by Angela White
Marc’s choice wasn’t questioned, even though he now had natural enemies together in close proximity. He would lead them to victory against the soldiers. It was the only grievance that they had time for.
8
“There are a dozen riders coming. They have shod horses.”
Marc woke in a grouchy flash of alertness, stopping his horse. He was exhausted. They’d been traveling straight through and the city of Denver was close. They’d had people join them steadily, white, black, indian, and Marc had tended their wounds in gratitude for swelling the ranks. There were now hundreds of men in this group.
“Have to do something about that soon,” he muttered, viewing the large dust cloud that said these new men were riding hard to catch up.
The sight of the sombreros and pistols jerked Marc into the past and he drew his right Colt as he swung down from the horse.
Marc waved the others back, going out to meet them himself. What did the Mexicans want?
The group of riders slowed and stopped at enough distance to ease Marc’s riders, but not him. He remembered too much from the rest stop, from Zack’s memories.
Two of the Mexicans slid from their horses and ambled out to meet him, grinning hugely.
“It is you!”
“We have news, senior Ghost.”
Marc waited with his gun pointed down. “So talk.”
The first man began to babble, but Marc watched the second man as he continued to evaluate those around them.
“We wish to join your fight, senior! We can add many guns.”
“Why?”
Marc’s cold tone was telling his men that the Mexicans weren’t welcome and the demon spoke up quietly. We need them.
“You want something,” Marc stated. “What?”
Sebastian’s face lost all welcome. “It is true.”
Marc didn’t pretend any ignorance. He needed the stories to grow. “What do you want?”
Sebastian gestured rudely. “We have become peaceful in the south. The land is recovering, there is game again to hunt. We will not allow the United States to interfere with this.”
Marc was convinced of the honesty. He just wasn’t sure he could stand to be around them every day without slitting the man’s throat. “You’ll stay back. Your kind has done a lot of damage to me personally. Trust will have to be earned.”
Sebastian scowled. “Do not hold all Mexicans responsible for the actions of a few. Cesar was never one of us.”
Marc blinked. “You knew him.”
Sebastian grinned sadly. “My brother was never smart in his hatred of the Americans. It has always been their government we should have fought against–together.”
Instinct said these men would add a great value to his army and Marc couldn’t deny that.
“You’ll stay back until we trust you,” he repeated.
“Aye, senior, but we will be there when it matters. You will see.”
Marc wasn’t convinced, but didn’t argue the point. “Welcome to my riders.”
The group was on the road a few minutes later and Marc let his mind return to the doze he’d been in before they arrived. He had to refill somehow soon, even if it meant getting someone alone for a while and stealing it without their notice. He had no idea how to…feed from people, but he was about to learn. Having the Mexicans with them would stretch his nerves to the breaking point if he didn’t have a reserve to use. He didn’t trust them at all and the fact that it was Cesar’s brother now staring hard enough to burn holes into his head, made it worse.
The men with him also felt his unease, and kept the new riders as far from Marc and his woman as they could. Until he officially cleared them, the Mexicans would find body blocks and hostile attitudes.
9
“I can’t take all of you in there with me,” Marc told the group of riders hours later.
They’d just reached the outskirts of Denver where he stopped them for a quick meal.
“Each group needs to pick two men to go with me. The rest will stay out of Denver and out of sight. We’ll meet two miles south in 24-hours to give the reports.”
“What if they haven’t come yet?” Sebastian asked.
Marc shrugged. “We’ll set up a post and take turns. They won’t get through without our notice.”
Marc waited for a protest and found men stepping forward. The others began heading for the outlying towns to gather provisions. Marc was pleased. Some of these groups were new to this life, while others had held onto their heritage over the centuries, but all of them were good hands to have.
Marc’s remaining group had been cut to thirty and he waved these men into two lines. “No shooting. Not for any reason.”
Kendle grimaced and eased off the trigger of her gun. If she didn’t spill blood soon, things were going to get ugly.
Their ride through Denver was eerie, but uneventful. There was no sign of the soldiers or anyone else for that matter. The dead city didn’t even creak and groan around them. It smothered them with the decay and the awful visions. Most of 25 was harsh, ugly landscape that would never be livable again. The slavers and nature had destroyed this city and nothing moved but debris that hadn’t molded into place yet. Tall buildings and bone-dry sewers made perfect places to plan an ambush though. Marc took note of every choke point that he found.
He quickly determined which intersection was a prime scouting spot and then took his group up high. For some of them, it was an uneasy trip through these remnants of the past, one they suffered with hands on holsters. For others, it produced waves of longing for all that had been stolen. The end result was thirty pissed people on the top floor of the Republic Plaza, waiting to see the men they would try to kill. It would be no easy job, but they would have this anger to drive them through the battle.
Marc contemplated Sebastian, hating what he had to do now. “You and your men will go set up a base camp in Cheyenne. If they come through, you make it clear that you’ll fight to hold what Cesar claimed for your country.”
Sebastian’s lined face was full of disbelief. “You are crazy!”
Marc went on with his plan. “When you threaten to detonate the nuclear warhead that you’re in control of, they’ll report it to their base and go south instead. They’ll send a special team for you.”
“By then, we’ll be gone,” Sebastian guessed, starting to understand the trap Marc was making.
“Yes. You’ll be on the battalion’s flank, waiting on them to go through Denver. Once they do, we’ll make sure they can’t turn back by having your group and few others there, picking them off.”
“They could come over 70, or even detour up 76,” Thaddeus pointed out, face buried in the map.
Marc waved a hand at the leader of the newest arrival to join their crusade. “Grendin’s people are in Montana. They’ll make sure the soldiers find only blocked routes. We’ll make a chute and send them straight down to a slaughter.”
Marc pointed to a spot along 40, lingering here and there as he spoke. “Once they reach Texas, we attack from both sides, openly, with everything we have. It’s being set up as we speak.”
“And when they enter tribal lands, their path will get rough.”
Atolius’s statement brought protests.
“They’ll know by then.”
‘They’ll avoid it.”
“Yes. Right before they hit Oklahoma, I expect them to detour north.”
Atolius stood up proudly. “My people have longed to return to the plains, as have many others. Perhaps the time has now come for our warriors to scout an area and persuade intruders to stay away.”
Marc clapped him on the shoulder. “Do it now, if you can. You’ll need the time to set up. Stay northeast of 40 and kill as many as you can if they try to punch through.”
“Where will you be?” Natoli asked respectfully. There was little honor for his people if they were all sent way.
“The Ghost is everywhere.”
“And where will Natoli be?”
Mar
c’s eyes glowed brightly. “By my side, as my cloak. If you’d have that place.”
“I would,” Natoli responded gratefully.
“What if they go south?” Kendle rudely interrupted the male bonding moment.
“There is no south,” Sebastian told her. “South Texas is contaminated. We traveled for a week to get around it. They will not risk taking their men through a radiation zone during a battle.”
Kendle could find no fault with that and remained silent as Marc went on.
“By the time they get to Oklahoma, we’ll be doing steady damage, but it won’t stop them. We’ll be pushed straight to the base, where my Eagles are preparing for their arrival. We’ll stall them there and dig in. They won’t send more men unless this first group can claim the middle ground target.”
Marc’s confidence made it easy to believe it could happen like he was predicting. He didn’t tell them it was more likely that the government’s reinforcements would meet at the base to overwhelm them.
“The goal of every man and woman here is to kill fifteen of them before they reach this point.” Marc showed them on the map. “We have to cut their numbers in half or better by then, and convince their command that they’ll lose a lot if they want to continue this fight with us. They don’t have endless soldiers anymore and I know that because they’re sending ground troops instead of planes.”
“When do we come to the base and fight there?” Red Stone asked, dark face eager.
“When I call to say we’re pinned down.” Marc answered. “Take a two-way radio and box of batteries from the small faraday cage we made on the ride. Don’t forget the code sheets. When I call, all teams and groups will close in and attack simultaneously from all sides. We will also be firing at them from the center and it will create a perfect trap.”
“A duck-shoot,” Kendle stated happily.
“Yes.”
“And what will we use against their armor?” Sebastian asked. “Our bullets and arrows will be useless.”
Marc unrolled a small target outline he’d drawn earlier. “Weak points are the neck, here, above the brow, and the inside of the wrists. The one you should concentrate on is the neck. Wait for them to duck or reach for something, and you’ll have a small opening.”
“What about the big guns?” Grendin needed to know. His people were too familiar with those.
Marc patted the paper. “Remember to use their weaknesses. Take out the tripods, or better, the road. If they can’t roll the heavy equipment over it, they’ll have to leave it behind. Any questions?”
“What happens when they take the base?”
“That’s the ballgame,” Marc grunted. “Get to your people and get ready to defend yourselves. I suggest joining up with Safe Haven. If I survive, that’s where I’ll be.”
“You’ll stay there?” Kendle asked uneasily.
Marc put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll go home and make a last stand in the mountains.”
Kendle was comforted and Marc’s men were pleased with the plan. Now, he would put them in the mood to fight.
“Get your riders together. There’s an armory not far from here and I’m fairly sure it’s untouched.”
“How is that possible?” Sebastian questioned. “Cesar came through here and picked it clean.”
Marc grinned. “Because it’s underground and there was no need for them to go there. If we don’t grab it tonight, the enemy will have it. There’s one in nearly every state and we’re going to get to them before the soldiers do. They’ll still find ways to arm themselves when their own stocks run out, but by then it’ll be on the same terms as the rest of us–post SHTF.” Marc glanced around. “Slow them down. Get close, pick off a few, and get ghost. Three raids a day, always at different times, and with all the hatred in your hearts. We’ve declared war this time.”
10
They waited for two full days with no signs of the soldiers.
Marc knew they were coming, though. He could feel it, and the same was true of the others. Among his own kind–killers–Marc didn’t have to spend time calming or easing panic so that they didn’t flee, like he would have had to do with Safe Haven fighters. They knew the golden rule: If you were sent to fight, then the enemy, the battle, always came. They just had to suffer through the wait.
Marc sensed them first, but Kendle was close on his heels as he went to the window they’d tinted yesterday to prevent the glare from giving them away. In the other windows, men ducked down and began taking mental notes.
The first sight of the enemy was intimidating.
The lines of uniformed, neatly marching soldiers sent a shiver into every gut, including Marc’s. It was an entire battalion, like he’d predicted. Serious, quickly moving sets of soldiers marched smartly across the bones and debris long since molded into the hell of their masters. Their hard gazes swiveled continuously, thick guns ready to fire.
Marc kept his men below the window line and silent while he did his recon. It would only take one mistake to get them all killed right here.
“They’re not using standard formation,” Marc muttered, spotting units that were usually support and took half an hour to arrive, now staying within minutes.
“It won’t hold, that pace,” Sebastian observed. “They’ll get tired and gap out.”
Marc agreed, but didn’t stop going through a full consideration of switching plans. When he was satisfied that this was still the best way, he spent a few minutes listing weapons and equipment, and other important details for Kendle to write down.
They all waited tensely for the first part of the miles long battalion to reach the choosing point. Those below the window line kept to themselves, handling their impatience with this part of the plan. Kendle occupied herself by digging the tip of the pen into her leg to see the blood.
“25,” Marc breathed. “Shut up.”
The battalion had to pass the building where the Shadow Riders were concealed. They’d be trapped if spotted.
Marc made his men demonstrate their control and their level of commitment by keeping them under cover until even the sound of the vehicles couldn’t be heard. Kendle, who was now rooting around in her leg with that pen like a surgeon, he left alone.
11
An hour after the battalion was gone, Marc took his men for a hard, looping ride to get ahead of the soldiers, then held a quick meeting. He told the scouts to leave and do their reporting, eager to be alone with the best few.
“I’ll let the others know and meet you where my rookies are.”
Marc was quickly left with nervous men who were a mix of the groups who’d come. As they slowly moved down 25 ahead of the soldiers, Marc filled them in on the next part of his plan.
“There’s a scouting party up here. I detoured around them as we came in so that we didn’t give away our element of surprise.” Marc grinned ruthlessly. “Their free pass is over. We’ll kill them all and then go meet up. First blood is ours.”
Savage nods and leers met his words.
Marc was satisfied. They were as worried and angry as he was at the sight of the enemy. They wanted to strike hard and do it right now.
“Come dawn, we’ll start teaching them not to underestimate us.”
11
Kendle stifled a moan as she observed the campfire below her post. Marc had ordered them to attack just before sunrise, but that was hours away and Kendle wasn’t sure about lasting another ten minutes. The need to spill blood was rolling over her in thick waves. That tiny hope of a cure had vanished after listening to the soldiers talk. The rage sickness was spreading unchecked–another weapon unleashed by the government to wipe out survivors. There was no way they’d give them the cure after all the death and destruction Marc was set to cause. His plans, the few he confided, were lethal ambushes that would spill more blood than she could ever enjoy.
Except, she had to wait and it hurt. The shivers and twitches had come this morning and hadn’t stopped racking her nervous system. Lances of p
ain had started as they camped.
The men below them had no idea that death was coming. They sat around an open fire, enjoying the cool breeze as they slept and stood watch. There were eight of them, four in their bedrolls, while two had higher positions. The other two soldiers lingered by the small fire, exchanging short bursts of conversation.
Kendle already knew how she would do it. The perimeter men were keeping a loose guard around the others, sometimes stopping to view something on the ground or in the distance. Kendle was sure she could get at least two of them that way, then she’d have to make noise. The suppressor on her gun might not echo to the next team that was half an hour behind, but those sleeping men would definitely notice. She would have to be perfect and Kendle didn’t have enough faith in her skills to test that yet. She’d been okay with a rifle on her show and sucked at handguns. It hadn’t changed much.
Poison them, her demon whispered. They’ve been on government food since the war. Look at how they keep staring at the dark stores.
Kendle saw it was true. The men wanted to break orders and go exploring for anything that might have survived the destruction. Maybe she could help them with that.
A few minutes later, Kendle slipped out of camp with a small bag in her hand. Sebastian hadn’t even haggled, just accepted her trade.
Marc hadn’t woken to stop her. They weren’t bonded, so he didn’t sense her absence. This time, Kendle was glad he was busy dreaming of his precious Angie.
13
“I’m telling you. I smell chips.”
The private sniffed deeply and groaned. “Mmm. Extra cheesy…”
“And I’m tellin’ you, I’m smoked,” one of the others sneered in response, tired of the line. “So shut up.”
The other men snickered, but each of them understood. To finally be out here and not be able to dig up supplies was maddening. A bag of chips, any flavor or brand, was worth gold among the ranks.
“I’m gonna take a four minute sweep of that building,” the Private stated calmly. “For possible intruders, you know?”
No one protested. Besides wanting him to shut up about it, each of them had considered voicing the idea themselves, but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet. Command was firm about following orders.