An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4)

by Darrell Maloney

  The first bullet Pike fired caught the right hand guard beneath the rifle’s barrel, exploding it into a dozen pieces. One of them flew through the firing port, opening a gash on the top of Linda’s head and knocking her back.

  Her hands were still on the stock of the rifle, and she pulled it back out of the window as she fell backward.

  She fell in a heap across Joyce’s body.

  Hannah cried “Oh, my God!” loud enough to be heard throughout the second floor of the house.

  Linda was in considerable pain, but had enough presence of mind to know that her sons would hear Hannah’s words and think the worst.

  “I’m okay!” she shouted. “But I’m out of commission.”

  She looked at Hannah and said, “You’ll have to take over, sweetie.”

  Linda moved out of the way and Hannah picked up Linda’s weapon. The bullet that shattered the hand guard disintegrated into the barrel itself. The barrel appeared to be bent, and the rifle was now worthless. She was smart enough to cast it aside and pick up Joyce’s weapon instead.

  While the fusillade of bullets was focused on Linda’s window, Tom had taken the time to fire two quick rounds at the patch of blue he’d seen a couple of minutes earlier. Then he cleared the window again, knowing that staying in the port too long would be deadly.

  Since he couldn’t make out his targets in the brush, he had no idea whether he hit anything. But he noted that the shots fired at Linda’s window didn’t slow down any, even after his own shots were fired.

  He didn’t know he almost got lucky, and that his second bullet whizzed a mere two inches past Tony Pike’s left ear.

  Over the radio came Scott’s frantic cry. “We’re on Highway 83 nearing the cutoff to Tom’s place. We’ll be right there.”

  Hannah looked at Linda. She was applying direct pressure, but her wound was bleeding profusely, as head wounds always do. But it was a flesh wound and nothing more.

  Linda saw the concern on Hannah’s face and said, “I’m okay. Really. Let’s take care of this problem first, and you can give me some stitches later.”

  Tom yelled from the other room.

  “Okay, they seem to be getting smarter out there. Let’s just lay low and wait for our reinforcements to get here.”

  -8-

  All went quiet. It seemed that a brief cease fire was a welcome relief to both sides. In the house, Linda left the bedroom just long enough to get a towel to press against the gash in her forehead to try to stem the bleeding.

  Hannah chewed her out, saying that she could have had someone bring the towel to her.

  Linda said, “Everybody’s busy doing stuff far more important than this. I’m a tough old bird, and I’m not nauseated or dizzy. I’ll be fine. I just wish my hands weren’t covered with blood so I could load your ammo for you.”

  “Don’t worry about the ammo. You just lay there and keep pressure on that wound. I’ve got plenty of ammo loaded.”

  Outside in the brush, Tony Pike took the break in the battle to try to reassess his situation. They had no radios, and could only communicate through word of mouth. The problem was, only he and Gonzalez were within earshot of one another. Farley was on the far side of the black wall, on the south side, unsure what to do. He’d been directly below Jordan’s window when Tom rained down the storm of bullets that killed Moran on the spot. One of the bullets took Farley’s ear almost completely off, went through his cheek, came out of his chin and lodged in his forearm.

  If he hadn’t gotten the hell out of there, he’d have gotten much worse.

  He heard Pike yelling, trying to find out who was still alive. But Farley couldn’t respond. His mouth was full of blood and chips of jaw bone and broken teeth, and he couldn’t open it to yell back.

  So instead, he started making his way back toward Pike’s voice.

  The only other of Pike’s crew who was still alive was Marut. He was the hapless soul who’d caught a bullet to the knee as he ran across the corn field north of the compound. He was still there, the first casualty of the battle, bleeding profusely in the middle of the field and unable to move.

  He’d taken off his shirt and applied a crude tourniquet just above the knee, and it seemed to help. But he knew he needed to get the hell out of there soon or he’d bleed to death.

  Four hundred yards away, on highway 83, the cruiser screeched to a halt. Tom and Scott had blocked the access road to Tom’s ranch house with a dirt berm months before. They’d have to go the rest of the way on foot.

  They proceeded quickly but cautiously to Tom’s place to find it completely deserted. Then they double-timed it to the south side of Tom’s ranch. As they approached, they could see the break in the fence, and the dead mesquite trees that once served as a barrier, but which were now dragged out of the way.

  Over the radio, everyone in the compound could hear Scott’s voice.

  “We’re on the property, approaching from the north. We’re completely blind. Somebody tell us where the bad guys are.”

  Tom said, “Watch out for that pit. And watch that corn field. There was one guy who got leg shot. He’s probably still out there.

  “You should be able to see the Bobcat on the southeast corner of the corn field. If you can make it that far, you can take cover behind it. All the activity seems to be in front of the house. Did you say there were four of you?”

  “Roger. Four of us. Two of us have fully automatic weapons and one of us has some hand grenades.”

  Tom smiled. That was the best news he’d heard since the battle began.

  “Yee-haw! Okay, there’s not enough cover for all four of you behind that Bobcat. Split your guys with the automatic weapons up, and two of you go around the perimeter fence to the west. We lost sight of one of them on the fence line. We’re not sure where he is, but he should be easy to spot. He may be bleeding.

  “You other two take cover behind the Bobcat. How far can you throw those grenades?”

  John looked at Scott and said, “Fifty, sixty yards with accuracy. Longer than that is iffy.”

  Scott relayed the message over the radio and Tom said, “That should be plenty. Let me know when y’all are ready.”

  John said, Randy, you come with me to the Bobcat. You guys take the perimeter.

  The team split up but only made it a few yards before Robbie spotted a shirtless Marut, rolling around in the dirt in absolute agony, fifty yards in front of them. He’d been watching the compound, trying to figure out what was going on, and hoping one of his buddies would come back after him.

  He had his back to Scott and his crew. He simply didn’t know they were there.

  John went into the prone position and lined up his rifle on Marut’s back.

  Then he backed off and looked away.

  “I can’t shoot a man in the back. I don’t care how bad he is.”

  Robbie said, “No problem.”

  Robbie put two fingers at the corners of his mouth and let out a loud wolf whistle.

  Marut heard the whistle and looked over his shoulder. Then he scrambled for his weapon, but before he got it aimed at the group, a bullet flew through his eye and his head. He’d never have to worry about his wounded knee again.

  “Thank you,” John said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  The team split up. Robbie and Scott ran west and south, to the north side of the tall fence surrounding the compound. Then they started working their way along the fence to the west, with plans to follow it all the way around the compound.

  Sara took her turn on the radio.

  “Scott, the missing man is on the south side of the compound. He’s working his way back toward the house, but very slowly. He is wounded. I see a lot of blood on his upper body.”

  Scott knew that if they hurried, they could sneak up behind the man before he made it to the house again. They broke into a run around the fence toward the other side of the compound.

  Pike and Gonzalez heard the gunshot from the corn field, but fig
ured it was just Marut finally making himself useful. While they were waiting for the action to start again, they were busying themselves reloading their magazines and debating strategy.

  “Should we split up? Shoot from two different directions?”

  “No. What we did before seemed to shut them up for awhile. I’m pretty sure we killed at least one of them. Maybe two. Let’s wait until we see their rifles again and keep doing what we did before.”

  It was a fateful decision.

  -9-

  John and Randy were at the Bobcat now. They shoved aside the two bodies that were leaning up against it and took shelter behind it.

  For the first time, it occurred to John that he was at a disadvantage. They only had one radio between the four men, and Scott had taken it with him.

  John had no way of coordinating his attack with the people inside the house.

  But he knew what he needed to know. All the good guys were in the house. Anybody out there in the brush was an enemy.

  Tom didn’t know the men he saw huddled behind the Bobcat had no radio. He tried to raise them.

  “You guys at the Bobcat, I’m going to try to draw their fire so you can see where they are.”

  He got no answer.

  So he tried again.

  “You guys at the Bobcat, I’m going to try to draw their fire so you can see where they are.”

  This time he got a response from Scott.

  “Tom, they don’t have a radio.”

  Tom muttered to himself, “Oh, hell. Well, they’ll figure it out.”

  Tom remembered the last time he placed the barrel of his rifle through the firing port and all hell broke loose.

  He suspected it would happen again.

  And Pike and Gonzalez didn’t disappoint him. As soon as they saw the barrel come out of the upstairs window, they let loose with a barrage of gunfire. Tom was smart enough this time, though, to take cover behind the thick plywood barrier, and let the men outside take care of the shooters.

  John and Randy couldn’t see the shooters in the bush. But they very clearly saw the smoke from their rifles rising above a thick stand of shrubs.

  John said, “Okay, as soon as I throw the grenade, you start firing. You ready?”

  “Yep.”

  John pulled the pin from his first grenade, stood up, and threw with every ounce of power he could muster. His aim was off, but just a bit, and the grenade landed within fifteen feet of its target.

  By the time John reached for his weapon, Randy was already firing. John used the fully automatic weapon to spray the tree line, assuming that his targets were down low and cowering in the dirt.

  Then, where Pike and Gonzalez had rained hell on Tom’s position, there was nothing but silence.

  Deathly silence.

  John and Randy held their ground, hoping for some kind of sign that their counterattack was successful. Of course, the silence might mean that the men were merely changing positions.

  Or, it could mean they were dead.

  In any event, it made no sense to come out too quickly and risk a bullet to the head. They were in no hurry.

  “Let’s just wait here a bit,” John said. “The next move is theirs.”

  Sara was back on the radio with a warning for Jordan.

  “Baby, look out. The one that’s wounded on your side is coming back to your window.”

  Jordan had lost all fear half an hour before. Now he was just angry and wanted revenge.

  He said into the radio, “I’ll be waiting for him. Let me know when he passes directly below the window.”

  “Okay.”

  The next fifteen seconds were eerily silent. There was no chatter on the radio, no chatter in the house. Even the dogs had taken a break from barking.

  Then the silence was broken by Sara’s resolute voice.

  “Now!”

  Jordan had his handgun out of its holster and at the ready. At Sara’s command, he reached his arm as far as he could through the firing port, just as Tom had done, and aimed the weapon toward the ground.

  Then he fired as quickly as his finger could pull the trigger, round after round, until all of the bullets were exhausted.

  Sara said, “He’s running, back toward where he came from.”

  “Did I get him?”

  “I don’t think so. He started running as soon as you fired the first shot.”

  Jordan shouted, “Dammit!”

  He wasn’t bothered at all at the prospect of killing another man. He just wanted to avenge Joyce’s death.

  The man was still badly wounded from the shot that took most of his ear and shattered his jaw. He’d lost a lot of blood and was dazed and confused.

  So it was, perhaps, understandable, that he didn’t realize he was running directly toward Scott and Robbie until he was within forty yards of them.

  Then, in a terrible panic, he stopped short and raised his weapon toward them.

  It was the last thing he ever did.

  He was cut down by a burst of rapid gunfire from Robbie’s M-16, and a single shot through the heart from Scott’s AR-15.

  -10-

  The eerie silence returned. Scott was back on the radio to Sara.

  “Honey, do you see anyone else?”

  “No. None of the rest of them were within range of the cameras.”

  Tom said, “Scott, you might want to work your way back to where you came from. Hook up with your other guys at the Bobcat. I think the only ones left are in the brush just east of there.”

  “10-4.”

  If John and Randy had heard Tom’s words, they might have waited for Scott and Robbie to arrive. But they had no clue that reinforcements were on the way.

  They could, however, hear moaning and cursing coming from the stand of shrubbery they’d just fired into.

  “Help me! I surrender! I give up! Please take me to a doctor. I don’t want to die.”

  Randy looked at John and said, “It could be a trick.”

  “Yep.”

  It so happened that the Bobcat was pointed almost directly at that same spot in the brush. John rose just high enough to press the gas pedal down four times and then turn the ignition key.

  It started right up. Maybe this was John’s lucky day after all.

  And whether it was or wasn’t, at least he and Randy wouldn’t have to check out the wounded gunman without cover.

  John shoved the gearshift lever into drive, and the machine slowly crept forward.

  A Bobcat creeping without a foot on the accelerator will never break any land speed records. But it moves fast enough to mow over any bushes or tall grass that get in its way.

  And the shrubbery which hid the two bad guys was no match for it.

  John knelt low, on the left side of the Bobcat, as it crept toward the mournful cries. Randy stayed a bit farther back, his weapon leveled and ready to fire at anything or anyone who suddenly burst out of the brush.

  The blade on the front of the Bobcat prevented John from seeing Pike and Gonzalez until it was too late. The machine rolled over Pike’s body with a series of sickening crunches. Gonzalez narrowly avoided its wrath by moving out of the way at the last second.

  John and Randy let the Bobcat continue to roll, and lowered their weapons at the terrified Gonzalez.

  Pike was dead before they got there, badly mangled. It looked like his body took the full brunt of the hand grenade. So he felt nothing when the Bobcat rolled over his skull and crushed it like an eggshell.

  Gonzalez had only minor shrapnel wounds. But he did have an ugly abdominal wound from two .556 caliber rounds from the M-16.

  “Please. Get me to a hospital. I don’t want to die.”

  He sobbed like a little girl. He was a truly pathetic sight.

  But Randy wasn’t in a forgiving mood. He raised the rifle again and fired three rounds into the wounded man’s head.

  John caught his breath, stunned. But only for a moment, before he relaxed.

  Randy looked at his frien
d and said, “Did you see any wounded men out here?”

  John shook his head.

  “Nope. Just a couple of dead ones.”

  The war was over. Now it was time to account for the casualties.

  -11-

  During the last few miles of their journey to the battle, as they started to hear voices on the radio, Scott and John both strained to hear those most familiar to them. John was desperate to hear that his wife and daughters were alive and uninjured.

  Scott was worried. Joyce was a defacto leader of the group. Other than Tom, Scott expected to hear her voice the most, giving direction and support to the others. But he never heard her utter a single word.

  Perhaps he knew. Or at least had a strong suspicion. When he saw John and Randy walking out of the brush, upright, with no fear of being shot, he suspected it was finally over.

  But just in case, he asked Tom two questions.

  “Tom, are there any more of them?”

  “No. That’s all of them.”

  “Tom, how is Joyce?”

  Tom Haskins was a grizzled old Texas rancher. The last of a dying breed. He wasn’t fazed by much, and was afraid of nothing.

  But he’d rather walk through hot coals than have to answer Scott’s plaintive query.

  Tom’s hesitation gave Scott his answer before he ever heard the words. By the time the words came, he was so numb they barely registered.

  “I’m sorry, Scott. She’s gone.”

  John and Randy, walking toward them, had no idea what happened. They were still forty yards away, and broke into a full run when they saw Scott fall to his knees and scream at the sky.

  The three of them- John, Robbie and Randy, gathered around their friend and tried to comfort him.

  But they were pretty much helpless. They were men, and men are never as good at providing love and comfort to each other as women are. They clumsily tried. But the sad fact was, Scott had just lost the woman he loved. And nothing they could say or do would bring her back.