When they arrived at what was left of Mason’s house, Cleo climbed out of the Hummer and glanced around. She hadn’t been here since Lex had been abducted and as she walked through the charred remnants, she fought the urge to cry.
“Are you coming?” Asked Mason, walking across the yard toward an old wooden shed, which had somehow survived the fire.
Cleo dried her eyes on the sleeve of her coat and followed Mason into the shed. They gathered several containers and loaded them into the Hummer, before locking the shed and driving to the doctor’s house. When they arrived they found the house empty, just like Ian said it would be and quickly deployed the equipment.
“Here,” said Mason, handing Cleo a small box. “On the roof would be best.”
Cleo nodded and took the box, before heading outside. She found a ladder in the garage and climbed to the roof, where she opened the box and removed a small satellite dish. After fastening the dish to the roof, she retracted a long, high-powered antenna and called Mason on the radio. “All set.”
“Roger that,” replied Mason, from inside the house. He pushed a button on one of his laptops and the screen came to life.
The satellite dish opened, like a butterfly spreading its wings and rotated southeast, searching for the nearest signal. It took a few minutes to link up, but when the connection was finally complete, Mason could see the town of Clearview from a bird’s-eye view.
“It’s working,” he informed Cleo, through the handheld radio. “You can come down now.”
“Wow!” Gasped Shiloh, entering the doctor’s house and finding the kitchen table covered with high-tech equipment. Standing beside Mason, he pointed to the monitor and asked, “What are all those green dots?”
“Friendlies,” replied Mason, dragging the mouse over several dozen men digging ditches on the outskirts of town, before double-clicking. The men on the screen instantly turned green. “This’ll make it easier to differentiate between friend and foe,” he explained, zooming in on Lt. Sawyer’s platoon of Marines, assembling on Main Street. He highlighted the entire convoy and colored them green.
“Where’s the enemy?” Asked Shiloh, impressed with Mason’s equipment.
“Over here,” replied Mason, zooming out and scanning to the mountains west of town.
Shiloh saw thousands of red dots appear on the screen, so many they appeared as clusters, instead of individuals. “My God!” He gasped, staring in wonder.
“There’s a lot of them,” agreed Mason, leaning back in his chair. “I just hope your God is on our side.”
While Mason finished color-coding the battlefield, Shiloh stepped outside and watched the Marine Convoy leaving town, headed for Kingsbury Grade.
*******
Arriving at the base of Kingsbury Grade a few hours before sunset, Lt. Sawyer immediately deployed scouts to the top of the mountain. He spread his forces along both sides of the road and ordered his men to create a roadblock, using felled trees. He had no intention of engaging the enemy’s superior force in a face-to-face battle. Instead, he planned to use hit-and-run tactics.
“Sgt. Morgan!”
“Yes sir.”
“I want you to take three of our best snipers and position yourselves along this ridge,” ordered the Lieutenant, pointing to a map spread across the hood of his Humvee. “Target the officers and anyone with a flamethrower. We need to slow their advance and cause as much confusion as possible.”
“Yes sir!” Jesse turned to leave.
“Oh and Sergeant.”
“Sir?”
“Stay in touch with me on the radio,” added Lt. Sawyer. “Once the enemy punches through, we’re gonna need to get out of here fast. I don’t want any men left behind.”
“Yes sir!”
Lt. Sawyer had no delusions regarding the perils of defending the pass and knew he couldn’t hold this position for more than a few hours. Hopefully, a few hours was all he needed. If he could slow the enemies advance long enough for Clearview to fortify the town, they might have a chance.
“Excuse me Lieutenant,” said Sgt. Powell, sticking his head out of the Command Tent.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got an urgent call from Sgt. Morgan.”
“Patch me through,” replied the Lieutenant. It’d been over an hour since the Sergeant’s departure and he was beginning to worry.
“Lt. Sawyer?” Asked Jesse, lying on top of the ridge a few miles away.
“Yes Sergeant, what is it?”
“Sir, the enemy is advancing rapidly and they aren’t using soldiers with flamethrowers. They’re using tanks!”
“Tell me exactly what you see Morgan, over.”
Jesse peered through his binoculars at the tanks below and watched, as flame belched from their long barrels and melted the snow. “I see a half dozen Russian TOS-1’s positioned side-by-side, melting the snow. We’ve killed a few officers, but it hasn’t slowed their progress. What are your orders, over?”
“How long would you estimate until they punch through, over?”
“By tomorrow morning at the latest, over.”
“Very well,” replied Lt. Sawyer. “Remain in position and cause as much damage as possible. Once the sun has set and you’ve lost visibility, pull back and get your ass back down here as quick as you can, over.”
“Understood,” said Jesse, “over and out.”
It was well after dark when Sgt. Morgan returned to camp and dismissed the other three snipers, before reporting to Lt. Sawyer in the Command Center Tent.
“Hello Sergeant,” greeted Lt. Sawyer, glancing up from the map he was hunched over. “How did it go?”
“Excellent sir. We took out seven Lieutenant’s, three Major’s and a Colonel.”
“That is good,” agreed the Lieutenant. “Any casualties?”
“No sir,” replied Sgt. Morgan, glancing at the map in front of the Lieutenant. “The enemy has advanced to here,” he added, pointing to a spot on the map. “They’ll be on top of us tomorrow by mid-morning at the latest.”
“Thank you Sergeant,” said the Lieutenant, making a mark on the map. “Get some rest. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day.”
“Yes sir.” Sgt. Morgan saluted the Lieutenant, before turning and leaving the tent. Shivering in the cold night air, he hurried to his tent and crawled into his sleeping bag. He wished Jillian was there to keep him warm, but was glad she was far away and safe, at least for the moment.
*******
The following morning found Shiloh working in the field east of town, covering the earth with a mixture of gasoline and motor oil. He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice a rider approaching, until the horse cast a shadow on the ground at his feet. Startled, he looked up and squinted into the rising sun.
“Hello Mr. Evans,” said a soft voice. Wearing blue jeans and a sheepskin coat, Scarlett Blackwell sat on a brown and white Appaloosa, smiling down at him.
“Hello,” replied Shiloh, shading his eyes from the sun’s glare and using a bandana to wipe sweat from his brow.
Although covered in oil and reeking of gasoline, Scarlett found him quite attractive. “This is a new look for you,” she teased, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” smiled Shiloh, plunging the shovel into the ground and resting his arm on top of its wooden handle. “Just trying to get an early start. What are you doing out here all alone?”
“You said you needed fighters,” replied Scarlett, “and I’m not alone.”
Shiloh glanced behind Scarlett and noticed a large cloud of dirt drawing near. He could hear the reverberation of horse hooves and feel the earth tremble, as Sheriff Hunter appeared on top of a knoll, followed by thousands of riders.
“Wow!” He exclaimed, shocked by the sheer size of mounted troops. “How many did you bring?”
“I managed to recruit over three thousand,” she stated proudly, as Hunter rode down and joined them.
“Howdy!” He smiled, when he saw Shiloh. “It’s good to see you aga
in.”
“Hello,” said Shiloh, returning the smile.
“Word has it Cody Hyde has been bragging he’s gonna kill you,” said Hunter, hooking his leg around the horn of his saddle.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Sure thing! Looks like you could use a shower,” he added, noticing Shiloh’s filthy appearance.
Shiloh glanced at Scarlett and blushed, before quickly looking away. “Quite the cavalry you’ve brought,” he said, ignoring the comment.
“You bet,” agreed Hunter. “I was surprised we were able to get so many. If Scarlett and her girls hadn’t threatened to close the brothels, we’d have a lot less.”
“Oh yeah?” Shiloh glanced at Scarlett and smiled when she blushed.
Before Scarlett could respond, a dozen riders rode up and joined them. “Where do you need us?” Asked a young woman, with long, blonde hair.
“Your women will probably be safer back in Mound House,” said Shiloh, realizing Scarlett had brought her entire household.
“Nonsense,” replied Scarlett. “Some of these girls are excellent shots and those who aren’t have volunteered to help with the wounded.”
“That’s kind of you all,” he said, glancing up at the other riders, “but it’s going to be very dangerous. I’m not sure I can protect you if you stay.”
“That’s very gallant of you,” said Scarlett, with a smile, “but what do you think will happen to us if the enemy gets by you? We’d rather stay and fight.”
“You can protect me if ya want to,” giggled a young girl, with red, wavy hair. She wriggled her nose and winked at Shiloh.
“Shasta!” Scolded Scarlett, casting a dirty look at the redhead. She turned to the blonde woman and said, “Take the girls into town and get them settled.”
“Yes ma’am,” replied the blonde. “Come on girls!”
“You’ll find most of the women working at the library or the clinic,” called Shiloh, as the girls rode away. He blushed again, when the redhead turned around and blew him a kiss.
“I apologize for Shasta’s behavior,” said Scarlett. “She’s one of my more, feisty, girls.”
“No apology necessary,” replied Shiloh.
“Where would like my men?” Asked Hunter, glancing from Shiloh to Scarlett and grinning from ear to ear.
“You’ll find Ian St. Clair over at the jailhouse,” answered Shiloh. “He’s organizing the town’s defense and will know where you’re needed most.”
“Thanks,” said Hunter, waving his men to continue toward town. He glanced at Scarlett and realized she wanted to be alone with Shiloh. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya in town,” he added, before turning and riding off.
“It is good to see you again,” said Scarlett, when they were all alone.
“Yes ma’am, you too,” replied Shiloh, suddenly feeling nervous and awkward. “And thanks for bringing so many men.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, gazing deep into his eyes.
The radio clipped to Shiloh’s belt suddenly came to life.
“Cleo, calling Shiloh. Do you read me, over?”
Shiloh grabbed the radio and answered, “This is Shiloh. Go ahead, over.”
“You need to get over to the doc’s house right now, over!”
“Why? Is someone hurt, over?”
“No…they’re…” The rest of the message came through garbled.
“I didn’t read you,” replied Shiloh. “Say again, over.”
“They’re coming!”
“I’m on my way, over and out,” said Shiloh, clipping the radio to his belt.
“Come on!” Scarlett offered her hand to Shiloh, who glanced down at his dirty clothes. “I’ve been dirty before,” she added, noticing his hesitation.
Shiloh reached up and grabbed her hand, before swinging his leg up and over the horse’s back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and took the reins, before spurring the horse into motion.
*******
Cleo was asleep on the couch in Dr. July’s living room, when Mason’s laptop began to chime. Her eyes flashed open and she bolted upright. “Mason!”
“What is it?” He asked, running from the kitchen. He was wearing a cooking apron and holding a spatula in one hand, and a frying pan in the other.
Cleo glanced at the apron, which had a cartoon drawing of the four basic food groups. “Really?” She asked, smirking.
“What?” Mason glanced down at the apron. “I didn’t want to get grease on my clothes.”
“Uh huh,” smirked Cleo, crossing the room to the beeping laptop. “They’re coming!” She said, after glancing at the screen.
“Damn!” Hissed Mason. “I was hoping to eat first. Warn Shiloh and Ian, and make sure everyone’s in place and ready!”
“Right,” said Cleo, grabbing her coat, rifle, and radio, before disappearing out the front door.
Mason zoomed in on the enemy convoy, snaking its way down Kingsbury Grade. He took a quick count of tanks and vehicles, before jotting it down on a notepad and grabbing the radio. “Briar Patch calling Rabbit. Do you copy, over?” There was no response. “I say again, Briar Patch calling Rabbit. Do you read me, over?”
“Briar Patch this Rabbit. We read you, over.”
“Rabbit, be advised you’ve got hostiles approaching from the west, over.”
“Roger that Briar Patch, hostiles approaching from the west. Do you have an estimate of their strength, over?”
“I count over one hundred tanks and a thousand armored vehicles. The soldiers are too many to count. If I had to guess, I’d say around one hundred thousand, over.”
“Roger that Briar Patch. Keep us posted, over and out.”
After receiving Mason’s message, Sgt. Powell headed to Lt. Sawyer’s tent, where he found the Lieutenant asleep at his desk, his head resting on a map of the battlefield. “Excuse me sir!”
Lt. Sawyer lifted his head and glanced at the Sergeant. “What is it Powell?” He asked, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus, with what little sleep he had.
“We’ve just received a message from Briar Patch sir,” replied the Sergeant. “The enemy has broken through and will be here any minute!”
“What?” Shouted Lt. Sawyer, jumping from his chair. “How many?”
“One hundred tanks, one thousand armored vehicles and over one hundred thousand troops, sir,” reported Sgt. Powell, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, despite the frigid temperature.
Lt. Sawyer’s eyes widened, as he stared at the map on his desk. “Verify those numbers Sergeant.”
“Yes sir,” said Sgt. Powell, with a stiff salute.
“And send in Sgt. Morgan,” ordered Lt. Sawyer, as the Sergeant turned to leave.
“Yes sir!”
“Permission to enter sir?” Asked Sgt. Morgan, arriving at the Lieutenant’s tent a moment later.
“Get in here Morgan,” ordered Lt. Sawyer.
Jesse stepped inside, brushing flakes of snow from his uniform. “You asked for me sir?”
“I’ve just received word the enemy has melted through the avalanche and is headed this way.”
“What are your orders sir?”
“I’m open to suggestions Sergeant.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve been up against these bastards before and from a more heavily defended position. I want your opinion. We’ve got a roadblock positioned here,” he added, pointing to the map on his desk, “with troops spread along these two lines.”
“Sir, permission to speak freely?”
“Granted.”
“We can’t hold this position Lieutenant,” said Jesse. “Their tanks will plow right through the blockade and their troops will overwhelm us in a matter of minutes.”
“Are you suggesting we retreat?”
“No sir!”
“Good, because we must slow their advance! I believe in my men and doubt they’ll succumb as quickly as you suggest.”
“It’s not that sir,” explained the Sergeant. “
When the enemy breached the beach in California, it wasn’t because of their overwhelming numbers, although it did play a part.”
“Elaborate Sergeant,” ordered Lt. Sawyer.
Sgt. Morgan hesitated, before answering. “They have Super Soldiers, sir.”
“What?”
“I saw them with my own eyes,” he explained. “They’re like cyborgs, half man and half machine. And no matter how many times you shoot them, they don’t go down.”
“Have you mentioned this to the men?”
“No sir, I didn’t want to lower moral.”
“Good.” Lt. Sawyer clasped his hands behind him and began pacing back and forth, his mind deep in thought. “Did you see any of them go down?”
“Yes sir,” answered Sgt. Morgan, “but it required grenades. They’re impervious to blades and bullets bounce off them like rubber balls.”
“What about fire?”
“Fire, sir?”
“Yes. Did any of them succumb to fire?”
“It’s possible. The one I killed was with a grenade. Although I did see several destroyed by a bomb.”
“What about head shots?”
“I’m not sure,” admitted the Sergeant, “but we could try.”
“Very well. I want you to take three men and spread out along this hill,” ordered Lt. Sawyer, indicating a line on the map. “Hinder the enemy in any way you can and delay their advance as long as possible. Shoot tires, shoot officers, shoot anything you need, but slow them down! Also, try to locate one of these Super Soldiers and shoot him in the head. We need to know where their vulnerable.”
“Yes sir!”
“We’ll hold this position as long possible, but if you see us pulling out then get your ass back down here as quick as you can. I don’t want anyone left behind.”
“Yes sir!” Sgt. Morgan saluted the Lieutenant, before turning and leaving the tent. “Malarkey, Harris, Shepherd, grab your gear, you’re with me!”
Lt. Sawyer buttoned his coat and hurried from his tent, headed for the Command Center. “Get Briar Patch on the line!” He ordered, storming into the tent.
World War III Page 56