by Rod Carstens
Tanner felt the warmth of the painkiller as it coursed through his veins. He took a deep breath and relaxed as the drug took effect. He sat up slowly. He was shaky, but he was good. His rifle was beside him. He grabbed it and began to climb out of the pickup. Blondie helped over the side so he could get his feet under him. He stood—not steadily, but he was up. It took him a minute, but he gradually became stable.
“Thanks, you two. Get some people to help you get Mike into the command bus.”
“Already on it. You go and talk to Cat. I know she wants to see you.”
Blondie led him to the buses, which they could stand behind them for cover. Through the opening, he could see the other two gun trucks about twenty-five yards beyond the buses, angled for protection, with Cat and the other fighters on the bridge side of them firing sporadically at targets he couldn’t see. The bridge entrance had flat, open land on either side of it, so there was no real cover for the ambushers. He could see dirt bikes lying on the ground and what appeared to be men and women lying prone, firing when they got a chance. The painkiller was working well now, and he felt as if he could move without any problem.
Blondie looked over at him and said, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, from this point forward we’ll be under fire, so move accordingly.”
“Got it. I’m headed for the pickup nearest us. I want to talk to Cat.”
“Good. Let’s haul ass.”
As soon as they left cover, rounds began to snap overhead and strike the concrete around them as they ran. They zigzagged their way to the truck where Cat was crouching. Tanner groaned as he threw himself down next to Cat.
“Good to see you on your feet there, slick. We need all the guns we can get.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“These guys are different than all the others we’ve run into. First, they used the IED to stop us, and they had a good ambush set up at the IED site. If we hadn’t been as well armed and ready as we are, they would have had us.
Cat snapped over a three round burst and said with a satisfied smile.
“Got you, motherfucker,” then continued.
“Second, when we loaded you up and hauled ass, we thought we were all good, right? Wrong. They ran into the woods and got motorcycles and dirt bikes—not a couple but a bunch of them. This is a gang with wheels. I can’t be sure, but I swear they have a source of gasoline, because they don’t look like biodiesel bikes and there are so many of them.”
“How far are we from the ambush site?” Tanner asked.
“About five miles. This was the first bridge we could find and thank God it had open ground around it, or they might have gotten up on some higher ground and had us under plunging fire.”
“How’s everybody holding up?”
“The fighters are good, and even the families in the buses are doing a good job. Those with weapons were the primary reason we got through the ambush.”
“Will these guys follow us if we leave?” Tanner asked.
“My opinion? Yes. I don’t know why, but they’re not going to stop until we stop them.”
He heard a rifle shot to his right and saw Matos prone on the concrete, his eye glued to the scope. He pulled his head back, licked his finger, and made a mark in the dirt on the side of the truck. There were several marks already there. He glanced over at Tanner and said, “Good to see you vertical, boss. We got ourselves a hell of a firefight.”
“So I see.”
Tanner turned to Cat and said, “Where do we stand? Can you get us moving fast?”
“Yeah, we can take off anytime I give the word. But these guys are going to follow us, and we’re going to be right back in a running fight.”
Tanner looked over the side of the bridge. The embankments sloped down to a small river that looked very shallow. If he and the others tried to block the road, the ambushers could probably get across without too much trouble. He needed to find a way to delay them.
He looked around, searching for something that could give them an edge on these guys, but he came up empty. There was just the interstate and the flat ground around it. That didn’t leave him with too many options. The only way to delay or stop them was for two of the gun trucks to stay behind and fight them off for as long as they could, inflicting as many casualties as possible and giving the buses a chance to get clear before the gun trucks made their run for it. It was a last resort, but it was all he could come up with.
“You know there’s only one way,” Tanner said to Cat.
“Yeah, some of us are going to have to stay behind and make a stand.”
“So you already figured that out.”
“I always wanted to be a hero,” Cat said with a smirk.
“Too bad, because you’re not staying. You’re my second-in-command. You’ve got to take the lead gun truck and move the buses out of here. There’s no one else who could do that.”
“Goddamnit, Vin, I’m not—”
“Shut up. I’m not asking, I’m telling you. You know it’s the right call. Now cowboy up and do what has to be done. You’re wasting time sitting here. Go!”
Cat was silent for a moment. She looked over at Blondie. Blondie smiled and said, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Now get out of here, baby.”
Cat leaned over, grabbed Blondie’s shoulder, and kissed her hard on the mouth. She pulled back and said, “You come back to me, do you understand? And make sure these idiots are with you.” Cat nodded at Tanner and Matos.
“Give us as much of your ammo as you can spare.”
Cat went through her vest and gave Tanner the last of her explosive rounds, then shared the rest with the other fighters.
“We’ll give you covering fire,” Tanner said. He and the others opened up the ambushers.
With a last glance back, Cat zigzagged her way to the convoy. It didn’t take long before the lead pickup led off and the buses followed. Seeing their prize getting away, several of the ambushers got up to get onto their motorcycles and dirt bikes. Matos, Tanner, Blondie, and the others cut them down. Tanner looked over his shoulder and watched as the convoy slowly disappeared over the hill. He felt very alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After the first few ambushers tried to follow the convoy, none of the rest decided to move. But Tanner did see, at the very rear of their positions, someone get up, jump on a dirt bike, and roar down the road away from them. Tanner started a clock in his head. He knew the convoy was moving away as fast as possible now. He knew he would have to face more ambushers. But how long would it take for them to show up? What would he do when faced with reinforcements who would probably be on motorcycles, dirt bikes or even in vehicles? Motorcycles were one thing—the rider was not protected, and you had a good chance to knock them off their ride. But could he stop an armored-up truck like his own? He had enough explosive rounds left to give it a try, but he didn’t want to depend on his .48 to stop an attacking gun truck.
And the overriding question was: How long could they hold out without this turning into their last stand and dying on this crummy bridge? He glanced at his watch. It had only been ten minutes since the convoy had left. He wanted to give them at least an hour, if not more. That would be a large-enough head start that it would make catching them tough even for these guys.
“That rider was going to get some help,” Blondie said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Tanner said. Then he had a thought. “Hey, Matos, those guys aren’t any tougher than anyone else on foot. Let’s focus on taking out their bikes.”
“Gee, boss, that sounds like fun. Why didn’t I think of it?”
They passed the word down the roadblock, and the men and women began to fire at the bikes lying among the ambushers. They were able to hit most of them nearest to their roadblock. Matos concentrated on those farthest away with his rifle and scope. They could hear shouts from one ambusher to another as they realized what Tanner and his people were doing.
�
��I don’t think they like us fucking up the cycles,” Blondie said with a laugh.
Several times a number of the ambushers would suddenly stand up and try to mount their bikes for a charge but between Tanner and the others this proved to be a costly mistake. Each time a number of the riders had gone down for good. They finally realized this was not going to work and hunkered down to wait for reinforcements. The standoff continued for another hour. They had bought the convoy the time that Tanner wanted. He needed to get everyone ready to move out at a moment’s notice now. He crouched and ran down the barricade from one person to the next. The first one he came to was Dan Raines, one of the newly trained fighters. He was young and tough.
“You all right, Raines?”
“Yeah, boss.”
“Your parents okay with you staying?”
“They knew when I wanted to train as a fighter what I was getting into.”
“Good man. Now I wanted to buy the rest of the convoy at least an hour. We’ve done that so far. We’re going to stay as long as we can, but when I decide to bug out, be ready to move. You’ll go in the SUV with them.” Tanner nodded over at Lucy Smith and Steve Brucker, a couple that had trained as fighters together.
“Got it.”
Next Tanner moved to the back of the SUV where Smith and Brucker were in position.
“You two good?”
“Yeah, boss, we’re good. We got a nice stash of ammo. We can stay here for a while.”
“Keep on your toes. A messenger left here about an half an hour ago, and I’ve got a feeling he went for help, so keep a sharp eye out. Be ready to haul ass when I give you the signal. If we wait too long, then this is going to turn into an Alamo, and I don’t think that’s very smart. Who’s the driver?”
Brucker raised his hand.
“I want you to lead out with the SUV when we haul ass. Raines is coming with you. I’ll be in the rear vehicle. When we do take off, we won’t have much time to get coordinated. Make sure you guys and Raines have a plan.”
“Check.”
Tanner crawled back to where Blondie and Matos were crouching behind the other pickup. He stuck his head over the top of the bed and scanned the terrain. Nothing had changed. Some of the ambushers had crawled to new positions, trying to get a better shot, but they hadn’t improved their odds much. They were waiting for reinforcements to make their move.
Most of the bikes were either burning or smoldering. The ambushers left were now just a bunch of ground troops. If Tanner and the others bugged out now, only a few people could follow. If Tanner waited much longer and the reinforcements showed up, then he would have a much larger motorized force to deal with.
A bullet cracked overhead, and he ducked. Matos’s rifle roared, and he wet his thumb and made another mark in the dirt of the truck door above him. Tanner glanced at his watch. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes. Peter had tuned all the vehicles so they ran better than ever, and with that much of a head start the convoy would have the distance it needed. It was time.
Tanner whistled to get everyone’s attention. “Now! We are going now! Everybody mount up! Blondie, you drive. Matos and me in the bed so we can snipe at our friends.”
“Got it.”
They all jumped into the SUV and pickup. Tanner and Matos vaulted over the side of the pickup bed and Blondie climbed into the driver’s seat, and the truck roared to life. Shots rang out as the ambushers tried to stop the others, but Raines had the SUV moving, squealing the tires. Tanner and Matos crouched behind the pickup truck’s tailgate and began to fire at the ambushers as they jumped up to get on the bikes that still could run. Tanner managed to hit one despite the bouncing of the truck. His round struck the motorcycle’s gas tank, and it exploded, setting the rider and the bike on fire. He could hear the man’s screams even over the roar of the truck engine and the crunch of the debris-filled highway.
Matos was firing steadily now, but even he couldn’t hit his targets, because he was bouncing around on the bed just like Tanner. Tanner counted six riders up and trying to close the distance. It surprised him that they had missed that many motorcycles. The ambushers who didn’t have a working bike were standing and firing. Tanner caught one with an explosive round, and it tore him in half.
The riders raced toward them, shooting pistols or rifles using mounts on their motorcycles. They were weaving back and forth, trying to give Tanner and Matos harder targets to hit. It was working, and they were gaining on the pickup. Blondie had the truck going as fast as Tanner had ever seen it go, but it was loaded down with the street signs and other armor. The bikes were faster. It would only be a matter of time now.
They were racing down a clear section of the interstate. The woods had, as usual, encroached onto the shoulders along the interstate. So the motorcyclists couldn’t use the depressions running along the shoulders as a way to protect them. They would have to come straight at Tanner and Matos.
Tanner fired and missed, blowing a hole in the concrete next to the motorcycle. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that this part of the interstate was long and straight. Okay, if he were these guys, what would he do? How would he attack the gun trucks? He watched them closely, trying to discern their tactics. After a while a pattern emerged. Two riders would speed forward firing shots, he and Matos would return fire, and then they would drop back and let another couple move forward. They were slowly closing the gap that way. They weren’t going to wait for reinforcements; they were going to try and stop them now.
Tanner needed to stop them. He rolled onto his back and checked his magazine: he had ten explosive rounds left. He had two more magazines of explosive rounds in his vest, and that was it. He would only have normal ammunition after that. His arm was killing him; the drug had worn off. He wished Danielle was around. He could sure use another shot.
As he crouched behind the tailgate, one of the riders took advantage of him not firing and closed up behind the truck. He threw something into the bed of the pickup before Matos took him out with a shot to the chest.
Tanner turned and saw that it was an improvised grenade, wrapped with nails.
“Grenade!” Tanner screamed, and he curled up into a ball as Matos did the same.
When the grenade exploded, it didn’t have the power of the IED. But it packed enough punch to stun both Tanner and Matos. Tanner was peppered with shrapnel in his arms and legs—nothing serious, but enough to add to his pain. The SUV was still under control, so the grenade hadn’t hurt Blondie.
Both Tanner and Matos were slowly getting themselves back together when a rider jumped onto the tailboard. Holding on with one hand, he brought a pistol up to fire at Matos. Tanner didn’t have time to bring his rifle up for a shot, so he smashed the hand holding the tailgate with the butt of his rifle, crushing the man’s fingers. The man screamed and fell off the tailboard, firing wildly over his head.
Before Tanner could get back into position, another rider came up from the side and fired a pistol into the bed of the truck, just missing Tanner’s leg. Blondie must have been watching her side mirrors, because she swerved the truck into the rider and he fell. There was a sickening crunch as the truck ran over his body.
Blondie moved to the left, and in front of them the SUV slowed down until it was driving alongside the pickup. Brucker was standing in the gunner’s hatch, firing at the remaining riders. This gave time for Tanner and Matos to get back into firing position.
There were only three riders left. When Matos caught one, and he crashed into a tree on the side of the road. The last two broke off the attack and slowed down until they were out of firing range. They just held back there, keeping them in sight. Who were these guys? Why were they pursuing the convoy so hard?
The SUV pulled ahead of them and took the lead again as they sped down the interstate. All Tanner and Matos could do was keep an eye on the two riders following them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They were making good time, but the two riders were still following them. They
kept their distance and showed no interest in getting closer to Tanner’s truck. Maybe they had learned their lesson. Somehow Tanner doubted that, though. They were too persistent. They were waiting for reinforcements.
Then the truck began to slow down. “What the fuck!” Tanner shouted.
He rolled to the side and looked over the edge of the pickup bed. He couldn’t believe what he saw. It was the convoy, stopped in the middle of the interstate, with the last gun truck positioned behind the buses. Several mechanics were working on the last bus. Its engine cowling was up, and there were parts on the ground. The other buses were parked in front of it. Guards were out, but most of the settlement had unloaded and was milling around on the highway and the shoulders of the road.
“Holy shit,” Matos said.
Blondie and Brucker pulled up and angled their vehicles next to the gun truck in the middle of the road. As soon as they stopped, Tanner painfully climbed out of the pickup and hobbled over to Cat, who was standing behind her gun truck.
“What in God’s name happened?” Tanner asked.
“The third bus just sputtered and stopped. We’ve been here for a while. The guys are trying to figure it out now, but so far no luck.”
“Great. Just fucking great. We were almost home free,” Tanner said.
“You still got company?” Cat asked.
“Yeah. They’re maintaining their distance. It looks like they’re waiting for some reinforcements and were just keeping in contact with us until they arrived. Have you got a drone up?”
“Yeah, Morgan’s it.”
As Tanner left, Blondie came up and hugged Cat. Then she and the rest took up positions with the other fighters. Tanner made it to the last bus and stopped. “Hey, guys. Any luck yet?”
“No, not yet,” Tim Allen, one of the mechanics, said. “We sure could use…”
He stopped before he said Peter’s name. Peter had been a genius with the vehicles, and their leader. His death had hit them all hard.