Fall of the Cities_Branching Out

by Vance Huxley

  “The tyres won’t blow. We have bullet holes in ours but they’re filled with foam of some sort and still work perfectly. We’ve got those tyres you can run after a puncture on the trailer, but the foam is a better idea.” Harold looked over the water as well. “How good are your riflemen at this end? Seriously, I need to know.”

  “As agreed, our best pair with the best rifles and one bloke with a two-two are backing your other pair of shooters. They can hit a man at five to six hundred yards. My other big rifle is about thirty yards along this bank with two more little rifles, but the shooters aren’t that accurate. Neither are the rifles, which is why they’re just backup for you two.”

  Harold frowned. “They won’t be able to hit a loophole but can they hit the cab of a truck?”

  “One should, and occasionally the others might.” Wellington laughed. “The rifles might do better now that you’ve brought those piercing rounds. Hawkins was f… bloody annoyed you knew what rounds to bring until I reminded him you repaired the bloody rifles.” He sobered. “The riflemen know if they use those rounds without my personal say-so I’ll cut.. hurt them a lot.”

  Emmy nodded towards Patty. “We appreciate the effort with your language.” She grinned. “If you do slip, we are on your patch.”

  “Yeah, but not everyone thinks that’ll make any difference.” Wellington smirked, waving a hand along the line of Geek troops. “Worrying about their language around your women will stop the men worrying about the General.” He laughed. “Though if I’d put a couple of them in sight of Patty the idiots would have forgotten the bloody General altogether. They’re sort of frightened but fascinated.”

  Harold watched the floats slide down the far bank one after the other as the line of fifteen metre long boards stretched out towards this bank. The General would need fifty at least to cross the seventy-odd metres of water, though the sections were sliding down in rapid succession so that wouldn’t take long. “How far are you letting that bridge come?” The line of sharpened stakes the Geeks had put in along the waterline might slow up men coming out of the water, but it wouldn’t affect anyone running across a bridge.

  “After seeing your new toys and plotting with Einstein and Darwin, I’ve got a wee bit more ambitious. The bridge can come all the way because I want him to send that shield. We’ll let that get past halfway with all those nasty fighters following, then break the bridge. We may as well take the opportunity to thin them out a bit.” Wellington chuckled. “It only seems fair after they’ve made such an effort. Though to stop the General from being suspicious we’ll try to destroy the bridge before then.” Wellington sighed dramatically. “We’ll fail. So sad.” Even as he spoke a few bombs sailed through the air. Most bounced off the floating walkway or landed in the water, while those that exploded didn’t damage the metal sheeting.

  Harold looked at Wellington. “Oops?”

  “Oh yes. Now we’ll frantically dash about. Oh dear, what can we do?” Behind him Patty tried not to burst out laughing because she didn’t want to spoil Wellington’s deadpan delivery. “We’ll probably take three or four minutes to come up with something?” He made a small bow towards Harold. “Your extra bombs will let us bait the trap a bit, waste a few.”

  Four minutes later a mixture of bombs and plastic bags full of dark liquid arced up. The bags flew further since they weighed less, splattering on the bank and the nearby bridge sections. The bombs landed nearer, most of them landing in the water or bouncing there. Once again, those exploding on the metal sheet did no discernible harm. The next bombs were smaller, overshooting the plastic bags to explode beside the railway lines and the roadway inching down it. The dark bags splattered across the bank again. “Those floats will be damaged but not enough. We could destroy the first floats coming down those rails by dropping bombs around them but would use up all our ammo. Then he’d send more floats.”

  Emmy scowled. “Why isn’t that stuff on the bank burning?”

  “Nobel reckons that stuff shouldn’t catch even if an ordinary bomb drops near.” Wellington rolled his eyes. “Oh, disaster.” He grinned. “Though once something hot enough spatters over the bank and sets it going, it’ll be a stone bitch getting off the bridge without a serious hotfoot. The stuff is a sort of sticky jelly.”

  “So the idea is to trap some men on the bridge. Will our hot bombs set that jelly off?” Harold started worrying since the Geek seemed certain, despite never seeing one explode. He couldn’t have since Harold believed Barry and never wasted one to see.

  “We already have something to do the job. Tell has a, er, blasted great big fancy bow to deliver his. He reckons that bloody great crossbow will do the same for us without exposing the shooter, which saves our blokes poking their heads up over the bank to do it.” He nodded towards Patty but then Wellington’s face sobered. “I don’t want those f..er, er, lipping shields getting back off that bridge. I want them either at the bottom of that water or tucked up safe on this side.” He looked through a firing slit as a few more bombs mixed with a lot of bags arced overhead. “Now we know why he put up those buildings in six places. We thought they were just guard posts at low spots on the bank and the rails might be to launch boats.”

  “Something’s coming, Welly. I just heard vehicles.” The Geek with binoculars further along the bank raised a hand. “They’ve stopped.”

  “Probably the armoured trucks for when the men move onto the bridge. It won’t be long now.” The front of the bridge had passed the three-quarter mark as the last sections came clear of the construction shed and started down the slope. Wellington used the field telephone, listened, then reported. “There were engine noises at the other bridge as well. I hope that thing won’t support a heavily armoured vehicle.”

  “Not a chance. There’s over a ton of plate on our truck and we’ll shoot clean through that thickness from this range.” Harold pointed. “Those floats are half-submerged already. I can’t see them taking that sort of extra weight let alone something with thicker steel. If they don’t sink, they’ll flip if it’s only a bit off-centre. Why don’t you take a peek with the drone now everyone’s busy?”

  Wellington’s wry smile looked odd with his scars. “I told you, I daren’t because the skies are clear. That smartarse over there would call it off and be sneakier next time or worse, someone might shoot it down.” Wellington peered out of the viewing slit again. “Brace yourselves. Those fuses really are waterproof?”

  “So I’m told.” Harold thought crossing his fingers might not help Wellington’s nerves.

  “Goody. Contact. The bridge has reached this side.” He made a call on the phone. “The other one is about fifteen feet short yet.” Along this bank, Geeks were coming to the lip and lying behind slots or just the bricks and earth with firearms or crossbows ready. Behind them men with bows stood ready to loft arrows over the crest. Wellington worried at a thumbnail. “He’s got to have something to keep our blokes from opening up on his men as they cross. Otherwise, even at this range the sheer volume of pistol rounds and crossbows will cause serious casualties.” He sighed. “We can destroy the bridge now, but I really want to kill a shitload of his men as well.” He glanced at Patty.

  She grinned. “I’m good with that sentiment, however it’s put.” They all waited, and worried.

  * * *

  Even as the field telephone reported the other bridge had reached this bank, a Geek nearby called out to let everyone know he could hear engines again. The tops of two armoured trucks came into view, covered trucks with sloping roofs and loopholes. “Armour to protect the covering fire. That’s a relief in some ways because Galileo and Nobel reckon they could rig up mortars. We daren’t because of the RAF reaction to rockets, but I worried the General might risk it.” Wellington really sounded relieved but Harold added that to his own list of worries for the future.

  The vehicles kept coming until the drivers turned parallel to the cutting, either side of the attack on top of the high ridge in plain view. Harold looke
d at the curious pattern of small metal shapes over the rear section and driver’s door, almost like scales, and wondered if they worked better than big plates. Wellington answered the field telephone. “There’s two more at the other crossing.”

  “Here they come.” Patty pointed and the rest looked through the firing slits. A steel plate with three loopholes moved out of the construction shelter, quickly sliding down the rails to the water, helped by pushing fighters. Then it slowed, presumably due to its weight since the bridge definitely dipped as the contraption moved onto the first floating section. The fighters ducked down under a steel cover extending back from the top.

  “Ask your man to shoot at it with a special, but move bloody quick afterwards because those armoured things are waiting for a target.” Harold put his sights on the steel plate and frowned. The shape tugged at his mind but he couldn’t place it. A shot rang out echoed by a loud clang and then two return shots, one from each vehicle. “Is he all right?”

  “Yup. Laid flat and trying not to swear loud enough for us to hear. What happened?” Wellington smiled. “I kept my head down.”

  Harold moved his sights along the shield and grimaced. “No penetration. All I can see is a bright mark. The shape looks familiar.”

  “It’s from a grader, one of those giant earthmovers with the blade in the middle, though that one is cut short. Maybe one cut in half?” The man who spoke up shrugged. “I worked on building roads for a bit.”

  “Look on the bright side.” A Geek with binoculars looked over with relief showing in his voice and face. “They’ve just poked gun barrels out of the slots but they’re shotguns, not rifles. No, er, effing good until they get closer.”

  “Plan C then, or is it D?” Wellington glanced at Emmy. “Oh dear, help, we can’t stop it. We’ll just try to shoot the nasty gangsters following it.” He winked at her. “Could you shoot those nasty people in the trucks before they shoot our men, please? I’d pretty please but that bit broke.”

  Emmy laughed. Wellington’s humour was definitely helping everyone to cope with the stress. “My pleasure. Harold?”

  “Count of three from Wellington when he’s set with the onagers. Take the truck on the left first. We’ll go for the first two loopholes in the back and the Geek rifles go for the driver.” Harold glanced at Wellington. “Remind your people. Duck and move.”

  “I’ll get the rifles at the other crossing to shoot at about the same time.” Wellington spoke on the field telephone, and waited until someone confirmed the others were ready. “Ready?” Harold and Emmy confirmed without looking away from the scopes. “Three, two, one, fire.” The two rifles rapped out almost as one and both Harold and Emmy rolled sideways away from their slits. Moments later so did everyone else even if they hadn’t fired, all hugging the dirt. “Holy shit!” A pale-faced Wellington glanced at Patty and did his best to shrug while lying flat. “Sorry, but two automatics?”

  An equally white-faced Patty tried to smile back. “Sometimes cripes doesn’t quite cover it. What the hell are they, Harold?”

  “Like Wellington said, automatics, machine guns.” Harold glanced along the defences to where two Geeks lay spread-eagled and another huddled up, nursing a shoulder. “Some sort of machine gun, but not a heavy one or it’d probably chew right through our cover.”

  Wellington recovered enough to use the field telephone, speaking to his men further along the line and those opposite the other bridge. “There’s two automatics at the other crossing as well, in the trucks. We lost three men there and another further along here. There’s several wounded, but your pair are safe.” A single shot cracked out and a man further along the defences flew backwards and laid still. Wellington raised his voice. “Keep down, there’s snipers as well. Anyone see how the bombs did?”

  A man raised his hand on the other side of the dead one. “That shot came from the back of the truck. The damn thing moved as soon as the fucking bombs went over so we missed. Er, sorry.”

  “Which means the bullets bounced.” Harold eased up carefully to look out of a different slit. “Remind your men to keep the rifle barrel well back in the slit, not poked through.” He looked at the loophole he’d fired at through the scope, then the driver’s door. “Your blokes hit, Wellington, but the rounds only left a bright mark. Those plates are very hard, maybe real armour plate hard.”

  “Which means we can’t stop the damn things. Swear, swear. Though they can’t hit the onagers even with automatics.” Wellington frowned. “Most of the fighters will get back off the bridge when we break it since we can’t really open up. Not with bloody automatics targeting anyone who tries.” He glanced at Patty and then at a row of men with missile weapons stood behind a high wall. “We’ll get some with bows and crossbows, by lofting the shafts, but their shields will stop most arrows.”

  “Maybe we can still get the trucks. Tell your men to target the engine on the one on the right because the bonnets aren’t armoured with the same plates. We’ll do the same, because with luck the specials will break the engine block or at least chew up the wiring. Throw a few bombs just the same, but send over a couple of your Molotovs or ours mixed with them.” Harold put another hardened round in the Blazer. “If we stop the engine whoever is in the back won’t want to roast.”

  “Oh yes, a plan E, or F for flipping heck? Count of three again?” Wellington used the field telephone to the team covering the other bridge, then spoke to the onager operator. “Three, two, one, fire.” The shots rapped out and again automatic gunfire raked the defences while everyone ducked.

  Patty peeked. “Crap, it moved just far enough to avoid the bombs. Now a lot of fighters are coming out of the shed thing and running down to the bridge. Why have both trucks started moving again?”

  “Not crap, hit the engine again.” Wellington had the telephone to his ear and a big smile. “The one opposite the other bridge stopped.”

  “Be quick Harold, they’re trying to turn.” Patty stayed watching as Emmy and Harold took aim.

  “Duck Patty. Emmy, three, two, one, fire.” The automatics lashed out again straight after the shots, but further along more shots rapped out and a man cheered.

  “It’s stopped! It’s stopped! The fucking truck has stopped!” The Geek dived flat as he realised his waving hand would have shown above the earthwork.

  Wellington spoke rapidly on the telephone and grinned. “Roast sniper coming up. We’ve just straddled the stopped one at the other crossing with bombs and Molotovs and it’s not moved. The onagers here are loading with just Molotovs. What about the other truck?”

  Harold moved five slits along to look. “Crap is right this time. They’re parking with the rear facing this way, and the rear is wider than the bonnet. Even if we moved further along we might not get penetration at an angle. On the good side, there’s only one loophole in the rear.” He moved to the side to see the damaged truck as both onagers fired. Molotovs fell on and around the vehicle bathing it in flames. “Watch for the back door opening on the burning one. Use soft lead bullets.” The nearby Geeks passed the message along to their riflemen.

  “You’ve lost the onagers, Soldier Boy. We’ve got to use them to break the bridge now.”

  Harold barely heard Wellington. He fixed his attention firmly on that door, visible because the truck had partly turned away before the damage stopped the engine. The loophole in the rear door spat automatic fire and the other truck joined in to lash the defences, but further along from Harold. The gunfire from the burning truck stopped, the rear door and driver’s door flew open, and a rifle cracked from further along the Geek line. The incoming from the automatic in the undamaged truck shifted to suppress that rifle, giving Harold all the time in the world.

  Even then he didn’t shoot the man trying to get out of the rear because another shot rang out, and the man carrying the distinctive shape of an AK flew back into the truck. Harold snapped off a shot at the driver before ducking.

  This time Harold stayed down as the remaining aut
omatic worked over his section of the defences. He watched the next two loads sail up and over him from the onagers and one bomb seemed to stay up there. Harold blinked. “Is your drone up, Wellington?” Then Harold realised this one flew too high and had wings, unlike the circular plastic toy the Geeks used. “It’s an Army drone, smile everyone.”

  “Let’s hope they really, really don’t like automatics. Annoy that truck enough to keep the bloody thing firing, will you?” Sheer glee sounded in Wellington’s voice but Harold wasn’t happy. That automatic sat under six hundred yards away, which seemed a bit close for artillery when the Army were only working from a drone camera. Still, Wellington had a point so as soon as the weapon stopped firing, Harold did his best to stick a round through the loophole. So did Emmy and the three Geek riflemen, though when that became two Geek riflemen the other shooters became even more keen on moving quickly and erratically.

  Harold had annoyed the gunner over there again and lay keeping his head down when he saw Patty open the long box a Geek had brought her. She pulled out a longer crossbow bolt, with the last four inches being made of thicker tube with a fuse. Patty saw him looking and waved it. “A little something from Tell because he says my old crossbow is the only prototype left. The newer ones are lighter and handier, but mine has more brute power.” She smirked. “That means I can loft this into the target at this range, without sticking my fragile head above the parapets.” Patty’s expression morphed into a snarl. “I’m going to burn off the end of the bridge so Wellington can kill those bastards on it.”

  The Geek soldier stayed, holding a lit candle in a jar. Patty knelt, loaded the arrow, nodded for him to light the fuse, raised her crossbow and sent the missile up at a steep angle trailing a line of smoke. The Geek scuttled forward to look through a firing slit, before ducking again. “Just over a metre short.”