We made much better ground now that Beau and Brock were at the head of the column. Within twenty minutes, we reached the town of Wolfboro. It was right on the water and the land around it was level and green. As we walked through it, I could see that in its time it would have been a pretty little town, but now it was just plain creepy. A ghost town. It only took a few minutes to pass through the town and not far past it we turned onto 28.
“Okay, about a half mile ahead we should reach a town called Alton —”
Luke was interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle behind us. We looked at each other before turning around. It was Brad. I watched him approach with some trepidation. Would it be good news or bad? He hopped off his bike and wheeled it along as we continued to walk.
“Hey,” he said, without taking his helmet off. “They didn’t turn back. They’re following, not too fast, but faster than you guys.”
“How many?”
“All of them.”
I nodded.
“Dogs?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, how far behind?”
“Roughly about two-and-a-half miles.”
“Thanks. You can go back. See you in half an hour.”
As he sped off, I looked at Luke.
“They’ve gained a mile on us already.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think we’ll have to make a stand before too long.”
“Let’s worry about that later.”
We pushed on and hadn’t quite reached Alton when Brad caught up with us again. The sun was higher in the sky now and my stomach growled.
“How far now?” I asked.
“I don’t think they made as much ground this time. I think just over two miles.”
Still too close. We sent him on his way again and I told him not to come back until they had closed the distance to a mile-and-a-half.
We stopped briefly in Alton to eat and drink and were back on the move within ten minutes. I had taken a look at Luke’s map, dismayed to see that Alton was barely a third of the way to our destination. Things were looking grimmer by the minute.
“We have to start thinking about where we want to make a stand,” Luke said as we walked out of town.
“Okay. Any suggestions?”
“Yeah, I’ve already thought about it.”
“And?”
“In about two-and-a-half miles, we’re going to come to a river called the Merrymeeting and cross a little bridge,” he said, unfolding the ungainly map and pointing to it as we walked. “It’s the only way across for miles around. If we can block the bridge or blow it up or something, they’ll have to make a major detour to follow us.”
“Any other options?”
“Not unless you want to take them on in a town or on the open road. Besides, if we cross the bridge, there we can continue on to Pittfield and get back on 107. We should be able to put some distance between us while they’re finding a way around.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
Luke knuckle-bumped me, apparently excited there would be something to do. He folded his map and strode ahead of me, suddenly invigorated and calling out encouragement to the marchers.
27
Thirty minutes or so later we arrived at the bridge. To say it was unimpressive would be an understatement. It was basically just a continuation of the road with some metal rails on the side. The look on Luke’s face spoke volumes, but he felt compelled to speak anyway.
“Fuck! They could almost walk across this shitty excuse for a river,” he said bitterly, shaking his head.
We walked to the head of the procession with Paul, who had pulled his Hummer to the side of the road. Luke leaned over the railing on the right. There the river was shallow and more like a marsh, although it looked like it was definitely deeper on the other side.
“We’ll have to make do,” I said. “We can still slow them down, can’t we?”
He began to look around, across the river and back to where we’d come from. I saw the familiar glint of creativeness in his eyes.
“Yeah. Fuck yeah. We’ll do better than that. By the time we finish with them, they’ll want to change the name of the Merrymeeting to the Fucked-up-meeting.”
We herded everyone across to the other side of the bridge. Once that was done, we got to work. One good thing about having all those people is that we got lots done and quickly. Within an hour, we had barricaded the end of the bridge with three cars, tires, timber, metal, bricks, and basically anything we found that wasn’t pinned down. The barricade ended up around eight feet tall and about double that in width. We left a narrow corridor through the middle so Joe and Brad could cross and had a pile of crap ready to fill it as soon as they were through. Should all go well, we would get it done before the Marauders arrived.
We also managed to find two drums of kerosene in a boatshed and had about ten gallons of gasoline, scrounged from abandoned vehicles and garages. As Luke directed the building of the barricade, he made sure it had plenty of paper, timber, and dead leaves interspersed with the not so flammable items.
Brock and Paul took one drum of kerosene across to the other side of the bridge and began to soak the ground and trunks of the trees which would be to the right of the Marauders as they approached. They poured it in a trail to the water’s edge beside the bridge, then pushed the empty drum out onto the water. It didn’t move, which boded well for the flammable liquid not dispersing too quickly when we poured the other barrel in.
Once that drum was empty, they propped the remaining drum against the side of the bridge. When the Marauders were within sight, we would pour it into the water on the shallow side.
“Are you sure it will work?” I asked Luke.
“Yes, Boss,” he said, patiently. “It won’t be quite as spectacular as gasoline, but those trees and the stuff on the ground under them are dry and should go up like tinder.”
“Yeah, I know, but I meant the kerosene they’ll be pouring on the water.”
“Sure it will. Chemistry 101. Kerosene is less dense than water; therefore, it will float on top. They’ll be floating on a river of fire if they try and cross that way.”
“Lucky it’s not flowing,” Brock said. “It’s real still water so it shouldn’t disperse too quickly.”
“Yeah,” said Luke, handing Brock a flare gun. “Just don’t light it up until I give the signal. Now I just need one more thing.”
He went to the Hummer on the other side of the bridge and came back with the sniper rifle. He gave me a sheepish grin. “You know I’ve been dying to use this since we found it, right?”
I laughed. “I watched you clean it once a week for the last five years, so I kind of figured.”
He heard it before I did: the distant sound of a motorcycle being ridden at full throttle. I saw his eyes widen and he scrambled to the top of the barricade. I ran to the rough corridor we had left for the return of our men. I could see a few hundred feet down the road until it curved left and out of sight behind the trees.
“Can you see anything?” I called out to Luke. From his vantage on the right side of the bridge, he had a clear view for a lot further than I did, the rifle scope to his eye.
“Yeah. It’s Joe. No sign of Brad.”
I felt a sick feeling in my gut as the vroom of the bike’s motor grew louder. Finally, Joe rounded the bend and pulled to a screeching halt, propped on one leg as he took in the sight in front of him.
I waved both arms over my head and the people around me started to call out to him. He gunned the motor again and sped towards us before slowing as he reached the bridge. I was just starting to feel relief when Luke called out.
“Shit! He’s got company! A couple of bikes.”
I stepped back from the gap and waved Joe through. He gunned the bike and rode through fast, forcing the people on our side to scatter as he screeched to a halt and pulled up his visor. Once his bike was silent, I was able to hear the ones in pursuit.
“Quick, there are —” he blurted.
Craaackkk!
Luke’s shot was followed by an expletive.
“Missed.”
Craaackkk!
The second shot resulted in a squeal of tires and a metallic crunch. I looked through the gap in the barricade to see a bike tumbling end over end, the rider sliding along the road behind it. The bike struck a sign and came to a twisted, smoking stop as its rider skidded along the blacktop until his momentum finally petered out. He didn’t get up.
Barely an instant later, a second bike came into view and skidded to a stop, the rider frantically looking at his downed buddy, then at us, before making a tight U-turn and gunning it.
“Don’t let him get away,” I called to Luke as the enemy’s bike accelerated.
Luke didn’t answer. A second went by, then another, as the noise of the bike faded into the distance.
Craaackkk!
The sound of the shot reverberated along the bridge as we heard another crash of metal and glass.
“Got him!”
There were some whistles and claps from those around us.
“No time for celebrating,” I yelled. “Brock, take three men out there and clear away the bikes and bodies. I don’t want them to have any warning before they round that bend. As soon as you’re done, get back here and start closing off this corridor.”
Brock got started immediately and I put my arm around Joe as we waited for Luke to climb down. From the look on his face, I could tell he was upset, but I had to get down to business; there was no time to waste.
“How far back are the rest of them?” I asked.
“I’d say they’ll be here within the hour.”
“Okay. A little bit of breathing space. What happened?”
He shrugged and sat down on the rail, putting his head in his hands.
“I don’t know. I thought we were being careful, but they must have spotted us. One minute, I was talking to Brad and the next minute... the shot came from a long way off.”
I looked at Luke and he met my eyes. Apparently he wasn’t the only sniper in town. “I was trying to help him but he was gone. The next thing I heard was those two bikes coming up the hill after me. I just took off.”
Luke clapped him on the back.
“You did the right thing and you did great to get here.”
Joe nodded, but I could see he was still down. I told him quickly of our plans and Luke went to help plug the gap in the barricade. Brock and the others came back shortly after and the preparation continued in earnest. Soon the wall was an even height right across the bridge and Luke and Brock were on top pouring gasoline over it. The smell was overpowering and the rest of us backed up.
By the time they climbed down, it had been thirty-five minutes since Joe had gotten back. Paul backed the Hummer along the bridge until its back end was about thirty feet away from what we hoped would become a raging inferno. As soon as we heard the enemy, Paul was to light up the barricade and Brock and Joe would begin pouring the kerosene into the water and then come back across the bridge.
“Okay,” I said when everything was in place. “Let’s get everybody else to the other side.”
Luke saluted me with his hook, his other hand holding the strap of the rifle. On our side of the river, to the right, there was an abandoned motel. It was a low, long rectangular building with a two-story addition in the middle and a parking lot in front of it. Its long side faced the river. I sent Beau towards Manchester, leading the unarmed contingent of those on foot, and Luke and I marshaled the rest of our people behind the motel, leaving all those armed with guns in a group which could be called out at short notice.
“I’ll head up now,” Luke said. He put the sniper rifle over his shoulder and ran to an overgrown trellis which he proceeded to climb.
“Whistle as soon as you see sign of them,” I said, as he climbed onto the roof effortlessly, despite his missing hand. “I want the barricade well and truly alight by the time they arrive at the bridge. Oh, and if you see that asshole, shoot him.”
“Will do, Boss,” he called down, as he shuffled forward on his belly.
I lost sight of him and walked backwards until I could see him lying at full stretch on the rear slope of the roof. His gun was propped on the peak and aimed across the river. He wouldn’t be able to see the enemy until they rounded the bend on the other side, but the roof would afford him great cover. About the only thing which would be visible from that side would be the top of his head.
I grabbed a shotgun from our stash of weapons and went around to the side of the motel to watch and wait in the shadows. I had barely settled in when Luke’s loud whistle came from above.
I heard a shout from the bridge and, with adrenalin pumping through my body, watched Paul run to the barricade and bend over the stack of combustibles we had placed at the base of the barricade.
I could now hear dogs and the rumble of engines in the distance. Seconds went by and Paul was still bending over, his shoulders jerking as he struggled with the matches we had given him. Joe and Brock began to pour the kerosene over the side. They struggled to balance the big drum on the rail, but, as it emptied, they were able to move it along the rails, allowing the liquid to spread over a wider area.
“Come on,” I whispered under my breath, willing the match to light. The tension in the air was palpable.
Finally, I saw the sudden glow of flame in front of Paul and he fell on his backside as the gasoline ignited. It went up quicker than I had expected, the hungry flames quickly crawling over our improvised barricade. Paul scrambled away, crablike, from the enormous flames.
Joe and Brock dropped the empty barrel over the side and ran to Paul, cringing from the heat but managing to help him up before running for the Hummer. They took off with a squeal of tires just as the dogs and their handlers came into view. The handlers did a double take at the sight of the burning barricade and disappeared back around the bend.
The Hummer was back across the bridge in a few seconds and all three boys jumped out, grabbing guns for themselves before joining me in the shadows at the side of the building.
We stared across the river. The barricade was fully ablaze now, the eager flames towering above the wall itself. A few seconds later, a vehicle came into view. It was an armored personnel carrier, Chinese, with a machine gun turret on the top. Behind it came a group of Marauders.
I recognized Ash’s figure immediately. Naked from the waist up, he towered over the other two and carried himself in an arrogant and careless way, standing at full height to look our way, even as his two companions prudently took cover behind the vehicle. I also noticed that the skin of his face and upper body were a strange dark hue, but didn’t have time to think about it.
I began to count. I knew Luke would take his shot any second. One ... two ... three ... CRAACKKK!
I saw Ash flinch and duck down behind the vehicle even as the man who had poked his head from the hatch in the turret was flung backwards against the rim of the hatch, the top of his head missing, before sliding lifelessly back into the hatch. I saw why Luke had taken that shot: he wanted to prevent us from coming under heavy fire from the machine gun. But even then, I wondered if he shouldn’t have taken a shot at Ash while he had the chance.
Luke took another shot and I saw a web of cracks appear on windshield of the driver’s side. There was some yelling from across the river and a group of about ten armed men rounded the trees and began firing at us. We all fell to the ground, even though Luke was their main target. I heard Luke’s rifle cough several times as the windows below him shattered and chips of tiles rained onto the parking lot.
I took the opportunity to look across the river as the firing continued. Luke’s shooting was measured, while the enemy’s was more haphazard. There were two bodies on the ground and the gunmen now shot from the cover of the trees and the personnel carrier. I heard another shot from above us and then Luke cursed. He was out of ammo.
The barricade still burned impressively and I decide
d it was time for the bulk of us to get while the going was good.
“Joe, Paul,” I said. “Round the other group up and get moving, follow 28, and go as fast as you can. Luke, Brock, and I will be along in the Hummer at some stage, but we’re going to delay them as long as we can first.”
“Are you sure?” Paul asked, frowning.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”
He didn’t argue the point, even though I could see he wasn’t happy. I almost second guessed myself. I had now split our people into four groups, but I let them go. I was confident they could catch the unarmed contingent Beau was leading.
Joe high-fived his brother, Brock, and Paul warned me to be careful before they ducked low and ran to the rear of the motel. The gunfire from the other side of the river slowly died away now that Luke had left the roof.
He joined us a few seconds later.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Wish I’d done more damage. Wish I’d taken out the tattooed freak.”
“Tattooed?”
“Yeah, he’s got words tattooed all over himself. Even on his face.”
The dark color of Ash’s face and torso I had noticed from a distance suddenly made sense.
“Oh. Well, you did fine for a guy with one hand. I sent Joe and Paul on ahead with the rest of them. We have to hold this bridge as long as we can. For a few hours at least.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. They’ll probably try and wait until the barricade burns low before making a move now.”
“Maybe not,” said Brock, pointing to the far shore.
I saw what he meant. Men were gathering behind the personnel carrier. Lots of them.
“You think they’ll try and barge through with that?” I asked Luke.
He shrugged. “Maybe. The shot I took didn’t take the driver out, just fucked up his windshield. If they wait for the fire to burn a little lower, he might just be crazy enough to risk his men.”
Almost to punctuate Luke’s point, we heard yelling from the other side and then a shot.
The After Days Trilogy [Books 1-3] Page 61