by Nathan Jones
“It's where you're needed.”
“BS. You're seriously benching me because I took a few shots before you even gave the order to cease fire?” His friend began pacing back and forth in clear agitation.
Matt sighed. “It's not just that. I've been watching you for a while now, man, and I'm worried about you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Pete demanded. “Did I piss you off or something?”
“No!” Matt stepped forward and caught his shoulder, halting his pacing. “You need to get your head right, Pete. You're going off half-cocked, you're chomping at the bits to go off and shoot blockheads, and I'm not the only one who's noticed you're on edge. I mean, you're even starting fights with your friends over nothing!”
“What, you mean that thing with Rick before he changed squads? He started that!” The young man was getting angrier and angrier. “Just because I'm friends with Alice and he can't grow a pair and tell her how-”
“Pete,” Matt cut in, quiet but firm. His friend reluctantly shut up. “I'm your friend, man. I'm doing this because I'm worried about you. I have to be the one to tell you your judgment's off, because I don't think you can see it right now. I don't want you to get yourself killed, and I can't take the risk of you getting anyone else killed. But even more than that, I want you to get your act together. So you can have whatever sort of normal life this messed up world will allow.”
The young man looked away resentfully. “If you don't trust me then fine, I'll stay behind washing pans.”
“You've got it wrong. There aren't many people I trust more than you. But I don't think you're yourself right now.” Matt squeezed the tense shoulder beneath his hand in reassurance. “Just give it a few weeks. Get some sleep, sort out your grief for your parents and everyone else you've lost. I'll be here to talk every night if you need me. And once your head's in the right place you'll be welcome back in the squad. We do need you.”
“Whatever.” Pete shook his hand off and stalked back towards the Aspen Hill camp, posture tense and angry.
Matt watched him go, feeling tired. He probably could've handled that better, but he couldn't think of how.
Chapter Four
Night Lights
“Lewis, you still in radio range?”
Lewis blinked. As far as he knew Chauncey was back at the refuge, while he was halfway down the slope of the foothill just south of Aspen Hill Canyon. He obviously was in range, although the retired teacher's voice was faint and grainy, but he wasn't sure how. He lifted his radio. “Yeah I am. What's up?”
“Just wanted to send along the good news. Matt's squad ambushed a couple dozen blockheads south of 31 and killed or captured the lot.”
That's what he liked to hear. “Are they all okay?”
“From what I hear Mitchell took one in the neck.” Before Lewis's heart could sink at that Chauncey hastily continued. “Nonfatal, I mean. He should recover pretty quickly, although he'll be out of action for a few days. Everyone else is fine.”
“That's good to hear. Send along my congratulations and best wishes next time you get in touch with them.”
“Will do.” There was a brief pause. “How's your thing going?”
Lewis glanced down the foothill at the nearest blockhead emplacements a mile or so away, then along the slope to the north, beyond the mouth of the canyon. He couldn't see his dad's team from here, of course, but they were probably in position by now. His own team would've made the agreed on noon deadline too, if they hadn't been delayed by that scrub oak thicket.
It turned out his dad was also in range of the refuge. “Two is go,” he said in reply to Chauncey's question.
“Copy that. One needs a bit more time. Too bad you're at the refuge, Chauncey . . . you'll miss the fireworks.”
The retired teacher chuckled. “Yeah, well I'm not too mobile these days. Good hunting.”
“Thanks.” He thumbed off his headset's mic and glanced over at Jane and Uncle George. Tam and Carl were with his dad, and that was everyone he needed today; smaller teams all around for this attack. Truth be told they probably could've managed it with just him and his dad, but it never hurt to have backup. At least one person to carry the munitions and one to serve as a spotter.
“Good to hear things are going well down there,” his uncle said quietly. They were well out of earshot of the distant emplacements, but caution never hurt anyone.
Lewis nodded. “Let's go.”
With his wife covering them they picked their way downslope to the next good source of cover, doing their best to move slowly and stay behind any concealment they could find. Once they reached it Lewis motioned, and it was Jane's turn to head down.
Only a hundred or so yards more to the outcropping they'd picked out. Then they'd be ready to go.
It took about twenty minutes to go that distance at their slow, cautious pace. Once they reached the spot Lewis carefully unslung the missile launcher he'd been carrying, and Uncle George even more carefully withdrew the three missiles from his pack. Jane had already pulled out a pair of binoculars and was scoping the area below as his spotter.
Three missiles for his group, two to launch and one extra they'd brought just in case they needed it. The same went for his dad. That was more than half their remaining missiles they'd brought for this, not counting the ones they'd sent along with Matt. Which meant even if this attack was successful it would be costly, and they'd have to be much more sparing with their few remaining missiles afterwards.
But the potential gains far offset the cost. The blockheads didn't know they had missiles, and in response to Lewis's previous raid on the shelter they'd poured more soldiers into the area around Aspen Hill. That meant the emplacements below were stuffed with enemies, and most also had a heavy machine gun set up.
With his uncle's help he loaded a missile into the launcher, checked it the way Gutierrez had showed him, then thumbed his mic. “One is go.”
“Copy. On your mark.”
Lewis glanced at Jane, who handed him her binoculars and pointed down at the closest emplacement below. “No heavy weapons there,” she said quietly. She kept pointing as she continued, also guiding his view through the field glasses with her other hand. “But that one and that one have something.”
He nodded, gauging distance. They were both farther away, but still within range. He turned to his uncle. “Want to give me a hand lining up the shot? I don't want to mess up.” It was a fairly big emplacement, sure, but he'd heard about Gutierrez's problems hitting the chopper. The embarrassment of missing a stationary target aside, he didn't want to waste one of their precious missiles.
“I'll do my best to keep you on target,” Uncle George promised. Jane nodded her agreement as she reclaimed the binoculars and panned the northernmost of the two targets she'd selected.
Lewis took a breath and hefted the missile launcher, going over the instructions for using the wire-guided system. His uncle crouched beside him and whispered a few suggestions for correcting his aim. Finally Lewis nodded his readiness. “Let them know.”
Jane lifted her radio. “Mark.”
He braced as best he could as the missile streaked away, doing his best to follow its progress and guess its trajectory so he could make corrections. Jane and his uncle also gave their advice.
Either they did something right or they were lucky, because the emplacement he'd aimed for went up in a brilliant explosion, dirt from ruptured sandbags flying everywhere along with tumbling bodies and equipment. “You got the machine gun,” Jane reported.
Lewis barely heard her, focused on scrambling to get the second missile loaded. It seemed to take forever as he fumbled it into place, and he knew time was of the essence. Once the enemy realized the danger they'd bolt from their emplacements, in case they were the next target. If they had enough time they might even manage to bring valuable supplies or even the heavy machine gun with them.
He should've spent a bit longer practicing loading and unloading the missiles, but t
o be honest knowing that he was handling high explosives gave him the heebie jeebies. Too bad they hadn't had any dummy missiles to practice with.
Finally he got it in and began lining up the shot at the second emplacement. Over his radio he heard Tam reporting. “Two away for Two. Heading home.”
That was fast. Then again, they'd had longer to set up. Uncle George nodded his aim, and Lewis once again braced to fire.
The second missile wasn't quite as good as the first, as far as he could see. Jane confirmed it a moment later. “It impacted off to one side of the emplacement, missing most of the supplies and the machine gun. Only a few soldiers hit too, it looks like.”
He had no idea what had gone wrong between that shot and the first one, aside from maybe rushing it a little. Which annoyed him; if he couldn't figure out his error he couldn't correct it for next time. But that was a worry for the future.
“Load up,” he said, already slinging the missile launcher onto his back. Jane was ready to go, and his uncle had the extra missile stuffed in his pack a moment later. Lewis lifted the radio. “Two away for One. Heading home.”
He heard the distant report of small arms fire from far below as they scrambled up the hillside towards safety, but he wasn't terribly concerned. At this distance even a skilled marksman, with a powerful hunting rifle and an excellent scope, would have a near impossible time hitting a moving target. And it sounded like none of the heavy machine guns were joining the fray, at least not yet.
They didn't have to go far, and then they'd be inside the scrub oak thicket and out of sight. From there it was safe going all the way back to the temporary camp the defenders had set up, not far from the top of the canyon.
“What sort of damage did we do?” Uncle George panted as they scrambled up the steep grassy slope, treacherous with rocks hidden underneath the long matted tangle.
“We hit at least a dozen blockheads with the first one, along with the machine gun,” Jane replied. “There was a secondary explosion too, explosives or fuel. The second one we got four or five, and maybe damaged some supplies.”
Could be worse. But for the price of their precious missiles Lewis hoped his dad had done better.
They made it to the safety of the thicket without so much as hearing the whine of a nearby ricochet. Since they'd already navigated the tangled scrub oak once, they managed better time coming back through, but it was still midafternoon by the time they reached their secluded camp.
Unsurprisingly the second team was already there when they arrived. “How'd you do?” Lewis called.
It was Tam who answered. She'd been spotting for that team. “Demolished both emplacements, including that new one the blockheads set up, along the road we took the stolen trucks from the shelter raid along. We got maybe two dozen blockheads and two big guns, and whatever else they had in there with them. Weapons, ammunition, that sort of thing.”
“Nice shooting,” he told his dad with a strained smile. “I didn't do quite so well.” He repeated Jane's numbers. As he was talking he pulled out his binoculars and looked down at the valley. He hadn't had many chances to see the blockhead response while climbing in the opposite direction, other than the occasional glance over his shoulder. “What are they doing down there?”
“Not much,” Tam replied, coming to stand beside him. “I mean, they're emptying out the emplacements aside from critical personnel, and they've got people dotted around in individual sentry positions with binoculars, watching the foothills like hawks. But no sign of any counterattack.”
Lewis didn't like that. The blockheads had buzzed like a kicked anthill when they'd raided the shelter, bringing in more people and doubling their defenses. He supposed it was harder to respond to missiles, but even so he'd expected something.
He wasn't about to believe the enemy would just roll over and take those kinds of losses without some kind of retaliation.
“Let's double our sentries,” he suggested. “If they do have something planned I don't want to be caught by surprise.”
In spite of his caution the afternoon passed towards evening with not much activity from the valley below. Like Tam had said, the blockheads were changing up their emplacements to be less vulnerable to missile attacks: fewer personnel more widely spaced, supplies moved to other locations, and scouts dotting the area.
They were definitely upping their vigilance. They just weren't doing anything else that he could see.
As the sun sank towards the horizon he made sure the fresh shift all had night vision, and warned them to be even more watchful than the day shift had been. He could imagine the enemy responding to the threat of missile launchers and M2s by staging sneak attacks in the dark. Small hit and runs to whittle the defenders down, without giving them a chance to bring their heavy weapons to bear.
That's how he'd go about it, at least.
In spite of that worry he forced himself to roll into bed just after sunset to get some sleep, grateful that Jane was back to taking shifts with him. They had the same sleeping schedule now, and he was happy when she followed him into the tent and snuggled up beside him. He always slept a bit easier with her close by.
Although it turned out they both had things other than rest on their mind that evening, so they didn't go to sleep right away. After enjoying some intimate time together, their first opportunity in what felt like way too long, they spent an hour or so holding each other close, quietly talking about things that had nothing to do with the blockheads or war.
Jane wanted to hear about his time up in the mountains last summer, cutting firewood and turning the hideout into a more sturdy emergency shelter. She'd already said it in so many words, but she was also hinting more and more that she'd rather be up there with him. If they didn't have their current responsibilities.
Lewis didn't mind the thought at all. Especially when she almost wistfully mentioned that if it was just the two of them to worry about, they could forego the contraceptives for a while and put serious focus into starting their family.
He had to reluctantly remind her that even if the blockheads left tomorrow, he still had a duty to care for his parents and sister and Trev's family. The chance for their own future would come, but it wouldn't be so simple as packing up and heading off to the hideout.
Jane also opened up about her own past. It was one of the rare times she was willing to talk about anything from her life before the Gulf burned, although she still refused to give any details about the time between then and when her group arrived in Aspen Hill. He knew her mother and father had both died during that time, and they'd gone through some pretty terrible trials. He respected that she didn't want to open those wounds and didn't pry.
In a way it was almost incredible to hear how ordinary her life had been before everything collapsed. Growing up as an only child, graduating college early with a degree in Accounting and working towards her CPA in Provo so she could stay near her parents. Her time spent in competitive shooting, and hunting or spending time at the range with her dad.
Lewis couldn't help but wonder how different Jane had been before the Gulf burned, and how much she'd changed since. Would they have even had a chance to meet in normal society?
She eventually fell silent, and from the subtle change in her breathing he was sure she'd drifted off. Lewis had been drifting in an out for a while himself, and with his wife peaceful at his side he allowed himself to sink down into sleep as well.
* * * * *
Trev didn't so much wake up as miraculously jolt up into a crouch while still inside his sleeping bag, slapping his head against the low ceiling of his tent.
In the few moments it took for his mind to catch up to his body, all he heard was the piercing wail of an honest to goodness air raid siren he hadn't known the camp even had. Struggling to be heard above the deafening racket were the voices of men shouting in alarm.
He started to reach for his gun first, then thought better of it and snatched up the earbuds to his radio instead. It took two tries
to fumble the first one into the wrong ear, but at that point he completely forgot about anything but listening.
“-still coming in fast directly for the canyon!”
“Shoot it down!” That was Davis, his usual no-nonsense bellow.
The Marine reporting in half laughed, sounding a bit wild. “Shoot it? I can barely see it, even with night vision! Only reason I know it's headed our way is because it's getting louder fast.”
The air raid siren abruptly cut off, almost immediately replaced by the sergeant's voice on a bullhorn. “Everybody up! Grab your weapons and packs and anything else you can snatch up in two seconds. The camp's about to come under attack, and if you dawdle you're literally dead!”
Trev didn't waste a moment shrugging out of his sleeping bag. All he grabbed were his boots, slinging them around his neck by the laces, his pack with his night vision goggles zipped in the side pocket, and his flack jacket with the gun belt wrapped around it and his rifle sitting on top of it.
Awkwardly juggling the heavy bundles, he crouched and grabbed the zipper, yanking it up. It snagged halfway to the top and might've even torn, but he didn't care as he dove through the opening and scrambled to his feet dragging his gear behind him.
The main camp was a nightmare confusion in the dark. Only a few electric torches near the Marines' tents and the coals of a few campfires lit the darting shapes of hundreds of people. The Aspen Hill camp was just as bad, with a few of his people stumbling out of their tents while others bolted off into the darkness.
Rick's tent near his was jumping around so much it looked like the younger man was seriously getting busy in there. But from the younger man's frustrated shouts it was obvious that in his panic he wasn't having any luck with the zipper. Trev bolted over and grabbed the zipper from the outside, yanking it up, and his friend stumbled out towing his own bundle onto the dirt of the campsite.
“Thanks,” he panted.
Trev ignored him, fumbling in his pack's pocket for the flashlight he kept alongside his goggles and nearly dropping his rifle in the process. He managed to get it out, flipped it on, and began waving it around. “Everyone to me!” he shouted. “We're out of here in five seconds, even if you have to go in your boxers! Five! Four! Three . . .”