Fire From The Sky | Book 10 | Damned Nation

by Reed, N. C.

  Darrell absorbed these lessons aptly, learning everything he could from a man that, to him, seemed to be everything that Darrell wanted to try and be. A good husband and a good father- to travel a new path in life and be what his wife and children deserved.

  Darrell’s reverie was interrupted by a knock at his door. Rising with a suppressed groan, he went to the door, opening it to find Clayton Sanders, of all people, standing there.

  “Darrell,” Clay said simply. “How are you making it?”

  “I’m good, Clay,” Darrell replied. “Doing whatever I can.”

  “You think you’re up to some physical labor tomorrow?” Clay asked him. “Loading fencing and cattle panels and the like? Assuming we can find some, anyway.”

  “Sure,” Darrell agreed at once. “I may not can keep up with the rest of you just yet, but I can help for sure.”

  “If I ask Doctor Thatcher that, will she back you up on it?” Clay eyed him speculatively.

  “She should,” Darrell replied. “She told me over a week ago that I could start easing back into my work on the forge. I’ve been making odd and end pieces for everybody, and horseshoes as well. Oh, and helping with cutting and shaping some steel for something or other. I don’t know what they’re doing with it, though,” he shrugged.

  “Alright them,” Clay nodded. “Be down at the pad by eight in the morning. We’re going into Peabody and see if there’s anything left that we can use. We may also try and roll up some fencing from other places if they’re abandoned, or else trade for fencing from people who aren’t using it. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Okay,” Darrell nodded eagerly. “And Clay?”

  “What?” Clay turned back to him.

  “Thank you,” Darrell said simply. “For asking me.”

  “You bet,” Clay smiled slightly. “See you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Clay kept things as small as possible for the trip into Peabody. Since Jose had led the mission to Lewiston, it was Clay’s turn to go into the field today. All the teens would go, as their strength would be needed. Brick had agreed to go as well, and Clay had added Darrell Goodrum. Ellen Kargay would be driving the Beast. That was a lot of muscle. Cliff Laramie and Moses Brown would be taking a pickup to carry fence posts and other goods they might find.

  The escort would be small since most of the help were also capable of combat. Tandi Maseo would accompany Ellen as usual and a reluctantly released to duty Stacey Pryor would be joining Sienna Newell in a Guardian as a gunner. Shane Golden would have the Cougar, dubbed Phantom, accompanied by Vicki Tully on the gun turret. As with the escort job the day before, Janessa Haynes would ride the Guardian while the rest piled into the Cougar. The boys would all cram into the Cougar as well, geared up, while Brick and Darrell Goodrum would ride with Cliff and Moses. If Darrell was uncomfortable riding with Brick, he didn’t show it.

  At ten minutes after eight the group rolled off the pad on their way to town.

  -

  The trip was uneventful, for which Clay was grateful. If they could avoid any drama that would be awesome.

  Their first stop was Lowe’s, which netted them eleven cattle panels, a roll of fencing that Clay doubted would work for cattle but would for other animals, and forty fence posts. He had Gordy make sure to get plenty of brackets to hold the fencing to the posts. While searching for them, Gordy and Corey found a bundle of chain link fencing. While there were only a few poles for the fencing, the fence could be stretched and attached to wooden posts if nothing else, so the bundle was muscled onto the pickup.

  Their next stop was the Co-op. It was obvious that someone else had been there, but they did manage to find some usable material. One roll of welded wire fencing, another dozen fence posts and a surplus of brackets. In the shed to the side of the main building they also located twenty-one cattle panels and one dozen welded wire panels; rigid constructs of welded wire that were ten feet long. Forty minutes and a lot of exertion later and the entire load was strapped down tight. Clay took the opportunity to rummage through what was left of the Co-op to see what he could find that would be of use, locating various things that he had loaded into wherever they would ride.

  Despite having wanted to check other places, Clay acknowledged that there was simply no way to haul more than they already had and so he ordered the convoy to return home. As always, they took the northern route to the interstate and then followed it to their exit, rather than go through Jordan.

  They were almost back to that exit when the radio came to life.

  “Phantom, this is Home Plate. How copy?” Clay frowned as he heard Poncho rather than one of the kids or maybe Gwen Paige.

  “Go for Phantom,” he replied.

  “Mike Sierra?” Clay frowned again at the short-handed way to ask for their status.

  “Oscar Mike,” he replied. “Oscar Tango, Whiskey Hotel,” he added, using their own abbreviated shorthand in case someone was listening. ‘On the Move. On the Way Home’. Someone could figure it out if they tried even for a few minutes, but they might not have that long.

  “Roger that,” Poncho replied. “Be advised we have visitors. The good Captain and his boss.”

  Well, shit.

  “Roger that. We’ll be there soon. Any trouble?”

  “Don’t expect any,” Poncho answered. “Not enough of them.”

  “Turning now. See you shortly.”

  “Roger that. Plate standing by.”

  “Sounds like we’re getting a high-level visit, huh?” Shane asked from behind the wheel.

  “Did sound that way, didn’t it,” Clay agreed. “Boys!” he turned his head. Six teen heads popped up in the rear.

  “Gear up. You’ll be getting off short of the farm. Gordy, you’ll head into the eastern grass and work your way toward the farm slowly. Report any contact before acting other than in self-defense. Copy that?”

  “Copy that,” Gordy and the others were already hurriedly getting into their gear once more.

  “What about us?” Amanda Lowery asked. “What do we do?”

  “You’ll act like you were all of the escort force we had on the job,” Clay told her. “All of you, be quiet, almost stoic, as if you do this kind of thing every day and it’s no big deal. Vicki will order you to do weapons check and other normal things we would do. When she does, simply say ‘yes, ma’am’, and then follow her lead or Shane’s. I don’t know what this guy wants, but we want to make sure he realizes that we aren’t a soft target. Can do, ladies?”

  “Can do,” came a ragged reply. Clay turned back to look out the windshield, then patted Shane’s shoulder. “Here’s good,” he ordered, and the Cougar slowed to a stop. As soon as it had, the boys were bailing out of the back door in good order, heading into the brush.

  “Want me to go with ‘em?” Shane asked, trying his best not to sound eager.

  “No, we need everyone else for the show,” Clay shook his head. “They’ll be fine. Take us home.”

  “Got it.”

  -

  There were two Hummers, an MRAP and one truck sitting on the front of the pad before Building Two. Clay had already given orders for everyone else to circle around behind the buildings, taking the goods they had gathered to the covered trailer shed to be unloaded later. The Guardian was to go with them.

  The Cougar he directed Shane to park directly in front of Building Two, where Adcock, Flores and another man Clay assumed had to be Major Whitten were sitting. Gleason and Maxwell were there as well but seated on the other end of the table. Interesting.

  “Jody, you got ‘em?” Clay asked cryptically in case the others could hear Poncho’s radio.

  “Affirmative,” the sniper replied at once. Satisfied, Clay clicked his mike twice and then turned to face his all-female crew.

  “Remember, ladies,” he said quietly. “Stoic, quiet, disciplined. Vic, once you guys are down, make a show of being their NCO and then take them
to the alert shack and wait. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

  “Got it,” Vicki nodded. “You heard the man, ladies. Dismount!” she ordered loudly as she opened the rear door. She hopped out first, followed by Talia Gray, Kim Powers, Amanda Lowery and Petra Shannon.

  “Weapons check in five minutes!” Vicki ordered sternly.

  “Roger that!” all four women replied at once.

  “Fall out to the shack and await orders!”

  The four women quietly made their way to the alert shack, no one speaking or even smiling. Clay was extremely proud of them.

  “Good work, Vee,” he said loud enough for the table to hear. “Once you and Rat stow the Phantom, the two of you can do their equipment check. Make sure they’re in line.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Vicki nodded but didn’t salute. She climbed back aboard the Cougar and Shane gunned the engine, pulling it the rest of the way down the pad and around back. Clay watched them go, then turned to where his guests were seated.

  “Captain,” Clay spoke first. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “Mister Sanders, this is my commander, Major Andrew Whitten,” Adcock formally introduced. “Major, this is Clayton Sanders. His family owns this farm.”

  “Mister Sanders,” Whitten extended a hand.

  “Major,” Clay took it. “I’ve heard good things about you from Captain Adcock. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How can we help you today?” he asked, moving to the table to sit down beside Poncho. “Gleason, Maxwell, good to see you both,” he nodded to the pair, both of whom nodded in return. Clay ignored Flores completely.

  “I was interested in meeting the people who solved a problem that the man commanding this area couldn’t,” Whitten said, taking his own seat back.

  “That’s a bit harsh, Major, as I’ve said before,” Jose was the one who spoke. “Your people are at home on a modern battlefield I feel certain. The problem they were facing wasn’t a modern battlefield, but rather a terror attack carried out in terrain that I doubt your people were trained to operate in, particularly on foot. I also have to say that Captain Adcock provided support for our operation and his men were particularly courageous in making obvious targets of themselves to allow our riflemen the opportunity to target the enemy snipers.”

  “I’m aware of the details, Mister Juarez,” Whitten nodded. “I’m still concerned that a hundred men couldn’t deal with thirty-seven thugs.”

  “Sir, they weren’t thugs,” Jose shook his head. “They were former corrections and police officers, supported by trustee prisoners they had been guarding when the lights went out. The group had been together for most of that time and worked well together. While on the street they might rate the name thug, in the woods and around the edge of a small town, they were something else entirely.”

  “And yet how many of you did it take to get rid of them?” Whitten asked. “And in one day, at that?”

  “Again, that’s not a fair comparison,” Jose was firm. “Your men, or the Captain’s men I suppose I should specify, are armored cavalry and military police for the most part. I doubt your men have even trained for real counter terror operations. We have, and we train everyone here to those same standards. We had both training and experience on our side, and we used it to our advantage. Captain Adcock and his men gave us an opening and we took advantage of it. We were fortunate enough also to prevent the Captain or any of his men from being injured or killed even as they dared the enemy to take shots at them, out in the open. That’s the work of some fine soldiers. In my experience, men like that don’t follow weak leaders.”

  “You’re a big fan of the Captain, are you?” Whitten asked. Jose smiled.

  “I’m not much of a fan of any officer, Major,” he replied frostily. “Present company included.”

  Whitten actually chuckled at that.

  “Well said, Sergeant,” he nodded.

  “Not a sergeant anymore, Major Whitten,” Jose said firmly. “And as to the mission we did in Lewiston, that wasn’t for Captain Adcock, and he was aware of that. I don’t know if he’s told you or not.”

  “He mentioned a young girl,” Whitten nodded. “I’m a bit unclear how she fits in.”

  “When the Captain came to explain his problem…” Jose began explaining, but Clay wasn’t listening. His earbud had his attention.

  “Bossman, this is Chip,” Gordy whispered. “There are five, repeat five, foot mobiles checking over the Troy House and the surrounding area on the east side. One is making a sketch of the area. If I had to guess, they’re evaluating and sketching our defenses.”

  “Can you capture without gunfire?” Clay spoke aloud, jolting everyone at the table.

  “Roger that,” Gordy replied at once.

  “Take them, then,” Clay ordered. “Try not to kill any of them, but don’t get hurt doing it. Bring them to Building Two.”

  “Moving,” Gordy replied.

  “Operations, this is Bossman,” Clay said next, looking directly at Whitten.

  “Go for Operations,” Leon said at once.

  “Raise the alert level to Contact Imminent,” Clay ordered. “Assume there are intruders on the farm. All hands to stations.”

  “Roger that.”

  “What are you doing?” Whitten asked, rising.

  “One of our patrols found a group of men snooping around our homes,” Clay told him. “One apparently sketching a diagram of our defenses. I’ve ordered the patrol to bring them in. And since we have intruders on the farm, I’ve ordered our alert level raised. There won’t be an alarm, but our defenders will be headed to their stations as a precaution.”

  “How many defenders do you have?” Whitten asked sharply. Clay just laughed at him.

  “Major, do you really expect me to tell you that?” he asked with a near smirk. “I mean really, now. Just give away our defense secrets to you without a thought?”

  Whitten caught himself at that, and suddenly laughed again, retaking his seat.

  “Touché, Mister Sanders,” he nodded. “That was a dumb question. I was merely concerned whether you’d like my men to assist you, however. I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

  “I appreciate that, Major,” Clay acted mollified, though he was still suspicious. “But we’re fine. Our patrol should be along with the intruders shortly and we’ll see who they are and what they’re doing here.”

  Even as he spoke, the sound of arguing could be heard from the direction of the Troy house. Everyone turned that way to see Gordy and the other black-clad teens ‘escorting’ five men in digi-cam BDU clothing.

  “What the hell?” Whitten and Adcock said at the same time, both coming to their feet. “Those are our men!” Adcock exclaimed. He glared at Lieutenant Flores, who suddenly looked nervous.

  “Something you want to explain, Lieutenant?” Clay saved Adcock the trouble of asking.

  “What?” Whitten whirled around at that. “What did you say?”

  “I think the good Lieutenant Flores was trying to formulate an attack plan on our farm, Major,” Clay’s voice was mocking. “Those are your men, are they not?” he asked Adcock, who nodded.

  “And she is supposed to be the officer for this area, no?” Clay kept hammering the idea home as Gordy and the others approached.

  “She was,” Whitten growled. Just then the group approaching got within talking distance.

  “Lieutenant, will you tell these idiots we’re just following orders?” one all but demanded. Clay heard Maxwell swear softly beside him, and Gleason just growled lowly. Adcock turned to look at Flores.

  “You had better have one damn good explanation for this, Lieutenant,” he said softly.

  “You damn sure had,” Whitten agreed. “Mister Sanders, may I ask that you have your patrol release my men to me? And please accept my apology for this.”

  “Here,” Gordy handed Jose a sketch book, already open to a page. “There’s more than one, but this one was on the Troy House itself,” he added, glaring
at Flores. “Where the kids sleep.”

  “Planning on attacking our children, Lieutenant?” Clay asked calmly. “We take a dim view of that here, I’m afraid.”

  “Mister Sanders, I’ll handle this,” Whitten said, trying to project authority into his voice.

  “Will you?” Clay asked. “For all I know, she did this on your orders. She’s been a pain in our ass ever since we met, to be honest. And she’s a horrible officer to have in command of combat troops. They can’t possibly have any respect for her, the way she acts.”

  “That’s not you concern, Mister Sanders,” Whitten replied.

  “She just made it my concern, Major,” Clay replied flatly. “I suggest you gentlemen take a seat,” he advised Whitten and Adcock. “Chip, take them over to the truck and get them aboard. Once they’re aboard, make sure they stay there, where the good Major can ‘handle it’, when he gets around to it.”

  “Copy that,” Gordy nodded. “You heard the man,” he told the group. “Move along.”

  “I’m not going to be-,” one began only to stop as Zach’s rifle muzzle appeared beneath his nose.

  “You’re not gonna be what?” Zach all but whispered.

  “N-nothing,” the man stammered.

  “What I thought,” Zach nodded. “Move.” He shoved the man toward the truck, the others already moving.

  “There,” Clay smiled at Whitten. “All yours. Lieutenant Flores,” Clay said formally, “you are now officially persona non grata on this farm. I see you here again, even with the Captain, and I will have you shot on sight. There is no acceptable reason for you to ever set foot on these grounds again after you leave today. I hope you understand that, because you won’t be given a second chance or a warning shot. You’ll just be dead.”

  “I’m an officer in the-,”