he wouldn’t mention either the rifle work, or exactly what Harold told his new trainee shooter.
Harold had sworn he wouldn’t train more shooters after someone targeted Emmy. Now, if someone tried targeting Roy, the new man might solve the problem by killing the bastard. To help that Harold made up properly loaded ammunition to supplement the usual gangster version supplied by Gofannon. Roy would save the ten extra rounds for long range shooting or an emergency. The extra four rounds for each shotgun were the same; the tightly packed and smoothed buckshot might work better but shouldn’t be used until they were a fatal surprise.
After Roy left, Harold used the case hardening that Liz had been developing for him to make up more of his version of an armour piercing round. Liz had hardened small lengths of steel rod to create a core for an otherwise lead bullet. Experimentation showed that another armoured pickup wouldn’t be a real problem since the new rounds would go through the plate, or else the steel rod did. Two-two versions blew holes in the skulls that Harold found here and there, so he made up a few of each calibre he had a rifle for. Only a few because lining up the rods in a small jig to ensure they sat dead central was slow fiddly work, and closer in the lead rounds worked fine. Harold made up ten to fit Gofannon’s rifle, for Roy to keep as another ace when the General finally made a move.
* * *
The General didn’t wait long. When the urgent call came Harold took a score of men and woman armed to the teeth, and raced for the houses along the waterside. Cy, a GOFS fighter, waved them down and directed them into one of the houses guarding the end of a road crossing the water. There they sat and waited, bored because nothing happened. Vulcan turned up after an hour to find Harold and his party getting impatient. “I hope you brought flowers this time Vulcan, because you’ve disturbed Patty’s beauty sleep. Not only that but there’s another score on standby in Orchard Close for if they’re needed.”
“I’m assured that flowers will make no difference to her temper, nor is anything likely to affect her beauty.” The GOFS general grinned at Patty. “Though most of our men are more fascinated by the amount of sharp steel she carries and especially those crossbow bolts.” Vulcan’s face sobered. “This wasn’t a false alarm. The General tried a fast one, and I’m half expecting an assault across the water or down the roads.”
“What sort of a fast one?” Harold frowned. “I haven’t seen Roy or his men. Are they all right?”
“They’re probably having a celebration. I’d ask a couple of the women if they wanted to nip over to see them but those five aren’t interested in the pros. You lot have corrupted them already.” Vulcan held up his hands against Patty’s glare. “All right, I’ll give before you burst. The General sent boats across to put men ashore between the roads.”
Patty looked alarmed. “How many?”
“Not enough. We watch between the roads ever since your little visit by the waders, and our night sights picked out the heads of a few of the passengers. There were half a dozen, low to the water but coming closer so the spotter sent runners to collect shooters. By the time we had the first of the reception committee organised, the spotter could see the boats, really low in the water.” Vulcan laughed. “Roy and his men ran that bloody fast to get in on it I’m surprised they could shoot, ran because I wouldn’t let anyone use radios or motors.” The GOFS warchief smirked. “Though the message spread fast enough once the runner got to the nearest field telephone.”
“Yo
u stopped them?” Patty relaxed, and seemed disappointed.
“Yes, but I’m still not sure we won’t face either more boats or an assault down the roads.” Vulcan looked serious for a moment. “What is it with your lot? He’s not had that rifle five minutes but I saw that Roy dropping the bastards one after the other once the lights went on. They weren’t easy shots but he kept banging away steady and deliberate like he was on a shooting range, and I don’t reckon he missed one.”
“Roy had plenty of experience before arriving here, and maybe he hates them enough to make sure?” Harold smiled quietly, because Roy had remembered to slow up and aim properly. He thought the experienced fighter would have used the longer ranged rounds with the extra propellant, just to make sure. “How near did you let them get?”
“We let the first boat get to within twenty feet of the bank, until the first men started to get out to wade. Point blank range for shotguns, pistols and crossbows when the lights came on. Better yet, we can salvage the weapons in the shallow water.” Vulcan laughed. “Roy ignored them because someone started shooting from further back, covering fire from about four hundred yards. We lit them up as well and then the shits were too busy rowing like cripes to get away from that cripesing rifle.” Vulcan grinned at Patty’s little smile when he used cripes. “We’ll try diving later to see if they dropped any rifles in the water.”
Harold passed the news around after Vulcan left. As dawn finally broke through the low cloud, a crowd of men and vehicles could be seen a mile away across the water. Soon afterwards they broke up and left, so Harold’s party went home.
* * *
Across the water, nobody celebrated. “I’d shoot the fucking idiot that came up with the idea, but the GOFS already did it.” The General scowled as he trained his binoculars along the road leading to the other side of the floods. “Worse still there are too many fighters in those houses, waiting for us. The reports say the same about the other roads. I thought the GOFS only had about a hundred fighters, tops?”
The older man, Rhys, flinched. “They haven’t many more, I promise. They must have called in Orchard Close or the Barbies.”
“The Barbies? Shit, maybe we’re lucky we didn’t capture the end of a road and charge across. Hand to hand at night against those bitches would probably frighten even the Bloods.” The General looked through his binoculars again. “Those boats weren’t low enough or they’ve got forward scouts out. Scratch an amphibious assault, because any lower and they’d sink anyway. That only leaves the three roads and trying to force a crossing along them would be too expensive. I’ll think again.”
“You could stick an armoured truck in front. Send it across with everyone hiding behind it, because those new ones really are bulletproof.” Branson waved his automatic rifle. “This will deal with even the Barbies close up.”
“But those men over there know what they’re doing. They’d move out to the sides a bit and shoot the shit out of the column following the truck. Then they’d fry the truck with Molotovs because it would be unprotected.” The General frowned. “I have an alternative, but not while there’s any sort of current in the railway cutting. Now I’ll definitely have to wait for as many men as possible to be fit, and even then I prefer to launch the attack when their guard is down. If I can get over that water, I’ve flanked them all.” He turned. “Patton, is that Caddi bloke interested?”
Another man, in a pseudo-Army uniform but with less braid, saluted. “He wants a lot even to do nothing. He’s got a real hard-on for Orchard Close, or for a couple of women who pissed him off and the boss there. I reckon that Soldier Boy, the boss, is the shooter who nailed our man.” Patton shrugged. “He’s a half-mile man I’m told.”
“That’s moved him up my shit-list, because the smartarse planned that. The quad started rolling straight after the shooting so he owes me a truck and a rifle.” The General headed for his vehicle. “We’ll look into the neighbours, maybe see if those Pink Panthers will roll over. I’m not keen on queers but if they’ll join up we can flank the Barbies. In the meantime I’ll want someone to round up a shitload of civvies who are handy with a hammer and saw. Rhys, find out when those arses are likely to be off-guard, when they have their annual orgy or whatever.”
“Who, the GOFS?”
“The GOFS, the Barbies, that Orchard Close and the Geek Freeks. We want an edge the next time even if it’s only hangovers.” He sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to wait while our civvies finish getting their veggies in or they’ll give us grief about shortages over the winter. Worse still, they won’t be able to afford their rent.”
* * *
Emmy agreed with the General’s civvies about avoiding shortages in winter, and in Orchard Close her gnomes drove everyone to get in the veggies as fast as they ripened. October was the time to get in the last beans, tomatoes, and a half dozen other veggies coming to the end of their season. Beetroots, marrows and pumpkins were harvested, while to Liz’s total disgust the first Brussel’s sprouts were ready. Perishables were eaten, while any veggies that could be frozen, dried or bagged up were stored. The crops came in plump and delicious, because the dry spell over summer hadn’t affected their growth.
Emmy had taken full advantage of Rob’s new plumbing, putting teams of residents on bucketing waste water out of the reservoirs to sprinkle on dry plants. Now the increased rain had already started to top up the reserves again. With all the new residents as additional labour, the gnomes insisted that plenty of winter greens went in, along with broad beans and onions for next year.
For several weeks all the gangs were more interested in gardening than fighting, or in collecting a share of the produce their tenants grew even if the fighters didn’t actually get their hands grubby.
* * *
The general feeling of peace and relaxation persisted when Harold went on his next visit to Caddi. Teams of peasants, as Caddi’s fighters had started calling the tenants, were still harvesting on the open stretch around The Mansion when he drove up. E-Type seemed almost jovial as he locked up Harold’s weapons except for the stick and escorted him to Caddi’s house. Before he could knock a smiling maid with long light brown hair opened the door, though Caddi stood just behind her as usual. “This way sir.” She indicated the study with a wider smile.
“Thank you.” Harold answered automatically and mentally cursed for giving Caddi ammunition but the maid looked happy and gave a little bob. That startled Harold since Caddi’s maids tended to be very subservient. Though this one didn’t have cane marks showing on her legs below her very mini skirt so maybe Caddi had finally given that up. She closed the front door, then opened the study door.
“Tea, coffee, beer?” Caddi looked at the maid with an eyebrow raised instead of offering her as an option as he usually did.
“Coffee, white, two sugars please.” The maid smiled again before heading further into the house, while Caddi ushered Harold inside his study.
Mack already stood in one corner of the room with his aluminium baseball bat, where he would be behind Harold’s seat. Caddi grinned. “Two sugars Harry? Expensive habit that.”
“Not really, I only have sugar here because I need keeping sweet. Hi Mack, do you live there now?”
Mack grinned. “Not all the time. Caddi lets me go ‘ome now and then so I can eat.”
“Too fucking true. I’m not feeding Mack as well as paying your prices, Harry. Can I sell you a cheap motor to even up?” Caddi laughed. “I can even sell you some petrol for it?”
Harold’s laughed just as insincerely as Caddi. He sat down, bracing himself for the usual mixture of thinly disguised insults, windups and intense bargaining over every tiny item. That included the purchase of eight scarves with Hot Rods and a red piston rod knitted into them, probably because the Geek Freeks had been bragging about their versions with a simplified crossbow. After several attempts the gangs had given up on trying to get Patty or her knitting trainees to include any crudity or obscene logos.
The maid de
livered coffee. Harold thanked her and she smiled again. Harold refused Caddi’s offer of ‘anything else’ and thought for a moment she pouted, just briefly, before leaving. Caddi grinned. “She likes you. You’d better check under the bed tonight.” He laughed because Harold always did, and everywhere else someone might hide.
“I might fancy a night drive.” If Harold caught a hint of some sort of setup, that’s what he’d do.
“You might fancy roast beef more. Only the very best for you, Harry.” Caddi chuckled. “Cooper and the rest like you staying over, because they know I have to feed you properly.”
“Why do you do that?” The Hot Rod lieutenants all swore Caddi brought out the best food when Harold stayed over.
“So I can sell you some, though I couldn’t get the whole cow. I’ll send you home with a spoonful of beef gravy on a Yorkshire pudding if you aren’t interested?” Caddi grinned now because he knew he’d got Harold intrigued. Though the sale part had to be bullshit because unlike most gang bosses, Harold wouldn’t buy just for himself.
“No unwilling women in the bed, or under it? Or paid ones?”
“I promise. Now stop pissing about and let’s get down to real business.” The weapons came out and the haggling started. The extra at the end this time turned out to be a surge blowing the electrics on one of Caddi’s estates. Finn would be needed since the damage had affected the supplies, not just the electrical equipment attached to the mains at the time. Eventually the usual dealing finished with Caddi claiming to have been stitched while Harold felt sure he had been. “I’ll trade for some of those new people, Harry. Your lot are a bit crowded now and could do with the space.” Caddi smirked. “Unless you all like doubling up. In that case a few of my lads would like to come over and double up.”