by Rod Carstens
“I think they’re trying to get us to watch our right flank, but I saw some movement in the trees to our left. These boys aren’t dumb.”
“Yeah, I think they’ve done this once or twice.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the left, you take the right. Even if I start firing, don’t take your eyes off your side until I tell you. Coming at us from two flanks makes a lot of sense.”
Tanner scanned the tree line, trying not to look directly at any particular target. He let his eye take in the whole hill, hoping to pick up any movement. He kept catching glimpses of something but couldn’t find it when he focused. Then there was a roar of motorcycle engines, and a group of riders came over the rise on their right, their headlights blazing.
“Here they come,” Matos said. “Anything on your side?”
“Negative. Not yet.”
Matos’s rifle roared, and one of the headlights went out. Tanner heard the bike crash into a second next to it and both went down in a heap of twisted metal.
“They’re lying down on the fuel tank to make a smaller target. I got lucky with that one.”
“Check.”
Tanner couldn’t wait much longer before he turned away to help Matos. Where are you guys? he thought. Maybe he had been wrong about them coming out of the trees to the left. Matos fired again and again, missing this time as the riders weaved back and forth.
“I’m going to need you soon,” Matos said. Only he could sound so calm in a situation like this.
Tanner could see the riders out of the corner of his eye now. Just as he was about to turn to help Matos, when more riders appeared out of the trees, starting their engines as they rolled their bikes forward. Soon they were racing toward the roadblock. Each had something in one hand. Grenades. Tanner fired a burst across the line of bikes, and two went down causing secondary explosions.
“I need help,” Matos said.
Tanner spun and fired a three-round burst into a rider who seemed almost on top of them. It blew him backward off the bike. In the seconds that it took Tanner to help Matos, the riders from the tree line got close enough that three of them heaved their grenades. Tanner took two riders who were close together out with a single burst, but the last one got away.
“Grenades!” Tanner screamed, and he dropped to the ground in the fetal position.
There were three explosions, and Tanner heard Matos grunt. As soon as the debris stopped falling, Tanner was up with his pistol drawn. Two figures appeared on top of the truck. He fired point-blank into the face of one, and Matos’s 9mm took the other out. Tanner grabbed Matos’s rifle and put the cross hairs on the last of the gang as he sped away. With a carefully aimed shot, he blew him off the bike.
Matos finally got to his feet next to Tanner. He had to use the truck to stay standing.
“You all right?” Tanner asked.
“Yeah, sure. I’m all right,” Matos said, coughing and bending over in pain.
“No, you’re not.”
“At this point, what does it matter? Give me my rifle before you break the damn thing.”
Tanner handed Matos his rifle. When he did, he could see blood coming from Matos’s mouth when he coughed. He looked over the edge of the bed of the truck and scanned the area in front of them. They had stopped a second well-coordinated assault. It was going to take a little time for the riders to come up with something new. He and Matos would have a little while to get set back up.
Tanner turned back to Matos. His shirt had a large bloodstain on the chest, and his face and neck had numerous small cuts. He was covered with blood. Matos slowly slid into a sitting position, his back against the rear tire of the pickup. Using the bed of the truck, Tanner was able to lower himself down next to him.
“Well, we’re a fine pair of heroes,” Tanner said.
Matos chuckled and coughed up blood. “Yeah, ain’t we though.”
Tanner looked at Matos closely. He was white and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He was in shock. Tanner was going to have to get him out of there soon if he was going to have a chance in hell. They could hear some shouting from over the rise. That sounded as if the riders were arguing.
“Sounds like we hurt them, and they can’t figure out what they want to do,” Matos said hoarsely.
“Yeah, it does.” That might just be the break they needed, “I have an idea.”
“Great. Look what your last idea got us into,” Matos said, smiling.
“What if I snuck up close enough to their camp to empty the last of my explosive rounds into them and those damn motorcycles? These guys don’t seem the type to have tight security out, especially when they’re chasing a couple of old, beat farts like us. It might just make us not worth following.”
Matos looked over at him and said, “Speak for yourself. But you know, that might just work.”
“Can you stay here and cover me the best you can?”
“Are you shitting me? Of course. When?”
“In a few hours. Let them settle down. Let’s get some rest. I’ll stay on guard.”
For once, Matos didn’t argue with him as he normally would have. He always took the first guard while Matos and Cat got some rest.
“You know, your planning does leave much to be desired,” Tanner said. “I’m dying of thirst. We forgot to load up on food and water.”
“There’s water in the rear seat of the truck.”
Tanner eased the back door open and found two water bottles he hadn’t seen earlier. He grabbed them and handed one to Matos, who immediately emptied it. Tanner pretended to drink his, then gave Matos the bottle. He downed it in one long gulp. He looked better with the water in him.
Tanner stood and looked over the bed of the pickup. The orange glow from the riders fires had grown. Either more had arrived, or they were turning in for the night. He glanced at his watch. It was eight thirty. He would go at midnight.
The next hours seemed to creep by as Tanner watched the empty field in front of their position. Matos’s breathing had gotten wetter sounding; he had a severe chest wound. If Tanner could hurt them badly enough, he was going to risk a run with the truck to the mall. If he didn’t, Matos wasn’t going to make it. Tanner squatted next to Matos and gently shook his shoulder. His eyes instantly flew open.
“It’s time,” Tanner said.
Matos nodded. He reached for his rifle, rolled over on his stomach, and took up a prone position, his rifle at the ready.
“I’m gone,” Tanner said.
“Don’t forget to come back,” Matos replied.
“I’ll try not to, buddy.”
Tanner had decided he would make for the stand of trees to the right. If he stayed low, the downed riders and their motorcycles would provide some cover. He paused at the bumper of the truck, slowly swept the field, then began to creep toward the tree line. He moved slowly and carefully, trying to keep a motorcycle or downed rider between him and the gang’s camp. He crouched so low he kept one hand on the ground.
He reached the first motorcycle on the way to the tree line, stopped, and brought his rifle up to his shoulder so he could use his optic to scan the area. The camp was in the middle of the interstate with a large bonfire at its center. He could see figures moving around the fire, and the bikes parked together with a single guard walking around them. There seemed to be no other guards.
He moved on. Without guards, he might be able to get close enough to make sure his shots all hit home. He couldn’t waste any of these explosive shells. They were the last he had. Every one of them had to count.
He reached the top of the rise and lay flat. He began to crawl the last twenty-five yards to the trees. He moved slowly painfully crawling hurt the worse. The pain killers had long ago worn off but that was the least of his worries at this point. He continued to watch for any movement. The riders had been in there and might have left a guard.
He saw nothing as he moved forward, except the dense trees lined with thick undergrowth. When he made the tree line, he s
lowly stood and moved several feet into the woods before he turned to see what kind of line of sight he had. The camp was about fifty yards across a wide median on the other side of the interstate to his right, farther than he would have liked, but he could see the whole thing. Most of the men were lying around the fire, while a couple of groups were up and talking. The only guard he could spot was the one guarding the bikes.
They seemed very confident that no one would dare attack their camp. Their arrogance broke the stupid rule, and he was about to show them why you always put security out, even if you thought you were safe.
He wanted to work his way closer, so he brought his rifle up and used his optic to look for anything that could provide some cover. It didn’t have to be big, just large enough to give him cover to get closer. He would have to cross two lanes of the interstate to get into an ideal ambush spot.
He saw a fold in the concrete, where it had cracked and been pushed upward. It was just high enough to block their line of sight. Tanner slowly lay down on the ground and began to crawl forward. When he reached the interstate, the rough concrete scraped his elbows and knees. With each foot moved, Tanner knew he got closer to discovery, but he needed the distance to make every shot count.
He reached the fold and stopped. Using his optic, he tried to determine who the leader of this group was. You always wanted to take a leader out; it caused confusion in these loose organizations. The men were only black silhouettes against the firelight. So Tanner took several moments to watch their body language and how the men moved and acted with each other. The largest man was in the group nearest him, but the body language was wrong. It wasn’t him. Instead it was someone much shorter to his right. When he talked, the others paid close attention, and when he gestured, one of the men left the group, got his rifle, and went to relieve the guard on the motorcycles.
Okay, Tanner, now what? You have three separate targets: the leader and the men around him, those on the ground, and finally the motorcycles.
If he took out the motorcycles first, it would cause confusion and ensure they wouldn’t follow him, but that left the leader and the guys standing. They were too close to ignore. It would have to be the leader and his group, a quick burst into the sleeping bodies, and then enough ammunition to take out all of the motorcycles.
He watched the camp for a few more moments, trying to see whether there was something that would give him an edge, but nothing was moving. He was going to need to stand to get the right angle on the whole camp; he couldn’t stay down in this fold.
Okay, let’s do this, Tanner said to himself.
In one fluid motion, he stood and took careful aim at the leader and his group. He pumped two three-round bursts into the men. The first round cut the leader in half. The other two rounds took the men on either side of him out. The next burst finished the rest of the group.
Now people were screaming and turning toward him. The other standing group was running for their weapons, and Tanner cut them down. Next, with the rest of his magazine of thirty explosive rounds, he raked his fire across the sleeping men struggling to their feet amid the chaos.
That many explosive rounds among people so close together created a scene from hell, with explosions throwing body parts everywhere. A round cracked near Tanner—it was the guard at the motorcycles. Tanner thumbed the magazine release, let the magazine drop to the ground, and slammed the second and last magazine into his weapon. He turned slightly and shot several three-round bursts into the motorcycles. The explosive rounds set off secondary explosions and fire as the gas tanks on the bikes exploded. He spotted the guard running to his right and cut him down with a burst. There was no more return fire, so he carefully shot into the remaining motorcycles, spacing his fire out for maximum effect. The rest of the bikes were consumed in explosions and fire.
He thumbed his last explosive-round magazine, let it drop, and slammed a normal magazine into his weapon. He crouched down, so just his head and shoulder were visible above the crack in the interstate. He scanned the camp through his optic; all he saw were dead and dying. Some were trying to crawl, and others simply rolled back and forth in agony. He knew he hadn’t gotten them all, but he couldn’t spot anyone moving purposely.
Then he heard a thump near him. Grenade! Tanner threw himself to the ground just as it exploded. It felt as if someone had hit his leg with a baseball bat, and he groaned. He decided to play dead. He had no idea where the grenade had come from. Maybe this guy would show himself to make sure he was dead.
Tanner was lying on his back, his rifle by his side, so he reached into his vest, pulled out his pistol, and lay there waiting. This guy was careful. He was trying to wait him out. Tanner’s leg throbbed and hurt like hell; carefully, he tried to move it. He was able to, and it felt as if the shrapnel had not hit any bone, just lots of muscle. So he would be able to walk, but he wasn’t going to be able to stand quickly or run. He had to take care of this guy.
Finally, against the light of the motorcycles burning, the silhouette of someone’s head slowly appeared over the edge of the concrete fold.
“Got you. You fu—” the man started to say.
Tanner put a round into his forehead, and the man was blown backward. Tanner waited another fifteen minutes before he moved, to make sure the guy didn’t have any friends. When no one came, Tanner slowly stood.
What he saw shocked him. The motorcycles were now one big fire that illuminated the carnage the explosive rounds had produced. Dead and dying riders lay among arms, legs, and even heads that had been blown off bodies by the explosive rounds. Several people were trying to crawl away, so Tanner raised his rifle and put the cross hairs on the first one. He only had one bloody stump of an arm; the other was completely gone.
Tanner lowered the rifle. He had killed enough for today. He turned and began to hobble back to the gun truck at the bridge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It took Tanner much longer to hobble down the middle of the interstate than it had to crawl up the hill. When he reached the truck, he found Matos head down, slumped against the tire. He looked dead.
“Matos, Matos.”
Matos slowly raised his head. “That was quite a show you just put on,” he said horsely, then coughed.
“Glad you enjoyed it,” Tanner said, sitting down next to him.
“You get them all?”
“Most, but I also got their motorcycles. So they won’t be following. But we still need to haul ass in case I missed a couple. Can you get up? Because I’m not sure I can pick you up.”
“Yeah, man. I’m good to go. You know me.”
Helping each other, they managed to get into the cab of the truck. Tanner held his breath as he tried to start it, despite all the armor they had put on it. There had been a hell of a fight around it, including grenades. The engine turned over and started right up. Tanner and Matos exchanged a smile.
Tanner turned the truck around and drove away. He glanced in the rearview mirror and could see the fire still burning in the camp. Visions of what he had done to the men there came rushing through his mind. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
They never traveled at night, and he was having a hard time seeing the highway. Tanner wasn’t even sure if the headlights worked, but he had no idea what was up ahead needed them. He couldn’t afford to stop yet. He wanted to get as far away from the camp as possible.
He reached down and turned on the headlights. To his surprise and relief, they worked. He saw a large crack in the road just in time to swerve and miss it.
“How about that. That Pete was a genius,” Tanner said to Matos. When Matos didn’t say anything, Tanner continued, “You still with me, buddy?”
“Yeah, yeah, you know me, I’m good to go,” Matos said in almost a whisper.
The bloodstain on his chest was much larger now, despite Tanner having redressed the wound. Tanner put one hand on Matos’s shoulder. Weakly, Matos put his hand on top of Tanner’s. “Let’s get out of here,” he sai
d.
“You got it, buddy.”
Tanner drove on through the night. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror expecting to see a motorcycle, but he saw none. He had been driving for about an hour when he heard Matos moan. He glanced over at him; his face was white. He lay slumped against the door his eyes half closed staring at nothing.
“No! Not now!”
Tanner stopped the truck and leaned over to check Matos. He wasn’t breathing and had no pulse. Matos was gone. They had been through so much together over the years. So many shared experiences that no one else could understand. No one who had not been through what they had together could comprehend what it had done to them. It was one more loss added to so many over the years now, but somehow he was a bigger one. Matos was someone who connected him to the past, even more than Cat. They had been on the team when Cat was assigned. He was someone who could help him with the burden of that past.
He looked out the windshield into the night at the empty interstate. It didn’t seemed like a fitting place for a man like Matos to die. He deserved a hero’s death fighting off the last charge of a terrible enemy to win a great battle, not dying on some deserted interstate in a fight against a bunch of piece of shit gang members. Tanner slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Not like this, he thought. Not like this. He put his forehead down on the steering wheel and took a deep breath.
He eventually raised his head and stared out into the night. There was no sign of the convoy, they had gotten away. Their stand had worked. That is when he realized that maybe, just maybe Matos had died in a battle that meant something much more, because it was a fight to protect the innocent. To give them the time they needed to start a new life, a life that was better than he had ever had. He had willingly given it for them. For a man like Matos it didn’t get much better than that but that did not diminish his loss. Tanner felt as if he had lost a piece of himself, a piece that could never be replaced.
Tanner began to cry; he was crying for Matos, Peter, Johnny, and all the others who had died over the years. There had been so many, and now Matos. He had seemed indestructible, the rock of them all. The quiet professional who had found a cause at the end. Tanner held him for a long moment. He would take him to the new Mall for a proper burial.