Fall of the Cities_Branching Out

by Vance Huxley

Patty cranked her crossbow again and reached for another arrow. “Wellington? The next shot should hit.” Wellington raised a hand to acknowledge her before speaking into the phone. Patty let the next shaft go and the Geek confirmed she’d hit the wide strip of liquid on the far bank.

  More bombs sailed over, but every time anyone with a gun tried to target the men now on the bridge the rifle or automatic in the truck would open up. Arrows and crossbow bolts flew up and over while a couple of Geeks peered through firing slits to call out corrections. Harold rolled away after another attempt at the loophole and then yelled in pain and rolled again. He twisted to look for the reason his ass felt as if it had been set on fire. The spreading bloodstain on his jeans gave him a hint. “Watch out!” Emmy and Patty looked over. “There might be more rifles.”

  Wellington sent a query up the line. While he waited for replies Harold stuffed a pad down his jeans to try and stop the bleeding. “Yes, at least one rifle on top of the bank but I can’t spare an onager to sort it out. Our riflemen will try to keep the bastard’s head down.” The Geek warchief sighed. “We might be in trouble. We’re trying to sink the bridge at yon end but even that might not be enough.”

  More bombs went up and over. The automatic moved on to targeting someone else allowing Harold to take a quick look. The bombs landed on the far end of the bridge but as far as Harold could see the men kicked them all off. More men jumped onto the bridge, through the line of flame on the bank where the dark liquid had ignited. “They kicked them off!”

  “Good. Those are some of yours in plastic tubs of metal scrap. Einstein suggested cutting the fuses long. With luck they’ll rupture the floats when they explode in the water.” Wellington looked decidedly unhappy. “We need luck.”

  Instead of trying for the truck again Harold fired at the men now coming over the grader blade. Molotovs might have bathed it in flame and stopped anyone pushing but men were still coming up and over, running for the Geek end of the bridge. “They’re coming across.” Harold looked back at the fifteen of his fighters with pistols and shotguns. “Get ready. Keep your heads down between shots.” At eighty yards the water’s edge lay a bit beyond accurate range, especially with a lot of incoming fire. Bess nodded, a relief to Harold because she’d be the one most likely to forget to duck.

  Harold fired at the truck again, then rolled. A bullet came in through his loophole but missed him. As he peeked out of the next one, someone further down the line shouted “Now!” Harold glanced over and saw a Geek pouring liquid into a tube. He looked back at the men now leaping onto the bank and the numbers following, raising his rifle again. If it hadn’t been for the covering fire from the bloody truck the attackers would have been sitting ducks. Someone shouted “Ignition!” Harold aimed at a man with a shotgun but before he fired the entire water’s edge erupted!

  The grass along the edge of the water flew skywards and the whole end float and bridge section flipped back onto the men on the bridge. The water itself burst into flame, and so did the wrecked end of the bridge! Harold lifted his aim to shoot a man who had stopped, frozen in shock even as he climbed over the steel shield. He waved the Orchard Close fighters forward. “Aimed shots, first option, three at a time!” Geeks were popping up above the earthworks to fire at the men on the bank before ducking again.

  “Five.” Fergie, Tilly and Chris, one of Roy’s men, dived forward to the loopholes. Chris emptied his double-barrelled shotgun while the women each fired four quick shots down the bank then rolled back. “Three.” Another team of three did the same but further along. Harold had told Matthew to use random loopholes, and hoped the redhead didn’t drop into a pattern. No chance, because Matthew was throwing dice! “Two.”

  “Keep still.” Patty yanked Harold’s jeans down far enough to tape a pad over the hole in his ass, then pulled Harold’s jeans back up. She crawled back to her crossbow and started lofting shafts again, though not the burning ones. Harold moved back up to a firing slit since the automatic had stopped, and tried to hit that bloody loophole again.

  “Crap, they’re bringing more bridge down to replace the sunk bit at yon end!” Patty moved back and cranked her crossbow frantically. “They’ll bring more men across.”

  Harold moved to another firing slit and shot a man on the bridge before rolling away as a bullet hit the bricks nearby. More of the attackers were risking the flames this end to get onto the bank, then lying down to shoot at the Geeks. The defenders were being pinning by the General’s rifles and automatic while the attackers gained a foothold on this bank. More bombs flew over and screams sounded after the explosions so Darwin hadn’t used long fuses this time.

  Harold’s firing positions were quiet again so he picked one for another go at the truck. The line of smoke coming in and hitting the vehicle arrived without noise, but everyone heard the explosion as the cab disintegrated and the entire armoured back flew off! Harold’s eyes automatically followed the line of smoke back to a rapidly swelling dot as another line of smoke went past and out of sight towards the other bridge. Harold saw the two black dots dropping from the plane as it grew larger and flattened himself. “Down! Down! Down! Get down!”

  All firing from the men on the bridge or the Geeks stopped when the Eurofighter screamed by overhead. Moments later a thumping noise and a whoomph rather than an explosion left Harold feeling much happier, because he’d been worried about fragmentation. The wash of heat confirmed just what the jet had dropped. A quick look confirmed that whatever the automatic weapon had been, nobody would be using it again. The two parts of the vehicle lay off-centre of the sea of flame, but not enough off-centre to escape. A rattle of exploding ammunition confirmed just how damn hot that fire must be. On the other side of the attack a dull thud sealed the fate of the other truck as its fuel tank finally went up.

  Wellington’s voice rang out in the stunned silence. “Now kill the fuckers, kill them all!” With a roar the Geeks threw themselves forward, standing along the defence line to open up with every weapon that could be brought to bear on the crowded bridge. The section of bridge next to the far back had now completely sunk and flames covered the stretch of water, widening the wall of fire on the bank. The onagers bombarded the men still coming down the bank beyond the flames, the vicious explosions ripping into those waiting to cross and the replacement bridge sections.

  The fifteen from Orchard Close all moved up to the slits, firing single aimed shots with their handguns. In contrast the Geeks were standing up above their defences, blazing away as fast as possible. The men still on the bridge were about a hundred and fifty yards away, but the Orchard Close rounds were probably hitting the group. After the battle at the mart Harold experimented, then all his shooters had practiced hitting a group as large as the attackers on the bridge at these sorts of distances.

  The shield hadn’t moved, stuck three-quarters of the way across and still bathed in flame. Those who had jumped over and run towards the Geeks’ end to leap onto the bank reeled as bullets and shafts tore into them. More men surged up and over the steel, through the flames, running straight into those trying to get back and chaos reigned as the Geeks poured more gunfire and arrows into them.

  “Charge! Let’s get ‘em!” The Geeks surged up and over their earthworks and charged down the bank. Any surviving attackers at the water’s edge died in a few frantic, bloody minutes. The Geeks opened fire on the bridge again, but from much closer now. Someone on the other side still fired back, because Geeks started to fall.

  “Harold. On top of the bank. I just saw a rifle firing.” Emmy pointed. “There’s no firing slits up there away from the burning areas so he has to show himself to fire.” She put her eye to her sights. “With luck he’ll show himself long enough.”

  “Damn, I forgot the General’s other rifles. You take the stretch to the left of where you pointed.” Harold settled his sights on the right of the spot and waited.

  For a while the fire and fury raged on barely heeded, then a rifle shot cracked out. “Gotti
m!”

  A startled head popped up near Harold’s sights to look across so he retargeted and shot the man. “Maybe got the spotter.” Harold looked at the bridge, swallowing hard as his gut churned. This end and the water around it were ablaze, while bodies and wounded cluttered the unburned section back to the shield. Nearly thirty feet of the other end had now slipped underwater, leaving the water in the gap and the bank beyond burning furiously. Even as he watched, Harold saw squat shapes landing in the water around the far end of the bridge. He winced because he knew exactly what they were, one gallon plastic tubs full of petrol and oil with a Barry special. Even as that section and the water exploded in flame, adding to the inferno, the second onager dropped bombs into the men crowded on the bank.

  “Emmy? If nobody is aiming this way, shoot the men who are burning. Mercy shots.”

  Emmy’s quiet reply contrasted sharply with her elation of moments before. “Yeah. That’s not a good way for anyone to go.” Her rifle cracked.

  On the bridge the trapped men behind the steel barrier were maintaining discipline even as they were slowly whittled down. They held their shields up above them to deflect any bombs and arrows, partially protected by the burning digger blade while shooting back at the Geeks. A few tried to swim back through the wall of flames to the bank, but most swimmers stopped and started thrashing and screaming as the flames bit deeper. Their comrades were shooting the ones who made it to the bank out of sheer pity. Harold concentrated on killing those still shooting or anyone with a shotgun.

  “Burn, baby, burn.” Wellington’s voice sounded above the background noise. Harold looked up, then at the middle of the bridge as two loads of bombs fell towards those under the raised shields. Harold barely registered the lines connecting the missiles before they dropped onto the men and instead of bouncing off the shields, wrapped around the group for long seconds. A few screamed when they realised the bombs were tied together in a big web, but then the explosions started and they all screamed. Harold winced and looked away, but he couldn’t shut out the sounds. Wellington had found an effective use for Barry’s skin burning bombs.

  The disciplined group came apart as frantic fighters ran for the water, even the burning patches, or rolled in agony as the fire bit deeper. Nobody stopped to help the wounded because everyone who could move tried to run away, in many cases beating at the flames sprouting from their clothes. Harold shifted to mercy killing as those still mobile threw themselves into the water to get to the bank, any bank.

  Even as he did the onagers lifted their fire again to ravage those retreating up the far bank with a mixture of explosives and more of Barry’s incendiaries. Men rolled around screaming, torn by shrapnel or frantically beating at the smoke and flame sprouting in their clothes and hair. Down by the water’s edge many Geeks had run along the bank each way to shoot past the wall of flame. Some poured fire into any survivors on the remaining floating section of bridge, stranded in the middle of the flood. Others concentrated on anyone swimming along the cutting to try and get clear of the flames.

  “Suck on this, bastards.” A deep twang followed Wellington’s words. The streak of smoke disappearing into the construction shed showed that Wellington had brought up the ballista now the General’s covering fire had gone. Three more missiles and flames licked out of the front of the building as fire took hold inside.

  By that time the onagers had stopped. Even the Geeks took the time to aim now because the targets were fewer, and more interested in escape than fighting back. Eventually the last attacker slipped below the water, ran over the opposite hill out of sight, or died screaming in the flames. Relative silence descended as the shooting slackened and then died away. Almost silence, because on the far bank some wounded still whimpered or cried out for help above the crackle of flames. A few Geeks cheered, but most of them looked shocked at what they’d done.

  * * *

  Behind the firing positions everyone stood up, taking in the scene. “Cripes.” An arm slipped around Harold. “Really cripes Harold.” Emmy came up on the other side and Harold propped his rifle up against the bricks to put his other arm round her.

  “That worked better than expected. Better than the other end but we got the other shield and killed,” Wellington gave Patty a tired smile, “a shitload.” His pale face didn’t look particularly triumphant. He looked up to where the drone still flew and raised a hand to wave at it. “The RAF made the difference in the end. Well, sort of.” Wellington seemed to be rambling a little, with his eyes skipping here and there over the scene below. “The bombs in the bank did a bit. Your extra bombs did a bit. The extra rifles did as well. Those dinky bullets helped. The onagers worked well. The waterproof fuses added a bit. Those fire bombs….” He shook his head. “Even then, with those automatics still firing the result wouldn’t have been so….” He looked over the scene. “Conclusive.” The Geek warchief took a deep breath. “We’ll replace anything you need.”

  Harold shrugged. “Only sugar really and some propellant but we didn’t use much.” Louie had gone to help the other Orchard Close fighters applying dressings and bandages or picking up their brass. To Harold’s relief the wounded were all mobile and conscious, and the wounds seemed to be all in arms. “How did it go at the other bridge?”

  “We lost twelve men there, and fifteen here, most of them when they ran down the bank to get nearer. There were a good few of ours wounded when they were lined up on the bank but by then the General’s men weren’t taking the time to aim. Yours are all alive, though some are wounded.” Wellington pointed towards the burning shed on the other side of the water. “The ballista will move along the cutting and burn all those huts. Just to make sure there’ll be no repeat.” The Geek swayed a little unsteadily. “I’ve been in fights. This is different.”

  Patty held out her other arm. “No other Geek, but I reckon I’m safe with you?”

  “Really?” Wellington put an arm round her. “True though... Oh. You know?” He looked over at Harold.

  Harold glanced round but nobody stood near enough to hear his lowered voice. “I spread the word a bit in case I’m not about if the time comes. Umeko is very happy.”

  “I’ll pass that on.” They stood for a while watching as Geeks brought some kayaks down to the water and paddled out to the surviving bridge sections. A few screams rang out as machetes flashed in the weak sun. Some men began to prise the burning section of bridge with the shield free of the rest, while the kayaks came back to ferry men to the other bank.

  “It won’t make such a good shield now. Heat will knacker the steel I’m told, though it’s still thick.” Harold raised his head to look at the top of the opposite bank. “The same with the metal on those armoured trucks, thank all and any gods.”

  “Amen. One of my men at the other bridge recognised the shapes. They’re hardened steel targets for shooting ranges. He used to blast away at them with shotguns.” Wellington grimaced. “I really hope that’s all the General has got, had got.”

  “Probably or he’d have covered the bonnets as well.” Harold frowned. “What the hell did you do at this end of the bridge?” Harold had just remembered the men pouring something into a funnel.

  “I mined a wide section along the bank to be sure of getting this end of the bridge. We did it under cover of putting stakes opposite all those huts he put up, once I saw those pontoons. Unfortunately I needed over half of our bombs to be sure of getting the two bridge ends, and that’s why we wanted more from you. We buried a couple of lengths of plastic downpipe at the same time so we could pour oil and petrol down them into the water.” Wellington spat as if getting rid of a bad taste. “That’s worse than I expected, people burning like that.”

  “This is cosy.” The four of them parted, turning to face a grinning Hawkins. “Watch out Welly, or you’ll be in trouble back home. You’ll be nagged. You’d better hope she’s not found a cane.”

  “Not really. Patty is a lady so I’m barely bruised.” Wellington seemed used to the c
omments about his home life, and not particularly bothered. “We were just wondering what the General will do next?”

  “Beat his head bloody against a wall? I suppose it’s too much to hope the bastard came in one of those trucks?” Hawkins looked at the burning shed. “That or he was lurking in there? Though I doubt we’d be that lucky. What do you reckon, Soldier Boy?”

  “I keep being told he’s a computer General so maybe he doesn’t get up the sharp end.” Harold grinned wolfishly. “If he does, I’ll bet he needs a power-up pretty damn badly.” Everyone laughed at that, the mood starting to lift.

  “Welly is a computer general as well, but his power-up didn’t work right.” Hawkins tapped his lips.

  “Is that right?” Harold looked over at the carnage. “I guess you won the title and the cup or posh certificate.”

  “Ah well, I played paintball and D&D as well as the one on one computer tournaments and shoot-em-ups. I learned to combine different skills in a team of real people, and that people don’t obey or react like computers. Though never in something like this.” Wellington wasn’t joking at all now. “None of them stink like this, and even the best simulations don’t scream like real people.” He looked out over the scene again. “I guess we’re about done. Whatever the loot is, I’m sure even this tight-fisted sod will send you some if you want to get home?”

  “Good enough for me. Tammy will be missing her mummy.” Harold smiled innocently. “If you let me have the bombs you didn’t use, we’ll get off.”

  Hawkins stared. “How do you know there’s any left?”

  Harold chuckled. “Ours explode with pretty colours, didn’t you notice? Whichever of your people saved a few of our bombs, tell him hard luck. Roy will have been counting at the other bridge.” Harold had no idea if anyone had done any such thing but thought it highly likely.

  “Don’t piss Soldier Boy about, Hawkins, because that also means the arses stopped firing while they had some left. I’m not really impressed by that. If Einstein or Darwin have been cute and saved a few, tell them to give or I’ll shove one someplace inventive.” Wellington waved a hand to encompass the scene. “Without all the bits of this and that, the extra bombs, different bombs, bullets, the RAF and whatever, the result would have been closer and nothing like as cheap.” He grinned at his gang leader. “Nobel will work out how they’re made from the colours, just to avoid the shit he’ll get from you.”