Pastor Clarke spoke out. “Don’t you think that’s a little…disingenuous of us?”
For a minister, this guy was really starting to piss Kirk off. Kirk reigned in his emotions and smiled at the man. “Brother, can you think of a better way that you might be of service than preparing those better than you to meet their fate’s with God’s blessing?” The man turned bright red. Kirk couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. He saw Brother Bob suppress a small smile.
“Do you think we maybe should attack first?” Mayor Clemens asked. “That’s something that might catch them by surprise, something they’d never see coming.”
“Absolutely not.” Kirk said. “Historically, the defenders have the advantage. Our gates and defenses are the only thing that’s going to even out the numbers. We can’t afford to give that up.” Kirk looked down at his watch. This had gone on longer than he wanted. “Ok. We’ve all got a shitload of work to do. Let’s get on it.”
The meeting broke up and most people left. Kirk caught up to Will by the door to the conference room. “Will, I need you to gather all of our scouts that are here and have them meet in the training area in twenty minutes. I have to run back to my quarters and get something. I’ll meet you out there.” Will nodded and walked off to find the other scouts. Kirk saw the Baptist and Methodist preachers talking. Minister Clarke nodded his head while Brother Bob talked. Soon the two broke up and Clarke left in a hurry, not meeting Kirk’s eye.
“There a problem?” Kirk asked as Brother Bob approached.
“Not really. He’s just a little rattled by all of this. He’s never had to deal with wartime ministry before. I admit, it can be a little confusing to preach love and salvation to someone who you are sending off to fight, kill, and die… Don’t worry. I’ll help him figure it out.” Brother Bob said with a smile.
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“I was a chaplain with an Army reserve unit out of Alabama during the first Gulf War. I know what needs to be done and will help the others. We’ll get our people ready.”
Will and the rest of the scouts that weren’t manning the lookout posts waited in the small field to the northeast of the interior defenses as Kirk approached. Kirk greeted them and removed the bag he had slung over his shoulder and gently eased it to the ground with a clunking sound. He briefed his scouts on what was happening and gave them their assignments.
“Will, I want you to stay with the interior defenses when the battle starts. You’ll help coordinate our reports with Sherriff White and his troops. Clay, I want you at the west gate, doing the same. Take Leesha with you. Scout Three, you’ll be at the east gate. You two,” Kirk said pointing at the two men behind Will. “One of you will go to the north watch post above the river. The other will take a lookout position on the hill over the hospital. You’re to report troop movements and any weaknesses you see in our defenses and let us know if any of the walls get breached. We’ll leave our guys where they are at Eyes East and West. The rest of you will be with me in the buildings to the south. Everyone understand?” They all nodded.
“What’s in the bag?” Jimmy asked.
Kirk smiled at the group as he picked up the sack. “This, my friends, is a special surprise for you guys.” Kirk reached his hand into the sack and pulled out a length of metal pipe that had been capped at both ends. A fuse led from one end of the pipe. “In here is all the gunpowder that I brought with me to Celina, plus a little extra I was able to swipe from the sheriff’s reloading supplies. I have impregnated some black powder into the fuses and coated them with wax. Once they are lit, you should have about four seconds to throw it. The wax will keep any water out of it. These little bad boys should still work even if you drop them in the river. I have packed nails and some other scrap metal bits into them as well. You’ll use these like grenades. You light the fuse, throw it, and kill or maim everyone within about twenty feet. I only had enough material to make a dozen of them. I’m giving three to each gate team, four to our interior guys, and two for the reserve guys.” Kirk’s smile faded as he fixed each man that he gave the pipe bombs to. “We have to be smart about using these. Don’t just throw them out in the open. Make sure you wait until you can kill as many of these bastards as possible.”
Chapter 32
Vicio sat in the kitchen of his temporary headquarters in Tompkinsville, Kentucky. He looked out the window and saw the sun setting behind dark clouds. It would be dark soon and looked like a storm front was moving in. He glanced back down at the road atlas and studied it. In particular, he studied the area where his six scouts had been ambushed. Having five of them killed, their weapons and bikes lost, bothered Vicio. Two men had made it back. One of them had died shortly after. The other one confirmed the information Sam had told them. Perhaps he would let Sam live after all.
This would be the toughest test of Vicio’s conquest. The town had barricaded all roads leading in. These people were well provisioned and held defensible terrain. Those two factors alone made the risk of attacking the town worth it. His army had begun to weaken from constant movement and poor diets. While he managed to keep them fed on a steady diet of meat, other essentials were missing and taking their toll. He was beginning to lose a lot of men to various illnesses. It was time to establish a base, and Celina provided the perfect place to do it. Vicio ran the numbers in his head and hoped his assumptions were right. According to Sam’s reports, the town’s population was smaller than Vicio’s army and consisted of an almost equal number of men and women. He worked under the assumption that most of the women in Celina wouldn’t be fighters. That would give him an edge in numbers, doubling or better the fighting force of the town since everyone in his army was a fighter. He still had the problem of the defenses, but he had a plan for that.
He had trusted Don more than anyone else in his life by sending him off with a thousand men. They sat in several miles to the northeast in a little town called Burkesville, Kentucky. They should be planning their side of the attack just as Vicio planned his. Don would approach the town during the night and attack at dawn. Vicio wasn’t concerned about the watch posts that he figured would be on their route. He hoped that they reported the movement of a thousand people moving toward the town’s east road. When Don made his attack, the town should pull defenses from the rest of the town and weaken the west gate. Vicio and his four thousand soldiers would be waiting outside the west gate. He planned to send in two waves of people once the defenders had left to deal with Don’s distraction. The first wave of two thousand would charge with the buses to break the barricades. His scout had reported a second line of wooden defenses surrounding the interior of the town. Vicio would send his second wave in once the buses had crashed the outer gate. They would combine with the first wave and the buses to destroy the inner defenses.
His only major concern was the lack of guns. Less than half of his people had them. He hoped the chaos of four thousand people charging in would distract and overwhelm the men shooting at them from the barricades. He wondered how much ammo they had. He was prepared to sacrifice most of his whole army if he could capture the place. He could rebuild later, but he had to have a base to do that. There was only one snag to his plan.
He turned his focus back to the map. He thought he knew where the western lookout post must have been in order for them to set up the ambush on his scouts. He had sent twelve of his best men to try and find it. They were on foot and should be approaching the position now. With any luck, they would find it, kill whoever was inside and keep the town from learning about his primary attack force. As of yet, they hadn’t received the three squeaks on the radio that would announce that the road was clear. Vicio hated not being able to use his radio’s like they had before, but he saw the sense in Ed’s plan of squeaks to keep the town from eavesdropping on their messages.
He looked at his watch. They would need to leave in the next two hours to make it to the town by dawn. He stood up and walked out into the house’s fron
t room. Ed and his remaining captains lounged, waiting for the order to move out. Vicio smiled at his staff. “Let’s go run those fuckers out of our home!”
Cory looked down over the Clay County Highway from his position in the Eyes West post. He couldn’t see anything. The cold front had moved in after nightfall. The drizzling rain wasn’t much of a problem, but the fog bank that came with it covered everything in the valley below him, obscuring his view of the road. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was almost three in the morning. Time to make another check-in. As he reached for the radio, a voice broke through the silence. “Command Post. This is Eyes East. We have movement in the road. Can’t make out numbers through the mists, but I can see headlights in the distance. They’re headed our way.”
“Copy that, Eyes East.” The sheriff’s voice came over the radio. “Other positions check in.”
Cory went first. “Eyes West reports all clear.” He said.
“Copy that.” The voice came back.
Cory was surprised to see that his hand holding the radio had begun to shake as he listened to the other watch post report. His anxiety over not being able to see the road below him eased as he realized that the Eye’s East report meant that the enemy army would not be approaching from his side of town.
Clint watched the road in front of him from his position on the east gate’s northern watch tower. Day broke slowly over Celina. The light filtered and diffused through the rain clouds that sprinkled the town. He could feel the nervousness of everyone on the gate as they awaited the army spotted by Eyes East. By Clint’s calculation, they should be here by now. He tried to use the screening technique that Kirk had taught him when he had volunteered for scout training. It was no use. The fog was too thick to make anything out beyond two hundred yards. He peered through the scope on his bolt action thirty-aught-six rifle. He saw brief movement from a dark shape in the fog. Within seconds, he could make out several more.
He turned to yell back at the rest of the men guarding the gate. “They’re here. Two hundred yards out!” He looked back through the scope. He could hear the bustle of the other men guarding the gate getting into position and his repeated warning making its way down the lines of cover to either side of the gate. The dark shapes in the mist materialized into people. My God! There’s so many of them! He thought to himself as man after man lined up in a swarming mass in front of the bridge. He trained the crosshairs on one of the shapes. He had to remind himself of Kirk’s instruction to not shoot until they started crossing the bridge but found it tempting to start early. He reigned in his emotions and held his breath as he waited.
Muffled by the mists, the eerie sound of three short horn blasts came from one of the three pickup trucks that made their way into view. The foot soldiers shuffled to allow the trucks to the front. Men crowded into each truck bed. A roar from the gathered enemy answered the horn blasts and disrupted the otherwise silent morning. When the yells of the crowd faded, the truck let out three more blasts. The army yelled again. The trucks revved their engines. All three trucks gave one loud blast on the horn as their tires screeched on the payment, protesting the sudden acceleration of the vehicles as they took off toward the gate.
Clint tried to keep calm but the warm sensation spreading in his crotch let him know that he had failed. He trained his gun on the first of the trucks barreling toward the east gate. His rifle roared when he thought he had a bead on the driver. Hundreds of other shots from along the gate fortifications followed his, dropping many of the enemy who charged behind the trucks. One of the trucks swerved as its windshield imploding from dozens of bullets. It hit one of the rocks in the road and flipped over, spilling the eight men who were riding in the bed. The approaching swarm of men took cover behind it. The other trucks swerved around the rocks as best they could, the men in back firing at the gate. The foot soldiers approached. Some fired guns while others ran forward, taking cover behind makeshift shields.
Clint’s hand was a blur as he worked the bolt of his rifle. Within seconds he had spent the five rounds the internal magazine held. He ducked under the wall of the guard tower and began to reload from a box of twenty that he had. Bullets crashed into the roof of the watch tower. One of the regular guards took his place to fire at the approaching hoard as Clint rammed rounds into the gun. The guard shot twice before he collapsed back onto Clint. Clint swore and was about to yell at the man to watch what he was doing when he saw the blood spurting from the man’s neck. “Shit!” Clint swore as the blood sprayed into the open action of his rifle. He dropped his case of bullets, spilling several to the floor. He tried to cover the man’s wound with his hand. He turned to yell down at the medical people that he had a wounded man up here when a loud crash shook the wall and the guard tower. Clint ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and tied it around the man’s neck. He wasn’t a doctor, but even he knew the man was as good as dead.
He heard Sheriff White’s voice come over the radio in the watch tower. “Hank, take half of the group guarding the west gate and shore up the east gate. That’s where they’re attacking!” A brief pause. “We’re sending reinforcements your way East Gate!”
Clint looked out the back of the watchtower. He saw the medical people examining several wounded. He saw one young woman running around with one of the doctors. She carried a clear plastic bag of green, yellow, red, and black tags. She supplied the doctor with them as he triaged the wounded. Another two men came behind them and loaded the red tagged injured onto one of the waiting ambulances and pickup trucks. Clint poked his head around to look at the front of the gate. He could see where the truck had hit. The wall held but had developed a rather large gash. He surveyed the scene on the bridge. Hundreds of men scrabbled over hundreds of prone bodies of enemy dead or dying. He caught movement from the truck. A man emerged from behind it and raised a pistol at him. A shotgun barrel protruded from the new gap in the wall. Its blast removed the jaw and most of the neck of the man who had been pointing the pistol up at Clint. As soon as the man dropped, his gun falling from his hands, another man with a shield reached down, picked it up, and began firing. Even though some three hundred dead or wounded enemy troops littered the bridge, they kept charging. Within seconds, dozens of men were tearing at the wall. Many were repelled by the shotgun blasts. Many were not. Some tried to climb the wall. Some tried to find a way around it.
Clint saw another group of men to his right. They carried shields and covered another man as he dashed for the truck. The driver and passengers in the truck had died before the truck had hit the wall. The man opened the driver’s side door and removed the corpse. He took the wheel and put the truck in reverse, running over those taking cover behind it. Clint figured the man was backing the truck up to make another run at the wall. He grabbed the pipe bomb that Kirk had given him and lit the fuse. He stood up above the protection of the watch tower wall and threw the pipe. The metal tube sailed through the air as the pickup truck reversed. It bounced off of the hood, flew, through the air, and deflected off of the windshield frame before landing in the cab of the truck. As the truck began to speed back towards the gate, the bomb detonated. The blast sent nails and broken glass from the truck into the enemy soldiers beside it. The truck, now on fire, rolled slowly forward. The enemy footmen, stunned from the blast, now rushed in force. Suddenly the truck’s gas tank exploded, shaking the entire gate. The truck rose up three feet off of the ground, the fireball blowing around it and out. Dozens of the enemy were thrown back, many now on fire.
As the enemy mass congealed into another group heading toward the gate, Clint saw another pipe bomb fly out from the other watch tower where his fellow scout fought. The pipe landed in a fairly tight group of fifteen or so of the enemy, none of whom were left standing after the explosion and the resulting nails and shrapnel tore through them. Hope returned to Clint when he saw several groups of enemy soldiers turn and run toward the other end of the bridge. Many still kept coming; but somehow, Clint knew that it was over. They
had broken and the town had held. He finished reloading his weapon and fired at the thugs who were too stupid to realize the fight was over. He took a couple of shots and then looked back to check on what was left of his own forces.
The damage’s he saw weren’t as bad as he expected. The doctors and their assistants triaged some thirty or so casualties in various states of health. Clint felt something wet on his left shoulder. He looked down to see a small hole leaking blood. He didn’t remember getting hit. He looked back to see most of the enemy retreating, leaving over half their force dead on the bridge. As he turned to climb down the tower and get seen by the doctors, he saw the reinforcements from the other gate coming to assist them.
Kirk and Jimmy saw the reinforcements from the west gate make their way to the sure up the east gate. They watched from the roof of the two story house just south of the inner defenses. The radio at Kirk’s side sprang to life, the voice belonged to Clint, one of his scouts at the east gate. “They’re retreating! We did it! We beat the bastards back!” Jimmy smiled up at Kirk, but his smile faded as he saw the worried look in Kirk’s face.
“What’s wrong Mr. Chand….” The radio cut him off.
“Command post, this is North Watch. I’ve got movement on the west road.”
Kirk frowned and picked up the radio. “Talk to me, Clay. What you got out there?”
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