“I got it. Lightning bolt out.”
Chapter 82
“Are we all in position?” Walter asked.
A nod of Andy’s head confirmed the question, and he pointed at the crude map on top of the picnic table. It had a strong resemblance to a schoolyard touchdown strategy drawn in the sand of the playground, and as such the various receivers were marked with bottle caps and small stones. Little Jimmy sat in the same position as before; his bulk insuring that the table didn’t suddenly develop anti-gravity properties and float away towards the ceiling. Situated around his meaty head was a pair of electronic shooting muffs, and the audio port on the ear protectors were connected to a four foot mini cable—the end of which was currently plugged in to a tiny MP3 device. The volume had been cranked up near maximum, and the rotund sniper was being deafened with a techno-dance mix they had copied from Callie’s tablet.
“Sam is across the highway and about 120 yards southwest. He’s got Michelle’s deer rifle and an AR for backup. Thompson is about 80 yards east with his AR. Scott and Dave are behind the concrete pile with shotguns, and C.J. and Bucky are across the road by the gravel pile. One of them has a shotgun, the other one has a rifle.”
“And you’re sure that Mr. Lee knows he might be drawing a lot of fire toward his position, right?”
“We’ve moved a double layer of sand bags up to the roof. Unless they’re shooting a .50 caliber with armor piercing rounds, he should be fine.”
“Speaking of that, what about Mike and Callie?” Walter asked.
“They’re about over here,” Andy pointed his finger at a large, rusty bolt near the end of the table, “about 400 yards east. If Jimmy’s information is correct, that’s gonna put them somewhere in the general vicinity of where they need to be. They’ll have to adjust to the situation though.”
“Is everybody up to speed on their fields of fire?”
“Yeah, we drilled that into their heads over and over. Hopefully we’ll avoid the Polish firing squad syndrome.”
Walter sighed and puffed again on his pipe. “Hopefully we won’t have to fire at all.”
“I agree, but I’m not holding my breath. Is the PA ready?”
Walter nodded and picked up a squat transmitter with a telescopic silver antenna. “It’s wireless, so all I’ve got to do is talk into this little doohickey.”
“OK, good,” Andy said as he frowned and looked again at the position of the bottle caps.
Walter followed his gaze and gestured at the map. “Don’t worry . . . we all know the plan and the code words. Besides, what are the odds of you getting shot twice in the same week?” A crude smile accompanied the smoke ring heading towards the rafters.
Andy frowned. “Probably better than average. Wanna trade?”
“Nah, it wouldn’t be fair . . . to Ray I mean.” Walter stood and tapped out the embers of his tobacco onto a brick positioned on the map as the boat warehouse. “Me, I got a whole bunch of vital areas to worry about. You, on the other hand, are much better suited for the job of ‘target.’ As a matter of fact, ol’ Doc Collins confided in me just the other day that he believes the real reason you’re still alive is because the bullet got bored trying to find your brain and just left. I just can’t believe that anybody coming from shelter Yellow will have the required expertise with a firearm that would enable them to hit an object as small as that mushy walnut between your ears.”
Andy chuckled for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. “I hope you’re right. Our plan is sound, but we’re basing it on several assumptions. This whole thing can turn into a bloodbath on both sides if something goes wrong. What time is it?”
“12:50 PM,” Walter looked at his watch and replied.
“OK let’s . . .” Andy’s reply was cut short by Walter’s radio crackling to life. It was Sam.
“Walter . . . Andy . . . do you copy?”
“Yeah Sam, go ahead,” Walter replied.
“We may have a problem.”
“What kind of a problem?” Both Andy and Walter stood.
“Uh . . . hold on a minute,” Sam replied.
The seconds ticked by, surpassing the requested minute by a factor of two before Sam’s voice sounded again.
“Hey Andy, there’s a guy here who says you can take the promotion you gave him and stuff it up your ass.”
The grin on his face was ear to ear as Andy took the radio from Walter.
Chapter 83
Andy stood just inside the door that faced the lake, staring through a section of the black plastic that covered the windows. It had been slit with a razor knife, and now afforded him a viewing angle toward the road.
“You don’t have to be in here with me, you know,” Andy said.
Behind him, the blood, mud, and dirt stained digital camouflage uniform of Estes finished loading a third magazine from the ammo box at his feet. “Tell you what sir, after the last few days, I’m going to enjoy letting somebody else be in charge.”
A glance up at the battery powered clock on the wall of the now empty store showed 2:55 PM, and Andy yawned and stretched. The encircling bandage around his head had been replaced by a much smaller and neater series of butterfly closures, and with the addition of a hat they almost disappeared. He closed his eyes in concentration, trying one more time to run the possible scenarios through his mind. Nothing new revealed itself, so he turned to face Estes for a final opinion.
“Kevin, you got any last words before I send the signal?”
“You could always call down an air strike from the Raptors,” Estes laughed.
The smile that creased Andy’s face brought with it a memory of Michelle, and that automatically jumped to thoughts of Eric. His smile descended to a tight lipped grimace, and then he sighed in resignation. “They were running dry on fuel and had to return to base. You got anything else helpful?”
Estes stood—his assault vest now fully stocked with ammunition—and walked toward the window. “I have a feeling that you’ve already been in a lot more firefights than I ever will, sir.”
“The answer to that one may surprise you, but go ahead and give me your opinion anyhow.”
“It’s nothing new,” Estes offered, “and it ain’t like in the movies. If this turns into a shooting match, the first three seconds of action from your team is going to determine the outcome, because once the other side starts shooting back, well then, let’s just say that reality takes a sudden and interesting turn.”
Andy nodded. “I know. I’ve told everybody to make their first shot count. I’m praying it doesn’t come to that, though.”
“As I recall, you can be pretty intimidating with just words,” Estes bobbed his head at Andy.
“Well let’s just see about that.” Andy turned and looked at Estes’ dark eyes. “OK captain, this is your last chance to bail out and go hide with the womenfolk.”
With another snort of laughter, Estes stomped over to Andy. “No offense sir, but I’ve met some of the women you hang out with. I think I’d be safer down here.”
“That you may, Kevin . . . that you may.” Andy adjusted the radio at his belt and then slid the throat microphone into position. “Attention all units, attention all units . . . I’m moving to hands free communication mode. Remember your fields of fire . . . and listen for commands on the PA system.” With a final deep breath, he transmitted again. “Walter . . . send the signal.”
Chapter 84
Leading the convoy, the 8.1 liter V8 engine underneath the hood of the Richland plow truck whined like a thoroughbred horse being held back by a pull of the reins. Its stout, reinforced metal dump body typically contained two and a half tons of salt, but today it carried a different cargo. Attached to the front of the early 2000 model Chevrolet was an eight foot wide, mostly bright yellow snow plow—its ‘mostly’ status earned by the tarnishing of blood and entrails following an encounter with a small band of creeps late last night. In line behind the plow truck was a pair of four wheel drive pickups, and behind
them the heavy diesel engine of the Richland Fire Department pumper truck chugged slowly. Like a long metallic serpent, the column of vehicles turned off the road and onto the gravel parking lot of the marina. After a moment of idling silence, the fire truck cut loose with a double blast of its air horn. A thick bodied man with a heavy brown beard and bulky mustache stepped down from the bright red emergency vehicle. Following at his heels was a taller man with gray hair that curled out from underneath the wide brim of a cutter style western hat. Their boots scrunched on the gravel as they walked up to the plow truck and stood shoulder to shoulder next to the angled blade. Slung across the back of the tall, gray-haired man was a pump shotgun with a pistol grip. In contrast, the bearded paramedic held the blocky frame of a submachine gun that dangled from a two point sling. A lengthy stick magazine extended from the bottom of the weapon, and protruding from the front was a charcoal colored suppressor.
Chapter 85
“Attention all close support units . . . stay hidden until you hear otherwise. Distance units, acquire targets now. Maintain radio silence if at all possible. I’m heading out to the gravel . . . repeat, I’m heading out to the gravel.”
Andy stepped outside and then turned, faking the motion of relocking the door he’d just come out of. The black plastic prevented him from seeing inside, but he knew that Estes was on the other side of the glass ready to rock and roll if necessary. He turned and walked out toward the two men standing by the plow. Closing the distance to seven feet, Andy stopped and gave a cursory glance at the two armed men before sliding his eyes past them and to the truck.
“Little late in the season to be plowing snow, don’t you think?”
Deep set brown eyes studied Andy cautiously. After moment, the man’s cheeks twitched underneath the volume of bushy hair, and he flicked a single finger off the gun he cradled. Directing the finger towards Andy he spoke. “Who are you?”
“That depends . . . who’s askin’?”
“I’m Ray Ingram, director of the Richland protectorate zone.”
“The what?” Andy asked.
“The zone of control mandated by the federal government’s emergency protocols. Where is Mr. Walter Sheldon?”
“He’s unavailable right now.”
“Make him available.” The frown underneath the shaggy beard was unmistakable.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want, and then I’ll decide if you need to speak to Walter.”
The paramedic’s eyes darted upward toward the rooftop of the gas station. The mockup of Thompson had traded its binoculars for a very realistic looking BB gun. Ignoring Andy for a moment, the bearded man reached to a radio at his belt. “Fireball calling lightning bolt, do you copy?”
“Lightning bolt standing by.” The reply was audible to all three of the men standing near the snowplow.
“Lightning bolt, prepare to carry out your mission on your primary target. Wait for my signal.”
The response came immediately. “Lightning bolt is ready and waiting.”
With a scoff of irritation, Ray focused once again on Andy. “Send Walter Sheldon out here right now.”
Andy crossed his arms. “Or what? I’m unarmed . . . Are you going to shoot me down right here in the parking lot?”
Peering through the blinds of his office, Walter both saw and heard his old friend send the signal. There was no hesitation, and he keyed the microphone. “Mike . . . Callie . . . take it out.”
Callie’s voice—almost rippling with excitement—replied two seconds later. “We’re on it. We’ll report in when it’s done.”
“10-4. Sam and Thompson, pass the word and get ready.” Walter set the walkie-talkie on the edge of his desk and turned toward Little Jimmy; his bulk now filling the couch. “I hope the information you told us about the armored truck is correct.”
“It is.”
Chapter 86
Crowbar Mike peered around the clump of willows that he and Callie were hiding behind. Almost like they had designed the plan themselves, the half track vehicle had stopped just out of sight from the marina. It sat there idling about seventy yards in front of them, and when the call came through from Walter, they clambered to their feet and prepared to move.
“Are you ready?” Mike asked.
A bright white smile accompanied the squeezing motion of the heavy duty wire cutters in Callie’s hand. “Let’s do it.”
Hefting the roll of two inch wide black duct tape in his own hand, Mike returned the smile to the girl he seemed constantly paired up with. Not that he minded one bit. “OK . . . let’s go.”
As silently as they could, Mike and Callie trotted towards the rumbling APC.
Chapter 87
“Last chance. Send out Walter Sheldon right now and this will all go a lot smoother.”
“Ray, here’s the thing. I’ve been elected to talk to you, and like it or not, that’s the way things are right now. So why don’t you try and be civil and tell me exactly what it is you want, because as far as I’m concerned, you and I don’t have a problem yet.”
The paramedic paused as he studied Andy’s steel-gray eyes for a solid thirty seconds. At his shoulder, the tall man in the western hat gestured a thumb toward Andy. “G’head Ray, tell ‘im.”
“Fine. Like I said, my name is Ray Ingram. I’m in charge of the Richland protectorate zone, which is a federally mandated zone of martial law around the city of Richland, North Dakota. Our job is to consolidate personnel and resources at a central location in order to more efficiently combat the plague infected victims in our zone.”
“Richland is pretty far away from here,” Andy said, “so what does all that have to do with us?”
The tight lipped smile that crossed onto Ray’s face was dripping with smugness. “Our zone of control is a fifty mile radius from the central location at shelter Yellow. That puts you, and everybody else here under our jurisdiction. Effective immediately, all able bodied personnel, all supplies—including but not limited to all weapons, ammunition, fuel, and food—are to be produced for immediate incorporation. Failure to comply with this lawful order will result in the use of deadly force.”
“Now we have a problem,” Andy said.
“We’ve come a long way to rescue everybody here at the marina, and I’ve had just about enough of your stalling, old man.” Narrow eyes squinted towards Andy, and the submachine gun shifted slightly upward.
“Ray, there’s a couple things that you need to understand.” Andy stepped forward two paces and stared into the dark eyes of the paramedic. “The first thing is that we don’t need rescuing. We’re perfectly fine the way we are. The second thing you need to understand is that a good leader doesn’t believe everything that he hears, especially from little dark haired weasels like Diane. Do we have some guns? . . . yep. Do we have a little bit of rice for food and a couple gallons of gasoline for the generator? . . . yep. Are we going to hand it all over to you and put a noose around our necks so you can fulfill your dreams of lordship? Not a chance.”
“You don’t have a choice, old man.” This time it was said with a reptilian smile.
“Oh, I think we have a lot of choices, Ray.” Andy said.
With his eyes still locked on Andy, the paramedic yelled out loud. “FIRST SQUAD . . . READY AND UP.”
From the large hopper on back of the plow truck, a group of six men wearing tactical vests and armed with black rifles stood. Two of them trained their sights on the roof of the gas station, and the other four spread their aim across the parking area.
Andy slid his eyes past Ray and onto the group of armed men. “That’s not a very nice gesture, Mr. Ingram.”
“It’s not supposed to be nice, and I’m done talking to you. Send out everybody from the gas station right now, or we’ll open fire and sort through the bodies.”
Andy took another step forward; stopping only when the end of the dark suppressor poked into his gut. “Ray, I’m trying to be nice, and I understand that you think you have a job
to do. But just so I’m crystal clear on this, you’re telling me that you will murder innocent civilians if we don’t turn over our lives and possessions to you. Is that right?”
The broad shoulders of the paramedic scrunched forward, and his lips spat venomous words directly at Andy’s face. “I’ll burn down the gas station with everybody in it right now if you don’t have them come out and lay down their weapons.”
“OK Ray, you’ve made your point . . .”
The machine gun shoved forward, poking Andy hard in the stomach and thrusting him against the blade of the plow. “No,” Ray hissed, “I don’t think I have.” He lifted the muzzle of his weapon toward the sky and picked up his radio. “Lightning bolt . . . Take out your target, repeat, you are cleared to engage your primary target.”
Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending Page 67